McAllister: Arr, Matey. Nary A Warning Light To Be Seen.

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McAllister: Arr, matey. Nary a warning light to be seen. 'Tis clear
sailing ahead for our precious cargo.
Sailor: Uh, would that be the hot pants, sir?
McAllister: Aye, the hot pants.
-- Precious to whom, I wonder,
"El Viaje Misterioso de Nuestro Homer"

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