Ripper: Mandrake. Mandrake, have you never wondered why the base showers only have glass enclosures and tile floors?
Mandrake: Well it did occur to me, Jack, yes.
Ripper: Have you ever heard of a thing called phthalate? Phthalation of plastics?
Mandrake: Ah, yes, I have heard of that, Jack. Yes.
Ripper: Well do you now what it is?
Mandrake: No. No, I don't know what it is. No.
Ripper: Do you realize that phthalation is the most monstrously conceived and dangerous feminist plot we have ever had to face?
Ripper: Mandrake, do you realize that in addition to phthalation flooring, why, there are studies underway to phthalate shower curtains, pipes, car dashboards, water bottles, sippy cups? Sippy cups, Mandrake. Children's sippy cups?
Mandrake: Good Lord.
Ripper: You know when phthalation first began?
Mandrake: No. No, I don't, Jack. No.
Ripper: Nineteen hundred and sixty-three. Nineteen sixty-three, Mandrake. How does that coincide with your postwar feminist conspiracy, huh? It's incredibly obvious, isn't it? A foreign substance is introduced into our precious bodily fluids without the knowledge of the individual, and certainly without any choice. That's the way your hard core feminist works.
Mandrake: Jack... Jack, listen, tell me, ah... when did you first become, well, develop this theory.
Ripper: Well, I ah, I I first became aware of it, Mandrake, during the physical act of love.
Mandrake: sighs fearfully
Ripper: Yes a profound sense of apathy and disinterest by my partner. Luckily I was able to interpret these feelings correctly: loss of essence.
Mandrake: Yes...
Ripper: I can assure you it has not recurred, Mandrake. Women... women sense my power, and they seek the life essence. I do not avoid women, Mandrake, and now they beg for my essence.
Mandrake: Heh heh... yes.