Night. The balcony outside Denny Crane's office. Lights of Boston.
Crane reflects. Stares over his glass of whiskey at the streets below. He's just admitted in court to taking a drug NOT approved by the FDA -- in order to ward off his risk for Altzheimers.
A police siren is heard. Crane's friend, Alan Shore, joins Crane.
SHORE: That drug you’re taking is an amphetamine, with a dangerously high potential for abuse and addiction.
CRANE: And the shrinks are doling it out like candy.
SHORE: It might make you feel more acute. You’ll no doubt work like a demon. But certain pleasures will be gone.
SHORE: Perhaps fishing. Perhaps sitting in a chair enjoying a football game. Standing on a balcony, appreciating the quiet joy of a friendship. There’s more to life than recognizing faces, Denny.
CRANE: You prefer me in my fog?
SHORE: I prefer you. Your perspective. Your humor. The acceptance and humility which perhaps can only come with age. I prefer you.
CRANE: I’ve stopped taking the drug. I kind of like my fog too. There’s a certain license that goes with it. Plus, I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again. The answers in life – you don’t find them here (points to head). First, you look to God. And then –
SHORE: Fox News.
CRANE: Damn right (shakes his head). You Democrats.
SHORE: You Republicans.