Paulie is the overly patriotic foreman and father-figure
Pietro is the young intern who is beginning to question God's existence
'Shit, sir, I think we burned another one.'
'That's 16, 422.'
'You think they'll notice?'
'Don't worry, it adds color. It's what makes our country great.'
'Vive la difference!'
'Yeah, screw the French.'
'Commie bastards with their crawfish tails and garlic powder. What have they ever done but complain?'
'I think that's the Acadians, sir. They complain with song.'
'Yeah, them too. They have rice krispies too, you know? Only they call them petites royales.'
'Petites royales in milk?'
'And instead of snap, crackle, pop—pic pac poc.'
'That's cogent.' '16, 423.'
'We do our best.'
'The best we can.'
'The only way we know how.
'The way our fathers did it.'
'And their fathers before them.'