Rick: I dabble, Mr. President.
President: Get this man and his grandson on a Blackhawk to Area 51.
Principal Vagina: Hi, Principal Vagina. The name’s real, possibly Scandinavian. I’m just gonna come out and make this pitch. The old gods are dead. Fuck all previous existing religions. All hail the one true god, the giant head in the sky.
Principal Vagina: Ah, di di di di.  Bob, Bob, I get it. But unless this  can beat that… what have you done for me lately?  So if you wanna excuse me, I’m going out on the sidewalk and dropping to my knees and pledging my eternal soul to the thing that literally controls the fucking weather!  Outta my way!
Mr. Goldenfold: Ohhhh, this is my favorite part!
Morty: Rick, are you really a musician?
Rick: Who’s NOT a musician, Morty?