Boss: Look, our ratings are down, and the station is being swamped with angry calls and letter-bombs

Boss: Look, our ratings are down, and the station is being swamped
with angry calls and letter-bombs.
[A few letter-bombs explode in a pile]
And it's all your fault!
Bill: Yes it is, ma'am.
Boss: This is the DJ 3000. It plays CDs automatically, and it has
three distinct varieties of inane chatter.
[presses a button]
DJ 3000: [stilted] Hey, hey. How about that weather out there?
Woah! _That_ was the caller from hell.
Well, hot dog! We have a weiner.
Bill: Man, that thing's great!
Marty: _Don't_ praise the machine!
Boss: If you don't get that kid an elephant by tomorrow, the DJ 3000
gets your job.
[Marty punches it]
DJ 3000: Those clowns in congress did it again. What a bunch of clowns.
Bill: [laughs] How does it keep up with the news like that?
-- Misplaced admiration, "Bart Gets an Elephant"