Andy Griffith Quotes

Baby, Andy once said that beauty is a sign of intelligence.' She turns slowly to look at me. 'Who, Victor? Who? Andy who?' She coughs, blowing her nose. 'Andy Kaufman? Andy Griffith? Who in the hell told you this? Andy Rooney?' 'Warhol,' I say softly, hurt. 'Baby...

Well, do a good day's work and act like somebody.

No detective ever solved a mystery without the help of a hot jam doughnut.

THE 100 PERCENT TOTALLY DANGER-PROOF FUTURE IS AMAZING!’ we shout. Terry runs into the wall again. I jump back into the shark’s mouth.

Laughter is the best medicine.

The Los Angeles parade would begin in Griffith Park, where a large crowd would assemble and the speeches would be given. Every politician of consequence would be there. There was no way they would miss a chance to publicly praise the troops and honor those who had lost their lives in service. Some of the tributes would be sincere and heartfelt, and some less so. But participating in the event, vowing undying support for the U.S. military, was an absolute must to maintain political viability. It was okay to vote to cut funds for veterans' healthcare, but don't dare miss a chance to jump on the Memorial Day bandwagon.

He felt out of place in Prescott City, like a Hell’s Angel who had wandered onto the Andy Griffith show.

Sorry, but I'd rather sit home eating Vienna sausage straight from the can watching Andy Griffith reruns than be forced to dine with that Oompa-Loompa!

One of the radio stations sometimes played the theme to the Andy Griffith Show...The song was a tiny, quiet piece of America carved out of the rest. No fire hoses, no need for the National Guard.

we wanted to pay homage to TV producer-director-actor Sheldon Leonard [the Emmy-winning producer and director of shows like The Danny Thomas Show, The Andy Griffith Show, The Dick Van Dyke Show, and more], so that’s where Sheldon and Leonard came from.

A bunch of monkeys were riding the marshmallow machine straight at us and firing marshmallows at our heads.

two guinea pigs,

crustaceans?

Zack. The bumcatcher winced as he spoke. ‘Listen to me, Zack,’ he said. ‘Your bum

Were Trump born a woman he would never even have come close to earning the respect even of the idiots who respect him. The world rewards morons if the damage to their penis does not outweigh the damage to their brains.

PLAINVILLE WAS A QUAINT picturesque town. Northern California’s version of Andy Griffith’s Mayberry. Bucolic enough to provide cinematic contrast for any low-budget stalk-and-slash film. Juxtaposition played just as important a role in still photography as it did in cinematography. Maybe that’s why Natalie Jones had picked Plainville for her final descent into darkness. The climactic scene in a comedic tragedy. Cast of one. Audience of one. Curtain closed.

Maybe nostalgia is itself the problem. A Democrat I met in Macon during a conversation we had about the local enthusiasm for Trump told me that “people want to go back to Mayberry”, the setting of the beloved old Andy Griffith Show. (As it happens, the actual model for Mayberry, Mount Airy, a bedraggled town in North Carolina, has gone all in on the Trump revolution, as the Washington Post recently reported.) Maybe it’s also true, as my liberal friends believe, that what people in this part of the country secretly long to go back to are the days when the Klan was riding high or when Quantrill was terrorizing the people of neighboring Kansas, or when Dred Scott was losing his famous court case. For sure, there is a streak of that ugly sentiment in the Trump phenomenon. But I want to suggest something different: that the nostalgic urge does not necessarily have to be a reactionary one. There is nothing un-progressive about wanting your town to thrive, about recognizing that it isn’t thriving today, about figuring out that the mid-century, liberal way worked better. For me, at least, that is how nostalgia unfolds. When I drive around this part of the country, I always do so with a WPA guidebook in hand, the better to help me locate the architectural achievements of the Roosevelt years. I used to patronize a list of restaurants supposedly favored by Harry Truman (they are slowly disappearing). And these days, as I pass Trump sign after Trump sign, I wonder what has made so many of Truman’s people cast their lot with this blustering would-be caudillo. Maybe what I’m pining for is a liberal Magic Kingdom, a non-racist midwest where things function again. For a countryside dotted with small towns where the business district has reasonable job-creating businesses in it, taverns too. For a state where the giant chain stores haven’t succeeded in putting everyone out of business. For an economy where workers can form unions and buy new cars every couple of years, where farmers enjoy the protection of the laws, and where corporate management has not been permitted to use every trick available to them to drive down wages and play desperate cities off one against the other. Maybe it’s just an impossible utopia, a shimmering Mayberry dream. But somehow I don’t think so.

badder

Excuse me, Pinchy,” I say quickly (before he can start a third verse), “but isn’t everything in the Two-Dollar Shop always only two dollars?

what’s the alternative? We can’t just

turning

stories.)

Well, yeah,” says Terry, “they are, but it was only designed for one person.

THE 13-STOREY MONKEY HOUSE

BY ANDY GRIFFITHS AND TERRY DENTON Just Tricking! Just Annoying! Just Stupid! Just Crazy! Just Disgusting! Just Shocking! Just Macbeth! Just Doomed! The Bad Book The Very Bad Book The Cat on the Mat is Flat The Big Fat Cow That Goes Kapow What Bumosaur is That? What Body Part is That? The 13-Storey Treehouse The 26-Storey Treehouse The 39-Storey Treehouse The 52-Storey Treehouse The 65-Storey Treehouse The 78-Storey Treehouse Once Upon a Slime: 45 fun ways to get writing ... FAST! The Treehouse Fun Book The Treehouse Fun Book 2

Okay,” I said, “then I’m sorry to inform you that I’m going to have to whack you over the head with this giant banana.” “Not if I can whack you first!” said Terry, snatching the banana from my hands and whacking me over the head with it. That’s when everything went black.

nincompoops!

And I’m even sorrier than Andy,” says Terry.

Girl germs. (Shocking fact #1: Girl germs have been scientifically proven—by me and my best friend, Danny—to be the most dangerous germs on the planet. Anybody who has ever TOUCHED a girl, been in the SAME ROOM as a girl or even THOUGHT about a girl should immediately run to the nearest hospital before it is too late. Anybody who IS a girl, well, bad luck. It already IS too late. You are doomed.)

Boy germs. Actually, no. That’s just a joke. (Shocking fact #2: Not only are boy germs completely harmless, they have been scientifically proven—by me and my best friend, Danny—to be GOOD for you.)

Harrisonburg,

having

sadly.

canary

You’ll have to make me sneeze to get

by force.” “You’ll have to catch us first,” I say, slamming the door shut. “OPEN UP!” Mr. Slackoff shouts angrily from the

send out the secret puddle-fighting call and get the old team back together!

feel free to watch! Just try not to sneeze—we don’t want any more germs getting into these poor

better

going

climb

Barky!

I turn it off. I try to relax. I take a deep breath. But I can’t get that scene out of my mind where that poor kid who is sitting up late all by himself watching a horror movie suddenly has a group of blood-sucking axe-wielding freaks

Lots

Me neither,

Fine,

wiping

As you can see, we’ve been doing this for quite a while now.

halves

far.” “Not as far as you’re going,” replies the puddle. “Now

he says. ‘We sure are,’ I say. ‘We just saved everybody from all the weather,’ says Terry. ‘We’re heroes!’ ‘Yes, I know,’ says the man. ‘I saw you on TV—which is why I’m here. My name is Mr Bunkoff. I’m a school truancy officer. I thought I knew all the eligible school-age students in the forest, but I can’t seem to find any record of you three on the school rolls.

water!’ says

If you’re like most of our readers, you’re probably wondering where we get all the ideas for our books from. Well, sometimes we think them up. Other times they are based on stuff that actually happens. Like this book, for instance. It all started one morning when I got up and went down to get some breakfast.

driftfire.

SOS’.

bravo, bravo!’ says Terry. ‘That was il magnifico de stupendio!’ ‘Thank you,’ says Mr Big Nose, taking a big bow.

tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime…

If you've ever watched Andy Griffith, you'll find Geraldine vaguely familiar. She reminds everybody of Aunt Bee. Her size, her sort of scatterbrained reasoning, her sweet manner, and above all, her ability to cook a meal you found it hard to walk away from, all fit that image.

ALL HAIL THE NEW ORDER!’ chanted the crowd. It was a truly grotesque sight.

Zack walked across the room to the window, leaned out and peered into the night.

White Christian America had its golden age in the 1950s, after the hardships and victories of World War Ii and before the cultural upheavals of the 1960s. June Cleaver was its mother, Andy Griffith was its sheriff, Norman Rockwell was its artist. and Billy Graham and Norman Vincent Peale were its ministers.

magnifying glass. “Thanks,” says Terry. “I needed that.” “Don’t mention it,” I say. “That’s what friends are for. Come on! To the flying fried-egg car!” We jump in and pull the yolk down tightly over the top of us. I press EXTRA SIZZLE on the control panel … and we take off through the concealed flying fried-egg car hatch in the top of the detective agency. We fly through Mr. Big Nose’s window and park next to his bookshelf. Terry takes out the two biggest magnifying glasses and starts looking

Take a look at this.” “Those poor little ants,” says Jill.

He was expecting the Special Victim's Unit, but instead found himself in the Mayberry Police Department. All they needed now was an ignorant child to learn the lesson Sheriff Taylor needed to learn by the end of the episode and they could remake 'The Andy Griffith Show'.+ a

Dirty nappies.

World War II sea mines,

number 2s.

The Andy Griffith Show was anachronistic. The denizens of Mayberry wore clothing of uncertain vintage and hair of indeterminate style and drove cars of unspecified age. Scant mention was made of current affairs or changing times. Telephone calls were placed through a human operator, and no one seemed to own a television set.

them. The only trouble is that it could take a while because I’m actually feeling pretty healthy. I hear

shoelace caught in an escalator.

chocolate, strawberry, vanilla and honeycomb.

axle-grease, grass, toothpaste, fish-milkshake and raw horseflesh.

He wondered if he'd be better off staying at the bum shelter with his false bum and forgetting about his real bum. But he couldn't. His bum was trying to take over the world.

Stenchgator, the Great Unwiped Bum... was listed in the Bumper Book of Bums as the stinkiest bum in the world. Most bums only registered one or two points on the Rectum scale, but Stenchgator came in at a nose-bruising 9.8 points.

otherwise

ANTS!

and

remind

After assembly

I hate you, Andy,’ says Jen. ‘I really HATE you. I REALLY, REALLY HATE YOU!’ ‘Jen!’ says Mum, coming into the room with a cup of tea in one hand and a crossword puzzle book in the other. ‘What an awful thing to say to your brother! Apologise to him this instant!’ ‘But, Mum …’ says Jen. ‘No buts,’ says Mum. ‘There’s no excuse for speaking like that. Apologise right now!

play.

Once upon a slime, there was a disgusting princess called Mud Brown. She lived in a stinking bog with seven slobs called Stinky, Filthy, Snotty,

Messy, Grubby, Sloppy, and Robert.

Mount Everest!

About Treehouse Tales WARNING! DO NOT READ THIS BOOK. IT CONTAINS THIRTEEN OF THE SILLIEST TALES THE TREEHOUSE TEAM HAVE EVER TOLD. TALES SO SILLY THEY COULD BREAK YOUR BRAIN*. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. PUT IT DOWN. PUT IT DOWN NOW. BY ORDER OF THE STORY POLICE. *Unless you don’t have one, in which case you’ll be fine so please disregard this warning.

cats! A whole bunch of them...13 to be exact, with Silky in the lead! They were flying in formation, coming in low and fast,

Yes it is,” says the monster.

Terry shrugged. “Nah, not really,” he said. “Sea-monkeys aren’t that interesting after all.” “Never mind,” I said. “Let’s get back to work.” Soon we were back at our table, about to start work on the next story, when we heard a loud crash.

pictures.

We

Edward

but how are you going to get the rocks into her pack without her seeing?’ ‘I’m not going to put the rocks in her pack,’ I say. ‘You are.’ ‘Me?’ says Danny. ‘What

Case

Don’t mention it,” I say. “That’s what friends are for. Come on! To the flying fried-egg car!

If life gets tough, what do you have that you can always count on? A Your fingers. ‘But we have to write this book,’ says Terry.

Row, row, row your boat, Gently down the stream, Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, Life is but a dream! Row, row, row your boat, Gently down the stream. If you see a crocodile, Give it some ice cream! Row, row, row your boat, Row and never stop. If you’re getting hungry, Then suck a lollipop! Row, row, row your boat, Gently on the lake. Don’t forget to bring along A really big—

CHEESECAKE!

TRACTOR TIRE!

POOP POOP!

screaming caterpillar that just screams and screams and when you ask it to stop it just keeps screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and scream—