Bruce Irons Quotes

There are two types of people on planet Earth, Batman and Iron Man. Batman has a secret identity, right? So Bruce Wayne has to walk around every second of every day knowing that if somebody finds out his secret, his family is dead, his friends are dead, everyone he loves gets tortured to death by costumed supervillains. And he has to live with the weight of that secret every day. But not Tony Stark, he's open about who he is. He tells the world he's Iron Man, he doesn't give a shit. He doesn't have that shadow hanging over him, he doesn't have to spend energy building up those walls of lies around himself. You're one or the other - either you're one of those people who has to hide your real self because it would ruin you if it came out, because of your secret fetishes or addictions or crimes, or you're not one of those people. And the two groups aren't even living in the same universe.

Don’t take yourself too seriously. Take yourself as seriously as death itself. Don’t worry. Worry your ass off. Have iron-clad confidence, but doubt. It keeps you alive and alert! Believe you are the baddest ass in town – and [that] you suck! It keeps you honest. Be able to keep two completely contradictory ideas alive and well inside of your heart and head at all times. If it doesn’t drive you crazy, it will make you strong. And when you walk on stage tonight to bring the noise, treat it like it’s all we have – and then remember it’s only rock’ n’ roll.

The lions of hard rock, guys like Robert Plant, Roger Daltrey, Brian Johnson, Rob Halford, these monsters feel completely timeless, iconic, eternal. They simply shall not, will not, do not die. It's almost impossible to imagine a musical world without Robert Plant. No metal fan of any stripe can imagine a day when, say, Iron Maiden shuts it all down because Bruce Dickinson turned 85 and suddenly can't remember the lyrics to "Hallowed Be Thy Name." Metal revels in the raw energy and unchecked phantasmagorical ridiculousness of youth. It is all fire and testosterone and rebellious fantasy. It doesn't go well with reality. So it is for hard rock and a guy like Dio, an elfin titan with an undying love for lasers and sorcery, dragons and kings. The man wrote some terribly corny metal songs, but he sang every one with a ferocity and love and total honesty. He also wrote some of the finest hard rock melodies of all time, sang them with a precision and love unmatched by any hard rock singer since. It's a rare thing to give metal some heartfelt props. It is time. Raise your devil horns and salute.

Across the centuries the moral systems from medival chivalry to Bruce Springsteen love anthems have worked the same basic way. They take immediate selfish interests and enmesh them within transcendent, spiritual meanings. Love becomes a holy cause, an act of self-sacrifice and selfless commitment. But texting and the utilitarian mind-set are naturally corrosive toward poetry and imagination. A coat of ironic detachment is required for anyone who hopes to withstand the brutal feedback of the marketplace. In today's world, the choice of a Prius can be a more sanctified act than the choice of an erotic partner. This does not mean that young people today are worse or shallower than young people in the past. It does mean they get less help. People once lived within a pattern of being, which educated the emotions, guided the temporary toward the permanent and linked everyday urges to higher things. The accumulated wisdom of the community steered couples as they tried to earn each other's commitment. Today there are fewer norms that guide that way. Today's technology seems to threaten the sort of recurring and stable reciprocity that is the building block of trust.

In many ways. . .the completeness of biography, the achievement of its professionalization, is an ironic fiction, since no life can ever be known completely, nor would we want to know every fact about an individual. Similarly, no life is ever lived according to aesthetic proportions. The "plot" of a biography is superficially based on the birth, life and death of the subject; "character," in the vision of the author. Both are as much creations of the biographer, as they are of a novelist. We content ourselves with "authorized fictions.

You can load your own documents onto your Kindle, but Amazon is able to delete books it has already sold you. In 2009, Amazon automatically deleted some editions of George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four from users’ Kindles because of a copyright issue. I know, you just couldn’t write this stuff any more ironically.

No, they’re just black vinyl. Probably somebody else’s record that didn’t sell for shit and they got stuck with a bunch of leftovers. They hit it with some spray paint and stick a commemorative label on it and you’ve got your ‘Official Gold Record.’ Kind of ironic though, isn’t it…marking your success with someone else’s failure.” --Reggie Sinclair from Angela's Coven

You’ve probably heard of the “Romanian orphans.” It is likely that more than five hundred thousand children spent part of their early lives in the state-run institutional orphanages during the Ceauşescu regime in Romania; in 1989, when communism ended in the country, the public and press saw the horrible conditions these children had been subjected to. There were often forty to sixty babies or toddlers in a single large room, each in their own crib all day long, with only one or two caregivers rotating among them over the course of a twelve-hour shift. The children suffered deprivation, malnutrition, abuse, and more. Even after being removed from the institutions, they grew up with a range of deficits. Some had low IQs, others couldn’t walk, most had major problems forming and maintaining relationships. I worked with many children removed from these orphanages. In general, the longer the child was there, the longer the deprivation, the more serious the problems. Ironically, in some overcrowded institutions, children who had to share cribs ultimately did better. The Romanian orphans are now adults; for most of them, problems persist. As a group they are much more likely to be unemployed, have mental and physical health problems, and have difficulties with relationships.

I told Trent I had to be at work, and then he finally agreed to let me and some of the others go.” Agreed to let her go. Really? “You didn’t think to take Dixie home?” I asked, trying to hide my outrage. Her shoulders stiffened. “I was goin’ to, but Trent said he’d do it.” I really needed to have another talk with Trent. “How many other people were at the party? Who were they?” “About twelve or so.” She took a breath as if gathering her courage. “Monica and Blane Hyde. Rebecca Smelt. Matt Greenwood. And Amelia. Oh, and Rick Springfield.” She paused. “That’s it.” That lined up with the list Dixie had given me. Neither of them had mentioned Nash Jackson. “What about Rick’s cousin?” Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Why would Rick’s cousin show up at Trent’s party?” Her tone indicated she was talking about the bald one Amber had mentioned. “Not Herbert. Nash.” “Who’s Nash?” Why had no one heard of this guy? I shook my head. “Rick’s cousin, Nash Jackson, has been hanging around, and no one seems to know who he is. Could he have been there?” She shrugged. “Maybe . . . ? Rick didn’t stay long. He showed up early but left while Dixie was in the bathroom.” “Rick was in the house while Dixie was there?” “He may not have gone in the house. Most of us use the gate at the side of the house. The Dunbars added one of those fancy iron fences a few years back.” “But he could have gone inside.” And if Dixie had left her drink on a counter or table, he would have had access to drug her. But why drug her if he was leaving? So far I had more questions than answers. “Who was still there when you left?” “Amelia. And Gabby and Mark. Wait . . . ,” she said, her eyes widening. “Bruce showed up around the time I was leavin’.” “Bruce Jepper?” He wasn’t on Dixie’s list, but then he wouldn’t have been if he’d arrived after she lost consciousness. “Yeah. He looked pissed and drunk, but

Los seguidores de Iron Maiden están bastante acostumbrados a involucrar sus cerebros.

Ironically, by denying the sexual component of many same-sex activities and seeking alternative "functions", scientists have inadvertantly ascribed a much richer and varied palette of behavioral nuances to homosexual interactions than is often granted to heterosexual ones. Because heterosexuality is linked so inextricably to reproduction, its nonsexual "functions" are often overlooked, whereas because homosexuality is typically disassociated from reproduction, its sexual aspects are often denied. By bringing these two views together - by recognizing that both same-sex and opposite-sex behaviors can be all these things and sexual, too - we will have come very close indeed to embracing a fully integrated or *whole* view of animal life and sexuality.

When you pray with these fellow lovers of God you will experience breakthrough and the gifts that flow through you and them will be manifest on your behalf and great advances will be made in the spiritual realm. That is the way God designed it. As iron sharpens iron, So a man sharpens the countenance of his friend. (Proverbs 27:17)

Eddie is Iron Maiden's mascot, monster, alter ego - call it what you will. Part supernatural, part primal, part aggressive adolescent, Eddie is a super anti-hero with no backstory. Eddie doesn't give a fuck. He just is. Eddie also gets us off the hook as individuals. Eddie is far bigger and more outrageous than any badly behaved superstar. Eddie makes rock stars obsolete. This comes in handy when you get to your late fifties and rather fancy a quiet night in after playing to 25,000 screaming metal fans.

Ironically, men’s sartorial choices have become all the more defining as their wardrobe choices have become more limited.

What is especially ironic about these professors' rhetoric of "otherness" and "queerness" is that they are, in fact, by any real-world measure, extremely conservative, lockstep, institutional, careerist creatures. Their sense of identification with their universities, their departments, and their fields of "study", not to mention the obvious way they size one another up by their titles, academic affiliation, and publications, is stifling. So are their endless pious references to Marx, Foucault, and Derrida, which bring to mind the obligatory nods to the Great Leader at some Communist Party congress.

Multiculturalism--the claim that minority cultures and ways of life should be protected through group rights and privilege--amounts to the Balkanization of this country into blacks, Asians, Native Americans, Hispanics, and so on. It highlights differences and obscures similarities, and it gives each group the idea that it has a special knowledge about itself that no one else can share. How many times have you heard that you have no right to criticize a black (or Latino or Bengali) if you aren't black (or Latino or Bengali)? Multiculturalism is the antithesis of the American melting pot, and quite deliberately so. I've heard black nationalists argue that the melting-pot theory, with the assimilation it demands, is just another racist attempt to "disappear" the black man in America. Multiculturalism is heralded specifically because it keeps people in separate groups. Ironically, if actual multiculturalism--an appreciation for diversity--were in effect today instead of the warped balkanization we have under that label, each of us would be free to embrace a culture other than our own. As a black woman, Paulette Williams would have been celebrating multiculturalism much more distinctly by keeping her own Anglo name. Or perhaps she could have changed her name to Mary O'Reilly or Edna Ferber. Now that would have been real multiculturalism.

The FBI is also investigating the numerous death threats against Dr. Laura herself, which began with the initiation of the gay campaign and ended with its success in the cancellation of her television show. References to her [Dr. Laura Schlesinger] opinion about gays and lesbians, and to the campaign against her, accompanied the death threats. Isn't that ironic? Individuals threatening to kill someone because they don't think she's tolerant enough?

Shifting from a superior/inferior paradigm to a strength-in-difference paradigm was kind of a good news/bad news situation. On the downside, I had to admit Bruce had been right to resist my Pygmalion makeover attempts. On the upside, I finally had someone I could work on: me. I noticed my tendency to micromanage him and made a conscious effort to let go. I practiced being a better listener. I kept my mouth shut and tried to put myself in his shoes before speaking. This approach, ironically, gave me the very control I had sought in making our marriage a more livable situation. This I could do, and with a lot less wear and tear. After years of hearing the old adage “You can only change yourself,” I finally understood it. About a year into my waking up white journey, I realized I’d been unknowingly caught in a similar dynamic in the racial arena. During all the years I’d tried to help and fix people of color, part of my subconscious expectation had been that people outside my culture should assimilate to my ways, see and do things the way I’d been taught was right and normal. Unlike in my marriage, however, where Bruce and I felt free to tell each other how frustrated we were, in cross-racial relationships such freedom of expression often does not exist. Because throughout history speaking up has cost people of color jobs, homes, and even lives, too often the choice is to stay silent. There’s a long and painful American history of people of color, when in the presence of white people, conforming to survive. The cost is staggering. The silencing of feedback from people of color can create a deadlock dynamic in which white people remain ignorant about their impact, while people of color accumulate frustration.

Jack's eyes were huge, he was nervous and excited at the idea of fighting off so many blazes. “There were that many?”  Dad nodded, a frown on his face. “Yeah, I saw some other things in there, too. In the few seconds before they poofed me, anyway. Some skeletons that had dark gray bones. I hadn’t seen those before, but there weren’t nearly as many. Only a handful. I also saw some regular skeletons. But the sheer number of blazes was just...It was impossible to count.”  Mom huffed. “Well, that is not at all what I was hoping for. What are we going to do now?”  Dad opened his shulker box and pulled out his stronger set of iron enchanted armor, and a gold helmet, and put it all on. Then he took out two tower shields, equipping one in each hand. “Well first off, I should have gone in more prepared.”  Mom snapped her fingers. “Speaking of prepared, that reminds me.” She pulled out potions from her inventory, handing everyone a few. Then gave out stacks of golden apples and cooked pork, followed by healing potions. “This should help a lot for when we go in.”  “Wait,” Dad said. “You still want to go in after what I told you is behind that portal?”  Mom opened her shulker box, also getting dressed in her enchanted iron armor. “Yes, dear. We will not let some floating fire monsters stop us from reaching our goal.”  Kate grinned. “Go Mom! I have an idea too. STOMPY!” she called over to the huge ravager.  “What are you doing?” Jack asked. He had put on his enchanted iron armor, while handing Bruce some diamond armor and diamond sword, and some golden boots, just in case. Bruce ate them up, his entire body turning the blue of diamond, and his claws growing longer and sharper and shinier, piercing through his new, golden paws.  “I think we should have Stompy charge through and open a path for us. He’s perfect for the job,” Kate said as Stompy stomped up to them. She patted his neck lovingly.  “Aren’t you worried about him getting hurt?” Mom asked.

How ironic that the cultures our modern world has marginalized are the very cultures with the wisdom to heal our modern woes.

How long before I recover?' Amen gave a good think to that one. 'I had an RAF fighter pilot sitting where you are now, with exactly the same tumour. It was 12 month before he was fit, fat and healthy again.' Twelve month? That was too long. I would be bored by then. 'I'll beat that,' I declared.

I'd barely considered the question of whether I would sing again, which surprised me. I realised that I loved life above all else, and if singing was the price to pay then so be it.

- Naprawdę udzielałaś porad prawnych w centrum handlowym? - Oczywiście. Co w tym dziwnego? - Jakoś nie wyglądasz mi na osobę, która dobrze by się tam odnalazła. - Jestem społecznikiem, Zordon, pomagałam ludziom za pięć dych. - Dobrze, że nie za uśmiech. - W szczególnych przypadkach byłabym nawet gotowa to zrobić. - Chyba tylko, jeśli Bruce Dickinson by się do ciebie zgłosił. - Wtedy rzuciłabym tę robotę i wyjechała z nim na niekończącą się trasę koncertową. Up the Irons!

Iron Man‘s success more than made up for that July’s Incredible Hulk. The result of Marvel’s most difficult production right up to the present, the second Hulk film starred Ed Norton, who proved a terrible fit for Maisel and Feige’s philosophy that studio executives should be the ultimate creative authority. Undeniably one of the best actors of his generation, Norton is also famous in Hollywood for being “difficult” and highly opinionated, refusing to allow artistic choices he disagrees with and seeking to rewrite scripts he doesn’t like, which is what he did on The Incredible Hulk. The clashes intensified in post-production, and the director, Louis Letterier, sided with Norton over the studio. They both learned who has the ultimate power at Marvel, though, when Feige took control of editing. He excised many of the darkest scenes, including a suicide attempt meant to portray how much the scientist Bruce Banner wants to rid himself of the curse of transforming into the Hulk when he’s mad. The resulting movie was still darker and more dramatic than any other Marvel Studios production and not different enough from the Hulk movie of 2003. It grossed only $263 million at the box office and barely broke even, the worst performance for any Marvel Studios film to date. The Incredible Hulk never got a sequel, but the character has returned in Avengers films, played by the easygoing Mark Ruffalo. The usually cheerful Feige stated that the decision to recast the role was “rooted in the need for an actor who embodies the creativity and collaborative spirit of our other talented cast members.

The modern technologies and rational ways of thinking that supposedly mark our progress over earlier generations now allow us to commit mass murder and replicate infernal landscapes at the touch of a button; in an ironic reversal, we have become the very demons our ancestors trembled to meet when death foreclosed on their lives.

poet should not be some sweet-singing bird in a trap, feasting on the meat while blind to the net. The net is the meat, all those entanglements and snares and iron claws that hobble us and prevent our escape from the limits of our weak and fallen flesh.

Picon, who had remained silent for some time, now started assiduously to rearrange the fire-irons.

Eli Lilly received even more attention from the national media on January 15, 2009, when it pled guilty to charges that it had illegally marketed its blockbuster antipsychotic drug Zyprexa for unapproved uses to children and the elderly (two populations especially vulnerable to its dangerous side effects). Former Lilly sales representative Robert Rudolph, one of the eight whistle-blowers in this case, wanted jail time for executives, arguing, “You have to remember, with Zyprexa people lost their lives.” Lilly pled guilty to a misdemeanor charge and agreed to pay $615 million to end the criminal investigation and approximately $800 million to settle the civil case. CBS reporter Sharyl Attkisson commented, “Eli Lilly has pled guilty to marketing the sometimes dangerous drug Zyprexa in ways never proven safe or effective . . . Lilly has agreed to pay $1.4 billion . . . Ironically, that’s about as much as the company’s Zyprexa sales in the first quarter last year.” While the mass media, at various times, has reported on each of the above details, the mass media does not connect the dots to reveal the corporatocracy. In fact, mass media is a major part of the corporatocracy: Much of it is owned by a handful of large corporations, and all of it is dependent on corporate advertising. Still, polls show that most people know government, corporations, and the wealthy elite work together to ensure their own self-interest,