Bugs Bunny Quotes

Of course you know, this means war.

Bugs Bunny with a double-barreled twelve-gauge shoots you in the head with a miracle.

In politics, Bugs Bunny always beats Daffy Duck. Daffy's always going berserk, jumping up and down, yelling. Bugs's got that sly smile, like he always knows what's up, like nothing can ruffle him.

I appear to have no time for blondes--except for Bugs Bunny, dressed up as a woman, as he seduces the fool Fudd. That is a woman I could be, definitely: a cartoon man-rabbit dressed up as a girl, trying to have sex with a stuttering bald man. I could definitely do that.

No standards anymore. Now Ricky he watches all them old Disney and Warner Brothers toons on DVD. You never have to worry if maybe Bugs Bunny is goin’ to get it on with Daffy Duck.

Do you remember, during the war, when Porky worked in a defense plant? He and Bugs Bunny. That was a good one too.

If you could buckle your Bugs Bunny wristwatch to a ray of light, your watch would continue ticking but the hands wouldn't move. That's because at the speed of light there is no time. Time is relative to velocity. At high speeds, time is literally stretched. Since light is the ultimate in velocity, at light-speed time is stretched to its absolute and becomes static. Albert Einstein figured that one out.

Hundreds of experiments into the misinformation effect have been conducted, and people have been convinced of all sorts of things. Screwdrivers become wrenches, white men become black men, and experiences involving other people get traded back and forth. In one study, [Elizabeth] Loftus convinced people they were once lost in a shopping mall as a child. She had subjects read four essays provided by family members, but the one about getting lost as a kid was fake. A quarter of the subjects incorporated the fake story into their memory and even provided details about the fictional event that were not included in the narrative. Loftus even convinced people they shook hands with Bugs Bunny, who isn’t a Disney character, when they visited Disney World as a kid, just by showing them a fake advertisement where a child was doing the same. She altered the food preferences of subjects in one experiment where she lied to people, telling them they had reported becoming sick from eating certain things as a child. A few weeks later, when offered those same foods, those people avoided them. In other experiments, she implanted memories of surviving drowning and fending off animal attacks— none of them real, all of them accepted into the autobiography of the subjects without resistance.

I don't have to bitch, because Bunny's doing enough for all of us. Clearly Miss Homemaker doesn't find hiking as easy as pie, because she's cursing in time to our footsteps, and instead of hearing left, left, I left my wife and forty-eight kids home in the kitchen in starving' condition with nothing but gingerbread left, left I hear shit, shit, these bugs are like shit, shit. . . .

You've been here before, Bell. Remember the stories you told me about wandering in the woods when you were a little girl? It scared the crap out of you, but you went out there all alone, knee-high to a bunny rabbit, and picked berries and climbed trees and found bird nests and came home all bug-bitten and mossy. And you loved every minute of it. It made you our beautiful Arctic Bell, impervious to cold and feared by mosquitoes. Aren't you glad you didn't stay by grandma's side, darning socks and baking gingerbread? Who darns socks? Girls nobody tells stories about.

I'll be scared later. Right now, I'm too mad!

Sometimes she believed that he’d risen from the grave—“Like Jesus and Bugs Bunny!”—

I'll be sacred later. Right now, I'm too mad!

Q: What do you call a rabbit with fleas? A: Bugs Bunny!

And this is Kimmie Elias.” Kimmie inhaled a loud breath. “I had a dream you were the love child of Bugs Bunny and the abominable snowman, but in my dream that was a good thing, and you lived in a mushroom that had secret passages into outer space,” she said. And here he thought he’d already heard it all.

Here comes the bride. All dressed in white. For some reason, Chelsea could hear Bugs Bunny’s voice in her head, singing the childish words that had been put to the tune. It would have been funny if she hadn’t been so damn scared.

I don't aggressively approach every hottie I see like Pepé Le Pew from those Bugs Bunny cartoons. I use my intuition and assess the situation before making my attack. Come at her like a creepy perv with nothing to offer and you will repel her like Raid cockroach spray.

To this point in her life, Sarah has associated opera with Bugs Bunny in braids, PBS, overweight men wearing tunics, shrieking women, and shattering glass. She’s never understood, certainly because she’s never seen a live opera but also because she’s never heard a half-decent performance, not even in part, on TV, that opera, in fact, is the highest redemption of longing. That it’s her own anguish, salvaged by music. The victorious army’s fight song, in defense of her mute, savaged heart.

Hackworth hesitated. “Pardon me, but not precisely, sir. Folklore consists of certain universal ideas that have been mapped onto local cultures. For example, many cultures have a Trickster figure, so the Trickster may be deemed a universal; but he appears in different guises, each appropriate to a particular culture's environment. The Indians of the American Southwest called him Coyote, those of the Pacific Coast called him Raven. Europeans called him Reynard the Fox. African-Americans called him Br'er Rabbit. In twentieth-century literature he appears first as Bugs Bunny and then as the Hacker.

Since the earliest days of the art form, humans have been the most difficult characters to animate. The more realistic the human being, the more difficult the animation becomes. Audiences will accept distortions in the actions of a cartoony character: no one has ever seen a four-foot-tall rabbit walk on its hind legs, so an artist animating Bugs Bunny enjoys considerable freedom. But everyone knows how human beings move, and if those movements are not rendered accurately, viewers won't believe in the characters. Ward Kimball, one of Disney's "Nine Old Men," commented, "As long as we deal in fantasy, we are on safe ground. The eye has no basis for comparison. But the more we try to duplicate nature realistically, the tougher our job becomes. The audience compares what we draw with what it knows to be true. Any false movement is easily detected.

I can’t understand why you’re writing scripts for Bugs Bunny,” the old lady replied with some asperity. “He’s funny enough just as he is.

The notion that some works are better and more important than others; that some works exert a special claim on our attention; that "being educated" requires a thoughtful acquaintance with these works and an ability to discriminate between greater and lesser-all this is anathema to the forces arrayed against the traditional understanding of the humanities. The very idea that the works of Shakespeare (for example) might be indisputably greater than the collected cartoons of Bugs Bunny is often rejected as "antidemocratic" and "elitist," an imposition on the freedom and political interests of various groups.*

I used to love Bugs Bunny cartoons as a kid. Wascally wabbit. Hated the Coyote though. Really hated the Road Runner. That was some pointless desert bullshit.

Bugs Bunny ate a hundred rotten tomatoes, must be hungry.

The walls were black slate, and people had written all kinds of things on them with white chalk. I saw the phrase SEX, DRUGS AND BUGS BUNNY CARTOONS, and stopped reading after that.

Love Bug brought blueberries from the patch by the stream. Grégoire sang quietly to the kits about the old rabbit legends, like the story of the peach tree with the sweetest fruit in the world.

We can’t risk you, Tante Aimante,”25 said Love Bug.

Love Bug was on top of his game: a boyish, cute, warrior with a story to tell and a steady string of wide-eyed does to tell it to.

I sort through his stuff on the couch. Ma took extra hours at the hotel this weekend, so it’s only me and Li’l Man. He lying in this bouncy seat thing Dre bought. Bugs Bunny got Elmer Fudd looking like a damn fool. Seven real into it, cooing and kicking. “You going to bed soon, man,” I tell him. “You not staying up all night.” I don’t talk to him like he a baby. Nah, I talk to him like I talk to anybody else. He understand it, that’s why he whining now.

using nimrod in the Bugs Bunny sense.

Another card, Joker, but for free, I presume.

Ethan slumped on the bench in the change room, ignoring the ribald behavior around him after yet another foregone win. A hard slap on the rear of his head roused him and he whirled, his lip curled back as he growled menacingly. “Don’t you dare show me your teeth,” Javier warned with a dark look. He ran his hand through hair, already tousled and sweaty from the match. “What the fuck happened out there? I passed you the perfect shot, and instead of grabbing it and scoring, you crashed into the g**damn arena glass. What are you, a rookie? Been watching too many Bugs Bunny cartoons?” Heat burned Ethan’s cheeks in remembrance of his mishap before dejection— along with a large dose of disbelief— quickly set back in. “I missed. It happens and besides, it’s not like we needed the point to win.” “Of course we didn’t,” Javier replied with a scoffing snort. “But it’s the point of it. What the hell distracted you so much? And, why do you look like your best friend died, which, I might add, is an impossibility given I’m standing right beside you.” Javier grinned. “I think I found my mate,” Ethan muttered. A true beauty with light skin, a perfect oval face framed by long, brown hair and the most perfect set of rosebud lips. Javier’s face expressed shock, then glee. “Congrats, dude.” Javier slapped him hard on the back, and while the blow might have killed a human or a smaller species, it didn’t even budge Ethan. “I know you’ve been pining to settle down with someone of the fairer sex. You must be ecstatic.” “Not really.” Although he should have been. Finding one’s mate was a one in a zillion chance given how shifters were scattered across the globe. Most never even came close to finding the one fate deemed their perfect match. His friend’s jovial grin subsided. “What’s wrong? Was she, like, butt ugly? Humongous? Old? Surely she can’t be that bad?” “No, she appears perfect. Or did.” Ethan groaned as banged his head off the locker door. “I am so screwed.” A frown creased Javier’s face. “I don’t get it. I thought you wanted to find the one, you sick bastard. Settle down and pop out cubs.” Ethan looked up in time to see Javier’s mock shudder. “Me, I prefer to share my love among as many women as possible.” Javier mimed slapping an ass then humping it with a leering grin. Ethan didn’t smile at Javier’s attempt at humor even if it happened to be the truth. Javier certainly enjoyed variety where the other sex was concerned. Heck, on many an occasion he’d shared with Ethan. Tag team sessions where they both scored. Best friends who did just about everything together. Blowing out a long sigh, Ethan answered him. “I do want to find my mate, actually, I’m pretty sure I already have, but I don’t think I made a great impression. She’s the one they took out on the stretcher after the ball I missed hit her in the face.” Javier winced. “Ouch. Sucks to be you, my friend. Don’t worry, though. I’m sure she’ll forgive you in, like, fifty years.” Ethan groaned and dropped his head back into his hands. Now that I’ve found her, how do I discover who she is so I can beg her forgiveness? And even worse, how the hell do I act the part of suitor? Raised in the Alaskan wilds by a father who wasn’t all there after the death of Ethan’s mother, his education in social niceties was sadly lacking. He tended to speak with his fists more often than not. Lucky for him, when it came to women, he didn’t usually have to do a thing. Females tended to approach him for sex so they could brag afterward that they’d ridden the Kodiak and survived. Not that Ethan would ever hurt a female, even if his idea of flirty conversation usually consisted of “Suck me harder” and “Bend over.” If I add “darling” on the end, will she count it as sweet talk?

To quote Bugs Bunny, it’s mongoose season, and you’re the fucking mongoose.

Our final challenge is a ranking test: five olive oils of differing degrees of bitterness. This proves a challenge for me, as I would not have described any of them as bitter. All around me, people make sounds like ill-mannered soup-eaters, aerating the oils to free the aromatic gases. I’m doing a mnyeh-mnyeh-mnyeh Bugs Bunny thing with my tongue, but it’s not helping. Well before the test period ends, I stop. I do something I’ve never done in my entire overachieving life. I give up and guess. I do this partly at the behest of my stomach, which is struggling to cope with the unusual delivery of a sizable amount of straight olive oil.

It was all fun and games until someone else's dick was in your girlfriend's TMJ mouth.  And it wasn't even good porn that was playing. It was Looney Toons porn. I shit you not folks. She sucked our neighbor off while Daffy Duck took it up the ass from Bugs Bunny shouting, "P-p-p-p-p-weathe Bugs, harder."  That is some serious shit that could never be unseen.

All his life he had been plagued by impulses to do something inappropriate or despicable for no reason: grab his dissertation supervisor by the ears and give him a big Bugs Bunny kiss, drop the precious vase . . . These thoughts arose from nowhere that he could account for and, at their worst, caused him to lose sleep. When he read Goethe's statement about every man secretly believing himself to be an undiscovered genius or an undiscovered maniac, he wept with relief. He lived in fear that the thoughts might show in his eyes. Usually, though, when he had reason to be offended, his mind was a clear disc of hurt, not a thought of any action, violent or otherwise. But something had changed.

But no matter what they said, I confidently wore my baggy JNCOs and that one T-shirt with Bugs Bunny and the Tasmanian Devil wearing their clothes backwards without a care in the world.

Other countries pass laws requiring that their movie theaters, television networks, and radio stations have to play a certain percentage of homegrown entertainment. Because if they didn't, Hollywood would wipe it all out. We're not a world leader because we have nuclear missiles and submarines. We are because we have Bugs Bunny and Friends. Our planet is what Hollywood has made it.

Dusty---You look 'dess like' BUGS BUNNY!!!!