Egghead Quotes

I love you just the way you are but you don't see you like I do. You shouldn't try so hard to be perfect. Trust me, perfect should try to be you.

Well, man, you know what they say." No, I don't. I don't know what they say. I don't even know who they are. Who is this they? They seem pretty smug. They seem to think they know shit. Fuck them.

Mmmmmm I like that thing you do with your tongue. What do you call it? Speaking? Yeah, I dig it

One cringes to hear scientists cooing over the universe or any part thereof like schoolgirls over-heated by their first crush. From the studies of Krafft-Ebbing onward, we know that it is possible to become excited about anything—from shins to shoehorns. But it would be nice if just one of these gushing eggheads would step back and, as a concession to objectivity, speak the truth: THERE IS NOTHING INNATELY IMPRESSIVE ABOUT THE UNIVERSE OR ANYTHING IN IT.

You How, may I ask, did you get so you, you beautiful true-to-you doer? I’ve met many today but can honestly say that I’ve never met anyone you-er.

Forever and An Instant met up one day, Had a short, but lovely talk, then each went on it's way.

Imagination They say adults have no imagination. Not true. Just instead of dinosaurs and spaceships, they imagine silence and the new babysitter bent over the coffee table.

Fireflies Hey, fireflies! Fly higher, guys! Fly high above this place. Till a sky rise is a wire’s size. Then fly off into space. I catch stupid bugs in jars but you’re not bugs you’re baby stars!

If you were perfect, I’d tattoo this on my chest. If you were beautiful, I’d carve this into a tree trunk. If you were nice, I’d write this in a letter. But you’re none of those—

Your afraid of sharks? Really? They don't even have bones! They have cartilage. Are you afraid of ears too?

Be careful not to appear obsessively intellectual. When intelligence fills up, it overflows a parody.

We don't make bicycles anymore. It's all human relations now. The eggheads sit around trying to figure out new ways for everyone to be happy. Nobody can get fired, no matter what; and if somebody does accidentally make a bicycle, the union accuses us of cruel and inhuman practices and the government confiscates the bicycle for back taxes and gives it to a blind man in Afghanistan.

Hanged" I hung myself today. Hanged? Whatever, the point is I hanged myself today and I’m still hanging. I feel fine. Just bored. I keep hoping that someone will come home and cut me down but then I keep remembering that if I knew someone like that I wouldn’t be up here. Bit ironic, right? Or is that not ironic? I read somewhere that, like, anything funny is, in some way, ironic. But I don’t know if it's funny or not. I don’t think my brain owns “funny”, you know? I feel taller. I like that. I’ve never been away from my shadow for this long. It had always clung to my feet, parting momentarily for a quick dive into the swimming pool. But never for five hours. I like it. There’s three feet of space between my two and the floor. I wanted something this morning. I may be stuck. But at least I’m three feet closer to it.

Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, hollow be thy promises and shallow be thy shame. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. On a scale from on to ten, our Lord is totally eleven. Give us this day our daily bread, toasted close to dawn, and forgive us our trespasses as we shoot those who trespass on our lawn, and lead us not into temptation, such as pot or porno, but deliver us from evil (if not delivery, then DiGiorno).

Bombs The first bomb dropped unheard, unlike the loudly dropped second and third; then the final bomb dropped from the sky to the ground and the last-seen bomb made the last-heard sound.

Judge Jesus I said, “You can’t judge me. Only Jesus can!” He said, “Well I can ’cause I’m a judge and ’cause you just killed a man.

My Rabbit’s Foot I’ve got a rabbit’s foot and I feel lucky that I have it, but I still know that it must’ve come from one unlucky rabbit.

Perfect I love you just the way you are but you don’t see you like I do. You shouldn’t try so hard to be perfect. Trust me, perfect should try to be you.

They “Well, man, you know what they say.” No, I don’t. I don’t know what they say. I don’t even know who they are. Who is this they? They seem pretty smug. They seem to think they know shit. Fuck them.

Sully suffers from a stutter, simple syllables will clutter, stalling speeches up on beaches like a sunken sailboat rudder. Sully strains to say his phrases, sickened by the sounds he raises, strings of thoughts come out in knots, he solves his sentences like mazes. At night, he writes his thoughts instead and sighs as they steadily rush from his head.

Searching I’m not looking in every nook and cranny for it. I’ll do the nooks. No way I left my keys in some fucking cranny.

How, may I ask, did you get so you, you beautiful true-to-you doer? I’ve met many today but can honestly say that I’ve never met anyone you-er.

Christ, back in Chicago, we don't make bicycles any more. It's all human relations now. The eggheads sit around trying to figure out new ways for everybody to be happy. Nobody can get fired, no matter what; and if someone does accidentally make a bicycle, the union accuses us of cruel and inhuman practices and the government confiscates the bicycle for back taxes and gives it to a blind man in Afghanistan.

Eierkopf. Egghead. Because the big double-domed empty heads break so easily . . . in the street brawls.

They are the Eggheads. He is the Walrus.

Flowers On the third of June, at a minute past two, where once was a person, a flower now grew. Five daisies arranged on a large outdoor stage in front of a ten-acre pasture of sage. In a changing room, a lily poses. At the DMV, rows of roses. The world was much crueler an hour ago. I’m glad someone decided to give flowers a go.

Read this to yourself. Read it silently. Don't move your lips. Don't make a sound. Listen to yourself. Listen without hearing anything. What a wonderfully weird thing, huh? NOW MAKE THIS PART LOUD! SCREAM IT IN YOUR MIND! DROWN EVERYTHING OUT. Now, hear a whisper. A tiny whisper. Now, read this next line in your best crotchety- old man voice: "Hello there, sonny. Does your town have a post office?" Awesome! Who was that? Whose voice was that? It sure wasn't yours! How do you do that? How?! It must've been magic.

I put a chameleon on a red dildo... He blushed

I feel taller. I like that.

What are they going to do about it?" "So far? Get drunk. Yell at each other or at us. Design theoretical judicial systems. Most of them seem to want the whole thing to just go away sot hey can get on with their research." Murtry chuckled. "God bless the eggheads.

Must be frustrating being a scientist. There you are, incrementally discovering how the universe works via a series of complex tests and experiments, for the benefit of all mankind - and what thanks do you get? People call you "egghead" or "boffin" or "heretic", and they cave your face in with a rock and bury you out in the wilderness. Not literally - not in this day and age - but you get the idea. Scientists are mistrusted by huge swathes of the general public, who see them as emotionless lab-coated meddlers-with-nature rather than, say, fellow human beings who've actually bothered getting off their arses to work this shit out.

Gypsy On Wednesday morning, clear and calm, I went to Astor Place. And had a Gypsy read my palm or maybe just my face. She said my heart was heavy and my head was stuffed with lies. But things like that weren't on my hands, they hid behind my eyes. The room is dull and dank and cold but at least I have a hand to hold.

The Squares The Squares lived happily, in their square houses, in their square yards, in their square town. One day, a family of Circles moved in from the west. “Get out of here, roundies!” shouted one of the Squares. “Why?” asked one of the Circles. “Because this is a metaphor for racism!

Our pals over at Wikipedia make hair sounds like the sun of fresh water, saying in their snooty tone that head hair has "gained an important significance in nearly all present societies as well as any given historical period throughout the world". But then again, those lovable eggheads can make anything sound pretty serious.

Forever and an Instant Forever and an instant met up one day, had a short but lovely talk, then each went on its way.

You know the old brownshirt term for people who spin philosophy? Eierkopf. Egghead. Because the big double-domed empty heads break so easily . . . in the street brawls.

9 likes Like Facebook_icon “Read this to yourself. Read it silently. Don't move your lips. Don't make a sound. Listen to yourself. Listen without hearing anything. What a wonderfully weird thing, huh? NOW MAKE THIS PART LOUD! SCREAM IT IN YOUR MIND! DROWN EVERYTHING OUT. Now, hear a whisper. A tiny whisper. Now, read this next line in your best crotchety- old man voice: "Hello there, sonny. Does your town have a post office?" Awesome! Who was that? Whose voice was that? It sure wasn't yours! How do you do that? How?! It must've been magic.

When I walk into a room, you’d think I was one of those long, straight Tetris pieces because everyone’s just like, “Oh great, you’re here! We’ve been waiting for you to show up.

You’re afraid of sharks? Really? They don’t even have bones! They have cartilage. Are you afraid of ears too?

But there were alternative media outlets. Oh sure, and you know who listens to them? Pansy, overeducated know-it-alls, and you know who listens to them? Nobody! Who’s going to care about some PBS-NPR fringe minority that’s out of touch with the mainstream? The more those elitist eggheads shouted “The Dead Are Walking,” the more most real Americans tuned them out.

The busybody (banned as sexist, demeaning to older women) who lives next door called my daughter a tomboy (banned as sexist) when she climbed the jungle (banned; replaced with "rain forest") gym. Then she had the nerve to call her an egghead and a bookworm (both banned as offensive; replaced with "intellectual") because she read fairy (banned because suggests homosexuality; replace with "elf") tales. I'm tired of the Language Police turning a deaf ear (banned as handicapism) to my complaints. I'm no Pollyanna (banned as sexist) and will not accept any lame (banned as offensive; replace with "walks with a cane") excuses at this time. If Alanis Morrissette can play God (banned) in Dogma (banned as ethnocentric; replace with "Doctrine" or "Belief"), why can't my daughter play stickball (banned as regional or ethnic bias) on boy's night out (banned as sexist)? Why can't she build a snowman (banned, replace with "snow person") without that fanatic (banned as ethnocentric; replace with "believer," "follower," or "adherent") next door telling her she's going to hell (banned; replaced with "heck" or "darn")? Do you really think this is what the Founding Fathers (banned as sexist; replace with "the Founders" or "the Framers") had in mind? That we can't even enjoy our Devil (banned)-ed ham sandwiches in peace? I say put a stop to this cult (banned as ethnocentric) of PC old wives' tales (banned as sexist; replace with "folk wisdom") and extremist (banned as ethnocentric; replace with "believer," "follower," or "adherent") conservative duffers (banned as demeaning to older men). As an heiress (banned as sexist; replace with "heir") to the first amendment, I feel that only a heretic (use with caution when comparing religions) would try to stop American vernacular from flourishing in all its inspirational (banned as patronizing when referring to a person with disabilities) splendor.

Perfect I love you just the way you are but you don’t see you like I do. You shouldn't try so hard to be perfect. Trust me, perfect should try to be you.

Bye-bye, Fuzzy. Bye-bye, Blinky. See you later, Egghead, and you, too, Froggie.

I think like an academic egghead, believing that if I write enough paragraphs about a scary subject, give enough lectures about it, it will give up and go away quietly. And if everyone took enough classes about the biology of violence and studied hard, we’d all be able to take a nap between the snoozing lion and lamb. Such is the delusional sense of efficacy of a professor.

Now, brooder is an interesting word. People who worry a lot in silence are known as brooders. But then again so is a hen sitting on her eggs. The more I get to know chickens, the more I realize half our language comes from chickens. Well, not half. But an awful lot considering this isn't Latin or anything. Cooped up. Egghead. Hatch a plan. Henpecked. Pecker. Cock. Chickenshit. Chicken-scratch. A lot of chicken words are meant to deliver attitude, which isn't surprising to me now that I have chickens. Chickens aren't background animals like fish or sheep or horses. Chickens are in-your-face animals. Chickens if you have them, come to bracket your days. The rooster hollers all morning, and then in the evening the hens have left you their mysterious gift of eggs. Silkies are said to be excellent brooders, to have a tendency toward "broodiness." This, too, is usually meant as a compliment.

Christ, back in Chicago, we don’t make bicycles any more. It’s all human relations now. The eggheads sit around trying to figure out new ways for everybody to be happy. Nobody can get fired, no matter what; and if somebody does accidentally make a bicycle, the union accuses us of cruel and inhuman practices and the government confiscates the bicycle for back taxes and gives it to a blind man in Afghanistan.” “And you think things will be better in San Lorenzo?” “I know damn well they will be. The people down there are poor enough and scared enough and ignorant enough to have some common sense!

The influx of suited men on the airport’s moving walkway transformed it into a conveyor belt.

A know-it-all poses to know everything, so he will therefore tell you anything; although his brain forgets that one crucial thing, which is that other people, too, have brains.

Oh sure, and you know who listens to them? Pansy, overeducated know-it-alls, and you know who listens to them? Nobody! Who’s going to care about some PBS-NPR fringe minority that’s out of touch with the mainstream? The more those elitist eggheads shouted “The Dead Are Walking,” the more most real Americans tuned them out. So, let me see if I understand your position. The administration’s position. The administration’s position, which is that you gave this problem the amount of attention that you thought it deserved. Right. Given that at any time, government always has a lot on its plate, and especially at this time because another public scare was the last thing the American people wanted. Yep. So you figured that the threat was small enough to be “managed” by both the Alpha teams abroad and some additional law enforcement training at home. You got it. Even though you’d received warnings to the contrary, that it could never just be woven into the fabric of public life and that it actually was a global catastrophe in the making. [Mister Carlson pauses, shoots me an angry look, then heaves a shovelful of “fuel” into his cart.] Grow up.

Christ, back in Chicago, we don’t make bicycles any more. It’s all human relations now. The eggheads sit around trying to figure out new ways for everybody to be happy. Nobody can get fired, no matter what; and if somebody does accidentally make a bicycle, the union accuses us of cruel and inhuman practices and the government confiscates the bicycle for back taxes and gives it to a blind man in Afghanistan.

Scared, the eggheads. And maybe that's how it should be. They should be even more scared than the rest of us ordinary folks put together. Because we merely don't understand a thing, but they at least understand how much they don't understand. They gaze into this bottomless pit and know that they will inevitably have to climb down - their hearts are racing, but they know that they'll have to do it - except they do not know how or what awaits them at the bottom or, more important, whether they'll be able to get back out.

Onion You had many layers like an onion. Wait, no, like an artichoke—with your layers arranged like snake scales, not stacked like coats of paint. Be sure to call in a year or so and tell me whether I was lifting heavy stones off your bunker door or plucking petals off your face.

i think what these psychedelics do is they put you very much in the here and now and it's nothing more than that i mean obviously i'm an egghead and an abstract thinker and i hope to make my reputation in mathematics But feeling is the primary validator of existence and if you dont know that you gotta go back to square one. these things empower feeling they are catalysts for the imagination. You may not like what psychedelics do to you - they may terrify you. But if it terrifies you, then surely it must have catalysed your imagination - otherwise you wouldn't have known that terror!

So, Silicon Valley has always been equal parts egghead libertarianism and acid-tinged hippie romanticism. Both of these worldviews mesh quite well actually when it comes to believing that technology can be used to better mankind and free it from all manner of oppression, repression and just everyday drudgery. The Internet was another in a long line of technological miracles that many believed would elevate minds and free souls from all sorts of impediments. For the libertarians the Internet was great because it had few rules and no governance. For the hippies, the Internet promised free expression and a democratization of ideas.

I’m stuck in this thing and I’m wanting to leave. There are holes in the thing that hiss when I breathe. And the more that I sit here, the more I believe that I’m stuck in this thing and won’t ever leave. Back at the kennel, the whole cage was ours but maybe these walls are better than bars, or maybe I’m hurtling skyward to Mars and maybe those holes are actually stars!

Среди русских интеллигентов, как уже многими замечен, есть порядочное количество диковинных людей,..которые сумеют героически, не дрогнув ни одним мускулом, глядеть прямо в лицо смерти, которые способны ради идеи терпеливо переносить невообразимые лишения и страдания, равные пытке, но зато эти люди теряются от высокомерности швейцара, съёживаются от окрика прачки, а в полицейский участок входят с томительной и робкой тоской

Our Father Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, hollow be thy promises and shallow be thy shame. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. On a scale from one to ten, our Lord is totally eleven. Give us this day our daily bread, toasted close to dawn, and forgive us our trespasses as we shoot those who trespass on our lawn, and lead us not into temptation, such as pot or porno, but deliver us from evil (if not delivery, then DiGiorno).

I take the demise of the American car personally. I’m looking around furiously for someone or something to blame. Ralph Nader for instance. What fun it would be to jump on him with both feet and send the pink Marxist goo squirting out of his cracked egghead.

Just a treat?” Abigail finished. “You know, I always knew you were an egg-head when it came to bugs, Robbie, but I never realized how egg-centric you were. What an egg-citing diet you have! I guess the yolk is on you, though—

The official word is to balance the team. I suspect it’s because Congress doesn’t trust the military. I assume it’ll be an egghead guy with serious credentials and no government ties. Drake wants someone with no agenda.

Jonas rubbed his eyes. “Okay, Masao, for some reason it seems the story’s being leaked anyway. First off, Danielson wasn’t my C.O., he was assigned to Guam when our mission began, then ended up overseeing the dives as they were in his waters. I had trained for the mission for several years along with three other pilots, two of which eventually dropped out. “The sub was called the Sea Cliff; the navy having refitted her to handle the Challenger Deep. Three teams of scientists were flown out to supervise the mission. I was briefed with some bullshit story about measuring deep-sea currents in the trench in order to determine if plutonium rods from nuclear power plants could be safely buried within the subduction zone. Funny thing—when we descended on that first dive the eggheads were suddenly no longer interested in currents, what they came for were rocks.” “Rocks?” “Manganese nodules. Don’t ask me why they wanted them, I haven’t a clue. My orders were to pilot the sub down to the hydrothermal plume and remain there while the geologists operated a remotely-controlled drone designed with a vacuum.” Jonas closed his eyes. “The first dive went okay; the second was three days later and by the time I had surfaced again I was seeing double.

egghead

It’s all human relations now. The eggheads sit around trying to figure out new ways for everybody to be happy. Nobody can get fired, no matter what; and if somebody does accidentally make a bicycle, the union accuses us of cruel and inhuman practices and the government confiscates the bicycle for back taxes and gives it to a blind man in Afghanistan.

Then again, this was the Research Triangle Park. A lot of eggheads. Russ was realistic enough to know he couldn’t expect a lot of intellectuals to show up for one of his speeches.

We couldn't say her name often enough. It tickled us to mention her name to strangers and watch the expressions on their faces. Girls liked her. Boys liked her. And-- most remarkable-- the attention came from all kinds of kids: shy mice and princesses, jocks and eggheads.

An internally conceived and gestated fetus is a protected fetus, and a protected fetus is a fetus freed to loll about long enough to bloom a giant brain. So we lend new meaning to the term egghead: from the cloistered egg is born the bulging frontal lobe.

Werner Heisenberg Walks into a Bar Werner Heisenberg walks into a bar. The bartender asks, 'What will you have? Heisenberg ponders the question for 30 seconds and says, 'I'm still uncertain. There is a fuzziness in nature, a fundamental limit to what I can know about the behavior of quantum particles in the liquor in that shot glass. On these subatomic scales, the most I can hope for is to calculate probabilities for where the liquor is and how it will behave once it enters my bloodstream.' The bartender says, 'Listen egghead, stop your jabbering. This is not rocket science. Either order a drink or get the fuck out of my bar.' Heisenberg leaves in frustration and at that very moment, in walks the rocket scientist, Wernher von Braun. The bartender grabs his bat from behind the bar and says to himself, 'Achh scheiße, here comes trouble.

Like many subscription models, Amazon Prime is a Trojan horse that is expanding the list of products consumers are willing to buy from Amazon and giving the eggheads in Seattle a mountain of customer data to sift through.

For instance, I love the movie Casablanca. Who doesn’t? No matter how many egghead critics declare Citizen Kane to be the greatest American movie, we all know it’s Casablanca in fact.

So what are you reading today?" She started shuffling through the book piles. "Poetry, poetry, more poetry. 'Dating for Eggheads'? 'How To Avoid Huge Ships'? Seriously? Trixie finds that simply staying on dry land works wonders, but…

My parents, they’re both eggheads. I like that about them.

You know, I always knew you were an egg-head when it came to bugs, Robbie, but I never realized how egg-centric you were. What an egg-citing diet you have! I guess the yolk is on you, though—” “Oh, shut up,” Robbie mumbled,

J. Edgar Hoover, the pugnacious director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), put it country-simple for a lay audience when he declared in a widely quoted 1961 speech: "The three biggest threats to America are the Communists, the Beatniks, and the Eggheads." America's secret police chief with the bulldog visage was exaggerating when he fingered the reds, for he knew that the Communist Party USA by this time was largely a front for government spies masquerading as authentic members. As for the eggheads—Hoover never bothered to explain who they were or why they were dangerous.

now that she is heartless, she is much less naive and she almost expects everyone to be deceitful, for she now realizes there is so much advantage in it. Why should she believe a word this egghead says? Perhaps he had grown curious and taken the heart as his own. She wouldn’t put it past him. She wouldn’t put anything past anyone. And she now marvels at her old self—how could I have been so naive before, thinking perhaps everyone had good motives, that everyone has a good side to them, even though it may perhaps be buried deep. When the truth is there is much to be gained from being heartless, immoral.

Craft does not entail looking up decisions in books, or sticking to universal truths. It’s an instinct for making the right decision on every occasion. Pure eggheads lack it. When we think of the Apollo space program, we rarely picture the rocket scientists. We remember a failed mission, Apollo 13, when three guys jury-rigged their spaceship and got back to earth alive. They were among the most highly trained people ever to leave the ground, but they had little training in the repair of carbon dioxide scrubbers. Still, they were able to combine instructions from the ground with their skill as first-class tinkerers. That’s craft: flexibly wise leadership. All great leaders have it.

To this day, I am convinced that the three years I spent at Exeter left me more stupid than when I arrived. I did little to no work; I went from being a voracious bookworm to not reading a single page of a book that wasn’t a set text (and I don’t think I even finished one of those). From September 2006 to July 2009, all I did was drink and shag. All anyone did was drink and shag, pausing only briefly to eat a kebab, watch an episode of Eggheads or shop for a fancy-dress outfit for a ‘Lashed of the Summer Wine’ themed pub crawl. Far from being the hub of radical thinking and passionate activism I had hoped for, it was the most politically apathetic place I had ever been” Excerpt From Everything I Know About Love Dolly Alderton This material may be protected by copyright.

Christ, back in Chicago, we don’t make bicycles any more. It’s all human relations now. The eggheads sit around trying to figure out new ways for everybody to be happy. Nobody can get fired, no matter what; and if somebody does accidentally make a bicycle, the union accuses us of cruel and inhuman practices and the government confiscates the bicycle for back taxes and gives it to a blind man in Afghanistan.” “And you think things will be better in San Lorenzo?” “I know damn well they will be. The people down there are poor enough and scared enough and ignorant enough to have some common sense!

Those extreme cases who take their heaviest imprint on the third circuit tend to grow up cerebrotonic. They are tall and skinny, because energy is perpetually drawn upward from the body into the head. The caricatured evil genius, Dr. Syvlanus in Superman, who was virtually all head, represents the extreme toward which this type seems to be evolving. Popular speech calls them “eggheads.

The field theory of consciousness touches on this a bit and is worth reading more on if you’re interested in getting into some really egg-headed stuff but it states that every particle in the universe contains a spark of what we would call consciousness.

If you're not allowed to question the beliefs and practices of a political system or a religion, know that it is all crap. For it wants to own you. If you want to be enslaved, well, go ahead! But if you yearn to be free, then, get over it, as you'd trash. Don't be an egghead.

To many of our most responsible men, particularly in the business community, the warnings of impending peril or of imminent disaster sound like the Cassandra cries of abstracted ‘egg-heads’ … [Defense Secretary Charles Wilson and Treasury Secretary George Humphrey] simply cannot believe that in the nuclear age the penalty for miscalculation may be national catastrophe. They may know in their heads, but they cannot accept in their hearts, that the society they helped to build could disappear as did Rome or Carthage or Byzantium, which probably seemed as eternal to their citizens … The irrevocable error is not yet part of the American experience.

Bill’s time on the ground only encouraged his skepticism of Mook’s reluctance to send him outside population centers. Having grown up in Arkansas, Bill understood that a major political player—a senator, a governor, or a former president—could bridge ideological divides by just showing up in small towns that never got much attention from elected leaders. He liked to go to small towns in northern New Hampshire, Appalachia, and rural Florida because he believed, from experience, that going to them and acknowledging he knew how they lived their lives, and the way they made decisions, put points on the board. Mook wanted Bill in places where the most Hillary-inclined voters would see him. That meant talking to white liberals and minorities in cities and their close-in suburbs. That was one fault line of a massive generational divide between Bill and Mook that separated old-time political hustling from modern data-driven vote collecting. Bill was like the old manager putting in a pinch hitter he believed would come through in the clutch while the eggheaded general manager in the owner’s box furiously dialed the dugout phone to let him know there was an 82 percent chance that the batter would make an out this time. It’s not that Bill resisted data—he loved poring over political numbers—but he thought of it as both necessary and insufficient for understanding electoral politics.

Do you have an affinity for any character in particular?” MARTI: “Willow is probably closest to who I really was. I was an egghead, and I didn’t date until college. I was totally antisocial, and I was very, very, very shy. I couldn’t talk to boys. So I was much more Willow, although Willow is way cooler than I was. You know, there’s no one as geeky as me on this show. There’s nobody as awkward and introverted, and creepy as I was. I scared my friends. I was just a big drama nerd—I was too gregarious, too silly, then I would withdraw, and then I was too quiet. A couple of other girls and I were the biggest nerds in the universe. We were pizza-faced and just completely couldn’t talk. There was a hall that wasn’t actually a classroom, like an in-between place, called Room 6—it didn’t lead anywhere, it was just a dead end. We would stay in Room 6 because no one ever walked through there. That’s where we would hide so we wouldn’t have to talk to people. “It wasn’t the hardest time in my life, because I had a support system. I had what Buffy has. I had my Xander and my Willow and we had each other and we got through it. Man, thank God those weren’t my glory days. I hope my glory days are still ahead.” Marti Noxon

It was about a crew of powerful moguls and politicians who were set adrift in a spaceship since the planet they were destined for wasn’t where they’d thought it would be. The astrophysicist eggheads they’d left behind had been wrong. These men were the 1 percent of the 1 percent who had abandoned the rest of civilization, and still their billions couldn’t save them. The universe had told them the first no of their lives, and the fight scene was hilarious.

I’m a handy-challenged, bona fide egghead who wouldn’t know a drill bit from a sledgehammer.” Now We Know Why It’s Called a Punch List due for publication in 2019

They were appalled by his idea of making a spy service out of a scattershot collection of Wall Street brokers, Ivy League eggheads, soldiers of fortune, ad men, news men, stunt men, second-story men, and con men.

The same process occurs, however, when people who prefer popular culture come into contact with high culture; they are frequently shocked by its espousal of “deviant” behavior, especially on the part of the artist, and they condemn it in terms similar to those in the mass culture critique. For example, during the 1960s, cultural and political satire was often called “sick comedy,” and Lenny Bruce was hounded off the stage and into suicide by the police and the courts. The defenders of high and popular culture attack each other in many ways. High culture condemns popular culture as vulgar and pathological, while popular culture attacks high culture for being overly intellectual, snobbish, and effeminate, inventing pejorative terms like “highbrow” and “egghead” for this purpose.