Fakes And Phonies Quotes

I was glad my father was an eye-smiler. It meant he never gave me a fake smile because it's impossible to make your eyes twinkle if you aren't feeling twinkly yourself. A mouth-smile is different. You can fake a mouth-smile any time you want, simply by moving your lips. I've also learned that a real mouth-smile always has an eye-smile to go with it. So watch out, I say, when someone smiles at you but his eyes stay the same. It's sure to be a phony.

...I feel like a traitor, a phony, a fake. But I am a hypocrite with the best intentions, and I need kissing desperately.

Will you let me go for Christ's sake? Will you take that phony dream and burn it before something happens?

A company of wolves, is better than a company of wolves in sheep's clothing.

See, Biff, everybody around me is so false that I'm constantly lowering my ideals...

I see... the way you're always searching. How much you hate anything fake or phony. How you're older than your years, but still... playful, like a little girl. How you're always looking into people, or wondering what they see when they look back at you. Your eyes. It's all in the eyes.

I put the “phony” in symphony. Will you be attending my fake concert? It’s a black-tie event. Shirts, jackets, pants, and shoes are optional.

One may be clogged with honey and unable to rise and fly.

Old lady judges watch people in pairs Limited in sex, they dare To push fake morals, insult and stare While money doesn't talk, it swears Obscenity, who really cares Propaganda, all is phony.

Don’t you know that hipsters are supposed to be hip? Hence the name. You’re the exact opposite of hip. You’re a phony hipster, a phipster.

Being with her was like being backstage during an amateurish, ridiculous play.

The true definition of a phony is a high flyer with low mileage; a person who offers a worldview from the comforts of his/her living room.

How empty are the insincere words of people who, so easily, speak forth "love," "family" and "friendship" without meaning what they say even if their intentions are good albeit mere flattery.

I'd rather be befriended as an aimless lost soul than be befriended for adornment, gain or goal.

Anyone can just speak words, but only one that is tried-and-true can mean them.

When we look back from the vantage point of sobriety, many of us realize that when drinking we often felt like a fake, a fraud, and a phony. That’s because we were. – p. 74

Rapacity plus taste is a formidable combination, since it so often passes for intelligence. One pities the artist in a world of such predators, all of whom are deeply engaged in the arts too.

He said he talked to Jesus all the time. Even when he was driving his car. That killed me. I just see the big phony bastard shifting into first gear and asking Jesus to send him a few more stiffs.

If your actions are dictated by who might be watching, they’ll never be genuine—and neither will you.

When you're way too real, fake people be like: "You're a trip. I want somebody with real game (lies).

What simple and ordinary lives we live, underneath the shadows of projection screen artists

From beginning to end, all this phony relationship can offer you is a toxic combination of fake love and real abuse. He constructs the psychopathic bond through deception and manipulation. You maintain it through self-sacrifice and denial.

I was in the land of fakes and frauds and phonies—I felt like saying “Howdy cousin,” to everybody who walked by.

When he greeted them on Day 16, he said, “Thanks so much, such great food for us.” This time he gave a false, fake laugh. Phony. I thought of my mother . Her disdain for phonies was even greater than her disdain for the lazy.

I used to wonder about the fake pictures that came in frames you buy at the store—ladies with smooth brown hair and show-me smiles, grapefruit-headed babies on their sibling's knees—people who in real life probably were strangers brought together by a talent scout to be a phony family. Maybe it's not so different from real photos, after all.

One day, we wake up to the narcissist’s cunning masquerade. We watch their fake mask slip off their face. Everything becomes crystal clear. We see right through their phony disguise. To anyone who’s dealt with the pain and torment of a narcissist, a silver lining is a sign of hope. Hope that someday you can break free from the abuse. Hope to rebuild a better life. Hope to find comfort and peace within. Hope to recover from your trauma. Hope to embrace a brighter future. We can no longer unsee their hideous charade. We accept how lethal a malignant narcissist is. We actively set healthy boundaries. We walk away from hurtful relationships. Like the Phoenix, we rise above the fiery ashes. We stand up, dust ourselves off, and march forward.

Why do people have mid-life crises? It’s because they don’t know who they are. And suddenly they realise time is running out. They have to fight to be authentic, to be REAL. All the time, people are having breakdowns brought on by identity crises. They have lived their lives in bad faith. They have been fakes and phonies, frauds and impostors. They have impersonated human beings rather than actually being human beings. They have spent their whole lives in a state of alienation from themselves and from God. Isn’t it time we saved the human race from the controllers, the brainwashers, the identity constructors? People can never be free until they are free to become who they really are. As Nietzsche said, “We want to become those who we are – the new, the unique, the incomparable, those who impose on themselves their own law, those who create themselves!” Is that not the formula for a new, free world, a world of Supermen and Superwomen, a transformed world of individuals on the path to divinity? Revalue all values. Abolish Abrahamism. Abolish the control machine.

And how they take one in, with their manners and their mock wistfulness and gentleness.

Ignore Marie Kondo, everyone needs a big collection of books.

Becoming one with the wave is about as authentic and personally harmonizing an experience as you can get in these phony days of Auto-Tune.

DON’T EVER PUT YOUR CHARACTER ON MUTE. Don’t ever hold back your anger when your anger is warranted. Determine your boundaries and protect them as though your life depends on it. Because it might.

Disillusioned words like bullets bark As human gods aim for their marks Made everything from toy guns that sparks To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark It's easy to see without looking too far That not much Is really sacred. While preachers preach of evil fates Teachers teach that knowledge waits Can lead to hundred-dollar plates Goodness hides behind its gates But even the President of the United States Sometimes must have To stand naked. An' though the rules of the road have been lodged It's only people's games that you got to dodge And it's alright, Ma, I can make it. Advertising signs that con you Into thinking you're the one That can do what's never been done That can win what's never been won Meantime life outside goes on All around you. Although the masters make the rules For the wise men and the fools I got nothing, Ma, to live up to. For them that must obey authority That they do not respect in any degree Who despite their jobs, their destinies Speak jealously of them that are free Cultivate their flowers to be Nothing more than something They invest in. While some on principles baptized To strict party platforms ties Social clubs in drag disguise Outsiders they can freely criticize Tell nothing except who to idolize And then say God Bless him. While one who sings with his tongue on fire Gargles in the rat race choir Bent out of shape from society's pliers Cares not to come up any higher But rather get you down in the hole That he's in. Old lady judges, watch people in pairs Limited in sex, they dare To push fake morals, insult and stare While money doesn't talk, it swears Obscenity, who really cares Propaganda, all is phony. While them that defend what they cannot see With a killer's pride, security It blows the minds most bitterly For them that think death's honesty Won't fall upon them naturally Life sometimes Must get lonely. And if my thought-dreams could been seen They'd probably put my head in a guillotine But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.

When we neglect others out of superficial wisdom, fake respect, phony knowledge—we tell ourselves it’s their life; we say it’s not our responsibility; we don’t want to get involved. Fuck that. Get involved. Or we’ll all feel the pain.

The conservative ideology sees LGBT rights as an affront to the traditional way of life, for some reason. We are attacked as phonies, pretenders, even perverts, just for being who we are. There are people who wish for us to go back into the shadows, the closet, never to return. Many of these people who wish to deny us our very legitimacy, who denounce us as mentally ill deviants, spend an hour each week paying homage to an ever-present, yet non-interventionist man in the sky. They go to courts across the land to defend their right to praise that uncorroborated deity at the expense of other people’s civil liberties. To them, we the living, the transgender people who walk the earth, are fake, but the man up there, He is real.

Artie: It's in here. Jim: Let's check this [box] first, Artie. Artie: Oh. [Finding a fake Sword of Kuniyoshi] Phony! How do you like that? Phony! Jim: Artie...so are our bonds. Artie: Oh. You can't trust anybody these days. Wild Wild West (TV) Season 3 Night of the Samurai

According to intelligence contacts of Sauncho’s, it had been common CIA practice for a while to put Nixon’s face on phony North Vietnamese bills, as part of a scheme to destabilize the enemy currency by airdropping millions of these fakes during routine bombing raids over the north. But Nixonizing U.S. currency this way was not as easily explained, nor sometimes even appreciated.

In fact the "mask" theme has come up several times in my background reading. Richard Sennett, for example, in "The Corrosion of Character: The Personal Consequences of Work in the New Capitalism", and Robert Jackall, in "Moral Mazes: The World of Corporate managers", refer repeatedly to the "masks" that corporate functionaries are required to wear, like actors in an ancient Greek drama. According to Jackall, corporate managers stress the need to exercise iron self-control and to mask all emotion and intention behind bland, smiling, and agreeable public faces. Kimberly seems to have perfected the requisite phoniness and even as I dislike her, my whole aim is to be welcomed into the same corporate culture that she seems to have mastered, meaning that I need to "get in the face" of my revulsion and overcome it. But until I reach that transcendent point, I seem to be stuck in an emotional space left over from my midteen years: I hate you; please love me.

Every nation can be summed up by a single book or play, or by a particular author. America is perhaps perfectly encapsulated by F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. The Great Gatsby is a book about luxury, enchantment, glamour, magic spells, aspiration, a vulgar Wonderland, insecurity, pretentiousness, bluffing, soullessness, fakes, phonies, emptiness, desperation, regrets, and impossible dreams. “Her voice is full of money,” says the narrator about the beguiling muse Daisy Buchanan. Could this not serve as the epitaph for the American Dream itself as it is finally laid to rest?

All terrorism is fake. It is a military deception practiced by the rich upon the poor in an ongoing class war. Their most important weapon in this class war are television presenters. The BBC has actually become The Ministry of Truth of George Orwell’s 1984….Why is this happening right now? It’s happening because we no longer have an enemy. We have an unprecedented situation in which there is only one super state: the Anglo-American alliance…..The ruling group maintain their position in society by controlling the masses through fear. In order to make us believe that we must live in fear, the rich had to provide us with a new foreign enemy, a “bogeyman” who wants to conquer the world. The moment you have a world at peace, the keystone in the arch of ruling class power is gone. Every year America’s oligarchs take three trillion dollars out of America’s economy. This is how the rich have rigged the system – so that it benefits them at the expense of everyone else all of the time. To keep this fraud going, the public must be convinced of the need for military expenditure, and this is where all of the phony terror attacks come in. Here is Orwell’s definition of totalitarianism: ‘ A society living by and for continuous warfare in which the ruling caste have ceased to have any real function but succeed in clinging to power through force and fraud.

Primer of Love [Lesson 6] Humility is not thinking less of yourself, it's thinking of yourself less. ~ C. S. Lewis Lesson 6) The most important element for lasting love is having the humility to apologize and the divinity to forgive. A lasting life together can be little more than a series of fuck ups connected by a filament of forgiveness. First learn like children to apologize even if you don't mean a word of it -- as a child you knew that instinctually when apologizing to your parents (and underscoring the phony apology with a fake cough at the end). This was your rite of passage, your training wheels into acquiring humanity. Forgiveness is that one uniquely paradoxical attribute which makes us at once human and divine in the casting of absolution. Use that Papal power with dignity -- you'll have them kissing your ring and other naughty bits in no time. Pope Francis may be infallible, but your penis makes you inphallible.

Fake it till you become it. My first Argentine tango was with Lil’ Kim, and again, I was completely learning it as I went along. Now it’s become one of my favorite dances to do. Whenever people say to me, “You’re such a great choreographer,” or I look at my Emmy learning it in my apartment, I remind myself that I came into DWTS with no experience, no education in many of these dances, and certainly no clue how to teach anything to anybody. I simply committed to learning them and then taught them to my partners. I drew upon how I had been taught and what I thought my partners would respond to. I felt my way along, just as they did, till I became the teacher I wanted to be. I threw myself into the effort without hesitation because I had no choice. There were only two options: I could go out there and throw my hands up and say, “Just kidding! I’m a phony,” or get it done. I couldn’t let myself or my partners down. This was the stage I was given, and I always want to be the best at whatever I’m doing. I never wanted my partners to feel they couldn’t rely on me. I had to go in there and make it happen. With that mentality, I found a way.

And then he heard it. A loud crash. The Number 22 bus had pulled away from the stop, and another driver in a car trying to get around to turn had collided into the side of the transit vehicle. Finally, Daryl had the nerve to do what every like-minded criminal in Baltimore knows they must. Run and get on the bus for insurance claims. Get a “suitcase,” as some of the old-timer grifters still called phony neck injuries, marrying the word “suit” as in law with “case” as in court. “Suitcase,” the all-purpose secret word for fraud. Amazingly, his erection still held. It was a little painful going up those first bus steps, but so what, it felt even sexier doing a second scam before he’d completely gotten away with the first one. The lucky few passengers on board were already going into their cries of “whiplash,” holding their necks and moaning out loud. He limped to an empty seat and held his knee as if it had been painfully slammed in the impact. Even the bus driver was faking injuries as he called into his dispatcher to report the accident, exaggerating the speed he had been going to make it sound worse. Daryl knew he was surrounded by fellow swindlers and felt, for the first time, part of a community.

First, he’s a billionaire, and a seventy-year-old man. Meaning, he doesn’t give a rat’s ass anymore about anything other than what matters. He’s lived a wild life already—so he doesn’t care who his casual comments offend. When he makes a joke it’s like when a baby farts. It’s nothing personal, the baby’s forgotten it, while everyone is choking out in the room. But the baby doesn’t care. I also had to admit that he’s never been in public office, so he doesn’t know how to be that particular kind of phony. I mean the phony that we all accept—which I call the “mandatory fake.” The mandatory fake is the married news anchor who condemns unseemly sexual behavior while banging Dalmatians in a nearby hotel. Being an old rich uncle who’s never been in politics, Trump has no familiarity with mandatory fake. There is, however, a different kind of fakery in Trump’s world of real estate fibbery. But such lies—salesman’s lies—are deliberately obvious by their excess. You know a salesman is lying when he tells you the car you’re buying from him was only driven by a little old lady once a week to church, which is great because she lives in the attic above the church! A salesman’s lie is done with a wink and an exaggeration (“This is the biggest crowd ever!”). A politician’s lie is a promise that could very well be true, but never is (“Read my lips, no new taxes”). You see the difference? Trump’s lies are common and do not insult us, because he assumes we’re all in on the joke. Politicians are daring you to go against your own innate skepticism (which is always a mistake). Am I “Trump-splaining”? Yes, I am. For now that he’s our president and up against so much, it’s no longer fealty to do so. It’s actually fairness. Anyway, as a Holmes, I’ve since reevaluated some positions that I’ve taken for granted. I’ve looked at the research on illegal immigration and its effects on unemployment. I’ve also looked harder at crime numbers, legal vs. illegal offenders. I’ve pretty much stuck to my original precepts, but I realize that ideology ultimately helps no one in that debate.

third step: building and financing industry-aligned front groups (fake public-interest organizations) and astroturf groups (fake grassroots organizations). Using phony science and controversy, these outfits “whip up grassroots anger and frustration,

To be fake in this dreamy universe is to believe in actual authenticity and behave accordingly, and to be in tune with the real is to know it's all phony and to create, with a generous heart, your own sweet ruse.

Test-drive employees Interviews are only worth so much. Some people sound like pros but don’t work like pros. You need to evaluate the work they can do now, not the work they say they did in the past. The best way to do that is to actually see them work. Hire them for a miniproject, even if it’s for just twenty or forty hours. You’ll see how they make decisions. You’ll see if you get along. You’ll see what kind of questions they ask. You’ll get to judge them by their actions instead of just their words. You can even make up a fake project. In a factory in South Carolina, BMW built a simulated assembly line where job candidates get ninety minutes to perform a variety of work-related tasks.* Cessna, the airplane manufacturer, has a role-playing exercise for prospective managers that simulates the day of an executive. Candidates work through memos, deal with (phony) irate customers, and handle other problems. Cessna has hired more than a hundred people using this simulation.† These companies have realized that when you get into a real work environment, the truth comes out. It’s one thing to look at a portfolio, read a resumé, or conduct an interview. It’s another to actually work with someone.

Come on Lee, we gotta talk.” Hopper’s voice was deep and gravelly, with a thick, phony-sounding country drawl. The accent was so obviously fake that under other circumstances Lee would have laughed,

Where I come from there’s nothing but fake and phony people; people that just want to use you. It was all I knew, and what I expected from everyone. Luckily,

Be real! Fake and phony people never grow.." - Sivaprakash Sidhu

By posture we don’t mean acting phony, pretending to be someone you’re not, or “fake it till you make it.” Quite the contrary. By posture we mean shaking off doubts and insecurities and stepping into the truth of who you are and the value of what you have to offer, without emotional attachment to any specific outcome.

Taking the Lord’s Name in vain has absolutely nothing to do with swearing.  It has everything to do with putting on a fake front, a phony outer shell.  Are we all “information”, or are we “transformation”?  Does our outward show match our inner flow?  Does God’s Holy Spirit flow through us from a pure “washed and overflowing” heart?

Money, as Remmy had taught them, was phony baloney in the dreamworld. It was as fake as Fakesville, and it was well-known that Finkel continually enlarged the supply of money, making it worth less and less. While the busy bees of the Unum toiled for their meager wages, Finkel dreamcasted trillions of Un-coins into existence and either spent them on hairbrained projects or lent them to his colleagues and friends.

They’re just wearing costumes until they get the chance to be who they really are. Everyday is Halloween.

There is definitely an element of fake-it-until-you-make-it here, which can make some people feel a little bit uneasy, but really, everyone feels like a bit of a phony when they’re doing something for the first time.

Somewhere in the back of her disaster brain--the brain that is firing the wrong signals, that tells her she is not running from a bear but already being devoured by it--she is learning something important. And the lesson is this: There is something in the world far more terrifying than humiliation or failure or death. And it is just like FDR said: Fear itself. And if she doesn't murder the bastard, this archvillain called Fear, she's going to be toast for real. She doesn't yet have a plan for vanquishing him. She has yet to learn about psychiatric remedies. She doesn't yet know why Fear has chosen this moment in her life to make his sudden entrance, licking his chops. For the early twenties, a particularly cruel age to be struck down by fear, is a stage in life when tremendous bravery is required of a woman -- the bravery to discover what she wants, what she cannot abide, what she needs to make a living and be among the living. But she knows this: A million times more than any other emotion or experience, fear has the strength and ability to mangle her into something different from what she truly is, something phony and fake and cowardly. And now, surprised and twisted and disoriented and broken as she is by fear's sudden arrival, she realizes that she needs to fight it, fight for her life.

Years ago, when I first started mountaineering, I was impetuous, heady, rash, impatient, prideful and arrogant. I in my mind, was both impervious and impregnable, "nothing could stop me," or so I thought. Then, I came face-to-face with Mount Everest for the first time, and she quickly humbled me. She forced me to do away with the false machismo, the fake toughness and the phony bravado, and in return, she blessed me with the gifts of comity, heightened inner-peace, calmness, and steadiness of both spirit and mind. Those blessings were gifts, gifts that rewrote my limbic system, and altered my pneuma. I now climb with laser clarity and aplomb. Less ardor, more piety born of apathetic ataraxia.

micro second, I could see Mishy and I doing an aerial somersault and being pinged like a sling shot off the bike, landing ungracefully  in the gutter, probably head first into a steaming pile of dog poo. Miraculously, (well not really, because I used my witch craft) Mishy was able to steer the bike to safety as her tyres magically ploughed through the bike on the ground. She kept saying over and over, “What just happened, what just happened? I thought we were dead!” I said to her, “Its ok Mish, you saved our lives.” “Sorry guys,” a timid voice popped out from behind the tree. “It was kind of lying against the tree when I left it. It must have fallen down. I hope you’re both ok.” As soon as I saw Kaitlyn sheepishly step out from behind the tree, it suddenly clicked as to what had been missing back at Koolbar. It was Kaitlyn. She wasn’t there and she was always dutifully there with Tiffany. Kaitlyn Ramsay was part of the princess gang, though she wasn’t as fake as the rest of them. Every Friday the four of them always sat in a corner of Koolbar, slurping on their shakes and getting guys to slurp on their every word. I don’t think I’ve ever been there on a Friday when the four of them weren’t huddled up together batting eyelids and preening themselves, whispering and fussing. Which is why it seemed so strange when I didn’t see her. As she stood under the branches, the sun sprinkling filtered light onto her face, I could see that her normally creamy colored complexion was blotchy, and her eyes were red and hazy. Her makeup was streaky under her eye’s with smudges of black casting shadows. She looked a little bit like Dracula’s daughter meets prom queen Barbie, but she put on this big phony smile as though nothing was wrong. As if! Did she think we were born under a rock? “So what’s happening guys?” She tried to sound cheery. “Nothing much, we’re just on the way home from Koolbar,” Mishy replied. “What about you? What are you doing hanging around a tree?” “Yeah Kaitlyn, we didn’t see you at Koolbar. What’s the deal? You’re always there on a Friday with the others.” Kaitlyn’s face crumpled momentarily when I questioned her, then just as quickly went a fake shade of happy again. “Agh, I didn’t really want to go today. I have aghh ….some other things I want to do,” she stuttered, searching for words. “Like bird watching?” Mishy giggled. “You didn’t want to go? That’s not like you Kaitlyn.” I added. “So are you two going straight home now?” Obvious change of subject from Kaitlyn. “Yeah I have to babysit my kid brother while my mom and dad go out on their date night. “Aren’t your parents married?” “Yes, they just like to have a date night once a week where they don’t have to be bothered by us kids. Apparently

Do You Realize? *** My question is to the World and States and Nations that, would you recognize, accept, and allow on the ground of freedom and human rights; If I set up a fake The United Nations If I organize a bogus The White House If I fabricate a fictitious 10 Downing Street If I establish a counterfeit, The Moscow Kremlin If I institute a false The European Union If I build up an illegitimate the Roman Catholic Church If I create such other phony institutions for deceiving and fooling all the genuine ones? Sure, your answer will be as it is impossible, such an answer carries authentic logic, but why then mostly entire Europe, the United States, and Canada stay silent on the matter of a fake Mirza Ghulam Ahmadi Qadiyani as Jesus and his followers who claim themselves as real Muslims and they build Mosques to falsify and deceive the real Muslims. Factually, they are neither Muslim nor Christian nor a sect of these two recognized religions; they are just a false religious gang for their evil practices and motives. The States and Nations of the world should ban that religious termite, and stop them from misuse of true Islam, and creating Mosques to fool the Muslims. The world should take action and decide regardless of the political privileges and needs for their power before the fake Jesus ride on the minds of the Christians since he is neither real Jesus of Christians nor Muslims

I’m sure I’ll hear from Daddy, soon as he needs his laundry done. That’s the usual program. He’s the king of fake tears and phony apologies.

Throughout the long deep-state witch hunt—the doctored Minsk defecation video, the phony tax-evasion probe, the counterfeit porn-star diaries, the bogus Moscow skyscraper investigation, the hoax penile-enhancement scandal, the fake witness-tampering charges, and both fraudulent impeachment trials—the Potussies had remained steadfast, vociferous, adoring defenders.

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