Fred Flintstone Quotes

but Betty…the boy wants to be your Fred Flintstone so he can make your Bedrock. Peyton from Going Under

Here’s one way to tell if you’re driving how I want you to—nay, how America needs you to. Whenever I drive my dad around, I see him mashing his feet into the floor mat. The old man is using imaginary brakes because I’m driving so hard. When your passenger is trying to stop the vehicle with his feet like Fred Flintstone, this is the ultimate tip of the cap.

Yo momma's so old she used to hitch a ride to work with Fred Flintstone.

For a second, nothing happens and I’m sure that I’ve reached a new level of fucked. Then the hardpack around the rib shatters and I haul it out of the ground like a deranged Fred Flintstone.

Fucking country. Middle of nowhere. He’d been doing quite well until now. Trying to ignore the mosquitoes and blackflies and no-see-’ems. At least in Montreal you see what’s coming at you. Cars. Trucks. Kids jonesing on crack. Big things. Out here everything’s hidden, everything’s hiding. Tiny bloodsucking bugs, spiders and snakes and animals in the forests, rotten wiring behind walls made from tree trunks for God’s sake. It was like trying to conduct a modern murder investigation in Fred Flintstone’s cave.

When Myron got back to the office, Esperanza was at the reception desk. “Where’s Big Cyndi?” Myron asked. “Having lunch.” The image of Fred Flintstone’s car tipping over from the weight of his Bronto-ribs flashed in front of Myron’s eyes.

Twice a year, I have lunch with Dr. George Will and Dr. Charles Krauthammer, who write and speak about important issues in the world, such as politics and war and gay marriage. But at lunch, all we talk about is baseball, which is good because I can’t talk fluently about anything else, especially with two guys that, when it comes to intelligence, make me feel like Fred Flintstone. At lunch one day, Charles said, without apology, “I read the front page for ninety seconds every day, then I go straight to the box scores.” To which, George said, “Why do you waste the ninety seconds?

Unauthorized duplication will get your bitch-ass wig split.

They called Kershaw “Fred” after Fred Flintstone because, like Fred Flintstone, Kershaw was short, squat, barrel chested with thick arms and neck, and had an unruly mop of dark hair.

Right,” began Trey as he picked Taryn up, wrapping her legs around his waist, “then we’ll see you guys later, because we have some celebratory sex to do.” “Okay, but, Taryn,” said Dominic, “if it doesn’t work out with him, well…I’m no Fred Flintstone, but I sure can make your bed rock.” He chuckled at everyone’s groans. Trey, of course, growled and then strode out of the living area with wide, determined steps. “We’ve just done the deed twice outside!” she reminded him. “You know I’m always good to go again when it comes to you, baby.

You’ll notice,” Pike said, “that the only people in here who look like thugs are me and you.” “You, maybe. I look like Don Johnson. You look like Fred Flintstone.

Wilma!