Hutt Quotes

Chomsky is a pencil-and-paper theoretician who wouldn't know Jabba the Hutt from the Cookie Monster,

All those times you watched me kill Jabba the Hutt, and you never learned from his example. It doesn’t pay to jerk me around.

Hutte, for instance, used to quote the case of a fellow he called "the beach man." This man had spent forty years of his life on beaches or by the sides of swimming pools, chatting pleasantly with summer visitors and rich idlers. He is to be seen, in his bathing costume, in the corners and backgrounds of thousands of holiday snaps, among groups of happy people, but no one knew his name and why he was there. And no one noticed when one day he vanished from the photographs. I did not dare tell Hutte, but I felt that "the beach man" was myself. Though it would not have surprised him if I had confessed it. Hutte was always saying that, in the end, we were all "beach men" and that "the sand" - I am quoting his own words - "keeps the traces of our footsteps only a few moments.

Brooklyn is a big fat blob with its own ugly shape across from Manhattan; it looks like Jabba the Hutt counting his money.

Whoever wrote the Jedi Code, thought Qui-Gon Jinn, never had to deal with the Hutts.

Jabba the Hutt—the fashionista. Jabba the Hutt—the Coco Chanel of intergalactic style. Trendsetter, fashion maven, leader of women’s looks in his world, on his planet and the next.

Strange people. The kind that leave the merest blur behind them, soon vanished. Hutte and I often used to talk about these traceless beings. They spring up out of nothing one fine day and return there, having sparkled a little. Beauty queens. Gigolos. Butterflies. Most of them, even when alive, had no more substance than steam which will never condense.

Que les huttes puissent tenir rang de palais, les habitués des suites royales ne le comprendront jamais. Ils n'ont pas connu l'onglée avant le bain moussant. Le luxe n'est pas un état mais le passage d'une ligne, le seuil où, soudain, disparaît toute souffrance.

Okay, so how, exactly, did I get into this mess—up onstage at a comedy club, baking like a bag of French fries under a hot spotlight that shows off my sweat stains( including one that sort of looks like Jabba the Hutt), with about a thousand beady eyeballs drilling into me?

When they weren’t looking, I turned and winked at Emilia. “I hope you’ve recovered your manners and we aren’t going to see any more Jabba the Hutt imitations,” Emilia

Well, if my father comes down out of the stars, I hope he was Luke Skywalker rather than Jabba the Hutt.

Everyone else got to wear their regular outfits from the first movie. I had to wear my outfit that Jabba picked out for me. Jabba the Hutt—the fashionista. Jabba the Hutt—the Coco Chanel of intergalactic style. Trendsetter, fashion maven, leader of women’s looks in his world, on his planet and the next. In wax, I would forever be outfitted by outlaw Jabba. In wax and out, I would forever be stone-faced.

Hayek’s message to Hutt and others was that a state captured by black voters would cease to be a problem if the state itself was stripped preemptively of its right to grant exemptions from the discipline of the competitive market.

The Empire is a thug, a bully. It’s no better than Surat Nuat, or Black Sun, or the syndicate of Hutts. The Empire pretends it’s about law and order, but at the end of the day, it’s about dressing up oppression in the costume of justice.

Ten thousand credits, Han thought. Never thought I’d be desperate enough to risk it all on one high-stakes sabacc game … especially if I’m playing against a sharpie like Lando …

There it is. The Millennium Falcon.

I used to have this fantasy that in some distant Star Wars sequel, we’d finally stop all the shooting and screaming at each other and would go to a shopping-and-beauty planet, where the stormtroopers would have to get facials, and Chewbacca would have to get pedicures and bikini and eyebrow waxes. I felt at some point that I should get—okay, fine, maybe not equal time—but just a few scenes where we all did a lot of girly things. Imagine the shopping we might have done on Tatooine! Or a little Death Star souvenir shop where you could get T-shirts that said “My parents got the force and jumped to light speed and all I got was this lousy t-shirt!” or “My boyfriend blew Jabba the Hutt and all I got” . . . etc., etc. You get the gist of my drift.

The things we love weave themselves into the framework of our being. They are the trellises on which our thoughts grow; we shape ourselves, our habits, our vocabularies, to accommodate them. If someone asks, “Why do you love this?” the question is as impossible to answer as “Why are you?” You cannot isolate the part of you that loves from the rest of you, or mark its beginning and ending. Old couples grow to look like each other. Old ruins blur into their ivy. Star Wars fans name their kids Luke and Leia and show up at conventions dressed as Jabba the Hutt. At first we loved the Millennium Falcon, so we wanted to build a scale replica in our basement. Now we love the Millennium Falcon because of the scale replica in our basement. Every time I watched Star Wars I used to hold my breath to see if it felt the same. But now I know it won’t. It hasn’t moved, but I have. It’s always there. It’s magic, still, but a different magic every time. I turn off all the lights in the house so there’s no reflection or glare, shut all the doors and windows, and settle in a chair with my arms folded over my knees and wait for takeoff.

¿Creen que la gente odia a los gordos? Pues imagínense a un gordo que trata de adelgazar. Provocaba el balrog en cualquiera. Las muchachas más dulces del mundo le decían las cosas más horribles, las señoras mayores farfullaban, Eres repugnante, repugnante, e incluso Melvin, que nunca había demostrado ninguna tendencia anti Óscar, empezó a llamarlo Jabba the Hutt, solo porque le dio la gana. Era pura locura.

I was spitting mad, having just endured a four-hour flight, economy class, on American Airlines where I'd found myself seated between two gigantic specimens of humanity. One of them, a woman of Jabba the Hutt proportions, literally took up half my seat in addition to her own, leaving me balanced on one butt cheek, leaning forward and against the seat back in front of me. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't sit back. I couldn't do anything but fume silently. Neither she nor the flight attendants ever acknowledged my obvious distress. For the duration of the flight, I tried to lull myself into a state of calm by focusing on the in-flight telephone against which my face was mashed, imagining what would happen if I wrapped the cord around my neck, leaned forward with my full body weight, and ended my life. That thought was what got me through.

I attended my first Star Wars convention right after freshman year of college, when the wounds of the prequels were fresh. It was a big milestone for me. “Finally,” I told my roommate, Svetlana, “I’ll get to be myself and go among my people.” “I don’t understand,” Svetlana said. “Who were you before? Literally the first thing you did on arriving at college was unpack your lightsabers. Do you think you’ve been hiding? If this is you concealing your love of Star Wars, what would it look like if you let it hang out? Would you just dress up as Jabba the Hutt all the time?” That wasn’t a bad idea, I thought. Maybe I should.

Les discours et les écrits politiques sont aujourd'hui pour l'essentiel une défense de l'indéfendable. Des faits tels que le maintien de la domination britannique en Inde, les purges et les déportations en Russie, le largage de bombes atomiques sur le Japon peuvent sans doute être défendus, mais seulement à l'aide d'arguments d'une brutalité insupportable à la plupart des gens, et qui ne cadrent pas avec les buts affichés des partis politiques. Le langage politique doit donc principalement consister en euphémismes, pétitions de principe et imprécisions nébuleuses. Des villages sans défense subissent des bombardements aériens, leurs habitants sont chassés dans les campagnes, leur bétail est mitraillé, leurs huttes sont détruites par des bombes incendiaires : cela s'appelle la "pacification". Des millions de paysans sont expulsés de leur ferme et jetés sur les routes sans autre viatique que ce qu'ils peuvent emporter : cela s'appelle un "transfert de population" ou une "rectification de frontière". Des gens sont emprisonnés sans jugement pendant des années, ou abattus d'une balle dans la nuque, ou envoyés dans les camps de bucherons de l'Arctique pour y mourir du scorbut : cela s'appelle l'"élimination des éléments suspects". Cette phraséologie est nécessaire si l'on veut nommer les choses sans évoquer les images mentales correspondantes.

Chubby: A regular-size person who could lose a few, for whom you feel affection. Chubster: An overweight, adorable child. That kid from Two and a Half Men for the first couple of years. Fatso: An antiquated term, really. In the 1970s, mean sorority girls would call a pledge this. Probably most often used on people who aren’t even really fat, but who fear being fat. Fatass: Not usually used to describe weight, actually. This deceptive term is more a reflection of one’s laziness. In the writers’ room of The Office, an upper-level writer might get impatient and yell, “Eric, take your fat ass and those six fatasses and go write this B-story! I don’t want to hear any more excuses why the plot doesn’t make sense!” Jabba the Hutt: Star Wars villain. Also, something you can call yourself after a particularly filling Thanksgiving dinner that your aunts and uncles will all laugh really hard at. Obese: A serious, nonpejorative way to describe someone who is unhealthily overweight. Obeseotron: A nickname you give to someone you adore who has just stepped on your foot accidentally, and it hurts. Alternatively, a fat robot. Overweight: When someone is roughly thirty pounds too heavy for his or her frame. Pudgy: See “Chubby.” Pudgo: See “Chubster.” Tub o’ Lard: A huge compliment given by Depression-era people to other, less skinny people. Whale: A really, really mean way that teen boys target teen girls. See the following anecdote.

What do you call an evil leader digging a hole? Darth Spader   What do you call Obi Wan eating crunchy toast? Obi Crumb   What do call a padawan who likes to play computer games? i'Pad' me   What do you call a starship pilot who likes to drink cocoa? Han Coco   What starship is always happy to have people aboard? The Millennium Welcome   What did Yoda say to Luke while eating dinner? Use the fork Luke.   What do you call a Sith who won't fight? A Sithy.   Which Star Wars character uses meat for a weapon instead of a Lightsaber? Obi Wan Baloney.   What do call a smelly droid? R2DPOO   What do call a droid that has wet its pants? C3PEE0   What do you call a Jedi who loves pies? Luke PieWalker?   What do call captain Rex when he emailing on a phone? Captain Text   What evil leader doesn’t need help reaching? Ladder the Hutt   What kind of evil lord will always say goodbye? Darth Later   Which rebel will always win the limbo? Han LowLow   What do you call R2D2 when he’s older? R2D3   What do you call R2D2 when he’s busting to go to the toilet? R2DLoo   What do call Padme’s father? Dadme   What’s do you call the Death Star when its wet? The Death Spa   What do call R2D2 when he climbs a tree? R2Tree2   What do you say a Jedi adding ketchup to his dinner? Use the sauce Luke.   What star wars baddy is most likely to go crazy? Count KooKoo   What do call Count Dooku when he’s really sad? Count Boohoo   Which Jedi is most likely to trick someone? Luke Liewalker   Which evil lord is most likely to be a dad? Dadda the Hutt   Which rebel likes to drink through straws? Chew Sucker   Which space station can you eat from? The Death bar   What do call a moody rebel? Luke Sighwalker   What do you call an even older droid R2D4   What do call Darth Vader with lots of scrapes? Dearth Grazer   What call an evil lord on eBay? Darth Trader   What do call it when an evil lord pays his mum? Darth Paid-her   What do call an evil insect Darth Cicada   What sith always teases? General Teasers   Who's the scariest sith? Count Spooko   Which sith always uses his spoon to eat his lunch Count Spoonu   What evil lord has lots of people living next door? Darth Neighbour   What Jedi always looks well dressed? Luke TieWalker   Which evil lord works in a restaurant? Darth waiter   What do you call a smelly storm trooper? A storm pooper   What do you call Darth Vader digging a hole? Darth Spader   What do you C3PO wetting his pants? C3PEE0   What do you call Asoka’s pet frog? Acroaka   What do you call a Jedi that loves pies? Luke Piewalker   What rebel loves hot drinks? Han Coco   What did Leia say to Luke at the dinner table? Use the fork Luke.   What do call Obi Wan eating fruit? Obi plum   What do you call Obi in a band? Obi Drum   What doe Luke take out at night? A Night Sabre   What is the favourite cooking pot on Endor? The e Wok

Hey,” Han said, “Jabba’s a friend of mine. You kill me, he won’t take it kindly.” The Priest laughed wheezily. “Hutts do not have friends,” he said. “Farewell, Solo.” Pointing the blaster at Han, the Priest’s small, stubby finger began to tighten on the trigger.

Meanwhile, at a Tokyo 7-Eleven, someone right now is choosing from a variety of bento boxes and rice bowls, delivered that morning and featuring grilled fish, sushi, mapo tofu, tonkatsu, and a dozen other choices. The lunch philosophy at Japanese 7-Eleven? Actual food. On the day we missed out on fresh soba, Iris had a tonkatsu bento, and I chose a couple of rice balls (onigiri), one filled with pickled plum and the other with spicy fish roe. For $1.50, convenience store onigiri encapsulate everything that is great about Japanese food and packaging. Let's start in the middle and work outward, like were building an onion. The core of an onigiri features a flavorful and usually salty filling. This could be an umeboshi (pickled apricot, but usually translated as pickled plum), as sour as a Sour Patch Kid; flaked salmon; or cod or mullet roe. Next is the rice, packed lightly by machine into a perfect triangle. Japanese rice is unusual among staple rices in Asia because it's good at room temperature or a little colder. Sushi or onigiri made with long-grain rice would be a chalky, crumbly disaster. Oishinbo argues that Japan is the only country in Asia that makes rice balls because of the unique properties of Japanese rice. I doubt this. Medium- and short-grain rices are also popular in parts of southern China, and presumably wherever those rices exist, people squish them into a ball to eat later, kind of like I used to do with a fistful of crustless white bread. (Come on, I can't be the only one.) Next comes a layer of cellophane, followed by a layer of nori and another layer of cellophane. The nori is preserved in a transparent shell for the same reason Han Solo was encased in carbonite: to ensure that he would remain crispy until just before eating. (At least, I assume that's what Jabba the Hutt had in mind.) You pull a red strip on the onigiri packaging, both layers of cellophane part, and a ready-to-eat rice ball tumbles into your hand, encased in crispy seaweed. Not everybody finds the convenience store onigiri packaging to be a triumph. "The seaweed isn't just supposed to be crunchy," says Futaki in Oishinbo: The Joy of Rice. "It tastes best when the seaweed gets moist and comes together as one with the rice." Yamaoka agrees. Jerk. Luckily, you'll find a few moist-nori rice balls right next to the crispy ones.

Il n'y a pas de cérémonie - ou à peine. La hutte de Mamambala est brûlée avec tout ce qu'elle contient, comme c'est l'usage. Ce que les hommes veulent transmettre doit être donné de leur vivant. Ce qu'ils possèdent le jour de leur mort est brûlé pour qu'ils l'emportent avec eux.

abuse, in economics, of a term (“sovereignty”) appropriate only to the political realm and is thus an illustration of the dangers of the application of metaphors taken from other disciplines. “Sovereignty” is the quality of ultimate political power; it is the power resting on the use of violence. In a purely free society, each individual is sovereign over his own person and property, and it is therefore this self-sovereignty which obtains on the free market. No one is “sovereign” over anyone else's actions or exchanges. Since the consumers do not have the power to coerce producers into various occupations and work, the former are not “sovereign” over the latter. B. PROFESSOR HUTT AND CONSUMERS

Once he’d realized how the t’landa Til ability could be utilized, it had been a simple matter for Aruk to make up some doctrine, compose a few hymns, and write several chants and litanies. And that was all it took to produce a “religion” that credulous fools belonging to inferior species could embrace.

A scoundrel may not rise above his place - This is a fact the galaxy doth teach. For e'en though I have join'd rebellion's ranks these many weeks and months, and gain'd respect within their noble band, my scoundrel past doth make its harsh demands upon my life. The bounty hunters sent by Jabba make pursuit to win the price upon my head. So must I go once more unto the depths of my old life, find Jabba of the Hutt and pay his ransom, thus to free my soul. I would not leave my noble rebel friends, I would not leave the cause for which they fight, I would not leave the princess and her charm, I would not leave all these, and yet I must. A life's not well lived under threat of death, especially with men of cruel intent - who for a price shall fill the Hutt's demands - upon the trail of my indebtedness. And so, my mate Chewbacca and I leave upon the instant that the ship is set to go.

While on Jabba’s barge, the astromech droid had penetrated the Hutt’s data system, and alerted the goons who’d remained in Jabba’s palace that the Imperials were coming for them with death warrants. The Imperial ships could hardly ignore the flotilla of smuggler ships, corsair gunboats, and slave transports that lifted off from the Hutt’s compound en masse; and in the battle that followed, they failed to notice the single X-wing starfighter and Corellian freighter that rose away from Tatooine by a more discreet route.

He was like Jabba the Hutt in human form–grotesque and repulsive.

unrelieved black set off her pale skin and exquisite bone structure. Her

In python the first argument of every function in a class always refers to its current instance.‘self’ is the new object that is created and whose function is called. The value of‘self’ attribute is not passed explicitly to a function.

sort of looks like Jabba the Hutt), with about a thousand

Hutte was always saying that, in the end, we are all "beach men" and that "the sand"--I am quoting his own words-- keeps the traces of our footsteps only a few moment

Hutte répétait qu'au fond, nous sommes tous des "des hommes des plages" et que "le sable - je cite ses propre termes - ne garde que quelques secondes l'empreinte de nos pas".

it was all I could do not to gag openly as the ramp opened and the odor of bad cheese and fungal feet wafted in, hot and cloying and fat in my nostrils, much too big for the space, like a Hutt squeezed into an armchair.

« Instinctivement, le peuple mexicain exècre l’autorité et la bourgeoisie [...]. L’entraide mutuelle était la règle dans ces communautés [...], il n’y avait ni juges, ni maires, ni gardiens de prisons, ni aucun être nuisible de cette espèce. Tous avaient droit à la terre, à l’eau pour l’irrigation, aux forêts pour se procurer du bois pour se chauffer et pour construire les huttes. [...] Il est donc évident que le peuple mexicain est capable de parvenir au communisme car il a fonctionné sur ce mode, tout du moins en partie, depuis des siècles. »

O join us, friends and mortals, on the scene— Another chapter of our cosmic tale. Luke Skywalker returns to Tatooine, To save his friend Han Solo from his jail Within the grasp of Jaba of the Hutt. But while Luke doth the timely rescue scheme, The vile Galactic Empire now hath cut New plans for a space station with a beam More awful than the first fear’d Death Star’s blast. This weapon ultimate shall, when complete, Mean doom for those within the rebel cast Who fight to earn the taste of freedom sweet. In time so long ago begins our play, In hope-fill’d galaxy far, far away.

Anakin felt his throat become painfully dry. No matter how often his mother reminded him that there were less fortunate beings in the galaxy, there was no denying the fact that they were both slaves, the property of Gardulla the Hutt. Tatooine, thought Anakin. Welcome to Tatooine.

On the face of things, one would imagine that his purpose in infiltrating the lair of the notorious crimelord Jabba the Hutt was a simple one: he wanted to die but lacked the strength of will to kill himself.

There is no emotion - there is peace. There is no ignorance - there is knowledge. There is no passion - there is serenity. There is no chaos - there is harmony. Whoever wrote the Jedi Code, thought Qui-Gon Jinn, never had to deal with the Hutts.

Last night's harsh phone call seemed to be a distant memory as we spent the day in the snow with my new fake friends, going for one last turn on the mountain while I drank boiled wine at the bottom of the ski lift at the hutte. I honestly told Anette in the ski lift during the day what Sabrina had told me on the phone the night before, but she remained silent and didn't seem surprised for some reason. I didn't think Anette would conspire with Betty to test me or win me. I didn’t think they would conspire with Sabrina but perhaps I didn’t know her well enough to assume what she was capable of when jealous, mad, sad, confused or in love. Perhaps they did not. Everything I don't know. I try to write here all that I know and have managed to figure out, taking a long time. I try to share what I have been through because I am sure that others will find it useful to learn from my mistakes, faults, sins, virtues, and so on. Perhaps only my luck, good or bad, I don't know. I could not have figured out what happened if I had not written down exactly how things unfolded in order to be able to see through it all and comprehend what really happened since I bought that Roberto Saviano book and met Sabrina. Perhaps the women had been conspiring for one reason or another; perhaps they had not. Nonetheless, it was odd. „Water is wet, the sky is blue, women have secrets. Who gives a f..k?” – Joe Hallenbeck Do all men have to be natural-born and supernatural detectives like Bruce Willis in all his movies, or in The Last Boy Scout? I'm not sure how many coincidences can fit so strangely into reality by chance, or is it all manipulation? Is it all because of the story of Eve and the snake and the apple?

Jabba the Hutt was originally meant to be a small furry creature.

Hutt defended the property restrictions designed to protect white-minority rule as a bulwark against “ ‘one man, one vote’ tyranny,” calling Rhodesia “the most promising deliberate attempt the world has ever seen at creating a wholly democratic, multi-racial society.”188 As paradoxical as it might sound, Hutt argued that it was precisely by denying universal suffrage that true democracy could be realized.

As one French nobleman wrote in 1703, “I envy the state of a poor Savage. . . . I wish I could spend the rest of my life in his Hutt.