Joe Friday Quotes

When they got to thew bottom of the stairwell, they stopped dead. Blay's father was facing off with a lesser, a Civil War sword in one hand, a dagger in the other. Behind his Joe Friday glasses, his eyes were lit like torches, and they flicked over for a split second. "Stay out of this. This one's mine." The shit was done faster than you can say, Ninja Dad. Blay's father went Ginsu on the slayer, carving the thing up like a turkey, then stabbing it back to the Omega.

You’ve always been stone solid until now, like Joe Friday with no Y chromosome. Now you’re Nancy Drew on a sugar rush.

The facts mam, just the facts.

I spent the last Friday of summer vacation spreading hot, sticky tar across the roof of George Washington High. My companions were Dopey, Toothless, and Joe, the brain surgeons in charge of building maintenance. At least they were getting paid. I was working forty feet above the ground, breathing in sulfur fumes from Satan's vomitorium, for free. Character building, my father said. Mandatory community service, the judge said. Court-ordered restitution for the Foul Deed. He nailed me with the bill for the damage I had done, which meant I had to sell my car and bust my hump at a landscaping company all summer. Oh, and he gave me six months of meetings with a probation officer who thought I was a waste of human flesh. Still, it was better than jail. I pushed the mop back and forth, trying to coat the seams evenly. We didn't want any rain getting into the building and destroying the classrooms. Didn't want to hurt the school. No, sir, we sure didn't.

Joe might have called that place godforsaken but I could see a whole lot of proof that if there was a God, He’d been there.

WONG 107 words SHUI-KUEN WONG, age 107, beloved mother of the late Kwok Ki Yu. Survived by grandson and granddaughter-in-law, Shan and Huong Yu, grandson Wai Keung (Joe) Yu, granddaughters and grandsons-in-law Patricia and Gabriel Tovanche, Sau Mei (Carol) and Scott Mann and adopted grandson and granddaughter-in-law Quang Truong and Quyen Do. Also survived by great-grandchildren, Kristy Do, Kevin Yu; Lorenzo, Alonzo and Lorena Tovanche; Mei-Li Mann; Nguyen Minh Nhut and Nguyen Minh Thu Do. The family will receive friends at GOLUB FUNERAL HOME, 4703 SUPERIOR AVE., CLEVELAND, THURSDAY, NOV. 20, FROM 5-8 P.M. Funeral service FRIDAY, Nov. 21 at the funeral home at 9 A.M. Interment West Park Cemetery. ==========

NOS4A2 (Joe Hill) - Your Highlight on page 627 | location 8858-8860 | Added on Friday, 30 January 2015 23:39:24 Najszczęśliwszymi chwilami w moim życiu były te wolne od wpływu kobiet, kiedy nie musiałem się dostosowywać. Mężczyźni przez większość życia są przekazywani z rąk jednej kobiety w ręce następnej, i muszą im służyć.

NOS4A2 (Joe Hill) - Your Highlight on page 628 | location 8861-8868 | Added on Friday, 30 January 2015 23:41:13 Mężczyźni nie mogą przestać myśleć o kobietach. Myślą o jakiejś pani tak, jak głodny myśli o krwistym steku. Kiedy jesteś głodny i czujesz zapach steku pieczonego na grillu, rozprasza cię ściskanie w gardle i przestajesz myśleć. Kobiety są tego świadome. Wykorzystują to. Dyktują warunki, tak samo jak twoja matka przed kolacją. Jeśli nie posprzątasz pokoju, nie zmienisz koszuli i nie umyjesz rąk, nie wolno ci usiąść do stołu. Większość mężczyzn wyobraża sobie, że będą coś warci, jeśli spełnią warunki narzucone przez kobiety. Ale kiedy usunie się kobietę z obrazka, mężczyzna może odzyskać odrobinę wewnętrznego spokoju. Kiedy nie masz się z kim targować, z wyjątkiem samego siebie i innych mężczyzn, możesz się w końcu odnaleźć. To wspaniałe uczucie.

This is Friday night,” Anthony said. The time code said 10:47. Cal came out of a bedroom and moved down the hall. He walked slowly with his feet close to the floor, almost gliding. In the hooded robe and aviators he looked like the Fly turned monk on his way to evening prayers. The house felt deserted, like people had escaped. “I

The clothes make the man, or so the saying goes. But all you have to do is look at a row of fedoras to know what a bunch of baloney that is. Gather together a group of men of every gradation—from the powerhouse to the putz—have them toss their fedoras in a pile, and you’ll spend a lifetime trying to figure out whose was whose. Because it’s the man who makes the fedora, not versa vice. I mean, wouldn’t you rather wear the hat worn by Frank Sinatra than the one worn by Sergeant Joe Friday? I should hope so. In

Isaac Asimov said, “The most exciting phrase to hear in science, the one that heralds new discoveries, is not ‘Eureka,’ but ‘That’s funny.

To say “That’s funny,” a few things need to happen: You have to notice, which means you are spending time observing new things. You have to compare what happens in front of you to what you believe. You have to step into that tension.

Joe George, so I heard, had liberty that Friday night as well and was slated to fight in a “smoker.” Smokers were boxing matches held at the recreation center in Honolulu. If you won, you wouldn’t get money, which was against Navy rules, but you could receive a gift of some sort, such as a watch. You would then turn around and sell the watch, often to the very person who gave it to you. George did that a lot. After the smoker, he celebrated his win by getting drunk, which led to a fight with one of his own shipmates. Well, Shore Patrol came and broke up the fight, then took George to the ship’s brig. The next morning he was escorted to the captain’s mast to face Captain Young. The captain was so angry to see George disgrace his ship again and bring dishonor to his shipmates, he lashed out at him. “I wish I could take you to the forecastle and have all hands kick the shit out of you. But since I can’t, I’m going to give you a summary court-martial.” Joe was immediately put on report and sentenced to become a prisoner at large—PAL, for short—which meant he didn’t have to do time in the brig; he only had to be watched and restricted by the ship’s master-of-arms, who happened to be a friend. And so, on the night of December 6, instead of being locked belowdecks in the brig, he spent it sleeping under the stars in the forecastle.

His Pete Kelly’s Blues (NBC, 1951) was also powerful, but it was as Joe Friday that he was known for the rest of his days. He died Dec. 23, 1982, a heart attack victim. Upon his death, the Los Angeles Police Department flew its flags at half-staff.

This day will go down as Black Friday,