John Madden Quotes

You got one guy going boom, one guy going whack, and one guy not getting in the endzone.

A homeless man once told me that dancing to rap music is the cultural equivalent of masturbating, and I'd sort of fell the same way about playing John Madden Football immediately after filing my income tax: It's fun, but - somehow - vaguely pathetic.

No one had any idea, it turned out. None of the older Symphony members knew much about science, which was frankly maddening given how much time these people had had to look things up on the Internet before the world ended.

at the end of the game the team with the most points on the board is going to win.

The road to Easy Street goes through the sewer.

Don't worry about the horse being blind, just load the wagon.

Things that aren't important, that have nothing to do with winning and losing, don't have to be a rule.

When your arm gets hit, the ball is not going to go where you want it to.

Esther was uncommon not because she was sick but because she was Esther, and she did not exist so that the rest of us could learn Important Lessons about Life.The meaning of her life-likethe meaning of any life- is a maddeningly ambiguous question shrouded in uncertainty

It seems to me that the great pleasure of human life is not in having an opinion, but rather in learning all the ways you are wrong, and all the nuances you failed to account for, and all the truths that turned out to be not as simple as you once believed. And it seems to me that one of the central pleasures of attending school is that you get to read with really well-informed people who can help welcome you into a complex world stuffed with rich and maddening ambiguity.

John, be careful!” He glanced at her for a split second and grinned rakishly. “No problem, babe!

There definitely needs to be water on the sidelines for these players, but I also had some Gatorade just in case they were allergic to the water or vice versa.

Never mind the horse's blind, just load the wagon.

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned   W. B. Yeats ‘The Second Coming

What if," replied Inspector Fry in the same maddeningly curteous tone, "we were all to construct daisy chains and drape them so as to shield the words from public view?

I go back and forth between wanting to be abundantly simple and maddeningly complex.

Generally speaking, psychiatry is concerned with the treatment of neuroses, with patients who are aware of their illness and wish to be cured. Dr. Franz Weiss

The wide receiver had a real taste for crime, and he indulged it with an erratic kind of vigor that made him an albatross for Madden and a natural soulmate for my old friend, Al Davis, who remains the ultimate Raider. They were serious people, and John Madden was definitely one of them, for good or ill. Living with the Oakland Raiders in those days was not much different than living with the Hell’s Angels. I

fitching v. intr. compulsively turning away from works of art you find frustratingly, nauseatingly good-wanting to shut off the film and leave the theater, or devour a book in maddening little chunks, because it resonates at precisely the right frequency to rattle you to your core, which makes it mildly uncomfortable to be yourself.

Unable to help himself, John cupped her head in his hands and brought his mouth to hers.

John looked up the length of her body, mouth glistening with her release, and gave her the sexiest, most self-satisfied, manly grin she ever seen on his face.

The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.” —John Milton,

Symphony members knew much about science, which was frankly maddening given how much time these people had had to look things up on the Internet before the world ended.

None of the older Symphony members knew much about science, which was frankly maddening given how much time these people had had to look things up on the Internet before the world ended.

John reached out, and as naturally as breathing brought her down onto his lap. She pressed her lips to his, and wrapped her arms around him. She had to be the sweetest weight he’d ever carried.

If only — so he thought to himself later — Gerda's face had been a little less flawless in its beauty, the beauty of her body would have remained as maddening to his senses as it was at the beginning. But the more he had seen of her the more beautiful her face had grown; until it had now reached that magical level of loveliness which absorbs with a kind of absoluteness the whole aesthetic sense, paralysing the erotic sensibility.

The great football coach John Madden was once asked whether he would tolerate a player like Terrell Owens on his team. Owens was both one of the most talented players in the game and one of the biggest jerks. Madden answered, “If you hold the bus for everyone on the team, then you’ll be so late you’ll miss the game, so you can’t do that. The bus must leave on time. However, sometimes you’ll have a player that’s so good that you hold the bus for him, but only him.

Aren’t they amazing?” she sighed. When John looked at her a tear rolled down his cheek. “I can’t breathe right now with the love I feel for you and our family. You are the best part of me, and you’ve given me bounties of joy beyond any measure.” They

John motioned her up from her office chair and guided her into his lap. She cuddled into him and inhaled the scent of his skin. This was her new favorite place in the world. He wrapped his arms around her, and she relaxed into him gratefully. Nothing could go wrong when John held her like this. He

Shannon, I don’t want you to be…disappointed.” He could feel his face burn with humiliation, and was thankful it was fairly dark in the bedroom. “Things don’t always happen the way I expect them to, if they happen at all.” She sighed beside him, and propped herself up on her elbow. There was just enough illumination from the outside street light he could see the curve of her cheek as she smiled. “John, like I told you before, we can do as much or as little as you want. There’s no pressure, other than what you’re putting on yourself. I love being with you. If lying beside me is what you’re comfortable with, that’s what we’ll do.” Squeezing

There had been a lot of tension in that little corner of the room and he was tickled he got to see the shocked look on John’s face before he buried it in Shannon’s neck. Palmer didn’t show emotion like that very often. Duncan smiled to himself. He had an idea what they were talking about. Now to wait for the confirmation. For

John touched her knee with his hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here. I’ll be everywhere you are. If I’m not, one of the other guys will be.” Shannon was more heartened that he touched her than by his words. It was one of the few times she remembered him actually doing that. Hell, John didn’t touch anybody if he could avoid it. Nodding

I can’t promise you anything beyond this, Shannon. Hell, maybe nothing will happen. My body isn’t like it used to be. But I can make sure you’re taken care of.” She gave him the sweetest, sexiest smile and looped her arms up around his neck. “John, I’m sure you’ll take care of me. I have no doubt. And don’t worry about promises. I’m here, number one, because I am your friend. I want the best for you. If I can help you over this hurdle, so to speak, I will.” His throat tightened with emotion, and his eyes burned. He buried his face in her hair to keep her from seeing. He had to clear his throat several times before he could talk though. “Thank you, Shannon. We’re friends with benefits, now, huh?” She giggled beneath him, and nipped his neck. “I guess so.” He

Why were you mad at him?” John’s lip curled before he turned away. “I wasn’t mad at him.” She followed him to the fireplace, where he tossed another log on the already roaring blaze. “Why were you scowling at him like that then? You looked like you were going to rip his head off.” John stared into the fire and didn’t respond right away. “It was nothing. Just stuff. Don’t worry about it.” Shannon

Her heart warmed at the thought of him waiting out there in the cold, watching to make sure she was okay. For a man who didn’t have any relationships, family or otherwise, she was amazed at how well he took care of her. If she confronted him about it, he would deny it, of course. But she knew the truth. John Palmer had an incredibly warm, caring heart. And he seemed to have a soft spot for her. Smiling,

Let’s just leave him alone, okay? Don’t try to butter him up with your cooking or anything.” He dropped his head when he said the last, and she had to strain to hear. Shannon laughed. “Oh, please. He doesn’t look like the German chocolate cake type.” John raised a dark eyebrow. “That’s my cake. You better not make him that.” Shannon knew he was trying to tease her out of the funk she was in, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. “I won’t make that cake for anybody but you,” she promised. The

She was a hunchback with a sweet smile. She smiled sweetly at anything; she couldn't help it; the trees, me, the grass, anything. The basket pulled her down, dragging her toward the ground. She was such a tiny woman, with a hurt face, as if slapped forever. She wore a funny old hat, an absurd hat, a maddening hat, a hat to make me cry, a hat with faded red berries on the brim. And there she was, smiling at everything, struggling across the carpet with a heavy basket containing Lord knew what, wearing a plumed hat with red berries. I got up. It was so mysterious. There I was, like magic, standing up, my two feet on the ground, my eyes drenched. I said, "Let me help." She smiled again and gave me the basket. We began to walk. She led the way. Beyond the trees it was stifling. And she smiled. It was so sweet it nearly tore my head off. She talked, she told me things I never remembered. It didn't matter. In a« dream she held me, in a dream I followed under the blinding sun. For blocks we went forward. I hoped it would never end. Always she talked in a low voice made of human music. What words! What she said! I remembered nothing. I was only happy. But in my heart I was dying. It should have been so. We stepped from so many curbs, I wondered why she did not sit upon one and hold my head while I drifted away. It was the chance that never came again. That old woman with the bent back! Old woman, I feel so joyfully your pain. Ask me a favor, you old woman you! Anything. To die is easy. Make it that. To cry is easy, lift your skirt and let me cry and let my tears wash your feet to let you know I know what life has been for you, because my back is bent too, but my heart is whole, my tears are delicious, my love is yours, to give you joy where God has failed. To die is so easy and you may have my life if you wish it, you old woman, you hurt me so, you did, I will do anything for you, to die for you, the blood of my eighteen years flowing in the gutters of Wilmington and down to the sea for you, for you that you might find such joy as is now mine and stand erect without the horror of that twist. I left the old woman at her door. The trees shimmered. The clouds laughed. The blue sky took me up. Where am I? Is this Wilmington, California? Haven't I been here before? A melody moved my feet. The air soared with Arturo in it, puffing him in and out and making him something and nothing. My heart laughed and laughed. Goodbye to Nietzsche and Schopenhauer and all of you, you fools, I am much greater than all of you! Through my veins ran music of blood. Would it last? It could not last. I must hurry. But where? And I ran toward home. Now I am home. I left the book in the park. To hell with it. No more books for me. I kissed my mother. I clung to her passionately. On my knees I fell at her feet to kiss her feet and cling to her ankles until it must have hurt her and amazed her that it was I.

What’s wrong?” Now that he was on the spot, John floundered for what to say. He wasn’t a bare-your-heart kind of guy. “I don’t like people.” She raised her delicate brows but didn’t say anything. “In general I have no tolerance for them. They piss me off and drive me to cuss. Most of them don’t have the sense to find their way out of a paper sack. None of this applies, of course, to other Marines.” One side of her mouth lifted in a smile. “And it doesn’t apply to you. You’re the first person I’ve ever been with who doesn’t make me want to shoot somebody out of boredom. You have spunk and heart and you’re sexy as hell, and you don’t mind my shit. And lady,” he said with a sigh, “I come with a lot of shit. I have a lot of baggage, and though I don’t mean to spew it on you, I know I will. I’ll tell you I’m sorry now and every day for the rest of my life.” He reached out and tugged her to lie across his lap. “But I’ll also tell you I love you every day, which I do. I do not fucking deserve you. I know that. I’ve not done anything in this life to be given a gift like you. But I will cherish you, and honor you, as much as I possibly can. You make me feel like a man, and I cannot tell you how much I need that.” Her

Yes,’ said he, half aloud, ‘a few links bring all life before us: here is adventure—excitement—the toil and the triumph of the body. I wish I had been born in those stirring times—life spent half on horseback, half at the banquet board—when you had but to look round the tournament, fix on the brightest smile, and then win your lady with your sword. Action—action in the sunshine—passion—but little feeling, and less thought: such was meant to be our existence. But we refine—we sadden and we subdue—we call up the hidden and evil spirits of the inner world—we wake from their dark repose those who will madden us.

John froze for a moment, stunned that she would even care. He folded her hand into his own and tugged, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Slipping one arm under her knees, he swung her into his lap. She curled into him as if she belonged there. He fought to maintain some kind of emotional distance. There was a bad guy out there messing with her, and he needed to keep his cool. The problem was, he’d never meant anything to anybody. He’d been a buddy and friend to the guys, but he’d never been involved with a woman the same way. As she tightened her arms around his neck, emotion clutched at his throat. “I

I don’t want to hold you back.” Shannon’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Why would you think you hold me back?” John clamped his jaw and looked away. “Ah,” she said softly. John hated that one small sound, and the wealth of meaning that went with it. Something popped in his jaw. “Let me tell you something, John.” She leaned back in the chair and took a deep breath. He didn’t dare look at her, but the breath stalled in his lungs as he waited. He kept his face deliberately turned to the window. “I want you to listen to what I say, and actually hear. Your disability is more of a hurdle to you than me, and I don’t mean physically. I’ve lived with a paraplegic, so I’m probably a little more cognizant of what you go through every day than anybody else here. As well as the kind of care you may eventually need.” He caught a glimpse of her hand in the air, and he assumed she had waved at the building. John had to admit, she was probably right. Other than Duncan, none of the other operatives were wheelchair-bound. Several had been in the chair during recovery, but only he and his partner had spent any length of time in one. She was silent, but she leaned toward him enough to catch his gaze with her own. John couldn’t look away from her gentle smile. “I like you. A lot. I wasn’t flirting with that cop because he didn’t do anything for me. You’re the one that makes my heart race.” Fear

Shannon woke to a light stroke on her cheek. John sat in front of her. The light from the dying fire highlighted his frowning face. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier.” She yawned hugely and stretched on the couch. “And I’m sorry I handed you your underwear. That was my mistake. It’ll never happen again.” He glared at her, but she could see his dark eyes dancing with humor. “Smart-ass.” “Hard-ass.” He barked out a laugh and grinned at her. She sat up on the edge of the couch and pushed her hair away from her face. John reached out and tugged at a curl, as if he couldn’t help himself. “Why did you snap at me like that? It hurt.” He dropped his hand to his lap and winced. “I feel like I let you down, with everything. I guess I’m feeling defensive. Useless, to be blunt.” Shannon

John’s somber dark eyes regarded her quietly. “Good morning,” he rumbled. Damn, Shannon thought, his voice was even sexier with that rasp in it. She tried to summon up a smile. “Good morning. Uh, how did I get here?” “You fell asleep, and rather than let you crumple on the floor, I brought you up here with me.” Blood crept into her cheeks. “Oh. Sorry ’bout that.” Shannon started to peel back the blanket to sit up, but John tugged her back down. “Don’t leave just yet. You’re very warm. And don’t be sorry. I enjoyed every minute of it. I actually slept very good with you, which is surprising.” Shannon eased back down onto his shoulder and pulled the blanket up to her chin. A heavy hand resettled at her waist. “You don’t normally sleep well?” “No. Dreams wake me up a lot, like last night.” “Oh,” she said, inanely.

She felt a tug on her scalp, and looked back to find John running a thick curl through his fingertips. “Can I ask you a question?” “You can,” she told him with a smile, “but I may not answer it.” John grinned at her as she parroted back to him. “Is this your natural color?” “Muddy brown, you mean? Yes, it is.” “It’s not muddy,” he told her firmly. “In the firelight it looks about ten different colors. None of them mud-colored.” “Thank you,” she said finally. He tugged the loose curl out straight and let it fall, then pulled it out again. Finally, he tunneled his fingers in against her scalp, and Shannon could not help but groan. Nerve endings on her head leapt to attention. “That feels really good,” she told him, and tipped her head to rest completely against the couch. For several long minutes, he ran his fingers over and under and through her hair. “I have to warn you,” she told him finally, “that if you don’t quit, I’ll be asleep in no time.

What’s wrong?” Now that he was on the spot, John floundered for what to say. He wasn’t a bare-your-heart kind of guy. “I don’t like people.” She raised her delicate brows but didn’t say anything. “In general I have no tolerance for them. They piss me off and drive me to cuss. Most of them don’t have the sense to find their way out of a paper sack. None of this applies, of course, to other Marines.” One side of her mouth lifted in a smile. “And it doesn’t apply to you. You’re the first person I’ve ever been with who doesn’t make me want to shoot somebody out of boredom. You have spunk and heart and you’re sexy as hell, and you don’t mind my shit. And lady,” he said with a sigh, “I come with a lot of shit. I have a lot of baggage, and though I don’t mean to spew it on you, I know I will. I’ll tell you I’m sorry now and every day for the rest of my life.” He reached out and tugged her to lie across his lap. “But I’ll also tell you I love you every day, which I do. I do not fucking deserve you. I know that. I’ve not done anything in this life to be given a gift like you. But I will cherish you, and honor you, as much as I possibly can. You make me feel like a man, and I cannot tell you how much I need that.” Her pretty hazel eyes welled with tears then dripped down her cheeks. He felt his own throat tighten as he brushed her tears away with his rough thumbs. She cupped his jaw in her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Okay.” He pulled back in surprise. “Just ‘okay’?” She nodded. “You didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. I know you have baggage, I know you’re going to be a pain in my ass, but I love you more than I ever dreamed possible. You’re abrasive and harsh, but you cuddle a kitten like you were meant to do it. You cuddle me like you were meant to do it. And you’ll cuddle our kids the same way. You make my body sing and my heart race. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, too.” There was no way he couldn’t not kiss her then. As he cupped her head in his hand, he marveled that he’d been given this piece of heaven.

This isn’t going to cause problems with a boyfriend or anything, is it?” Shannon looked at him in surprise. Not because of the question itself, but because of the hesitancy she thought she heard in his voice. She turned her concentration back to beating the eggs. “No, no boyfriend.” “Do you date? Any chance this could be another boyfriend doing these things?” Shaking her head from side to side, she told him, “Nope.” Pouring the onions and other ingredients in the pan, she tried not to let her hands shake. John asking about her dating life was a little strange, because she had been imagining dating him for so long. “You do date, though?” She nodded her head, still not looking at him. “Of course I date.” “Why don’t you have a boyfriend, then?” he asked finally. Pouring the eggs into the pan, she paused, then turned to look at him directly. Her heart was almost pounding out of her chest as she debated what to tell him. From the first moment she’d seen him, backlit by the sunlight from the office window, she wanted to know more about him. Six freaking months she’d been mooning after an impossible need. What the hell. “I’m pretty picky in who I date, and I’m waiting for the right guy to ask me.

His months of teaching experience were now a lost age of youth and innocence. He could no longer sit in his office at Fort McNair, look out over the elm trees and the golf course, and encompass the world within "neat, geometric patterns" that fit within equally precise lectures. Policy planning was a very different responsibility, but explaining just how was "like trying to describe the mysteries of love to a person who has never experienced it." There was, however, an analogy that might help. "I have a largish farm in Pennsylvania."...it had 235 acres, on each of which things were happening. Weekends, in theory, were days of rest. But farms defied theory: Here a bridge is collapsing. No sooner do you start to repair it than a neighbor comes to complain about a hedge row which you haven't kept up half a mile away on the other side of the farm. At that very moment your daughter arrives to tell you that someone left the gate to the hog pasture open and the hogs are out. On the way to the hog pasture, you discover that the beagle hound is happily liquidating one of the children's pet kittens. In burying the kitten you look up and notice a whole section of the barn roof has been blown off and needs instant repair. Somebody shouts from the bathroom window that the pump has stopped working, and there's no water in the house. At that moment, a truck arrives with five tons of stone for the lane. And as you stand there hopelessly, wondering which of these crises to attend to first, you notice the farmer's little boy standing silently before you with that maddening smile, which is halfway a leer, on his face, and when you ask him what's up, he says triumphantly 'The bull's busted out and he's eating the strawberry bed'. Policy planning was like that. You might anticipate a problem three or four months into the future, but by the time you'd got your ideas down on paper, the months had shrunk to three to four weeks. Getting the paper approved took still more time, which left perhaps three or four days. And by the time others had translated those ideas into action, "the thing you were planning for took place the day before yesterday, and everyone wants to know why in the hell you didn't foresee it a long time ago." Meanwhile, 234 other problems were following similar trajectories, causing throngs of people to stand around trying to get your attention: "Say, do you know that the bull is out there in the strawberry patch again?

She was frightened, brazen, timid, wanton, appalled by herself, unrepentant. Adultery lit her from within, like the ashen mantle of a lamp, or as if an entire house of gauzy hangings and partitions were ignited but refused to be consumed and, rather, billowed and glowed, its structure incandescent. That she had courted him; that she was simultaneously proud and careless of her pregnancy; that she would sleep with him; that her father had been an inflexible family-proud minor navy deskman; that her mother had married a laundromat entrepreneur; that by both birth and marriage she was above him in the social scale; that she would take his blood-stuffed prick into the floral surfaces of her mouth; that there had been a Jew she had refound in him; that her mind in the midst of love’s throes could be as dry and straight-seeking as a man’s; that her fabric was delicate and fragile and burned with another life; that she was his slave; that he was her hired man; that she was frightened—compared to these shifting and luminous transparencies, Angela was a lump, a barrier, a boarded door. Her ignorance of the affair, though all the other couples guessed it, was the core of her maddening opacity. She did not share what had become the central issue of their lives. She was maimed, mute; and in the eggshell-painted rooms of their graceful colonial house she blundered and rasped against Piet’s taut nerves. He was so full of Foxy, so pregnant with her body and body scents and her cries and remorses and retreats and fragrant returnings, so full of their love, that his mind felt like thin ice. He begged Angela to guess, and her refusal seemed willful, and his gratitude to her for permitting herself to be deceived turned, as his secret churned in sealed darkness, to a rage that would burst forth irrationally. “Wake up!

This is because even the simplest of motions—a flick of a finger or a turn of the hand to pick up a pencil—is maddeningly complex and requires coordination and computational power beyond electronic abilities. For this you need a brain. One of our favorite quotes on this matter comes from the neuroscientist Rodolfo Llinás: “That which we call thinking is the evolutionary internalization of movement.

In spite of his policeman’s conditioning, he clung to the belief he’d grown up with: that people, by and large, behaved according to how they were treated.

She still required the dangerous, maddening nerve-quiver of vice to render existence bearable.

pulsed with some tremendous internal fire. “Cassis stop…you have to stop it now!” yelled the apprentices. One grabbed her blazing arm but recoiled in pain. She was burning up inside. When Talis saw the fire raging inside her, he could feel it circulating inside of his own body. Sweat flushed from his pores. He was as hot as an oven. Raging inside. He gazed at her, palms feverish. He wanted to help, he had to help her, and so he kissed the amulet dangling from his neck and made a prayer to the Goddess Nacrea, The Goddess of the Sun.  The sky was suddenly sallow and grey. Cassis’s eyes were rigid in terror. The cowering apprentices frozen like statues. The sorcerer’s face was fixed in a frightful glower. The explosions and shouts and cries ceased. A crack formed in the sky and a golden light blossomed from within the blackness. Now the fever inside Talis rose to a maddening intensity. It was far too much to bear. He stared at the sorcerer, knowing he had to release it. With a hissing breath, he shot a powerful blast of fire from his palms. Since the invader had focused on Cassis, the burning blast incinerated the man and sent a shower of ash spreading across the sky. Smaller streams of fire from Talis had also released from his hands, a few nearing Cassis and the apprentices. Talis gaped. Was that magic? Had he done magic for the first time? “What did you do?” Rikar yelled, fury

However, times change, people change, and nations change. America, the formerly great missionary nation, is no longer viewed as holding a golden cup used of the Lord, but by the time of its fall, instead, will be seen in this manner: “For all the nations have drunk the maddening wine of her adulteries. The kings of the earth committed adultery with her.” (Revelation 18:3

referring to the end times nation that is rich and powerful, and that will fall in a moment as “The Daughter of Babylon,” the Bible also refers to this end times nation as: BABYLON THE GREAT. Those capital letters are as the words are set forth in Revelation 17:5. John refers to Babylon the Great as “a mystery.” In Revelation 14:8 we read: A second angel followed and said, “Fallen! Fallen is Babylon the Great, which made all the nations drink the maddening wine of her adulteries.”  Then in Revelation 17:1-2: “One of the seven angels who had the seven bowls came and said to me, ‘Come, I will show you the punishment of the great prostitute, who sits on many waters. With her the kings of the earth committed adultery and the inhabitants of the earth were intoxicated with the wine of her adulteries’ (referring three verses later to “a mystery, BABYLON THE GREAT” [capitalization in original]).

Bible scholars have observed that the Book of Revelation’s prophecies are not set forth in a strict chronological order, though chapters 19-22 do progress in order once Jesus returns to earth (Revelation 19:11-16). There is however contained within the Book of Revelation a mini series of prophecy clues, in one part of one chapter, which, like a good mystery, give us an insight into solving the mystery. A revealing lineage of events is found in Revelation Chapter 14. In verse 7 the angel proclaims that “the hour of His judgment is come”. The next verse, 14:8, proclaims: “Fallen! Fallen is Babylon the Great, which made all the nations drink the maddening wine of her adulteries.” Following verse 8, verses 9-12 prophesy details concerning the Antichrist, the mark of the beast, those who worship him, etc. The final battle of Armageddon and widespread deaths accompanying it follow in verses 14:14-20.

Choochiness is yet another British term that has no precise meaning, but, like pornography, you know it when you see it. The way I have things stacked up, choochiness is a particularly British amalgam of cuddlywuddliness, cutesypiedness, and butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouthedness that embraces everything from shops named The Ketch to Hugh Grant’s stammer. It is a grating and often maddening behavioral pattern that makes others want to reach out and pinch the choochster’s cheeks while secretly longing to stuff a hand grenade right down his throat. “Paul McCartney is choochy; John Lennon is not,” says my brother-in-law, Max, who fled England for France in 1976, largely to escape from rampant choochiness. “Paul McCartney: choochy. John Lennon: not choochy. That’s the difference.” THERE

Just when she’d thought her boyfriend was as dense as post, he’d come through for her. No, it wasn’t the most romantic proposal she could have imagined, but it was absolutely one hundred percent John Palmer and that made it perfect. It was good to know that she could put him off his game occasionally, though. She laughed lightly to herself, remembering the look on his face. That would be a look she would cherish for a long time. John was a smart man, sometimes too smart for his own good. The confident male part of his personality had grown as he’d become more secure in their relationship. Which was fine. She loved that he was secure with her. But he’d gotten a little big for his britches, as her mother liked to say, and had needed to be knocked down a peg. Her pregnancy had done that. John was about to be immersed into something he knew absolutely nothing about, babies.

Shannon fought her laughter down and tiptoed back to the bedroom to retrieve her cell phone. Big, badass, John Palmer was sleeping with a lonely puppy. Padding back out to the living room she snapped a quick picture. “If that goes anywhere other than your phone, there will be hell to pay,” he growled, sending her into fits of giggles. The puppy’s eyes snapped open and she lifted her head wobbily. When she saw Shannon standing a few feet away, she tumbled to the floor and jogged over to pee at her feet. John laughed out loud as he sat up on the couch. “That’s what you get for trying to be sneaky. You can get this one.” Shannon

Shannon vibrated with excitement, but didn’t say anything until they were settled around the kitchen table, cups in hand. Then without a word, she handed the pictures over to Duncan. He grabbed a pair of reading glasses from the counter, then returned to look down at the pictures. “Looks like Palmer has some swimmers.” John laughed, but Shannon sniffled. Duncan glanced at her. “What am I missing? Looks like you have a beautiful baby, here.” Alex drew the small pictures toward her, then looked at Shannon with dawning joy in her eyes. “Twins?” Shannon nodded, then burst into tears. The kitchen erupted into movement. Duncan reached for a box of tissues and Alex got up to circle the table to her side, giving her a huge hug. John rubbed her back, wondering yet again how in the hell they were going to manage two babies. Duncan pounded him on the back. “Congratulations, Palmer. What a nice surprise.” John glanced at him, wondering if it was a nice surprise. He was still too dazed to decide. Then he found himself grinning in spite of all the worry cluttering his head. “Not what I expected to hear today.” Alex stood and moved the few feet to give him a hug as well, and John was surprised into responding. Then she sat back down. “You two will be amazing parents. Heartfelt congratulations to you.” “Thank you,” he rumbled, throat tight. “Twins are so special.” The women leaned toward each other to have a conversation and Duncan gave him a look. “You okay, Gunny?” John nodded and drew in a deep breath. “Just a lot to think about. One kid was crazy enough, but I can’t wrap my head around two.” Duncan grinned at him. “Couldn’t have happened to a better guy.” “Fuck you, Wilde.” They laughed together and John felt a little of the tension of the day ease. Duncan Wilde was not his father by any means, but he had the type of personality that could calm him down. He considered Duncan his best friend in the world. Clearing

You sure going up there is smart? Need me to run back-up?” “No and no, but I can’t just leave him there alone.” John sighed. “I know you can’t, but I don’t care if it is Christmas, you need to take someone with you.” “I have Dr. Hartfield with me.” She looked over when he said her name. “That’s great you have your honey with you, but maybe you should have someone that’ll be better back-up. She could be collateral damage.” Duncan wanted to bitch about the ‘honey’ bit, but he didn’t know how to do it without actually saying the word. “I think we’ll be all right. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything. He may not even be there by the time we get there.” “You’d better call me. I’ll be waiting.” They

If you hear anything, press redial on my phone. That’s John Palmer. Then dial 911 and tell them what’s going on. Understand?” Alex shook her head. “You’re going to take your damn phone with you. I saw the number for Palmer. If I need him, I’ll call.” Duncan felt a sudden flare of jealousy at the thought of another man seeing to her needs, but he pushed it away and tucked the phone into his pocket. “Okay, but you stay in the truck unless I call you.” She nodded her head but he could tell by the set of her jaw that she might or might not listen to what he told her. Duncan

With gentle hands he moved the blankets away from her body, then slowly lifted her T-shirt to look at her belly. “I think I can see just a little tiny bump.” He rested his hand over the area and she smiled. It was where she had noticed a fullness too. “Yes.” John ran his hand around the area, always being careful. Right now, even her skin seemed to be a little hyper-sensitive, and he seemed to be cognizant of that. She moved his hand several inches above her tummy. “This is how big I’m going to be,” she warned. John frowned and shook his head. “No way. It won’t get that big.” “Do you know how big you were when you were born?” Shannon knew this was a potentially sensitive subject, because John’s mother had abandoned him on the steps of a church when he was just a little boy. Whether he admitted it or not, it still affected him. “Yes. I was eight six when I was born.” Her eyes widened. “Wow. You were a big one.” He shrugged, a smile splitting his mouth. “What can I say?” Giggling, she pressed a kiss to his mouth and rolled out of bed.

So, young lady, you want to hear this baby’s heartbeat. Well, let’s just see what we can find. How about that?” He used a strange thick wand over her tummy, turning it this way and that. Then, just when she thought she wouldn’t hear it, a heartbeat echoed through the room. Then a second heartbeat kicked up a rhythm almost as fast as the first. Shannon gasped and almost bolted upright. “Is that my heartbeat too?” Dr. Wehrum blinked, then a slow grin cracked his face. “No, I believe that’s a second baby.” Shannon’s mouth dropped open in shock and she looked at John. Her big, strong, tough as nails former Marine looked like he’d just been mule-kicked. “Did you say two babies?” His voice was too quiet. John didn’t speak that quietly unless he was really out of his depth. “You have two babies. This kind of steps up your care. Let’s see if we can get our ultrasound tech in here to get some pictures. I know it’s a little early but let’s see what we can see.” Shannon

I don’t understand what just happened. This was supposed to be a heartbeat check for one baby, not two.” John had lost a little of his dazed look, and he kept glancing down at the papers in his hand. Rolling forward he held them out to her. “Here’s the proof. And they look very different. It’s not the same baby reversed. Look. This one has his little hand up.” Shannon felt the tears start again, then John’s arms were around her. Shannon met him half way, stunned at how quickly the path of her life had changed.

You two look like you’re getting along great,” she whispered. Duncan grinned with an enthusiasm John hadn’t seen on his friend’s face in a long time. “We are. She’s truly a remarkable woman.” “It would be great if you fell in love and she’d move out here. Then your kids and ours could grow up together.” Duncan barked out a laugh. “I’m not having kids,” he said firmly. “There’s no way in hell.

Shannon had a natural warmth to her that drew people to her. Alex would miss her the most. Actually, watching John deal with twins would have been pretty funny. He did not seem the baby type. But the dazed excitement and the love in his eyes as he looked at Shannon told her he would be willing to try his best. Alex

John laughed as he saw the scolding look on Roger’s face. “What?” The big man just shook his head, arms crossed. “You’re in for it now. What if you have two girls?” John scowled. That had occurred to him as well. Two boys would be ideal. He could deal with boys. What the hell would he do with girls? Chad punched Roger in the shoulder. “Hey, now. Girls are fine. Mercy is amazing.” He looked at John. “Don’t give in to all that stereotypical bullshit. She plays with cars and stuffed animals. Give her a Barbie doll and she turns her nose up at it. I can’t wait to take her shooting at the ranch. I found this awesome little .22 caliber rifle called a Cricket. Shorter barrel, shorter stock. Totally made for a little girl.” John looked at the picture Chad had saved on his phone of the little pink gun. Huh…okay. That was pretty cute. “Besides,” Chad continued, “I doubt Shannon will let you avoid them. Twins are a lot of work, my friend. I used to babysit my niece Grace when she was a baby, and just one kid is a handful. I can’t imagine two.” “Thanks for the pep talk, Lowell,” John growled. They

Trying to clothe ourselves in the virtues outside of the fitting room of being chosen, holy, and loved will prove a maddening endeavor of dress-up. We may look the part in the moment, but inevitably the tight collars of moralism and crooked hems of behavior management will eventually give us away. There is no need for such striving when words like “I have also loved you” have already been spoken. It’s this love of Christ that lets us out of the suffocating garments of do-goodism for approval, giving us the grace to obey God’s commands while we revel in His affection. Keeping His commands is not grievous; it’s a delightful expression of our love for God, because He has first loved us (1 John 4:19; 5:3).

TIME MOVED DIFFERENTLY for John Cazale. Everything went slower. He wasn’t dim, not by a long shot. But he was meticulous, sometimes maddeningly so. Even simple tasks could take hours. All of his friends knew about the slowness. It would drive them crazy. His

I suppose when I go home, you’ll stop visiting me,” he pouted. “Actually, your mom invited me over,” Caprice said. “What did you say?” “I said I would have to check my schedule. I’m a busy girl. Several other coma guys need my specialized brand of sleep-watching.” “Were you always this mean and I’ve forgotten?” “I think it’s new,” she said. “I think it started right after prom.” “Oh, we’re back to that,” Alex said. “Do girls ever forgive or forget anything?” “No.” “I’ll buy you an airplane,” he said. “I’m afraid to fly,” she said. “I’ll buy you a bus. You’ll be like John Madden.” “My dream come true,” she said.

Peeking out the door at John and puppy, she had to pause just for the merest moment. The dog sat curled on John’s lap, looking up at him as he whispered to it. John looked up at her, dark brown eyes guarded. When he saw her grin, he grinned as well. “What? She was crying.” “She’s going to have you trained in no time.” He made a face at her and set the pup down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shannon

John was laying on his front, arm draped over her thighs as he explored her tiny baby bump, pressing kisses here and there. “I can’t believe we’re having a kid. I mean, I’m excited but it’s one of those things that I never thought would happen to me.” “Well, maybe you never thought it would happen, but I did. I know what a wonderful man you are, and what a great father you’ll be.” John’s dark eyes got a little misty and he rested his ear against her tiny bump, as if to listen for a heartbeat. “We

And Duncan?” the other woman asked gently. Alex took a deep breath, avoiding her eyes. “Duncan and I have very different plans for our lives. I wish it would have worked out, but it didn’t.” Shannon looked sadder than she had the entire time Alex had been there. “I’m sorry, Shannon. I know you guys put a lot of planning and hope into bringing me out here, but we’ve got an issue we just can’t get past. And though we had fun at the beginning, we had to break it off before we became too invested and couldn’t.” “Sounds like a bullshit excuse,” John said, turning from the window. “Excuse me?” “You two could make it work.” Sighing, she leaned back against the chair, tired. “Perhaps. Duncan has to believe it though. You heard him at the house, John. He doesn’t want to be a father, and I very much want to be a mother. That is a very big dividing point.” “It will change though.” He rolled closer to her. “If you had told me six months ago I was going to be happy about being a father, I would have laughed in your face.” His eyes drifted to Shannon, and Alex’s heart ached at the love she saw between them. “But now that I know, it’s a very different situation. Yes, I’m paralyzed, but that doesn’t mean I will love them any less.” Alex

If we have a child, I hope it’s a little boy like Drew. He’s an awesome kid.” Alex stilled in his arms. “Do you really mean that?” she asked softly. “Yes, I do,” he admitted. “I want a couple of kids with you. Maybe not together like Shannon and John are doing. I’d like one at a time. We need to start slowly.” She

Eventually you have to decide what to do with this desire. Do you tamp it down in yourself, or do you chase after it? Should you quit your job to pursue your dream, or hang on to that steady paycheck? Stay in an okay relationship or find a better match? Do you plunge into a Technicolor riot of what might be, harsh and delirious and confusing? Or do you accept the humble beauty of ordinary life, where nothing ever changes, and everything is simple? Which will it be—Kansas or Oz? Life as it is or life as it could be? Soon enough, life will offer you an answer. But for the moment, you are like Dorothy, sitting up in her bed, trying to decide which pair of slippers she wants to wear today. Black or ruby? Black or ruby? Until she decides, she’ll be caught in a maddening state of tension, trying to live in two worlds at once—padding around the farmhouse as it spins inside the twister, with rubies shining in her bloodstream, her auburn hair slowly turning gray. Spare a thought for poor Dorothy, the orphan girl of Kansas, who dreams in color but lives in black and white.

the absence of Patriots personnel in Stingley’s hospital room, or the identity of a frequent visitor. “You know who spent the most time with him? Madden,” says Newhouse. “John Madden spent hours and hours at Stingley’s bedside. Even weeks later he was flying home from road games, driving from the airport to the hospital to sit up all night with Darryl Stingley. Madden and his wife, Virginia, became friends with Stingley’s family, and there was no PR to it because nobody knew about it.

Increasingly solitary, he saw his life as all that was left to him: a tattered sail that might bear the wind but would bring him to no haven.

Generally speaking, psychiatry is concerned with the treatment of neuroses, with patients who are aware of their illness and wish to be cured. But where the darkness of the soul is complete, where all sense of right and wrong is lacking, even the most sophisticated clinical approaches have proved ineffectual. To put the question in simple terms, it seems that criminals of this type are born to be what they become, that their condition is organic and beyond the power of any analyst to treat or decipher.

I seldom go to restaurants where you need a reservation, or where you need to get dressed up. If you need a reservation, it's too crowded.

Hall of Fame football coach John Madden, in a documentary about Vince Lombardi, told a story about how, as a young assistant coach, he attended a coaching clinic where Lombardi spoke about one play: the power sweep, a running play that he made famous with the Green Bay Packers in the 1960s. Lombardi held the audience spellbound as he described that one play for eight hours. Madden said, “I went in there cocky, thinking I knew everything there was to know about football, and he spent eight hours talking about this one play. . . . I realized then that I actually knew nothing about football.

That seeming indifference, particularly on the part of the United States, was maddening. Was President Trump’s unwillingness to acknowledge the Russian hacking that had aided his campaign now extending to all Russian hacking, no matter how destructive? Or was his administration simply incompetent or misinformed? “They’ve never even named the actor,” Rob Lee told me in late 2017, marveling at the government’s continued nonresponse to Sandworm’s provocations. “NotPetya tested the red lines of the West, and the result of the test was that there are no red lines yet,” Johns Hopkins’s Thomas Rid said. “The lack of any proper response is almost an invitation to escalate more.

You know, every tutorial I can’t look away from your lips. I can’t concentrate, think, or speak...it’s maddening. I’m obsessed by how soft they’ll be and how addictive you’ll taste. Like mine. And I wish every time I’m alone that I’d only had the courage to kiss you.

fitching v. intr. compulsively turning away from works of art you find frustratingly, nauseatingly good—wanting to shut off the film and leave the theater, or devour a book only in maddening little chunks—because it resonates at precisely the right frequency to rattle you to your core, which makes it mildly uncomfortable to be yourself. From bitching, markedly good + fitch, the European polecat, an animal that often cripples its prey by piercing its brain with its teeth, before storing it alive in its burrow to return and eat sometime later.

They’ve become war surplus; I’m told you can buy them at any of these markets that have sprung up. The one in Ash’s room had been torn open and there was a dressing missing.’ ‘A dressing?’ ‘A bandage and so forth. They found the empty packet it had been in. I wondered if he’d been injured.

His specific brief was to cultivate contacts in the Nazi party. It’s something we’ve been slow to get on to. Like others, we’ve tended to dismiss them as rabble. Now it looks as though they may form part of the next government. Or, God forbid, end up running it.

when he had still thought his experiences might have some value – that his life might amount to something – and which were gathering dust in a desk drawer.

The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.” —John Milton, Paradise Lost

While we sat at the bar, Dave told me the most important advice about talking to women I had ever received, and that was to be as relaxed as possible and not fear rejection. Dave then began hooking up with some girl who looked like a hybrid of Rosie O’Donnell and Miss Piggy, leaving me alone to ponder his words.” “When I was in 8th grade, there was this girl named Sandra who I used to ride the school bus with. Sandra was about 5’2, 120 lbs, and looked like the Hamburglar. She was the prettiest girl in my class.” “In my mind I was the life of the party and felt as though I could do no wrong when it came to interacting with the opposite sex. That was until Marissa caught me red handed hooking up with some girl who looked like a combination of John Madden and Andre the Giant, tapping me on the shoulder and kicking me square in the nuts.” “I was starting to feel bad about how I treated women. Oh wait, no I wasn’t. The girls at Binghamton were nothing more than a bunch of dumb sluts that just wanted to get drunk and suck dick, and besides, they were all going to make a lot more money than me in the future. So I may as well catch brains while these bitches were dumb enough to blow me.” “Out of all the people I could’ve stumbled into blackout drunk, why did it have to be THE MOOSE? As son as she saw me her 300 lb frame waddled over, and she jammed her tongue down my throat, devouring me as though I were a Big Mac. This was embarrassing. Here I was making out with some girl who looked like Eric Cartman in a dress, and everybody was watching. My life was effectively over.” “After annihilating Ruben’s toilet, I looked over my shoulder for some much-needed toilet paper, when to my shock and dismay there was not a single sheet of paper in sight. There’s no way in hell I was rejoining the party covered in poop and I would have wiped my ass with anything. That’s when I noticed his New York Yankees bath towel.” “I spent the rest of my week off getting completely shitfaced with Chris, and that’s when I realized I might be developing a drinking problem. At Bar None, hooking up with some girl who looked like the Loch Ness Monster; this shit had to stop. Alcohol was turning me into a drunken mess, and I vowed right then and there to quit drinking and start smoking more weed immediately.” “I got a new roommate. His name was Erick and he was an ex-marine. Erick and I didn’t know each other, but he knew Kevin, and he also knew that I didn’t shower and that last semester I left a used condom on the floor for two weeks without throwing it away. Eric therefore did not want to live with me.” “Believe it or not, I got another job working with the disabled. See, Manny was nice enough to hook me up with a position as a job coach at the Lavelle School for the Blind. The kid’s name was Fred and he was blind with cerebral palsy. Fred loved dogs and I loved smoking week. Bad combination, and I was fired with 3 days left in the program after allowing Fred to run across the street into oncoming traffic, because I had smoked a bowl an hour earlier. Manny and I never spoke again.” “My life was a dream and a nightmare rolled into one. Here I was living this carefree existence, getting drunk, boning bitches, and playing Sega Genesis in between. Oh wait, what am I talking about? My life was awesome. It’s the rest of my life that’s going to suck.