Kermit Quotes

I guess I was wrong when I said I never promised anyone. I promised me.

Hey, hot cheeks!" A hand smacked my ass and I shrieked. Spinning around, I glared at Dan Ottoman, a blond, pimply, clarinet player from band. He leered back at me and winked. "Never took you for a player, girl," he said, trying to ooze charm but reminding me of a dirty Kermit the Frog. "Come down to band sometime. I've got a flute you can play

Here's some simple advice: Always be yourself. Never take yourself to seriously. And beware of advice from experts, pigs, and members of Parliament.

One cannot bring up boys to be eagles and then expect them to be sparrows.

If life were easy, it wouldn't be difficult.

An obscenely long, coarse kermit cock is being dragged across my anguished face.

It's lonely up in the top

Absolutely. I understand that Miss Piggy is willing to serve as Queen of Scotland if there is a split. So you may want to guard your castles. Kermit the frog's response to the question on if he agreed with David Bowie on whether Scotland should remain as part of Britain

So who's this Kermit guy?" "A singing frog puppet." "That's bizarre." "Hey. I saw a tiny cow fly by your window this morning. A cow." "They're called pegamoos. It was someone's pet. They're notorious little escape artists." "I want a pegamoo." "You don't." "I do." "You can't house-train them." "They fly." "They bite." "They fly." "What if I told you they breathed fire?" "They. Fly. Plus, I don't believe you.

Unless it is cured sometimes greediness grows. Where it finally stops, alas, nobody knows.

Time's fun when you're having flies.

What’s green and smells like pork?” Relieved that he’s engaging, I have to bite my lip to keep from grinning. “What?” “Kermit’s finger.

What’s green and smells like pork?” Relieved that he’s engaging, I have to bite my lip to keep from grinning. “What?” “Kermit’s finger.” “Eew.” I laugh as I bat his arm. “That is vile.

It’s true—there are only, like, two songs about rainbows, including that one. He should be asking why there are so few songs about rainbows.

Duelo de ingenio con el inspector Ford El secuestro extravagante Os quiere, Kermit. P.S. Esto no es una broma. Adjunto una broma para que podáis apreciar la diferencia

You can propose on our honeymoon [Miss Piggy to Kermit the Frog]

And so, my beloved Kermit, my dear little Hussein, at the moment America changed forever, your father was wandering an ICBM-denuded watseland, nervously monitoring his radiation level, armed only with a baseball bat, a 10mm pistol, and six rounds of ammunition, in search of a vicious gang of mohawked marauders who were 100 percent bad news and totally had to be dealth with. Trust Daddy on this one.

Kermit: Hey, Fozzie, I want you to turn left if you come to a fork in the road. Fozzie: Yes sir, turn left at the fork in the road. [drives past a giant fork] Fozzie: Kermit! Kermit: I don't believe that.

It isn't easy being green.

I never wanted to safe... I wanted to be good.

The battle proved a victory—at least in part—and soon after, his grandfather finally died, and Ser Elmo became Lord of Riverrun. But he did not long enjoy his station; he died on the march forty-nine days later, leaving his young son, Ser Kermit, to succeed him.

Jim Henson's body was gone, and yet that powerful presence-that undefinable 'something' that compelled men to seek his appreciation and approval, and that women found somehow irresistible-would always remain. Anyone who had ever smiled as Ernie tried to play a rhyming game with Bert, or laughed as Kermit had chased Fozzie off the stage, arms flailing, had felt it. Anyone who had ever wished they could explore a Fraggle hole, save the world with a crystal shard, or dance with a charismatic goblin king had been touched by it.

If you hate me, than kill me or shut the fuck up

We are at war, and in time of war there is only one rule. Form your battalion and fight.

Haven’t you heard – fat isn’t the killer any more. Now I can eat more pork than Kermit.

This guy sounds like an alcoholic Kermit the Frog with throat cancer.

Kermit “Late Term” Lector. “Good evening, Clarice,

the kid says he’s, like, related to Kermit the Frog…

Shrek Kermit the frog Green Giant Green Arrow Grinch Yoda Ninja Turtles And Oscar the Grouch They’re real cool. And they’re greeeeeeen!

When he wasn't too sick to sit up, Roosevelt sought comfort and distraction in the world that he knew best: his library. For his trip to Africa, he had spent months choosing the books that he would take with him, ordering special volumes that had been beautifully bound in pigskin, with type reduced to the smallest legible size, so that the books would be as light as possible. Roosevelt, Kermit wrote, "read so rapidly that he had to plan very carefully in order to have enough books to last him through a trip.

[...]Cuando regresé a la Universidad me fui a vivir con un amigo, un compañero de estudios. Se llamaba Kermit. Vivía cerca del colegio con su familia. Tenía un hermano y una hermana menores que él y aquella casa era un caos.—Robert sonrió—. Pero era un hogar, ¿comprendes? No, no puedes comprenderlo si nunca has carecido de uno verdadero.

The social contract imposes obligations on citizens, but it does so in exchange for rights, and the government may not deny the rights while it insists on the obligations.

This is what happens to people who aren’t like you,” Clara continues. “When you get scared, of course they’re the first to feel it.

I have had a satisfactory, often exciting life, of which I am appropriately proud.

The government, Lincoln suggests, should intervene to protect individuals from other individuals—to redress the natural consequences of inequalities of power.

That is the attitude we need today. That is the “Battle Hymn of the Republic”: the soldiers who sang that they would die to make men free.

if you want to live a life of love... you have to first love a life of living

It’s not easy being green.

Isak Dinesen went so far as to say, “There are many ways to the recognition of truth, and Burgundy is one of them.

One of Ardi's main lessons is that simplistic narratives contrived to fill gaps in the fossil record often turn out to be wrong. Consensus can be a poor predictor of who turns out to be right in science.

Writing is reverse metamorphosis. One entombs a beautiful idea in a chrysalis of paper or electronic bits and bites, and when you’re through, it waits to be reborn and take wing in the minds of your readers.

The Founders’ Constitution is a deal. You get an American nation, but you must accept slavery. That’s a bargain with evil, a deal with the devil. And like most deals with the devil, it doesn’t work out very well.

With a few notable exceptions, state and local government officials had completely failed to do their jobs. Official incompetence, bureaucratic inertia, neglect, and the desire to protect abortion from a harsh spotlight whatever the cost caused needless deaths and injuries. The grand jury's conclusion was damning: Kermit Gosnell murdered and maimed with impunity for thirty years because virtually no one did his job properly.

Ardi, and the team that discovered her, seemed to be personae non gratae. One of them was even called “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.” My curiosity was aroused. Anybody who must not be named certainly must be interviewed.

Cole shrugged. "Maybe. But if Forrice had been in charge of the Quentin the way I planned it originally, there's a fifty-fifty chance it would have made it back." "And a fifty-fifty chance the Kermit wouldn't have." "True," he admitted. "But Mount Fuji sacrificed himself. It was a noble thing to do, but I was taught that it's never a good idea to die for your side. The object of the exercise is to make your enemy die for his side.

Later during the Dance, Ser Elmo Tully led the riverlords into battle at Second Tumbleton, but on the side of Queen Rhaenyra rather than King Aegon II, whom his grandsire had favored. The battle proved a victory—at least in part—and soon after, his grandfather finally died, and Ser Elmo became Lord of Riverrun. But he did not long enjoy his station; he died on the march forty-nine days later, leaving his young son, Ser Kermit, to succeed him.

Regie Gibson said, “Our problem as Americans is we actually hate history. . . . What we love is nostalgia. We love to remember things exactly the way they didn’t happen. History itself is often an indictment. And people? We hate to be indicted.

But Lincoln says something about the future that’s pretty amazing. He says that this nation shall have a new birth of freedom. And it does. The Reconstruction Amendments—the Thirteenth, Fourteenth, and Fifteenth—give us a new set of founding principles.

But we do go forward. Inspired, once again, by military service and a war against a racist enemy—this time Nazi Germany—Black Americans press their calls for equality. The Supreme Court invalidates government racial segregation, in public schools and elsewhere.

The liberty to do what one wants to the limits of one’s strength—including the liberty to do as one wills with other people—is the liberty of the state of nature. No one has the right to demand obedience from anyone else, although some have the ability to compel it by force.

And that’s maybe a better description of the experience of reading the Federalist Papers now, if you’re reading them for guidance through a modern crisis. The predictions of the Framers of the Constitution were accurate for a time, but history diverged from their path a while back.

It is a sign of how thoroughly the Reconstruction Constitution has displaced the Founders’ Constitution that these are the cases that define our constitutional order. We are not Founding America, and we are not the heirs of that first Republic, either. We are the heirs of the people who destroyed it. We are Reconstruction America.

But the idea that letting people know how deeply rooted racism has been will make them lose faith in America is both patronizing and implausible. Patronizing because it suggests that some Americans can’t handle the truth, and implausible because the people most likely to lose faith—Black Americans—know the problem of racism all too well already.

The “Address at a Sanitary Fair” shifts, somewhat abruptly, to a discussion of the meaning of liberty. “We all declare for liberty,” he says, “but in using the same word we do not all mean the same thing. With some the word liberty may mean for each man to do as he pleases with himself, and the product of his labor; while with others the same word may mean for some men to do as they please with other men, and the product of other men’s labor.” Thus, Lincoln continues, “the shepherd drives the wolf from the sheep’s throat, for which the sheep thanks the shepherd as a liberator, while the wolf denounces him for the same act as the destroyer of liberty, especially as the sheep was a black one.

Jim was shaken by the impending death of his grandfather—he had, after all, been partly named for him—but Jim would do as he always did in the face of grief: he would build and create. Foraging for any suitable materials, Jim settled on his mother’s old felt coat, and as he leaned over the table in the Hensons’ living room he sewed a simple puppet body, with a slightly pointed face, out of the faded turquoise material. For eyes, he simply glued two halves of a Ping-Pong ball—with slashed circles carefully inked in black on each—to the top of the head. That was it. From the simplest of materials—and, perhaps appropriately, from a determination to bring a bit of order from darkness—Kermit was born.

One final note: in this book I say “we” a lot. No matter who you are, you will probably encounter at least one “we” to which your reaction is “not me.” And maybe that’s true. But that reaction illustrates a theme of the book, which is that the basic American struggle is over who is an insider and who an outsider—who comes within the most fundamental “we”: We the People.

The Revolutionaries who declare their independence overstate the injustices inflicted on them and ignore the injustices they inflict on others. The America they create fails—the Articles of Confederation are a disaster, lasting less than ten years. Americans work within them as long as they can, hoping for improvement, but in the end they have to break the existing order.

Redeemer governments write new constitutions; they put up monuments to Confederates and terrorists. In 1891, the Redeemer government of New Orleans erects a monument to the victors of the Battle of Liberty Place: the White League. In 1920, a committee erects a monument to honor the three white men who died in the attack on the Grant Parish courthouse as “heroes . . . fighting for White Supremacy.

It's okay, Harley. I'm just down the hall." He didn't say anything but I could tell he was afraid. I closed the door gently behind me and tiptoed down the hall. I stood in the kitchen, my heart pounding. I was listening for his cry, but there was not sound at all. I went back into the hall. Harley had got out of bed and put his hands under the door. His fingers were coming out from underneath. They were blue and luminous, like starfish. When I opened the door - I was careful not to scrape the skin off the back of his hands - he looked up from where he lay on the floor with saucer eyes and implored me, "I want to sleep with you." I put out my arms and he climbed into them. I carried him down the hall, in his singlet and his Kermit underpants. I put Harley down in the middle of our mattress. He curled like a kitten into the hollow.

Uncompensated emancipation suggests not that the Founders’ Constitution is being changed but that it is being repudiated—claims based on slavery are as invalid as claims based on rebel debt. Uncompensated emancipation is of course also a feature of the Emancipation Proclamation—and the Takings Clause issue is one of several reasons to think that the Emancipation Proclamation is unconstitutional under the Founders’ Constitution.

Abolitionists, though, find no support in the political theory of the Declaration. This point is hard to accept today. But the contemporaneous understanding of the Declaration was pretty clearly that it was about national independence, not individual liberty, and certainly not the liberty of political outsiders. Even more: the Declaration can be mustered to make an argument about slavery—but it is an argument against abolition.

Indeed, when people talk about how the Constitution is designed to implement the principles of the Declaration, they almost always point to the Fourteenth Amendment—sometimes without noticing that this means they are not talking about the Founders’ Constitution. In part due to Supreme Court decisions, however, the federal government ended up protecting individuals primarily from states and secondarily, if at all, from other individuals.

They laugh because they’re surprised, because of course they’ve been taught the standard story about how wonderful and successful the Constitution has been. Most of them haven’t heard the phrase “a covenant with death and an agreement with hell.” It originates, remember, from William Lloyd Garrison, who urged northern secession rather than union with slaveholders and burned a copy of the Constitution. “So perish all compromises with tyranny!

Most Americans don’t know that military coups swept over half the country, with the acquiescence of the federal government. But that is what happened. The legitimate governments of southern states and cities were overthrown by force, by white supremacist paramilitary organizations. Black people and Republicans were disenfranchised and massacred. They call it the Redemption of the South, and what it means is we turn away from the idea of equality.

That is the terrible contradiction at the heart of the standard story—not that slave owners wrote a document promising equality to all men (they didn’t), but that it gives us a story within which we are not the heroes at all. We are the bad guys. Yet there’s another twist. The bad guys—the national government—turned out to be good. The Reconstruction Constitution is better than the Founding Constitution. Lincoln’s equality is better than Jefferson’s equality.

Measured according to the goals set out in the preamble, the Founders’ Constitution is a worse disaster than the Articles. It does not create a more perfect union: eleven states secede, thirteen if you accept the Confederate claims to Missouri and Kentucky. It does not insure domestic tranquility: Americans kill more Americans than any foreign enemy ever has, some three-quarters of a million dead. It brings the blessings of liberty to the Founders, but to their posterity the curse of war.

Rather than try to restore what had been, the Reconstruction Congress decides to build something new. There will be no more compromises with slavery, no more deals with the devil. The Black soldiers who fought for the United States in its war against traitors will be citizens, and as citizens they will have rights. Reconstruction destroys the Founders’ Constitution—and not by the method the Founders’ Constitution sets out. It is not a fulfillment of the Founders’ vision, but a rejection of it, a recognition of its failure.

He spoke of Black suffrage: on April 11, 1865, he expressed a desire to allow some Blacks (those who had fought for the Union and, in a less appealing phrase, the “very intelligent”) to vote. Present at that speech was John Wilkes Booth, who fumed in response, “That means n***** citizenship” and “That is the last speech he will ever make.” Four days later Lincoln was dead—a martyr not for the cause of Union, but for Black citizenship. Andrew Johnson succeeded to the presidency, and public opinion hardened against the South.

we can look at James Madison’s 1787 pamphlet “Vices of the Political System of the United States.” First on his list is the “failure of the States to comply with the Constitutional requisitions”—to pull their weight in the confederacy. Second is the “encroachments of the States on the federal authority”; third is violations of the treaties entered into by Congress; and fourth is the “trespasses of the States on the rights of each other.” Not until the eleventh (“Injustice of the laws of States”) do we get anything suggesting a concern for individual rights.

do argue that the standard account of American history isn’t accurate—not because it leaves out unpleasant truths, although of course it does. It’s because it tells us a fundamentally false story about where our values come from, and about who the heroes and villains of our national story are. Once we see that, we also see something else: There is another story that hasn’t been told. There is a different, better way to understand America. It is more true, it is more inspiring, and it is more useful. It can bring us together in the way the standard story promised to.

The Revolution and the Founders’ Constitution chose unity over justice, but the Civil War and Reconstruction put justice ahead of unity. The heroes and villains are different. The Founding reveres paramilitary organizations like the Sons of Liberty. The army of the national government is viewed suspiciously—the Founders did not want a standing army. In Reconstruction, US Army troops, including many Black soldiers, are the heroes, and paramilitary organizations like the Klan and the White League are the villains. The presence of a standing army within a civilian population, dreaded by the Revolutionaries, is what protects the freedpeople

Once we accept that Jefferson’s Declaration did not contain the values we now find in it, two other points follow. First, those values came from somewhere else. Second, we, who invoke those values, may not really be the heirs of the signers of the Declaration. We may be the heirs of a very different group of people. We may be the heirs of the enslaved people and the abolitionists who read the Declaration differently from its author; of Abraham Lincoln, who advanced that vision in national politics; of the US Army that fought for it; of the Reconstruction Congress that wrote it into law; of the civil rights marchers who brought those words back to life in the 1960s.

But what makes us American—our deepest ideal—is that we keep trying. America is born in an attempt to find a new and better way, to escape the stale and oppressive monarchies of Europe. We don’t get it right immediately. Yet we keep going. We’re looking for America, and we know that the America we’re looking for isn’t something that’s given to us by Founding Fathers. It’s something we make, something we find inside ourselves. The true America is not handed down from the past but created anew by each generation, created a little better, and what we can give the future is the opportunity to get just a little closer than we did ourselves. That’s the promise that makes us American.

In any discussion of serial killers, a few notorious names—those of the most prolific killers—always get mentioned. Ted Bundy admitted to killing thirty women, but it could well have been more. Gary Ridgeway, also known as the Green River Killer, was convicted of murdering forty-eight, but later confessed to others. John Wayne Gacy was convicted of killing thirty-three people. Jeffrey Dahmer was convicted of murdering and partially ingesting fifteen people. David Berkowitz, New York City’s “Son of Sam,” shot and killed six people. Less well known but significant are Dennis Rader, who killed ten people in Wichita, Kansas, and Aileen Wuornos, portrayed by Charlize Theron in the film Monster, who killed six men. Wayne Williams was convicted of killing only two men, but he is believed to have killed anywhere from twenty-three to twenty-nine children in Atlanta. Robert Hansen confessed to four murders but is suspected of more than seventeen. Juan Corona was convicted of murdering twenty-five people. Their crimes are all horrific, and the number of victims is heartbreaking. But all these most notorious serial killers stand in the shadow of Dr. Kermit Gosnell. Strangely, Gosnell appears in no list we have found of known U.S. serial killers, though he is the biggest of them all. In reality, Kermit Gosnell deserves the top spot on any list of serial murderers. He’s earned it.

Abraham Lincoln did many remarkable things, but one of the most remarkable is this sort of magic trick—he makes people think that he’s the one fighting for the Declaration and the Founders’ Constitution, when in fact he’s against them.10 If you draw a line from the Declaration of Independence through the Founders’ Constitution, it doesn’t lead to us. It goes to the rebel South, and it stops there. We aren’t, as John F. Kennedy said, the heirs of the first Revolution. We aren’t the heirs of the Founders. We’re the heirs of the people who rejected the theory of the Declaration—who defeated it by force of arms. We also rejected the Founders’ Constitution. And we did so, again, by force of arms.

Jefferson recognized, of course, that people would not remain in the state of nature. They would come together to form governments to secure their rights. But the job of such a government is to secure the rights of the people who create it. The government formed by wolves would protect the rights of wolves against each other, and it would protect their rights to do as they willed with the sheep, too. A government that protects the rights of its citizens, including their right to enslave outsiders, is a Declaration-style government. It is the government that the southern states consistently sought to form and protect—by leaving the British Empire, by joining the Union, and, in the end, by leaving the Union, too.

the lower South, its meaning was settled by the overtly discriminatory Black Codes. These codes, described by Kenneth Stampp as “a twilight zone between slavery and freedom,”12 restricted Blacks by, for instance, requiring them to sign labor contracts and prohibiting them from taking any job other than farmer or servant without receiving a license and paying a tax.13 Extensive regulation of the “employment” relationship made it resemble slavery, with “masters” allowed to whip “servants.” Breaching or not entering into a contract could trigger the application of vagrancy laws, which took advantage of the Thirteenth Amendment back door: Blacks convicted of vagrancy could be sentenced to work or leased out while prisoners.

This is the moment that you should have when you realize how backward the standard story is. When you look down at the corpse of the Confederacy—and you might want to double tap to be sure it’s dead—you are not seeing the deviant outsider that was properly vanquished by the principles of the Declaration. You are seeing the body of Founding America. You are seeing the death of the central principle of the Declaration, the death of the Founders’ Constitution. (Thurgood Marshall: “While the Union survived the Civil War, the Constitution did not.”25) That’s what you see so vividly in Federalist no. 46. Madison—who of course is a slave owner from Virginia—is describing the Civil War and telling us not to worry, the South will win.

The America promised in Lincoln’s speeches and delivered by the Reconstruction Amendments is not a fulfillment of founding ideals but their repudiation. It is based on inclusive equality, not exclusive individualism. Its political community is open rather than closed by race. Its criterion of legitimacy is not whether a government protects the natural rights of insiders—a principle that prohibits redistribution to outsiders and even to other insiders—but rather whether it represents the will of the people. This principle allows insiders not just to fight for their own rights but to make sacrifices for others. The Civil War, far more than the Revolution, embodies this principle, which the “Battle Hymn of the Republic” celebrates: Let us die to make men free.

His disdain for the contagious fad of blind and comparative tastings of unrelated wines will surely rub some furs the wrong way, as will his indifference to the New-Oak-Cabernet-Sauvignon global boom. Tant mieux …

Actually, we do have our Mengele, and his name is Kermit Gosnell. Since 1979, Gosnell ran an abortion clinic called the Women’s Medical Society in West Philadelphia. There he performed late-term abortions and partial-birth abortions, mostly on poor women. If by some mistake children were born alive, Gosnell killed them in a process he termed “ensuring fetal demise.” Gosnell’s preferred technique for abortion was to heavily drug the premature infants and then stick scissors into their necks and cut the spinal cord. Over a period of three decades, Gosnell killed hundreds if not thousands of children in this way, far more than Mengele killed during his two-year stint at Auschwitz.4

Wherever the Four Horsemen (Exxon Mobil, Chevron Texaco, BP Amoco & Royal Dutch/Shell) gallop the CIA is close behind. Iran was no exception. By 1957 the Company, as intelligence insiders know the CIA, created one of its first Frankensteins—the Shah of Iran’s brutal secret police known as SAVAK. Kermit Roosevelt, the Mossadegh coup-master turned Northrop salesman, admitted in his memoirs that SAVAK was 100% created by the CIA and Mossad, the Israeli intelligence agency that acts as appendage of the CIA. For the next 20 years the CIA and SAVAK were joined at the hip when it came to matters of Persian Gulf security. Three hundred fifty SAVAK agents were shuttled each year to CIA training facilities in McLean, Virginia, where they learned the finer arts of interrogation and torture. Top SAVAK brass were trained through the US Agency for International Development’s (USAID) Public Safety Program, until it was shut down in 1973 due to its reputation for turning out some of the world’s finest terrorists…. Popular anger towards Big Oil, the Shah and his new police state resulted in mass protests. The Shah dealt with the peaceful demonstrations with sheer brutality and got a wink and nod from Langley. From 1957-79 Iran housed 125,000 political prisoners. SAVAK “disappeared” dissenters, a strategy replicated by CIA surrogate dictators in Argentina and Chile. … In 1974 the director of Amnesty International declared that no country had a worse human rights record than Iran. The CIA responded by increasing its support for SAVAK.3

Great wine is about nuance, surprise, subtlety, expression, qualities that keep you coming back for another taste. Rejecting a wine because it is not big enough is like rejecting a book because it is not long enough, or a piece of music because it is not loud enough.” — KERMIT LYNCH, Adventures on the Wine Route

Many television critics, writing of Kermit during that pivotal first season, thought Kermit was already one of Hollywood’s great straight men—“funny not because of what he does,” wrote one reviewer, “but because of what others do around him, and because of the aplomb with which he bears their doings.

Father, it’s okay,” Kermit said reassuringly. “I’ve known of your malaria for some time. Did you not think I could recognize the symptoms of a disease for which I myself am infected?” “Kermit,

Excuse me,” I call to his retreating back. I sound like I swallowed Kermit, so I clear my throat. “Excuse me,” I call again. I run to catch up with him and tug on his backpack. He looks back over his shoulder, but then he keeps right on walking. “Wait!” I say, trying to keep up. “Damn it, would you stop?” He stops very quickly and I slam into his back. He rocks forward and I grab onto his pack to stay upright, feeling like I have two left feet. I am usually more graceful than this. My mother would kill me if she saw me right now, making a public spectacle of myself in the quad. He turns, grabs me by the shoulders and steadies me, then he bends down to look into my eyes. His are bright blue and full of questions. “Are you all right?” he asks, his voice gruff. I’ve never heard him do more than grunt in class, so hearing him make a full sentence, albeit a short one, is startling. “I’m fine,” I gasp, a little winded from chasing him. “You’re really fast.” He grins. “Sweetheart, you haven’t seen fast.” My heart skips a beat. I am in such big trouble. I don’t know why I thought I could approach a man like this, but I did, and now I don’t know how to ask for what I want. “Cat got your tongue?” he asks. A grin tips one corner of his lips. He’s pretty enough to take my breath away. His blond hair flops across his forehead and he shakes his head to swing it back from his eyes. I open my mouth to speak, but only a squeak comes out. He looks around the quad, looking behind me like he’s trying to figure out where the hell I came from. When he sees that no one is chasing me, he takes my shoulders in his hands and gives me a gentle squeeze, bending so he can stare into my eyes. “Hey,” he says softly, like I’m a stray dog he’s trying to trap. “Are you okay?” I thrust out my hand. “Madison Wentworth,” I say. “I just wanted to introduce myself.” His eyes narrow and he stares at me, but he doesn’t stick his hand out to shake mine. I let mine hang there in the air between us until it becomes so heavy with disappointment that I have to tuck it into the pocket of my jeans. “Guess not.” I sigh. “I’m very sorry for taking up your time.” “Which one of those fuckers put you up to this?” he asks. He grinds his teeth as he waits for my response. “What?” “Those frat boys you hang out with, the ones with more money than sense. Which one put you up to this?” He glares at me. “No one put me up to this,” I say. “Listen, sweetheart,” he says, his face very close to mine. I can smell the cigarette he just smoked and the coffee he must have had before it. “You don’t want to mess with a man like me.” “Okay,” I whisper. I clear my throat. “Fine. Have a nice day.

Actually, we do have our Mengele, and his name is Kermit Gosnell. Since 1979, Gosnell ran an abortion clinic called the Women’s Medical Society in West Philadelphia. There he performed late-term abortions and partial-birth abortions, mostly on poor women. If by some mistake children were born alive, Gosnell killed them in a process he termed “ensuring fetal demise.” Gosnell’s preferred technique for abortion was to heavily drug the premature infants and then stick scissors into their necks and cut the spinal cord. Over a period of three decades, Gosnell killed hundreds if not thousands of children in this way, far more than Mengele killed during his two-year stint at Auschwitz.4 If Gosnell is our Mengele, we also have our Kaiser Wilhelm Institute, and its name is Planned Parenthood.

Yet I had come this far, still looking like Milhouse and sounding like Kermit the Frog.

Of course, the crucial difference is that science puts its theories to the test of falsification and adapts to new information.

they concluded the human hand remained closer to the primitive proportions and chimp hands had evolved much more.

their analysis of the femur suggested that bipeds likely evolved from ancestors similar to Miocene fossil apes—not ones like modern African apes.

AN OLD AMHARIC ADAGE WARNS: HE WHO IS NOT VIGILANTLY SUSPICIOUS will be displaced from this land.

In December 1983, security forces in Addis Ababa raided a clandestine meeting and caught an American CIA agent conspiring with Ethiopian dissidents.

The idea of an arboreal-bipedal hybrid seemed as ludicrous as a horse-drawn automobile.

AMERICANS -- U.S. NAVY, ABOARD MINESWEEPER USS PELICAN (AM 49), MANILA BAY Alton C. Ingram, Lieutenant. “Todd,” Commanding Officer Frederick J. Holloway, Lt. (jg), Operations Officer. Oliver P. Toliver, III, Lt. (jg) “Ollie,” Gunnery Officer. Bartholomew, Leonard (n), Chief Machinists Mate, “Rocky,” Chief Engineer. Farwell, Luther A., Quartermaster Second Class, Top helmsman. Hampton, Joshua P., Electronics Technician 1st Class, Crew Whittaker, Peter L., Engineman 3rd Class, Crew Forester, Kevin T. Quartermaster 3rd Class, Crew Forester, Brian I., Quartermaster Striker, Crew Yardly, Ronald R., Pharmacist's Mate Second Class “Bones,” Crew. Sunderland, Kermit G. Gunner's Mate 1st Class, Crew. AMERICANS

Question #1: Who wrote Hunger Games? Jennifer Lawrence Suzanne Collins Mahatma Gandhi A and B Question #2: Who is the main character in “A Christmas Carol”? Kermit Tiny Tim Scrooge Not A

Come to think of it, if we’re all suspended, does Mr. Kermit still have to go to school? There’s nobody there for him to teach. Actually, I think he might like that. But it’s possible that he’s suspended too. Dr. Thaddeus seems really mad at him. “Nah,

Miss Fountain is looking around in growing concern. “But—where is it?” Mr. Kermit seems flustered. “Well, there wasn’t much space, and—” In resignation, he walks to the storage closet and opens the door the rest of the way. On the inside is a chart with all our names in a column. At the top is written: GOODBUNNIES.

Everybody hates something,” I retort. “I don’t like lima beans—am I the Grinch too?” “It’s not just what you hate; it’s why you hate it,” Mateo replies seriously. “Indiana Jones hates snakes because he’s afraid of them. Superman hates kryptonite because it’s his weakness. The Wicked Witch of the West hates water because it makes her melt. But Mr. Kermit and the Grinch are both haters for the same reason—noise.

Kit’s cheeks are red from the cold. Her eyes are green. They’ve always been green, obviously, but today they are greener somehow. My new definition of green. Green used to equal Kermit the Frog. And sometimes spring. But no more. Now Kit’s eyes equal green.