Looney Tunes Quotes

They-" He stopped and just blinked at me for a minute. "You know, people are always saying that you're cuckoo. Looney Tunes. Off the freaking edge. But I tell 'em, no, she's okay. She's got some...anger management issues. But you know what? They're right. You're nuts.

Harry, that’s not a plan, it’s a Looney Tune.

But when it finally did happen, the alien invasion turned out to be much more like Mr. Looney of the Tunes than Mr. Ridley of the Scott. Point to Nani.

When she starts to climax, she sparks the Looney Tunes fuse on my ACME bomb.

Devils can be quite comical little animals, intense and wild. The Looney Tunes cartoon character “Taz” is an exaggeration, of course, because devils only spin like Taz if they’re kept too confined.

Where politer European cities might have had street mimes, New York has always had the Brechtian street theater of pavement psychodrama: the muttering, bellowing, gesticulating and teetering looney tunes for whom the drugs are no longer working, who look like characters from Exodus, prophets of urban collapse and carnal comeuppance.

Dream on, Bullwinkle.” “Oooh, a classic cartoon reference. Now you’re talking my language.” I couldn’t help a grin. “You like cartoons?” “Hell yeah! The classics, though. Looney Tunes, Rocky and Bullwinkle, Mickey Mouse, The Flintstones, The Jetsons, Transformers. I’ll even include the 1990s Batman animated series, but I usually stick to pre-1990.” I

Is that...the Looney Tunes theme?" Mer and St. Clair cock their ears. "Why,yes.I believe it is," St. Clair says. "I heard 'Love Shack' a few minutes ago," Mer says. "It's official," I say. "America has finally ruined France." "So can we go now?" St. Clair holds up a small bag. "I'm done." "Ooo,what'd you get?" Mer asks. She takes his bag and pulls out a delicate, shimmery scarf. "Is it for Ellie?" "Shite." Mer pauses. "You didn't get anything for Ellie?" "No,it's for Mum.Arrrgh." He rakes a hand through his hair. "Would you mind if we pop over to Sennelier before we go home?" Sennelier is a gorgeous little art supply sore,the kind that makes me wish I had an excuse to buy oil paints and pastels. Mer and I went with Rashmi last weekend. She bought Josh a new sketchbook for Hanukkah. "Wow.Congratulations,St. Clair," I say. "Winner of today's Sucky Boyfriend award.And I thought Steve was bad-did you see what happened in calc?" "You mean when Amanda caught him dirty-texting Nicole?" Mer asks. "I thought she was gonna stab him in the neck with her pencil." "I've been busy," St. Clair says. I glance at him. "I was just teasing." "Well,you don't have to be such a bloody git about it." "I wasn't being a git. I wasnt even being a twat, or a wanker, or any of your other bleeding Briticisms-" "Piss off." He snatches his bag back from Mer and scowls at me. "HEY!" Mer says. "It's Christmas. Ho-ho-ho. Deck the halls. Stop fighting." "We weren't fighting," he and I say together. She shakes her head. "Come on,St. Clair's right. Let's get out of here. This place gives me the creeps." "I think it's pretty," I say. "Besides, I'd rather look at ribbons than dead rabbits." "Not the hares again," St. Clair says. "You're as bad as Rashmi." We wrestle through the Christmas crowds. "I can see why she was upset! The way they're hung up,like they'd died of nosebleeds. It's horrible. Poor Isis." All of the shops in Paris have outdone themselves with elaborate window displays,and the butcher is no exception. I pass the dead bunnies every time I go to the movies. "In case you hadn't noticed," he says. "Isis is perfectly alive and well on the sixth floor.

Otkud da se tako često, sa toliko sete, prisećam tako nevažnog događaja, dok su čitave godine mog života prekrivene potpunim zaboravom. Ali mi smo skloni da stvari posmatramo kroz sočiva čija dioptrija višestruko uvećava ono čemu pridajemo značaj, dok ono zbilja važno gotovo uvek promakne nezapaženo.

Ono što se dogodilo pre tri dana jednako je nepovratno kao i ono što se dogodilo pre tri milenijuma, na način sličan na koijem je hard disku fajl od pre pet godina i fajl od danas ista stvar: počivaju jedan do drugog. Rame uz rame. Ali nama, kakvi smo glupi, potrebne su godine da bi se distancirali od jučerašnjih besmislica.

much for your time, Mrs. Montague. We will do our best to bring the killer to justice.” “I'm sorry Detective Rafferty, your job is not to bring him to justice. It's to drive a stake through his heart. That's the only way you can stop him.” “I'll talk to the Captain about requisitioning some stakes to all the members of the local police force. Thanks again for your time. Keep your doors locked.” “Doors won't keep a vampire out,” she shouted as they headed for their car. The detectives didn't respond to this last remark. They just got into the car and drove away. “Man, that lady is Looney Tunes. Do you think we should call social services to find a suitable home for her son? There's no telling what that bitch might do next,” Ripley ranted.

Jee haan, but they are the same! One hunts, one runs; one chews the carrot, one chews the Sir John Hurt. One makes eggs that go BANG! One makes Acme traps that go BANG! See? Sameful. Only Mr. Looney of the Tunes is more actual, on account of how aliens live in your big Danesh-head and bunny rabbits live in Coventry.

The hammering that awakened me starts up again—absurdly relentless, as if a Looney Tunes character broke in and is banging a mallet against a wall for the chaotic joy of

but Daniel had genuine charm and authentic eccentricity. It was partly his appearance: a sweep of thick sandy hair, a bushy beard and high-magnification glasses which gave him cartoon eyes. He looked like a Looney Tunes lion crossed with an Open University professor. He dressed like Toad of Toad Hall in vintage tweed suits and spoke with an arch, old-fashioned cadence, like a junior Alan Bennett.

She smiles at me, revealing a missing incisor. "I know it's crazy, but it's true--ha-ha, c'mon, lovely. Sing with me. I know you know it. Don't lie." And it's true. I know the lyrics and I love Arthur as much as the next looney tune, and there is some deep lizard-brain part of me that wants to blast it all to hell and start singing along with this insane lady graveyard-shift cabbie and just sob the remainder of my mascara off and get whatever hackneyed life Advice she desperately wants to give me about being tough or soft or how to live my life as woman-hear-me-roar crap and all that shit from the Seventies.

Justice Beyond Month (Sonnet 1182) Pride that ends with the end of June, is but an episode of looney tunes. Divergence that dies with April's wake, is no inclusion but bark of buffoons. Black history that ends with the end of February, is not solidarity but a hashtag cacophony. Women's history that ends with the end of March, is no celebration but a sacrilege of equality. When AAPI are only visible in the month of May, It ain't no visibility but a mockery of life. When nativeness is welcome till October 15th, It ain't integration but desecration of light. Awareness is justice when it reduces prejudice. But one that's trendy only in specific months, is no awareness but a different kind of malice. Acceptance is awareness, awareness is life. 100 calendars fall short to celebrate mindlight.

Looney was humming a daffy tune in between loud snores, and Smarmy seemed to be practicing his grin.

Looney Tunes

Unfortunately, the marvelous understanding celebrated at the original Pentecost has faded into the background, and now the word “Pentecostal” often signifies not Christian unity but sectarian differences. Many Pentecostals are conservative Christians who disdain those of a more liberal persuasion. And mainstream Christians often dismiss Pentecostals as looney tunes; anti-intellectual in their theology, overemotional in their worship.

There are times you run off a cliff. It is like one of those Looney Tunes cartoons, where Wile E. Coyote sprints really hard and he’s still running even though he’s already gone off the cliff and then he stops and looks down and knows he will plummet and that there is nothing he can do to stop it. But sometimes, maybe most times, it isn’t that clear. It is dark and you are near the edge of the cliff but you’re moving slowly, not sure what direction you’re heading in. Your steps are tentative but they are still blind in the night. You don’t realize how close you are to the edge, how the soft earth could give way, how you could just slip a bit and suddenly plunge into the dark. This

Of course, there is the usual cluster of looney-tunes who reject vaccines, although the same morons don’t have a problem with medical nanomachines swimming in their blood. Ah, hey, that’s how nature gets idiots out of the gene pool, right?

If your sense of humor was shaped by Looney Tunes, you’re set for life.

She always said Looney Tunes provided a great service to our society by using classical symphonic music as the score.

and a few minutes later, gunshots were going off. Cree and I pulled our guns out, but we knew it was her when we heard Chan looney tune ass going off. “I don’t want no fuckin’ spaghetti; I want my fuckin’ life!” Pow! Pow! “Fuck y’all!” Pow! Pow! She yelled out, still firing shots.