Orcish Quotes

Think about it if you must, but remember: If something is worth pursuing, you shouldn’t waste time. Situations change faster than you can split an orcish skull, and a moment’s hesitation could cost you your chance.

The scope of Trump’s commitment to whiteness is matched only by the depth of popular intellectual disbelief in it. We are now being told that support for Trump’s “Muslim ban,” his scapegoating of immigrants, his defenses of police brutality are somehow the natural outgrowth of the cultural and economic gap between Lena Dunham’s America and Jeff Foxworthy’s. The collective verdict holds that the Democratic Party lost its way when it abandoned commonsense everyday economic issues like job creation for the softer fare of social justice. The indictment continues: To their neoliberal economics, Democrats, and liberals at large, have married a condescending elitist affect that sneers at blue-collar culture and mocks white men as history’s greatest monster and prime time television’s biggest doofus. In this rendition, Donald Trump is not the product of white supremacy so much as the product of a backlash against contempt for white working people. “We so obviously despise them, we so obviously condescend to them,” Charles Murray, a conservative social scientist who co-wrote The Bell Curve, recently told The New Yorker’s George Packer. “The only slur you can use at a dinner party and get away with is to call somebody a redneck—that won’t give you any problems in Manhattan.” “The utter contempt with which privileged Eastern liberals such as myself discuss red-state, gun-country, working-class America as ridiculous and morons and rubes,” charged Anthony Bourdain, “is largely responsible for the upswell of rage and contempt and desire to pull down the temple that we’re seeing now.” That black people who’ve lived under centuries of such derision and condescension have not yet been driven into the arms of Trump does not trouble these theoreticians. After all, in this analysis Trump’s racism and the racism of his supporters are incidental to his rise. Indeed, the alleged glee with which liberals call out Trump’s bigotry is assigned even more power than the bigotry itself. Ostensibly assaulted by campus protests, battered by theories of intersectionality, throttled by bathroom rights, a blameless white working class did the only thing any reasonable polity might: elect an orcish reality television star who insists on taking his intelligence briefings in picture-book form.

Those who love Tolkien are almost always good people, honest people. Some are Hobbit-like and some are Elvish, but none are Orcish. Not all Tolkien haters are Orcs, but all Orcs are Tolkien haters.

Sound the call to attention,” Ned told the bugler. The goblin put the instrument to his lips, but after a pause he lowered it. “What’s that sound like? I forget.” Ned strained his memory. It’d been a while since he’d heard it himself. “I think it goes da-da-da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, dum-dum-da-dee.” “Begging your pardon, sir, but that’s the dismissal song,” said Frank. “Call to attention has more pep. Da-dee-da-dee, dum-dum-dee-dum, dee-dee, I believe.” “I thought it was more like dee-dee-dee-dee, dum-dum-dee-, dee-dee-doh,” said Gabel. “You’re both wrong,” countered Regina. “It’s dum-dum-dee-dee, dum-dum-dee-dum.” “That’s the orcish wedding march,” said Gabel. “Call to attention has more ooomphh.” “What’s ooomphh?” asked Frank. “It’s half the pep,” said Gabel, “and about three-quarters more pizzazz.” “There’s no pizzazz in the call to attention,” said Regina, “and if you ask me, he’s already overdoing the pep.” The insulted bugler balked. “My pep is always dead-on, I’ll have you know. My pizzazz is nearly perfect. I’ll grant you my ooomphh isn’t always on target, but I’d say a touch more shebang and a healthy dose of zing is what’s required here. I could throw in a little wawawa as well. That never hurts.” “There’s no place for wawawa in legitimate military music,” said Regina. “Yes,” agreed Gabel. “Just stick with the ooomphh.” “No shebang either?” said the bugler. “I guess you could put in a little shebang,” said Gabel, “but if I even hear one note of wawawa I’ll have you thrown in the brig.” Though small, the bugler’s slight chest was mostly lungs, and he unleashed a long blast of musical improvisation. The discordant tune filled the citadel. The orcs and goblins nodded along appreciatively, while everyone else covered their ears. The powerful sound floated all the way to the roc pens where the giant birds proceeded to tear at each other in panicked alarm. Caught up in the performance, the bugler kept on playing until Ned gave the order to stop, and Regina yanked away his instrument. The sweaty bugler gasped. “How was that?” “Too much zoop,” said Frank. “Not enough zing,” added Gabel. “No bop at all,” said Regina. The goblin snatched back his bugle. “Everybody’s a critic.

When his family had been suddenly called back to the orcish armies, she confessed her feelings out of desperation. The look of horror on his face when she was done speaking, was one that had echoed through her nightmares for years afterward.

Are you kidding me?" he asked."I still live with my parents, though that's an orcish thing, not a 'Torsten still lives with his mommy and daddy' thing, I swear. This is great.

The utter contempt with which privileged Eastern liberals such as myself discuss red-state, gun-country, working-class America as ridiculous and morons and rubes,” charged the celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain, “is largely responsible for the upswell of rage and contempt and desire to pull down the temple that we’re seeing now.” That black people, who have lived for centuries under such derision and condescension, have not yet been driven into the arms of Trump does not trouble these theoreticians. After all, in this analysis, Trump’s racism and the racism of his supporters are incidental to his rise. Indeed, the alleged glee with which liberals call out Trump’s bigotry is assigned even more power than the bigotry itself. Ostensibly assaulted by campus protests, battered by arguments about intersectionality, and oppressed by new bathroom rights, a blameless white working class did the only thing any reasonable polity might: elect an orcish reality-television star who insists on taking his intelligence briefings in picture-book form.

The guard on the other side of the door then heard a litany of profanity that he would not have thought possible even moments before.  Though the thick door muffled much sound, he was fairly certain his lord was swearing in multiple languages as apparently common-speak alone was not sufficient for the task.  The man stood still and simply accepted the experience as a learning opportunity.  Several days later, he used his memories of that night to swear at another guard in orcish.