Peewee Quotes

Upon arriving at the murder scene, they saw Deputy Sheriff Peewee Stubblefield pacing back and forth on the front walk. He stopped and smirked as Sheriff Roosevelt Baker braked the patrol car. He emitted a noise sounding more like a groan than a sigh.

Of course, in fairness, I must remind you of this: that we writers are the most lily-livered of all craftsmen. We expect more, for the most peewee efforts, than any other people.

Here, and it goes on to appear now, she comes, a peacefugle, a parody's bird, a peri potmother, a pringlpik in the ilandiskippy, with peewee and powwows in beggybaggy on her bickybacky and a flick flask fleckflinging its pixylighting pacts' huemeramybows, picking here, pecking there, pussypussy plunderpussy.

Did you ever see so many pee-wee hats, Carl?" "They're beanies." "They call them pee-wees in Brooklyn." "But I'm not in Brooklyn." "But you're still a Brooklynite." "I wouldn't want that to get around, Annie." "You don't mean that, Carl." "Ah, we might as well call them beanies, Annie." "Why?" "When in Rome do as the Romans do." "Do they call them beanies in Rome?" she asked artlessly. "This is the silliest conversation...

Rook gave Heat and Ochoa each a bottle of water, and both chugged. 'While you were in there, I went in the pet shop and got everyone out. Ever see Pee-wee's Big Adventure? I was this close to running out with two handfuls of snakes.

PEE-WEE BOXER SURVEYED THE JOBSITE WITH DISGUST. THE FOREMAN was a scumbag. The crew were a bunch of losers. Worst of all, the guy handling the Cat didn't know jack about hydraulic excavators. Maybe it was a union thing; maybe he was friends with somebody; either way, he was jerking the machine around like it was his first day at Queens Vo-Tech

Pee-wee Herman yelling through a vocoder,

Is it me, or did we just stop in the median and the driver got out?" Larry asks. "He has to go peewee," Jade informs us. "Good to know I'm not demented," Larry remarks. "Merely imperiled.

I took the thin magazine from the pouch in front of me and began to thumb through it. I felt self-conscious, as if I shouldn't be there. My mind began to wander, as I knew it would, back to the boonies. I was on patrol again. Monaco was on point. Peewee and Walowick followed him. Lobel and Brunner were next, then Johnson, the sixty cradled in his arm as if it were a child. We were walking the boonies, past rice paddies, toward yet another hill. I was in the rear, and for some reason I turned back. Behind me, trailing the platoon, were the others. Brew, Jenkins, Sergeant Dongan, Turner, and Lewis, the new guys, and Lieutenant Carroll. I knew I was mixing my prayers, but it didn't matter. I just wanted God to care for them, to keep them whole. I knew they were thinking about me and Peewee.

Shows like 3-2-1 Contact, The Big Comfy Couch, Captain Kangaroo, The Electric Company, The Great Space Coaster, Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, Pee-wee’s Playhouse, Romper Room, Reading Rainbow, Sesame Street, Zoobilee Zoo, and many, many more.

Children were fishing lines entangling you in their cruelties and wants and sticky fingers and dramas and disappointments. The mommy industrial complex made you think it was all going to be hugs and campfires, and peewee soccer practices, and that was all bullshit.

Of course they’re going to make fun of you. They’re middle-school boys raised in a highly competitive, testosterone-fueled environment. That’s how they psych each other up.” “And you know this how?” “I watch the sportball on the television. Also I played peewee football when I was younger.” “You did play football!” He laughs. “Yeah, when I was like a quarter the size I am now. They had me as a running back.” “I don’t know what that means.” “It means I ran real fast.” “You? Move fast?” “I know. One of life’s great mysteries.

I opened the small blade of my knife and handed it to Peewee, “With your shield or on it, soldier.” “You take it.” “I won’t need it. ‘Two-Fisted Death,’ they call me around dark alleys.” This was propaganda, but why worry her? Sans peur et sans reproche—maiden-rescuing done cheaply, special rates for parties.

go away.

Boxer altered his course subtly, as if that was the way he'd already been going, not looking up to acknowledge he had heard, letting his attitude convey the contempt he felt for the scrawny foreman. He stopped in front of the guy, staring at the man's dusty little workboots. Small feet, small dick. Slowly, he glanced up. "Welcome to the world, Pee-Wee. Take a look at this.

The Mother Thing blinked her eyes and looked serenely sad. She had great, soft, compassionate eyes—she looked more like a lemur than anything else but she was not a primate—she wasn’t even in our sequence, unearthly. But she had these wonderful eyes and a soft, defenseless mouth out of which music poured. She wasn’t as big as Peewee and her hands were tinier still—six fingers, any one of which could oppose the others the way our thumbs can. Her body—well, it never stayed the same shape so it’s hard to describe, but it was right for her. She didn’t wear clothes but she wasn’t naked; she had soft, creamy fur, sleek and fine as chinchilla

It seems to me that angels and bodhisattvas are everywhere available for consultation if only we can see them clear; they are unadorned, and joyous, and patient, and radiant, and luminous, and not disguised or hidden or filtered in any way whatsoever, so that if you see them clearly, which happens occasionally even to the most blinkered and frightened of us, you realize immediately who they are, beings of great and humble illumination dressed in the skins of new and dewy beings, and you realize, with a catch in your throat, that they are your teachers, and they are agents of an unimaginable love, and they are your cousins and companions in awe, and they are miracles and prayers and songs of inexplicable beauty whom no one can explain and no one own or claim or trammel, and that simply to perceive them is to be blessed beyond the reach of language, and that to be the one appointed to tow them along a beach, or a crowd, or home through the brilliant morning from the muddy hilarious peewee soccer game is to be graced beyond measure or understanding; which is what I was, and I am, and I will be, until the day I die, and change form from this one to another, in ways miraculous and mysterious, never to be plumbed by the mind or measures of man.

I’ll never forget working with Grandpa out in the garage. He’d ask me to hand him a screwdriver or a wrench and I would say, “Oh, you must mean Boopie and Peewee.” -To which Grandpa would grunt and say, “Whatever boy, just give me the screwdriver.” It was a lot of fun. Then, when his army buddies would come over, I’d tell them all about Peewee and his mad love affair with innocent Boopie, but how Grandpa desired fair Boopie’s love far above Peewee’s “expectations.” Grandpa never liked me much.

maze?

Peewee’s New Friend It was Lizzie’s seventh birthday. So far, it was a wonderful day. The sun was shining, the weather was warm, and Dad had made Lizzie’s favorite sticky buns for breakfast. The house was decorated with balloons and streamers, and the table in the dining room was set, waiting for Lizzie’s friends and family

was as if Pee-wee Herman had opened his mouth to speak and James Earl Jones’s voice had come out.

How do you stop a dog from barking in the front yard? A: Put him in the back yard!

One of the misconceptions in minor hockey is a belief that players have to get on “big city” teams as young as possible to gain exposure when being identified by major junior clubs. For example, the Greater Toronto Hockey League (GTHL) has long been considered a strong breeding ground, with three or four elite AAA teams each year producing some of the top players for the OHL draft. However, on the list of players from Ontario since 1975 who have made the NHL, only 16.8 percent of those players came from GTHL programs while the league itself represents approximately 20 percent of the registered players in the province—that means the league has a per capita development rate of about –3 percent. What the research found was that players from other Ontario minor hockey leagues who elevated to the NHL actually had an edge in terms of career advancement on their GTHL counterparts by the age of nineteen. Each year several small-town Ontario parents, some with players as young as age eight, believe it’s necessary to get their kids on a GTHL superclub such as the Marlboros, Red Wings, or Jr. Canadiens. However, just twenty-one GTHL “import” players since 1997 have played a game in the NHL in the last fifteen years. This pretty much indicates that regardless of where he plays his minor hockey from the ages of eight through sixteen, a player eventually develops no matter how strong his team is as a peewee or bantam. An excellent example comes from the Ontario players born in 1990, which featured a powerhouse team in the Markham Waxers of the OMHA’s Eastern AAA League. The Waxers captured the prestigious OHL Cup and lost a grand total of two games in eight years. In 2005–06, when they were in minor midget (age fifteen), they compiled a record of 64-1-2. The Waxers had three future NHL draft picks on their roster in Steven Stamkos (Tampa Bay), Michael Del Zotto (New York Rangers), and Cameron Gaunce (Colorado). One Waxers nemesis in the 1990 age group was the Toronto Jr. Canadiens of the GTHL. The Jr. Canadiens were also a perennial powerhouse team and battled the Waxers on a regular basis in major tournaments and provincial championships over a seven-year period. Like the Waxers, the Jr. Canadiens team also had three future NHL draft picks in Alex Pietrangelo (St. Louis), Josh Brittain (Anaheim), and Stefan Della Rovere (Washington). In the same 1990 age group, a “middle of the pack” team was the Halton Hills Hurricanes (based west of Toronto in Milton). This club played in the OMHA’s South Central AAA League and periodically competed with some of the top teams. Over a seven-year span, they were marginally over the .500 mark from novice to minor midget. That Halton Hills team produced two future NHL draft picks in Mat Clark (Anaheim) and Jeremy Price (Vancouver). Finally, the worst AAA team in the 1990 group every year was the Chatham-Kent Cyclones—a club that averaged about five wins a season playing in the Pavilion League in Southwestern Ontario. Incredibly, the lowly Cyclones also had two future NHL draft picks in T.J. Brodie (Calgary) and Jason Missiaen (Montreal). It’s a testament that regardless of where they play their minor hockey, talented players will develop at their own pace and eventually rise to the top. You don’t need to be on an 85-5-1 big-city superclub to develop or get noticed.

I’m dead glad to meet you both,” Thomas drawled in his best Texas accent, which sounded more like a Canadian version of Pee-wee Herman.

Greg had been giving a running account of what she saw on the screen so Theo could “see” what was happening below. “Theo,” Greg said. “We don’t need video of the two of them decompressing down there, do we?” “No, let’s bring up the Enigma.” Riley tended to the cables while Greg brought the ROV back to the surface. She then jumped down onto the aft dive platform and attached the lifting cables. Riley joined Peewee at the bulwark. “So, what do you think Cole found?” He stared down at the water and worked his lips over his teeth for a long while before he spoke. “A false tale often betrays itself,” he said. “What do you mean by that?” “Riley, I’m an old man. At some point, the lies catch up with you.” She remembered

Can you find your way through the maze?

Malcolm Gladwell book, Outliers. In it, he notes a well-documented Canadian study that shows kids born in January tend to make better grades and score more goals in sports than those born later in the year. The reason, he deduces, is that grade-school kids who were born just after the cut-off date for the school year (January) are always a year older than the kids who were born just before it (December), thus having a full year of mental and physical advantages.   The January kids aren’t naturally brighter and more physically capable than kids born in November and December. They’re just a year older. In elementary school, one year is a lot.   The school system doesn’t see that, so the January kids get labeled as gifted, while the December kids are called slow. Once established, those categories are hard to break out of. The gifted kids get enrolled in advanced classes, increasing the pace of their education and making the gap between them and the December kids bigger.   The physically larger January kids are recruited by better PeeWee teams, then better High Schools and colleges. That’s why, as shown in Gladwell’s book, professional sports leagues – and hockey leagues in particular – have an inordinately high percentage of athletes that were born in the first three months of the year and a much lower percentage of December birthdays.

Prince is like the Monkees. A Pee-wee Herman trip. He’s appealing to the same audience.

Outside, all the shorties and peewees were laying siege to the yard and the house. Squabbling and screaming and passing a half-flat soccer ball from foot to foot as they ran. The girlies were as loud as the fat boys. It was a freakin’ chicken coop out there, but Pops liked all his grandkids and grandnieces and neighbor kids and waifs eating all the food and breaking stuff. Above their incessant caterwaul,

To wanting the man who goes to the diner on Sunday mornings because he knows his mom is struggling with being alone.  The man who took on the peewee team because he knew those boys needed a role model.  The man who will always take on an extra shift to cover for someone else because he thinks their families are more important than him living the bachelor life. The man who once again proves we’re always on the same wavelength.

I cringe as Coach turns his glaze toward me. “Fink will interview players from a few teams: the girls’ team, a couple of Peewees and Holland.” All the guys turn to stare at me like something choregraphed straight out of High School Musical.

Layyy-dieeeeeees and gentlesquirts!” the little man cried, in a voice like fingernails being dragged down the inside of Pee-wee Herman’s voice box.

See, I’m pretty big for a guy in PeeWee. I’m thirteen. If the new age categories had come down this year, I’d already be in Bantam. Even then, I’d still be one of the bigger guys. Parents on the other team don’t like me much because I’m always clobbering their kids. I’ve already had five complaints this season about how I’m too big and aggressive to play PeeWee and I should’ve been moved up. But I can’t help being bigger and my coach likes hard-hitting defense; he keeps telling me to go for it. Besides, I’m still the right age for PeeWee, no matter what those parents say.

Paul Redmond has been my best friend since peewee hockey. Now that we're seniors and he's six-three and well over 200 pounds, the freshmen already nicknamed him Big Red and lately, it's his head that's been growing bigger.

Nooo!” Lizzie shrilled as the wheels of her Rollerblades

TABLE 17.3 Official USDA Size Categories for Shell EggsΔ Verified by Egg Board 1981 and 2010. U.S. Weights or Classes, Size Minimum Weight per Dozen, Ounces Minimum Weight* per 30-Dozen Case, Pounds Jumbo 30 56 lbs. Extra large 27 50 1/2 lbs. Large 24 45 lbs. Medium 21 39 1/2 lbs. Small 18 34 lbs. Peewee 15 28 lbs. *Weight may include corrugated fiber case and filler between layers of eggs.

Curt Hennig's son Joe (better known as third generation wrestler Curtis Axel) to develop the runs during a pee-wee football game.

The way it’s going… (166 words) A foul-mouthed Pee-wee Herman runs for president. People finally realize what a racist, xenophobic, misogynistic, and homophobic bigot he is. He’s clearly not a politician. Rather, he’s someone who speaks his mind, and that makes him relatable. Herman runs against a faceless, forgettable career backbencher who’s been wrong on every issue for half a century, has become a multimillionaire without a legal avenue to attaining his fortune, and who you’re told you have to vote for because he’s experienced. Last year, we were told that the politician had a lobotomy, but the alternative is even worse. The voters will be hit with a tsunami of stomach-turning, deceptive ads and told that they have to vote for one of the two, or else they’ll be throwing away their democracy. In four years, they’ll run Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s coat for president. No one will notice. His coat will have more integrity than all of the idiots in recent years they’ve presented to us so we can confirm them.