Pps Quotes

All the best, Sydney P.S. "The Red Hurricane" is what I named the car. P.P.S. Just because I like you, it doesn't mean I still don't think you're an evil creature of the night. You are.

P.P.S. Just because I like you, it doesn't mean I still don't think you're an evil creature of the night. You are.

P.P.S. I am giving you telepathic hugs. P.P.P.S. But not in a telepathically lezzie way.

I was once asked if I had any ideas for a really scary reality TV show. I have one reality show that would really make your hair stand on end: "C-Students from Yale." George W. Bush has gathered around him upper-crust C-students who know no history or geography, plus not-so-closeted white supremacists, aka Christians, and plus, most frighteningly, psychopathic personalities, or PPs, the medical term for smart, personable people who have no consciences. To say somebody is a PP is to make a perfectly respectable diagnosis, like saying he or she has appendicitis or athlete's foot . . . PPs are presentable, they know full well the suffering their actions may cause others, but they do not care. They cannot care because they are nuts. They have a screw loose! . . . So many of these heartless PPs now hold big jobs in our federal government, as though they were leaders instead of sick. They have taken charge of communications and the schools, so we might as well be Poland under occupation. They might have felt that taking our country into an endless war was simply something decisive to do. What has allowed so many PPs to rise so high in corporations, and now in government, is that they are so decisive. They are going to do something every fuckin' day and they are not afraid. Unlike normal people, they are never filled with doubts, for the simple reasons that they don't give a fuck what happens next. Simply can't. Do this! Do that! Mobilize the reserves! Privatize the public schools! Attack Iraq! Cut health care! Tap everybody's telephone! Cut taxes on the rich! Build a trillion-dollar missile shield! Fuck habeas corpus and the Sierra Club and In These Times, and kiss my ass! There is a tragic flaw in our precious Constitution, and I don't know what can be done to fix it. This is it: Only nut cases want to be president.

P.S. What the hell. Why not sign off with the traditional American greeting? "Merry Christmas," Uncle Vasile. "Happy holidays to you." P.P.S. Really---"counseling"!

Your Royal Bloody Pain in My Back, We're bloody waiting here to talk to you, and we're getting angry perturbed. (That means angry.) Thom says that you're a queen now, but I figure that changes nothing, sense you acted like a queen all the time anyway. Don't forget that I carried halled your pretty little backside out of a hole in Tear, but you acted like a queen then, so I guess I don't know why I'm surprised now that you act like one when you really are a queen. So I'm thinking I should treat you like a bloody Queen and send you a bloody letter and all, speaking with high talk and getting your attention. I even used my ring as a signet, like it was paper proper. So here my formal salutation. So BLOODY STOP TURNING ME AWAY so we can talk. I need your bellfounders. It's bloody important. --Mat p.s. Salutation means greeting. p.p.s. Don't mind the scratched out words and bad spellings. I was going to rewrite this letter, but Thom is laffing so hard at me that I want to be done. p.p.s. Don't mind me calling your backside pretty. I hardly ever spent any time looking at it, as I've an awareness that you'd pull my eyes out if you saw me. Besides, I'm married now, so that all doesn't matter.

P.P.S. AND YOU CAN TALK. "Just say the word." JUST SAY THE WORD? What kind of expression is that? WHAT WORD WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO SAY ANYWAY? MORON? Letter from Emily to Charles.

Harvey out. PS I have puny shoulders. PPS And I’m okay with that. PPPS I’m not really.

Rose, I’m sorry I had to leave so quickly, but when the Alchemists tell me to jump … well, I jump. I’ve hitched a ride back to that farm town we stayed in so that I can pick up the Red Hurricane, and then I’m off to Saint Petersburg. Apparently, now that you’ve been delivered to Baia, they don’t need me to stick around anymore. I wish I could tell you more about Abe and what he wants from you. Even if I was allowed to, there isn’t much to say. In some ways, he’s as much a mystery to me as he is to you. Like I said, a lot of the business he deals in is illegal—both among humans and Moroi. The only time he gets directly involved with people is when something relates to that business—or if it’s a very, very special case. I think you’re one of those cases, and even if he doesn’t intend you harm, he might want to use you for his own purposes. It could be as simple as him wanting to contract you as a bodyguard, seeing as you’re rogue. Maybe he wants to use you to get to others. Maybe this is all part of someone else’s plan, someone who’s even more mysterious than him. Maybe he’s doing someone a favor. Zmey can be dangerous or kind, all depending on what he needs to accomplish. I never thought I’d care enough to say this to a dhampir, but be careful. I don’t know what your plans are now, but I have a feeling trouble follows you around. Call me if there’s anything I can help with, but if you go back to the big cities to hunt Strigoi, don’t leave any more bodies unattended! All the best, Sydney P.S. “The Red Hurricane” is what I named the car. P.P.S. Just because I like you, it doesn’t mean I still don’t think you’re an evil creature of the night. You are.

The Christmas message is that there is hope for a ruined humanity—hope of pardon, hope of peace with God, hope of glory—because at the Father’s will Jesus Christ became poor, and was born in a stable so that thirty years later He might hang on a cross. It is the most wonderful message the world has ever heard, or will hear. …the ‘Christmas spirit’…ought to mean the reproducing in human lives of the temper of Him who for our sakes became poor at the first Christmas. And the Christmas spirit itself ought to be the mark of every Christian all year round. (~Knowing God, pps 55-56)

Dear Mr. Kulti, You are my favorite player. I play soccer 2 butt I'm not good like you are. Not yet. I practice all the time so 1 day I can be just like you or beter. I watch all of ur games so don't mess up. Ur #1 fan, Sal <3<3<3 P.S. Do u have a girl friend? P.P.S. Why don't u cut ur hair? "I was nineteen when that showed up to the club's offices. It was my third fan letter ever and the other two were topless pictures. That letter stayed in every locker I used for the nest ten years. It was the first thing I looked at before my games, and the first thing I saw after I played. I framed it and put it in my house in Meissen once it started to wear out. It's still there on the wall of my bedroom.

Now he was gone. She said a silent prayer. Sent it up to heaven. Sam, if you can hear me, I hope you’ve got nice food where you are. Some vegetables like these. They’re meant to be good for you. So eat them all up, like I’m doing. When I die I’ll come and see you, and we’ll be together again. But for now I’m going to think of you safe and happy and playing knights with a friend. Love from Ella. Your sister. P.S. I got a good long turn with Godzilla today after we got here. Godzilla is very happy. P.P.S. I forgot, you never met Godzilla. He is a puppy and is very cute. He belonged to a boy called Joel who got killed by monkeys. I think the monkeys were sick. Monkeys are usually nice. At least in stories. P.P.P.S. Maybe you’ll meet Joel where you are. Say hello. He is nice. P.P.P.P.S. Good night, Sam. The others call you Small Sam. To me you’re just Sam—my brother. I miss you. I wish I was with you.

Its easy to have frends if you let pepul laff at you. Im going to have lots of frends where I go. PPS. please if you get a chanse put some flowrs on Algernons grave in the back yard.

P.P.S. Don’t you drink? I notice you speak slightingly of the bottle. I have drunk since I was fifteen and few things have given me more pleasure. When you work hard all day with your head and know you must work again the next day what else can change your ideas and make them run on a different plane like whisky?

Dear Pinterest, When we first started dating, you lured me in with Skittles-flavored vodka and Oreo-filled chocolate chip cookies. You wooed me with cheesy casseroles adjacent to motivational fitness sayings. I loved your inventiveness: Who knew cookies needed a sugary butter dip? You did. You knew, Pinterest. You inspired me, not to make stuff, but to think about one day possibly making stuff if I have time. You took the cake batter, rainbow and bacon trends to levels nobody thought were possible. You made me hungry. The nights I spent pinning and eating nachos were some of the best nights of my life. Pinterest, we can’t see each other anymore. You see, it’s recently come to my attention that some people aren’t just pinning, they are making. This makes me want to make, too. Unfortunately, I’m not good at making, and deep down I like buying way more. Do you see where I’m going with this? I’m starting to feel bad, Pinterest. I don’t enjoy you the way I once did. We need to take a break. I’m going to miss your crazy ideas (rolls made with 7Up? Shut your mouth). This isn’t going to be easy. You’ve been responsible for nearly every 2 a.m. grilled cheese binge I’ve had for the past couple of years, and for that I’ll be eternally grateful. Stay cool, Pinterest. PS. You hurt me. PPS. I’m also poor now. Xo Me 10

So if you hear something in this book that sounds like advocacy of a particular political point of view, please reject the notion. My interest in issues is merely to point out how badly we’re doing, not to suggest a way we might do better. Don’t confuse me with those who cling to hope. I enjoy describing how things are, I have no interest in how they ought to be. And I certainly have no interest in fixing them. I sincerely believe that if you think there’s a solution, you’re part of the problem. My motto: Fuck Hope. P.S. In case you’re wondering, personally I’m a joyful individual, I had a long happy marriage and a close and loving family, my career has turned out better than I ever dreamed, and it continues to expand. I’m a personal optimist, but a skeptic about all else. What may sound to some like anger, is really nothing more than sympathetic contempt. I view my species with a combination of wonder and pity, and I root for its destruction. And please don’t confuse my point of view with cynicism–the real cynics are the ones who tell you everything’s gonna be all right. And P.P.S., by the way, if by some chance you folks do manage to straighten things out and make everything better, I still don’t wish to be included.

Dear Mr. Kulti, You are my favorite player. I play soccer 2 butt I'm not good like you are. Not yet. I practice all the time so 1 day I can be just like you or beter. I watch all of ur games so don't mess up. Ur #1 fan, Sal <3 <3 <3 P.S. Do u have a girl friend? P.P.S.. Why don't u cut ur hair?

Now let’s turn to the other extreme, to the doves. The leading dove was undoubtedly George Kennan, who headed the State Department planning staff until 1950, when he was replaced by Nitze—Kennan’s office, incidentally, was responsible for the Gehlen network. Kennan was one of the most intelligent and lucid of US planners, and a major figure in shaping the postwar world. His writings are an extremely interesting illustration of the dovish position. One document to look at if you want to understand your country is Policy Planning Study 23, written by Kennan for the State Department planning staff in 1948. Here’s some of what it says: We have about 50% of the world’s wealth but only 6.3% of its population....In this situation, we cannot fail to be the object of envy and resentment. Our real task in the coming period is to devise a pattern of relationships which will permit us to maintain this position of disparity....To do so, we will have to dispense with all sentimentality and daydreaming; and our attention will have to be concentrated everywhere on our immediate national objectives....We should cease to talk about vague and...unreal objectives such as human rights, the raising of the living standards, and democratization. The day is not far off when we are going to have to deal in straight power concepts. The less we are then hampered by idealistic slogans, the better. PPS 23 was, of course, a top-secret document. To pacify the public, it was necessary to trumpet the “idealistic slogans” (as is still being done constantly), but here planners were talking to one another.

It was us they were talking about, with the objectivity of businessmen completing a routine transaction. In Barrett there wasn’t even the hint of remorse or conscience. Some folks, they say, are born incapable of those things. Often they behave beyond suspicion, those sick people, until it’s too late. Sometimes they’re good-looking, charming, intelligent. Maybe they liked to pull the wings off flies more than other kids. But boys will be boys. If they served in the Army they made lousy soldiers, complaining and griping all the time about discipline, until they got a taste of combat. They often won medals, then, and were afraid but didn’t go stiff and inadequate with fear like some of their buddies. They felt above the crowd. They were arrogant. Laws didn’t apply to them. They could kill you with an absolute lack of concern if it suited them. They were called psychopathic personalities, P.P.’s, and Barrett was one of them. It looked as if we were going to die.

NATO paper: Modification of Tropospheric Propagation Conditions, detailed how the atmosphere could be modified to absorb electromagnetic radiation by spraying polymers behind high flying aircraft.  Absorbing microwaves transmitted by HAARP and other atmospheric heaters linked from Puerto Rico, Germany and Russia, these artificial mirrors could heat the air, inducing changes in the weather.  U.S. Patent # 4253190 describes how a mirror made of “polyester resin” could be held aloft by the pressure exerted by electromagnetic radiation from a transmitter like HAARP.   A PhD polymer researcher who wishes to remain anonymous told researcher William Thomas that if HAARP’s frequency output is matched to Earth’s magnetic field, its tightly beamed energy could be imparted to molecules “artificially introduced into this region.” This highly reactive state could then “promote polymerization and the formation of   new compounds,” he explained. Adding magnetic iron oxide powder to polymers exuded by many high flying aircraft can foster the heat generation needed to modify the weather.  Radio frequency absorbing polymers such as Phillips Ryton F 5 PPS are sensitive in the 1 50 MHz regime, HAARP transmits between two and 10 MHz.                  HAARP's U.S. Air Force and Navy sponsors claim that their transmitter will eventually be able to produce 3.6 million watts of radio frequency power. But on page 185 of an October 1991 “Technical Memorandum 195” outlining projected HAARP tests, there is a call by the ionospheric effects division of the U.S. Air Force Phillips Laboratory for HAARP to reach a peak power output of 100 billion watts. Commercial radio stations commonly broadcast at 50,000 watts.  Some hysterical reports state that HAARP type technologies will be used to initiate

Dear Mr. Kulti, You are my favorite player. I play soccer 2 butt I'm not good like you are. Not yet. I practice all the time so 1 day I can be just like you or beter. I watch all of ur games so don't mess up. Ur #1 fan, Sal <3 <3 <3 P.S. Do u have a girl friend? P.P.S. Why don't u cut ur hair?

P.S. Do u have a girl friend? P.P.S. Why don’t u cut ur hair? “I’ve been waiting, and I will keep on waiting until the time is right. You are my equal, my partner, my teammate, my best friend. I’ve done so many stupid things that you’ve made me regret—things I hope you will forgive me for and look beyond— but this, waiting a little longer for the love of my life, I can do.” “You don’t get to live your dreams by waiting around for sosomeone to hand them to you.” THE WALL OF WINNIPEG AND ME “Touch my wife again, and I’ll break every bone in your goddamn body.” You couldn’t expect anyone to take care of you better than you could take care of you. Life was all about choices. You chose what to make out of what you had. And I wasn’t going to let it make me its bitch. “If someone messes with you, they’re going to mess with me, Van. I don’t want to hurt your feelings. I might not be good with this friend crap, but I’m not about to let somebody get away with hurting you. Ever. Do you understand me?

P.P.S. Perhaps, once our transaction is complete, you’ll tell me the story of how you became Paris.

PPS if you break anything else I'm coming down there and bringing my smite button.

P.S. Toriana told me to tell you that she loves you. P.P.S Lira told me to remind you that Toriana loves everyone so you’re not special. Cheers, — Aethir, God of Knowledge

So he can’t deny it, then? Judge, jury and executioner would be right to string him up. I’d fuck her, he concedes, imagining he’s on the stand. Paedophile, unconscious anti-Semite, adulterer, betrayer of the working class – it’s not an edifying list of charges. And what does he have in his defence? Latin-speaker, first from Oxford, economist, former PPS to the Minister for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs – nobody will give him a medal for these things.

Whenever thy soul is truly humbled in the sense of sin, look not p 358 at sin in thy conscience (thy conscience is a bed for another to lodge in), but at Christ. If thou be a broken-hearted sinner, see thy sins in Christ thy Saviour taken away; see what he hath endured and suffered for them; see not the law in thy conscience, but see it discharged by Christ; see death disarmed through him, and made an entrance into a better life for thee. Whatsoever is ill, see it in Christ before thou seest it in thyself; and when thou beholdest it there, see not only the hurt thereof taken away, but all good made over to thee; for ‘all things work together for the best to them that love God,’ Rom. 8:28. The devil himself, death, sin, and wrath, all help the main; the poison and mischief of all is taken away by Christ, and all good conveyed to us in him. We have grace answerable to his grace. He is the first seat of God’s love, and it sweetens whatever mercy we enjoy, that it comes from the fountain, God the father, through Christ unto us. I beseech you embrace the comfort that the Holy Ghost affords us from these sweet considerations.

Whenever thy soul is truly humbled in the sense of sin, look not at sin in thy conscience (thy conscience is a bed for another to lodge in), but at Christ. If thou be a broken-hearted sinner, see thy sins in Christ thy Saviour taken away; see what he hath endured and suffered for them; see not the law in thy conscience, but see it discharged by Christ; see death disarmed through him, and made an entrance into a better life for thee. Whatsoever is ill, see it in Christ before thou seest it in thyself; and when thou beholdest it there, see not only the hurt thereof taken away, but all good made over to thee; for ‘all things work together for the best to them that love God,’ Rom. 8:28. The devil himself, death, sin, and wrath, all help the main; the poison and mischief of all is taken away by Christ, and all good conveyed to us in him. We have grace answerable to his grace. He is the first seat of God’s love, and it sweetens whatever mercy we enjoy, that it comes from the fountain, God the father, through Christ unto us. I beseech you embrace the comfort that the Holy Ghost affords us from these sweet considerations.

PS. Talvez, quando o jogo acabar, ele volte, abra-me os braços e um espaço na sua vida. PPS. Não é verdade que acredito nisso. Já passou: um final pífio.

P.P.S. I only shared those oatmeal cookies with Gage because you asked me to. Cut that shit out. Anything you make is mine, anything involving you is mine.

BUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUMBUM. PPS Sorry, I think my computer has been hacked. By your mum.

Jonathan ben Mordecai, to his friends Flavia, Nubia and Lupus, and to his tutor Aristo. By the time you read this I will be gone. Don’t be upset that I didn’t say goodbye. You probably would have tried to convince me not to go. And you might have succeeded. But this is something I have to do. For the past few weeks I have been having dreams. Or visions. I’m not sure what they are. I only know they have been getting stronger and stronger, especially a dream of a spiritual battle in the constellation of Gemini. I have had this dream several times. Tonight I had it again and I finally think I know what it means: Titus is in danger from his brother Domitian. Once I tried to kill Titus. Now I have a chance to make it right and I think God is calling me to do this. I am going to go to Rome to warn Titus and to help if I can. Please don’t follow me. It will be very dangerous. If I reach Titus I will try to explain about the warrant for our arrest and get him to revoke it. Then you will be able to come home again. In the meantime, stay in Ephesus, so that I will know where to find you. I pray that you will all stay happy and healthy and that one day I will see you again. Shalom. P.S. I don’t hear the voice anymore. P.P.S. Erase this message once you have read it.

Dear Frodo, Bad news has reached me here. I must go off at once. You had better leave Bag End soon, and get out of the Shire before the end of July at latest. I will return as soon as I can; and I will follow you, if I find that you are gone. Leave a message for me here, if you pass through Bree. You can trust the landlord (Butterbur). You may meet a friend of mine on the Road: a Man, lean, dark, tall, by some called Strider. He knows our business and will help you. Make for Rivendell. There I hope we may meet again. If I do not come, Elrond will advise you. Yours in haste GANDALF. PS. Do NOT use It again, not for any reason whatever! Do not travel by night! PPS. Make sure that it is the real Strider. There are many strange men on the roads. His true name is Aragorn. All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king. PPPS. I hope Butterbur sends this promptly. A worthy man, but his memory is like a lumber-room: thing wanted always buried. If he forgets, I shall roast him. Fare Well!

I was expecting to find a scooter company. One of those trendy, battery-powered skateboard or Segway-like rolling transporters used in place of walking. What I found was something entirely more audacious.  PPS was developing a jetpack. An actual jetpack. One of those James Bond, Buck Rogers, Rocket Man-style engines you strapped to your back and flew with. I supposed the Space Coast location should have been a tipoff, but I missed that clue. The PPS website was just a Work In Progress placeholder, but I did find a few other companies in the niche, and one had a very impressive video. It showed a man flying over rivers and lakes using a device that looked exactly like what the comic books predicted. At first I thought it was faked, but it proved to be real. USA Today confirmed it in a front page story on November 11, 2015 titled “Man on jetpack flies around Statue of Liberty.”  That meant the core Iron Man technology had existed for years. If a fatal flaw hadn’t been found, it would now be in the refinement and regulatory approval stage. It occurred to me that between jetpacks and drones and hover boards and self-driving cars, the Department of Transportation had to be hopelessly swamped. The world was evolving at an incredible pace. It was no wonder that so many people

Curtis Arnold introduced me to such a theory in 1995 after I read his book PPS Trading System (Irwin Professional Publishing, 1989),

P.S. By the by, Frank and I almost got hanged today and were robbed by a charming gang of thieves so there is no need for you to worry that I will feel homesick for old London. P.P.S. I hope you agree my first letter is not devoid of interest and worth a guinea.

Q : Mais comment réagissez-vous face à l'irruption de la vie moderne et à certaines de ses conséquences ? R : D'abord par le silence, tant qu'elle ne constitue pas une menace. Par contre, si un modernisme incompatible avec notre religion ou de nature à disloquer notre identité et notre société s'introduisait chez nous, je serais dans l'obligation d'abord de crier "attention", pis de mettre le feu orange ; enfin, si ça ne suffisait pas, de passer au feu rouge. Q : Je vous posais cette question parce qu'en 1960, le parti communiste a été interdit et le jugement de la cour d'appel faisait état d'un discour prononcé par votre père, dans lequel il condamnait toute idéologie matérialiste R : Ce fut un jugement merveilleusement rendu. Les magisrats n'ont pas jug au fond. L'affaire a été abordée sous l'angle religieux. Le parti communiste étant athée ne pouvait avoir droit de cité dans un pays dont la religion est l'islam. Du reste, les communistes ont changés leur nom et ils ont été de nouveau autorisés. Q : Mais ils ne pouvaient pas tout de même changer leur doctrine ? R : Si. Je dois vous dire que tout ça s'est réglé sur la route allant d'Ifrane à Fès. Je conduisais ma DS et j'avais à mes côtés le docteur Messouak, mon médecin ORL qui était aussi l'adjoint d'Ali Yata, le secrétaire général du parti communiste. Ensemble, en discutant, nous avons trouvé le nouveau nom de son parti, PPS, Parti du Progrès et du socialisme [...] p96-97

P.S. We very, very sneakily snuck a preview IN THIS BOOK of the new series we’re working on and will be talking about soon! Keep your ears (and eyes!) open to see what’s coming next from the Pixel Ate crew! P.P.S. We’re probably not a sneaky as we think. P.P.P.S. Or maybe you guys are just that smart.