Scooby Doo Quotes

That’s a pretty lame superhero name,” I told him. “Scooby-Doo is already taken,” he said with dignity. “Anything else sounds lame in comparison.

Damn, are these Scooby Doo?" She giggled. "I wasn't expecting company, and I have a slight obsession from growing up with the old cartoon." "They almost killed my hard on." She slid her hand between them and then quirked her eyebrows. "Seems fine to me.

Don't cross me Scooby-Doo. I'm not an old man in a mask waiting to be thwarted by you meddling kids.

Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," Jace said softly from my right. "Call me that again, and I'll tell the whole Pride you sleep in Scooby-Doo underwear." "I don't sleep in Scooby-Doo underwear. Hell, I don't sleep in any underwear.

There are enough people running around in here. It’s starting to feel like an episode of Scooby-Doo.

scooby doo was trying to tell us something when every time that monster mask got snatched off it was a greedy white dude.

It couldn’t have been easy to walk through Sauchiehall Street after closing on a Saturday with some mouthy wee bam shouting, “Fuck me, is that no’ her out of Scooby-Doo?” at you at the top of his lungs.

I'm living in this world. I'm what, a slacker? A "twentysomething"? I'm in the margins. I'm not building a wall but making a brick. Okay, here I am, a tired inheritor of the Me generation, floating from school to street to bookstore to movie theater with a certain uncertainty. I'm in that white space where consumer terror meets irony and pessimism, where Scooby Doo and Dr. Faustus hold equal sway over the mind, where the Butthole Surfers provide the background volume, where we choose what is not obvious over what is easy. It goes on...like TV channel-cruising, no plot, no tragic flaws, no resolution, just mastering the moment, pushing forward, full of sound and fury, full of life signifying everything on any given day...

Oh please don’t tell me this whole thing was just Old Man Caruthers digging for diamonds and trying to throw people off the scent,” Aether sighed. “If we unmask a Scooby Doo villain after all that destruction I’m going to be so pissed.

The Scooby gang doesn’t travel because they are looking for crimes to solve. They travel because they’re one step ahead of the deprogrammers. Somehow, Fred’s got them all snookered. It probably has something to do with the Scooby Snacks.

You know what they say, when the going gets scary, the scared gets scarce!

This is not a Scooby-Doo episode, Gus said. Granted, our current adventure may lack the mastery and grace of classic stories like 'Hassle in the Castle' or 'Foul Play in Funland', Shawn said. But as I've always said, aim high.

Thinking and talking about love leads to Love, which is the enemy. Do not consort with the enemy. Even if those hot-ass actors in the movies make it look cuddly and nice and tempting, don’t fall for it. It’s the biggest bad in the world, the worst villain ever created by hormone-pumped pubescent morons. It’s the Joker, Lex Luthor, that one overweight guy who’s always messing with the Scooby-Doo gang. It’s the final boss in the massive joke of a video game you call your life.

If you're watching Scooby Doo and think of someone because it's their favorite cartoon. If you're allergic to flour but still eat someone's burnt pancakes. Or if you hate the color green but you wear it because it reminds you of a person's eyes just before you kiss them - well, it might be love.

So what do we do next, Haunt Huntress?” “That’s a pretty lame superhero name,” I told him. “Scooby-Doo is already taken,” he said with dignity. “Anything else sounds lame in comparison.

Negativity is mind pollution! Daphne Blake from Be Cool Scooby-Doo!

Today, I’m asked to review a twenty-year-old patient whose blood tests show abnormal renal function. Both his arms are in full plaster casts, like a Scooby Doo villain. 

He sighed and said, “Is this the part where I have to tell you how my plan played out? This isn’t Scooby Doo.

So, the Scooby-Doo Gang is back together,” Kennard said.

I’m not going in the water with bad things out to hurt me! I saw Scooby-Doo! Curse of the Lake Monster with Lily! No way in hell!

It’s starting to feel like an episode of Scooby-Doo.

This is how they always get in trouble on Scooby-Doo,

Because that's the thing about Scooby-Doo: the bad guys in every episode aren't monsters, they're liars... The very first rule of Scooby-Doo, the single premise that sits at the heart of their adventures, is that the world is full of grown-ups who lie to kids, and that it's up to those kids to figure out what those lies are and call them on it, even if there are other adults who believe those lies with every fiber of their being.

The look she gave him—both wise and sad—again made her look more like a grownup than a kid. “That this is just a little detour on the great highway of life, and everything’s going to come out all right in the end, like on Scooby-Doo.

You know more useless crap, St. Clair. Good thing you're so darn cute," Josh says. St. Clair smiles. "At least 'cemetary' sounds classier. And you must admit-this place is pretty classy. Or,I'm sorry." He turns back to me. "Would you rather be at the Lambert bash? I hear Dave Higgenbottom is bringing his beer bong." "Higgenbaum." "That's what I said. Higgenbum." "Oh,leave him alone.Besides, by the time this place closes, we'll still have plenty of time to party." I roll my eyes at this last word.None of us have plans to attend,despite what I told Dave yesterday at lunch. St. Clair nudges me with a tall thermos. "Perhaps you're upset because he won't have the opportunity to woo you with his astonishing knowledge of urban street racing." I laugh. "Cut it out." "And I hear he has exquisite taste in film. Maybe he'll take you to a midnight showing of Scooby-Doo 2." I whack St. Clair with my bag, and he dodges aside,laughing.

It’s like Scooby-Doo. People think it’s teaching you all these big lessons about how monsters aren’t real, when really it’s just showing kids over and over again that when something seems out of whack, there’s probably some old white dude behind it.

We don’t even know what’s going on in the rest of the world. All we can do is-is play Scooby-Doo in the cellar.” “That’s not all we can do, Sophie,” Archer said. Whenever Archer used my first name, I knew he was serious. “What do you mean?” He backed up a few steps. “Look, you want the Casnoffs gone and these kids saved, or at least…well, put out of their misery, I guess. You don’t want anyone to raise demons ever again. There are other people who want those things, too.” “Please tell me you are not talking about The Eye.” He looked away and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m just saying that you and The Eye have a common goal here.” I wasn’t sure if I was stunned, or angry, or disgusted. It was kind of a mixture of all three. “Okay, is there a gas leak down here? Or did you hit your head on the tunnel? Because that’s really the only excuse for you saying something so freaking stupid.” “Oh, you’re right, Mercer,” he said. “The idea of a trying to fight an army of demons with a bunch of trained soldiers is beyond ridiculous. Maybe we can go get Nausicaa and see if she’ll give us some faerie dust to make the problem go away.” “Don’t be a jackass,” I snapped. “Then don’t be naïve,” he retorted. “This is too big for us to handle, Sophie. This is too big for Prodigium to deal with on their own. But if we could all work together, there’s a chance that-“ “What do you think, Cross? That we’ll ask The Eye to help us, and they’ll be all, ‘Sure, no problem! And once we’re done wiping out the demons, we certainly won’t kill the rest of you, even though that’s like, our mission in life!

She wants to believe.” “Believe what?” The look she gave him—both wise and sad—again made her look more like a grownup than a kid. “That this is just a little detour on the great highway of life, and everything’s going to come out all right in the end, like on Scooby-Doo.

Mr. Jeavons said that I was a very clever boy. I said that I wasn’t clever. I was just noticing how things were, and that wasn’t clever. That was just being observant. Being clever was when you looked at how things were and used the evidence to work out something new. Like the universe expanding, or who committed a murder. Or if you see someone’s name and you give each letter a value from 1 to 26 (a = 1, b = 2, etc.) and you add the numbers up in your head and you find that it makes a prime number, like Jesus Christ (151), or Scooby-Doo (113), or Sherlock Holmes (163), or Doctor Watson (167). Mr. Jeavons asked me whether this made me feel safe, having things always in a nice order, and I said it did.

None of our furniture matches. Our towels are not plush and white, but worn, featuring Scooby-Doo. When we have guests over for dinner parties, Tiffany and I hide all the books and deflated basketballs and lotion samples until everything is spotless. We aim to emulate the polished sheen of our friends’ houses. But afterward, it’s as if the house can unbutton its pants, release its gut, all of our items pouring out again.

I fucking love Scooby-Doo. That Velma girl—she has it going on. That tight sweater, short skirt, and knee socks? You can’t tell me she got dressed in the dark. Some folks, they got it out for Daphne. But you know to look at her—she’s one of those girls that talks it up all day, but when it comes down to lights-out she just lies there and acts like she’s doing you a favor. Velma? You know she takes off those glasses and she gets to work.

Donut had come out of nowhere, knocking the flour, milk, and egg off the counter, splattering everything onto the floor. She then turned to run, touched the very edge of the hot burner on the oven, yowled, rocketed into the air, and then landed on the floor, covering herself with a little bit of everything while she did that Scooby-Doo scramble in the slippery mess, everything flying everywhere while her legs pumped several times before she actually moved.

Truth [10w] Tell the truth and its enemies will scatter like roaches. Inventory of a Lost Childhood 1. Lion King’s Simba missing an eye 2. Conan the Barbarian missing a sword 3. Transformer missing an arm/wing/machine gun 4. Scooby-Doo missing a head 5. Star Wars’ R2-D2 missing a gripping tool 6. Etch-a-Sketch missing a knob 7. Powell Peralta skateboard missing a wheel 8. Teenage Mutant Ninja turtle missing a nunchuk 9. Atari console missing a joystick 10. G.I. Joe missing in action

Christ, I’m tired. I need sleep. I need peace. I need for my balls to not be so blue they’re practically purple. As purple as Sarah Von Titebottum’s— My mind comes to a screeching halt with the unexpected thought. And the image that accompanies it—the odd, blushing lass with her glasses and her books and very tight bottom. Sarah’s not a contestant on the show, so I’m willing to bet both my indigo balls that there’s not a camera in her room. And, I can’t believe I’m fucking thinking this, but, even better—none of the other girls will know where to find me—including Elizabeth. I let the cameras noisily track me to the lavatory, but then, like an elite operative of the Secret Intelligence Service, I plaster myself to the wall beneath their range and slide my way out the door. Less than five minutes later, I’m in my sleeping pants and a white T-shirt, barefoot with my guitar in hand, knocking on Sarah’s bedroom door. I checked the map Vanessa gave me earlier. Her room is on the third floor, in the corner of the east wing, removed from the main part of the castle. The door opens just a crack and dark brown eyes peer out. “Sanctuary,” I plead. Her brow crinkles and the door opens just a bit wider. “I beg your pardon?” “I haven’t slept in almost forty-eight hours. My best friend’s girlfriend is trying to praying-mantis me and the sound of the cameras following me around my room is literally driving me mad. I’m asking you to take me in.” And she blushes. Great. “You want to sleep in here? With me?” I scoff. “No, not with you—just in your room, love.” I don’t think about how callous the words sound—insulting—until they’re out of my mouth. Could I be any more of a dick? Thankfully, Sarah doesn’t look offended. “Why here?” she asks. “Back in the day, the religious orders used to give sanctuary to anyone who asked. And since you dress like a nun, it seemed like the logical choice.” I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Somebody just fucking shoot me and be done with it. Sarah’s lips tighten, her head tilts, and her eyes take on a dangerous glint. I think Scooby-Doo put it best when he said, Ruh-roh. “Let me make sure I’ve got this right—you need my help?” “Correct.” “You need shelter, protection, sanctuary that only I can give?” “Yes.” “And you think teasing me about my clothes is a wise strategy?” I hold up my palms. “I never said I was wise. Exhausted, defenseless, and desperate.” I pout . . . but in a manly kind of way. “Pity me.” A smile tugs at her lips. And that’s when I know she’s done for. With a sigh, she opens the door wide. “Well, it is your castle. Come in.” Huh. She’s right—it is my castle. I really need to start remembering that

Champagne?” It was the same waiter. “No thanks,” Cosmo Editor said. “Sure!” As I helped myself, a woman standing with her back to me turned around. It was the person I’d dreaded seeing all night: the Vice President of Marketing for this (major—major) beauty brand. Oh, no. Now my bosses at Lucky had essentially sent me here tonight to kiss up to this powerful, advertising-budget-controlling woman—the Vice President of Marketing, who not only detested me, but had recently seen me on drugs and in my underwear. It all went down on a weekend press trip to the Mayflower Spa in Connecticut, one of the most luxurious retreats on the East Coast. Other beauty editors and I were there for two nights as a guest of Vice President of Marketing and the beauty brand. The first night, there was a fancy dinner. I ate nothing. Then I wobbled back to my deluxe cottage, stripped off my clothes, popped a Xannie bar, boosted it with a strawberry-flavored clonazepam wafer I’d found stuck to a tobacco flake–covered Scooby-Doo fruit snack at the bottom of my grimy Balenciaga, and blacked out on top of the antique four-poster feather-top bed.

This dog, who didn’t even realize how brave he was, stumbled into hundreds of mysteries, and into the hearts of viewers around the world.

Anyway,” he said, his gaze lifting to hers. “We’re a team, right?” She couldn’t help but smile. “That’s us, one of the great detective couples. Like Nick and Nora.” He mugged a face. “More like Bonnie and Clyde.” “Emma Peel and John Steed.” Tucker laughed. “Shaggy and Scooby Doo.

Nothing will.” Sam shot Stacey a look. “We’ll stay out of it, but if you need our help, we’ll be there for you.” “Like the Scooby-Doo gang,” Stacey said with a smile. “But cooler and without the dog.” She paused, wrinkling her nose. “We have a giant demon snake instead.

Alfie is the goon in the team: think of Scooby-Doo with the brains of Homer Simpson. People often can’t believe he’s a collie because he is as smooth as a piglet and built like a lurcher with long legs and a deep chest. He is a true athlete and can run for miles and miles without tiring. Dog owners call it ‘having a good engine.’ He is obedient to the last – but sometimes ‘obedient’ can be another word for ‘stupid.’ If I ask him to lie down and get side-tracked, he will stay glued to the very spot until eventually I come looking for him ten minutes later. I would take sheep out the same gate every day for a week and on day seven Alfie would still need to be told what to do. But he is a great work dog and very honest, and no matter what situation he gets into he is always listening for my commands and has full faith that I will not see him wrong.

Fat is able to exit your cells primarily through the actions of three enzymes called hormone sensitive lipase (HSL), monoglyceride lipase (MGL), and adipose triglyceride lipase (ATGL). Each of these enzymes are like little ushers that help move fat out of your cellular theater after the show is over. Again, without them, the fat would just stay seated in the cell taking up space. Now, the head usher responsible for the mobilization of free fatty acids from adipose tissue (i.e., lipolysis) is considered to be HSL. It’s more easily acted upon by hormones we can influence (thus the name hormone-sensitive), so, for our enzymatic fat loss communication, that’s where we’re going to put our focus. HSL is an intracellular lipase that has broad substrate specificity (meaning it can break down all kinds of fat). If you watched the cartoon Scooby-Doo when you were younger, you probably remember a time or twenty that someone in the crew had a “skeleton key” that was able to unlock any random door they wanted to get into. While other enzymes are like specialized keys that can break down one type of fat, HSL is like a skeleton key that can open the door to break down many types of fat.

THERE ARE VERY LIMITED OPTIONS for Asian girls on Halloween. Like one year I went as Velma from Scooby-Doo, but people just asked me if I was a manga character. I even wore a wig! So now I’m committed to dressing up as Asian characters exclusively.

Come out, come out, wherever you are! It's show time! Scooby-Dooby-Doo, where are you!

I felt the blood drain out of my face. The whole thing was a setup-the FBI mole, the mystery client...I knew the what but the why was what I was trying to Scooby-Doo as we hurtled to an uncertain fate in the back of Zhen's limo. It must have been a play for HR, revenge for our hostile takeover.

And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn't for you meddling kids." —Assorted villains, Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! (1969–1972)

Johns, what the fuck are you doing?” Digger called. “You don’t chat with ghosts, you fucking run like Scooby-Doo, man!” “It’s okay,” Owen told them. “Scooby-Doo!” “Not okay,” Nick cried.

Reminds me of the time we tried to eat the guy in the hot dog suit.

She looked around to see that all the dogs – including Scooby Doo – were still looking adoringly at Alex. She turned back to him. “I’ve never seen an entire kennel behave like this around anyone. Does this happen to you often?

Therefore, you are the one that I am going to protect. And letting you run into the spooky boat storage building? Sorry, but I saw that Scooby Doo episode.

THERE ARE VERY LIMITED OPTIONS for Asian girls on Halloween. Like one year I went as Velma from Scooby-Doo, but people just asked me if I was a manga character. I even wore a wig! So now I'm committed to dressing up as Asian characters exclusively.

And then she ruined it all by cupping my jaw with both hands, gazing into my eyes, and whispering, 'I told you I was Sherlock. Scooby-Doo can fuck all the way off.

This isn’t an episode of Scooby-Doo, Shepard. You were never my nemesis. You were my . . .” I hate how I hold my breath. “My motivation.

Other fandoms—from Batman fans to James Bond fans to Doctor Who fans to Scooby-Doo fans—are all debating the same set of characters and circumstances. For example, in 2019, Scooby-Doo fans—including noted critic Nathan Rabin—were outraged that Matthew Lillard was not returning to play the voice of Shaggy for a new reboot of Scooby-Doo called Scoob! If you were to talk about this in terms of Star Trek post-TOS, it would require you to imagine a variety of Scooby-Doo sequels which took place in the same shared universe, featured zero talking dogs, no Velma, Fred, Daphne, or Shaggy, and only occasionally featured anyone driving a van called “The Mystery Machine,” which, in some versions, may not even be a van. The hypothetical Deep Space Nine of an expanded Scooby-Doo universe is a cartoon about kids living in a different city, who don’t have a van, who don’t solve mysteries, but were visited by Scrappy-Doo in the pilot episode. Now, imagine this hypothetical Scooby-Doo spin-off having its own fandom inside of “regular” Scooby-Doo fandom. That’s right. You can’t.

Everything was new and strange to Iris. Vi was a little jealous of her, experiencing wonderful things for the first time—Rice Krispies, Pop-Tarts, Tootsie Pops (“How many licks does it take to get to the center?” asked the wise old owl in the commercial), Saturday morning cartoons. She didn’t even know who Scooby-Doo was!

grand final had faded into the background of my brain and I was starting to get excited about going on the roller coaster and the Batman ride. The last time we had gone to Movie World I was only a toddler and had been too little to go on anything scary. They had little statues of movie characters next to each ride and if you weren’t as tall as they were, you couldn’t go on the ride. To be honest, back then I was too scared to go on anything anyway. Mom said when they tried to get me on the Scooby Doo ride, little China men would have heard me screaming in China. I think the only ride I went on all day was the merry-go-round. Even then I didn’t dare go on top of a horse that bobbed up and down. I sat in the safety of a stationary boat.              But this time I was going to go on everything. Mom said because it was a school day there might not be many queues so we could have as many turns as we wanted on everything. When we were finally at the ticket box I felt a stray smile sneaking up all over my face and taking over my grumpy frown. I tried to keep feeling sad about the playoffs, but the lure of Movie World was starting to take over me like a parasitic alien dominating his victim. No matter how I tried to fight the betrayal, the feelings of thrilling

Columbia Broadcasting System (CBS) started in

The guard waved as the iron gate slowly swung open. Inside the gate, Fred drove the Mystery Machine between two huge white buildings bigger than football fields. He turned at the stop sign and pulled up in front of another enormous white building. The gang piled out of the van.

So, he drew Scooby with a small chin, droopy ears, and crooked legs—the exact opposite of what a “perfect” Great Dane should look like! Iwao also gave Scooby a very expressive face, which could go from spooked to brave to silly—depending on his mood.

If you really want to help, then be extra vigilant. Be aware of your surroundings, watch for anyone acting strangely. Stay away from them and let us know.” “He’s right.” I said. “I couldn’t deal with it if something happened to either of you two.” “Nothing will.” Sam shot Stacey a look. “We’ll stay out of it, but if you need our help, we’ll be there for you.” “Like the Scooby-Doo gang,” Stacey said with a smile. “But cooler and without the dog.” She paused, wrinkling her nose. “We have a giant demon snake instead.

Murray stayed in the water too, grumbling to himself. “First we fall into a cave. Then we find a pile of ancient dead guys. It’s like we stumbled into a Scooby-Doo episode.

Scooby Doo)

It wasn’t until I wore the badge that I realized a lot of criminal shows are a lie. Scooby Doo especially.” I filed that under the heading, ‘Earthlings, Nonsensical Statements’ and kept the conversation moving

I blame the shape of my body on my dad, but since I don’t even know who he is, I can only guess. Mom doesn’t know either. She says she was young and stupid, that she went to a couple of wild parties when she was a teenager and did a few things she shouldn’t have. No shit. It doesn’t take Scooby Doo and his gang to figure that out.

I had to laugh. “Come on, Scooby Doo. Let see what’re made of.” Ank scoffed dryly. “I’m made of chicken shit.” he bobs his head to the side. “That’s what I'm made of.

Oh, Scooby-Scooby-Doo...Do me.

this isn’t a Scooby Doo episode,

How much Scooby-Doo do you watch, anyway?” I said, although her plan had merit.

Easy, Daphne, remember we’re married. Don’t look so happy.

You know the concept of time confuses me!

I need to tell you something and I need you to listen… I’m not a guy anymore. I HAVE FEELINGS!

Wait, like your first name is Sheriff?" "Momma planned ahead and... this is gonna break HER TEENY TINY HEART!

You take the high road and I'll take the rocky road. Rocky road ice cream that is.

11. Scooby Doo's real name is Scoobert - True or False? True.