Scumbag Quotes

Once you’ve been to Cambodia, you’ll never stop wanting to beat Henry Kissinger to death with your bare hands. You will never again be able to open a newspaper and read about that treacherous, prevaricating, murderous scumbag sitting down for a nice chat with Charlie Rose or attending some black-tie affair for a new glossy magazine without choking. Witness what Henry did in Cambodia – the fruits of his genius for statesmanship – and you will never understand why he’s not sitting in the dock at The Hague next to Milošević.

If your husband is cheating on you, it doesn't mean that you need to get prettier -- it means he's a scumbag.

Yep. God’s giving me a second chance at motherhood as a “thank you” for killing a bunch of scumbags. He’s looking down and thinking, “Well done, Susie. You’ll make a fine mommy.

when you're a kid, they tell you that it's what's on the inside that counts. Looks don't matter . But that's not true. Guys like Phoebus in The Hunchback, or Dorian, or the old Kyle Kingsbury-- they can be scumbags to women and still get away with it because they're good-looking. Being ugly is a kind of prisoner.

And I could always set Coach Hedge on fire,” Leo volunteered. “Then he can be fire.” The thought of a blazing satyr screaming, “Die, scumbag!” as he attacked Gaea was almost enough to make Piper laugh— almost.

You can be a rich scumbag just as easily as a poor scumbag, or you can be a decent human being either way. Money’s got nothing to do with it. It’s nice to have, but it’s not what makes you who you are.

He had live long enough to know there was a little scumbag in everyone, but it didn’t help much when you had to take out the trash.

Tonight you will be visited by three spirits. The ghosts of indictment past, present, and future. They will teach you the true meaning of 'you are still a scumbag criminal.

Is he a scumbag in training?” Richard glanced at the gunman. “At least have the decency to hold the gun properly, you fool. If you don’t know how, pass it to someone who does. I’m not going to suffer being shot at by anything less than a full- fledged lowlife. (Richard)

I…God, I don’t even know where to start. I’m here. I’m here for you, okay? No matter what. You can scream and you can yell and be as mean and self-destructive as you want. Because I know you’re going to be here for me when it’s my turn to fall apart. Let them all come, Clint. Let every last one of those tracksuit-wearing sub-verbal bullying murderous scumbags come at us. Because you and me? Together? Together, Clint, I think you and me are the person we both wish we could be. And I know that person…I know that person is worth something. I know that person can…can pretty much do anything.

You're such a sucker for sweet talk that you'd lie with every scumbag who comes your way.

What an absolute scumbag. What an absolutely, perfectly sculpted, beautifully smelling . . . scumbag.

Well, make up your mind. I don’t have all night.” Fidelia set her beer on the porch and removed a set of keys from her skirt pocket. She fumbled with the key, trying to release the trigger lock on her pistol. “Don’t do that,” Heather warned her. “You’ve had too much to drink.” Fidelia snorted. “I’m not drunk. I’m in complete control.” She tore off the trigger lock. Bang! The gun fired, ripping into a nearby oak tree. The women screamed. Jean-Luc winced. A squirrel plummeted from the tree and landed in the yard with a thud. Fidelia shrugged. “I meant to do that. Damned rodent’s been gnawing on the house. And stealing all the nuts from our pecan tree.” Heather planted her hands on her hips. “Haven’t I told you a million times to keep the locks on?” Fidelia hung her head, looking properly remorseful. “I’ll be more careful.” She switched on the safety, then shot Jean-Luc a pointed look. “I know how to deal with a scumbag with nuts.

I want to take you right now, in a goddamn back alley and against this fuckin’ wall. It’s so fuckin' wrong and I'm a scumbag piece of shit that doesn't deserve to even look at you.

Men are scumbags until they prove they're women.

Scott, you are the salt of the earth. Oh, I'm sorry, excuse me. I meant scum of the earth.

I can’t stop this. I can’t stop wanting you and seeing you with Ad is – it’s driving me fuckin’ crazy. I want to take you right now, in a goddamn back alley and against this fuckin’ wall. It’s so fuckin’ wrong and I’m a scumbag piece of shit that doesn’t deserve to even look at you.

When men tell you they are pieces of shit, when they tell you they are scumbags, they do it because they subconsciously know that you are hooked. It hooks you more. They push you away to pull you in and the most terrible thing is they don’t even do it on purpose.

Fucking cracker,” Alvarado hissed as he was shoved into the patrol car. “Aw, that’s discrimination, right there.” I feigned hurt. “See, I see you as scumbag first, Alvarado. Or dick-cheese. Scumsucking pedophile. Asshole. The fact that you’re Hispanic doesn’t even factor into it.

Nowadays the rights of one scumbag are considered far more important than the collective right of 29 others to be taught without being distracted.

What you need is a chick from Camden,' Van Patten says, after recovering from McDermott's statement. Oh great,' I say. 'Some chick who thinks it's okay to fuck her brother.' Yeah, but they think AIDS is a new band from England,' Price points out. Where's dinner?' Van Patten asks, absently studying the question scrawled on his napkin. 'Where the fuck are we going?' It's really funny that girls think guys are concerned with that, with diseases and stuff,' Van Patten says, shaking his head. I'm not gonna wear a fucking condom,' McDermott announces. I have read this article I've Xeroxed,' Van Patten says, 'and it says our chances of catching that are like zero zero zero zero point half a decimal percentage or something, and this no matter what kind of scumbag, slutbucket, horndog chick we end up boffing.' Guys just cannot get it.' Well, not white guys.

The world's shit and everyone's a cunt.

Care to apologize to the lady scumbag?" Bram asked angrily. "Shut up, deadmeat. Turn on the screen

I am strong... Extra-ordinarily so much more than you guys! Therefore, I am perfectly capable of kicking those titan scumbags' collective ass including on my own if I have to. Are you all such a bunch incompetents? You gutless spineless cowards. You just stay there and watch in helpless envy. Yeah, you do that. If it is (impossible), then I'll die... It's just that simple. But if I win, I get to live. You don't stand a single chance to win unless you fight.

Most people are scumbags. Accept it. Let go. Chill out, douchebags.

Corrupted liars..Higher class Scumbags.. Try to control the world and everything we work so hard to earn in life.. But if you forget about that little detail. Life Is Pretty Swell.

I refer to them as scumbags, lowlifes or assholes, not people.  And dirtbags, jackasses, asshats, fucksticks, douchebags, asswads, fucktards, dickheads, assbags, jerkoffs, fuckheads or ass clowns will work too

I know who I’m talking to, Mr. Barrington. I’m talking to a man who is willing to kill a teenager if it helps him defend a wrongful death personal injury lawsuit. I’m talking to a scumbag who is willing to betray his country for money. I grant you did what you did for a large sum of money, but treason is still treason, regardless of how much is involved.

Excuse me,” Max replied, indignant. “These lacerations and bruises are not because of the men who came to kill me. With my usual aplomb, I have dealt with those scumbags.”“Uh-huh. Then what did happen?” “Why do we have to discuss that? Our lives are in danger.” Charlie gazed at her sister for a few moments before guessing, “Squirrels again?”“They started it!” “It’s nice to see that nothing has really changed since we last saw each other.

I pull over a colored guy who’s driving, probably stoned, with his kids in the car! I smell marijuana! Out of the blue, this scumbag tells me he’s got a gun and a license to carry. Why does he tell me that? Does he plan to shoot me? “Show me your hands, I tell him. He ignores me, Brenda! He reaches down into his pocket. Is he reaching for the gun? Why won’t he show me his hands? He’s not ‘the black guy’ or ‘the white guy,’ dammit! He’s the guy with the fucking gun!

Kiss the scumbag!

For all we know, the two of us aren’t even storm and fire. Percy can raise hurricanes.” “And I could always set Coach Hedge on fire,” Leo volunteered. “Then he can be fire.” The thought of a blazing satyr screaming, “Die, scumbag!” as he attacked Gaea was almost enough to make Piper laugh— almost.

I'm at a certain age and a stage whereby I've met a good number of human beings, as well as many a dog. Thereby I've come to believe that almost all humans are scumbags. And all dogs are far better beings; and the chosen ones of God.

I read my copy of On the Road and dug the scenery whizzing past. On the Road is a semi-autobiographical novel about Jack Kerouac, a druggy, hard-drinking writer who goes hitchhiking around America, working crummy jobs, howling through the streets at night, meeting people and parting ways. Hipsters, sad-faced hobos, con-men, muggers, scumbags and angels. There's not really a plot -- Kerouac supposedly wrote it in three weeks on a long roll of paper, stoned out of his mind -- only a bunch of amazing things, one thing happening after another. He makes friends with self-destructing people like Dean Moriarty, who get him involved in weird schemes that never really work out, but still it works out, if you know what I mean. There was a rhythm to the words, it was luscious, I could hear it being read aloud in my head. It made me want to lie down in the bed of a pickup truck and wake up in a dusty little town somewhere in the central valley on the way to LA, one of those places with a gas station and a diner, and just walk out into the fields and meet people and see stuff and do stuff.

Who cares about my voice? There are more important things going on in the world. I want to make a difference. I’m going to law school. I want to become a public defender.” I couldn’t believe she’d give up singing to work with scumbags like me. “By the time a guy ends up in front of the judge, it’s too late to make a difference.” “It’s never too late to make a difference,” she said. “All I’m saying is that with your music you could have an influence on people before they end up in trouble.

Let's have a toast for the douchebags, Let's have a toast for the assholes, Let's have a toast for the scumbags, Every one of them that I know Let's have a toast to the jerkoffs That'll never take work off Baby, I got a plan Run away fast as you can

What?” Ron bellowed furiously. “Four? You lousy, biased scumbag, you gave Krum ten!” But Harry didn’t care, he wouldn’t have cared if Karkaroff had given him zero; Ron’s indignation on his behalf was worth about a hundred points to him. He didn’t tell Ron this, of course, but his heart felt lighter than air as he turned to leave the enclosure. And it wasn’t just Ron . . . those weren’t only Gryffindors cheering in the crowd. When it had come to it, when they had seen what he was facing, most of the school had been on his side as well as Cedric’s. . . . He didn’t care about the Slytherins, he could stand whatever they threw at him now. “You’re tied in first place, Harry! You and Krum!” said Charlie Weasley, hurrying to meet them as they set off back toward the school.

It’s amazing how seedy scumbags (the press) can write shite, and demented retards (the public) suddenly go up in arms and then opportunistic slime (the politicians) jump right on the bandwagon. Such is British life. So now there is to be a ‘comprehensive review of the facility’.

It's ok to understand other people. But it's not enough. Advertence is necessary too. Because it's easy to understand abstract person if you're not a victim but outside observer. Imagine you say to friend who needs your help: "I understand the man who stole from you because he was starved". Or that: "I understand that scumbag who raped you because his wife ran out on him and he wanted to blow off steam". Only most hard-hearted person can say that.

Still the congenitally clueless—tourists and locals alike—continue to flop into the Gulf and mess with these phenomenal creatures, dooming them to a future of begging, sloth, and worse. A dolphin that swims close enough to take a treat from your fingers is also close enough to be stabbed by a scumbag with a screwdriver.

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

You can’t steal from thieves.

The biggest act of rebellion right now is remaining defiantly hopeful.

You should kill yourself, GreenHollyWood said "You fucking scumbag.

The question why I don't shake hand with someone,A reason is Behind;Scumbags call it Attitude but they really don't know its actually the antimatter Waqas is composed of.

In the final reckoning, there’s only two types of scumbag: the dumb ones locked behind the prison gate and the smart ones with their name above it.

Once a scumbag always a scumbag I say.’ Short Fran said acerbically. ‘I give it a couple of months at the most before he’s up to his old tricks again.

Fett, I have a beautiful daughter...' He shouldn't have said that. Now I'm angry, and I don't often get angry. 'Never use your kids, scumbag. Never.

We live in a society that is governed by corrupt corporate controlled scumbags.

Merry Christmas me bollocks. The words of the Pogues's 'Fairytale of New York' also came to mind: surrounded by scumbags and maggots, I prayed God it would be my last in Los Teques.

He bragged about his friendship with Jeffrey Epstein and hit the town with scumbag aficionado Roy Cohn. As president, he pardoned notorious criminals like Joe Arpaio and Scooter Libby and cultivated friendships with authoritarian leaders like Kim Jong Un, Erdoğan, and Putin. It is rare for Trump to hide even the sleaziest of contacts, but he has taken pains to conceal his

You no-business, born-insecure, junkyard motha-f***a!” – Dolemite (1975) “You pompous, stuck-up, snot-nosed, English, giant, twerp, scumbag, f***-face, dickhead, asshole.” –  A Fish Called Wanda (1988)

How about we all try something different for a change? Let’s throw these Republicrat scumbags out now, while we can still do it without bloodshed. What we fail to accomplish with ballots, our children will have to do with their blood.

As I had burned rubber out of the parking lot, I could see him in my rearview mirror, still standing where I’d left him. Laughing. What an absolute scumbag. What an absolutely, perfectly sculpted, beautifully smelling . . . scumbag. •

I was nearly to the end of the alley when an arm snaked around my waist and yanked me backward, out of the light. I wasn't sure if it was an Eye or a Prodigium, or just your run-of-the-mill rapist.scumbag type, but it was definitely a guy. He was several inches taller than me, and I could hear his ragged breathing in my ear as he struggled to hold me. There was no way I'd be able to do a spell on him: I was too tired and too frazzled. But while I didn't have magic, I did have a whole bunch of the Vandy's Defense classes on my side. Skill Nine, you asshat,I thought as I drove my elbow back,while at the same time attempting to drive my boot heel as hard as I could into his instep. He blocked both easily, pulling his torso back from my elbow even as he tightened his grip on my waist, lifting me slightly off the ground so my heel came down harmlessly on thin air. For a second I felt real panic. Anyone who could black Prodigium Defense moves was a lot more dangerous than some random pervert. I was about to try Skill Fifteen, which involved both breaking his nose and potentially ending his chances of ever having kids, when my captor bent down and whispered in my ear, "Don't even think about it, Mercer.

I love the Constitution. I just don’t love it when we try to apply our founding principles to the world’s scumbags. American exceptionalism is driven by America’s values, and these values fundamentally differ from those held by much of the rest of the world.

The females of this planet, raised with pillows and primping and perfumes, had no recourse when the lowlife scumbags, suddenly free of all the rules and restrictions of society, started doing things like forming ‘tribes,’ ‘claiming’ women and taking ‘slaves.

When men tell you they are pieces of shit, when they tell you they are scumbags, they do it because they subconsciously know that you are hooked. It hooks you more. They push you away to pull you in and the most terrible thing is they don't even do it on purpose.

People lie for many reasons: to save themselves, to get out of trouble, to avoid hurting someone's feelings. Manipulators lie to get what they want. Narcissists lie to make themselves seem grand to others and themselves. Recovering alcoholics lie to safeguard their tattered reputations. And those who love us most lie to us most of all, because life is a bumpy ride and they want to smooth it out as much as possible. John Rutger lied because he was a scumbag. Nothing about his appearance said, Hey, I'm a despicable human being.

His abrasive, over-the-top style had earned him a loyal fan base, despite—or perhaps because of—the many scandals that dogged him throughout his career. He was a tax cheat, a philanderer, a bigot, a bully . . . pretty much everything you might expect from a guy named Dumptruck.

What is a scumbag? In simple words, the item in question is an inexpensive device that facilitates individual pleasure and self indulgence while preventing the creation of new life. The end result is a flaccid, disposable latex envelope, filled with foul, dead bodily fluids, fit only to be flushed down the toilet.

You’re a huge sucking asshole,” Livia agreed. “You have everything at your fingertips. You’re healthy, smart, fun, and highly fashionable. But instead you’re buying problems you don’t even want. Let the death of at least one and maybe two scumbags have a little meaning. Be the real you. Follow your beautiful heart.

An Oath Guardian," Mack told them, "is a soldier, a cop, or any other security officer who refuses to enforce unconstitutional laws. They took an oath to defend the Constitution of the United States and they aren't about to let scumbag politicians use them as pawns in their power games. Not against their own people.

If you want to work your stinking job and pay into a pension plan for the rest of your days then fine; if you want to visit the supermarket once a week and feel great about yourself for finding the best offers on low fat microwave meals then fine; if you want to click around them computers all night, chatting to your Aunt Sally in Honolulu then fine; if you want to drink in moderation so you don’t end up shitting the bed then fine; if you want to continue the cycle of obedient drones then fine; if you want to resent how average your life has turned out in return for a salary that buys you nothing more than permanent misery then fine. All fine and dandy. Go right ahead. Just leave me the fuck out of it.

I want to know what sort of Miscreation he was. And how he became an IntelliGene. I have his genes. It's part of who I am." "Is it?" asks Simon. His blue-green eyes turn hard... "My father was an IntelliGene and a scumbag who hit my mum and made her cry. I was glad when he had the affair and left us. So what if I have his genes? I'm not my father. I choose not to be like him.

You are a filthy, dirty, incurable scumbag. God is perfectly holy. If it were up to God you’d be tossed into Hell to burn in conscious torment forever. That’s what you deserve by being you. That’s how bad you are. Thankfully, God worked this out by brutally executing his innocent son by death on a cross. If you believe and accept this along with other central doctrines, God will forgive you. God will never be fond of a scumbag like you, but at least you’ll make it into Heaven when you die. In the meantime, you’re off the hook because when God looks at scumbag you, God magically doesn’t really see scumbag you; he sees Jesus instead. You will never amount to much in God’s eyes anyway. But how amazing that God loves someone like you who doesn’t deserve it.

Oh. No. The only thing worse than a cancer diagnosis is a growing-up diagnosis. I am horrified of growing up. First, I’m small for my age, which is a benefit in showbiz because I can book roles for characters younger than me. I can work longer hours on set and have to take fewer breaks by law. Logistics aside, I’m more cooperative and can take direction better than those seven-year-old scumbags.

It would kill the losers like him; it would kill Mathers but not that scumbag screw who had hired Mathers because the screw had THE KEY. It wasn’t going to kill the governor or the warden – the guard who said the warden was sick had obviously been a fucking liar. It wasn’t going to kill the parole officers, the county sheriffs, or the FBI agents. The flu would not touch those who had THE KEY. It wouldn’t dare.

Malfoy glanced around. Harry knew he was checking for signs of teachers. Then he looked back at Harry and said in a low voice, “You’re dead, Potter.” Harry raised his eyebrows. “Funny,” he said, “you’d think I’d have stopped walking around….” Malfoy looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him. He felt a kind of detached satisfaction at the sight of his pale, pointed face contorted with rage. “You’re going to pay,” said Malfoy in a voice barely louder than a whisper. “I’m going to make you pay for what you did to my father….” “Well, I’m terrified now,” said Harry sarcastically. “I s’pose Lord Voldemort’s just a warm-up act compared to you three — what’s the matter?” he said, for Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had all looked stricken at the sound of the name. “He’s your dad’s mate, isn’t he? Not scared of him, are you?” “You think you’re such a big man, Potter,” said Malfoy, advancing now, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. “You wait. I’ll have you. You can’t land my father in prison —“ “I thought I just had,” said Harry. “The dementors have left Azkaban,” said Malfoy quietly. “Dad and the others’ll be out in no time….” “Yeah, I expect they will,” said Harry. “Still, at least everyone knows what scumbags they are now —“ Malfoy’s hand flew toward his wand, but Harry was too quick for him. He had drawn his own wand before Malfoy’s had even entered the pocket of his robes.

Everyone is saying how we had sex in the hot tub and I’m a slut and you don’t even care!” “I told the guys we didn’t!” “Did you? Did you tell them that all we did was kiss and that’s all we’ve ever done?” Peter hesitates, and I go on. “Or did you say, ‘Guys, we didn’t have sex in the hot tub,’ wink wink, nudge nudge.” Peter glares at me. “Give me a little more credit than that, Covey.” “You’re such a scumbag, Kavinsky.” I spin around. There is Josh, in the doorway, glaring at Peter. “It’s your fault people are saying that crap about Lara Jean.” Josh shakes his head in disgust. “She’d never do that.” “Keep your voice down,” I whisper, my eyes darting around. This is not happening right now. At recital party, with everyone I’ve ever known my whole entire life in the next room. Peter’s jaw twitches. “This is a private conversation, Josh, between me and my girlfriend. Why don’t you go play World of Warcraft or something. Or maybe there’s a Lord of the Rings marathon on TV.” “Fuck you, Kavinsky,” Josh says. I gasp. To me Josh says, “Lara Jean, this is exactly what I’ve been trying to protect you from. He’s not good enough for you. He’s only bringing you down.” Beside me Peter stiffens. “Get over it! She doesn’t like you anymore. It’s over. Move on.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Josh says. “Whatever, dude. She told me you tried to kiss her. You try that again, and I’m kicking your ass.

They send me leaflets, booklets, tapes. 'Let us help your injured soul by shedding the Light upon your darkest hours' Pompous words! They pretend their message is for all humanity but are ready to burn at the stake anyone who doesn't go along with them. Still, they feel affection for the likes of me. They just can't get enough of us. So strong is their desire to correct sinners and score points in God's eyes. We're their tickets to heaven. We, the scumbags of the earth- the wicked, the fallen.

Most victims went looking for exactly what they got … If you try to sell smack on some other scumbag’s turf, or if you go ahead and marry Prince Charming after he puts you in the ICU four times running, or if you stab some guy because his brother stabbed your friend for stabbing his cousin, then ... you’re just begging for exactly what you’re eventually going to get. ... you would be amazed at how seldom murder has to break into people’s lives. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, it gets there because they open the door and invite it in.

Once you've been to Cambodia, you'll never stop wanting to beat Henry Kissinger to death with you're bear hands. You will never again be able to open a newspaper and read about the treacherous, prevaricating, murderous scumbag sitting down for a nice chat with Charlie Rose or attending some black-tie affair for a new glossy magazine without choking. Witness what Henry did in Cambodia - the fruits of his genius for statesmanship - and you will never understand why he's not sitting in the dock at The Hague next to Milošević. While Henry continues to nibble nori rolls and remake at A-list parties, Cambodi, the neutral nation he illegally bombed, invaded, undermined, and then threw to the dogs, is still trying to raise itself up on its one remaining leg.

This should have stopped the schizophrenogenic voodoo right in its tracks. High blood pressure can be lessened with a drug that blocks a receptor for a different type of neurotransmitter, and you conclude that a core problem was too much of that neurotransmitter. But schizophrenic symptoms can be lessened with a drug that blocks dopamine receptors, and you still conclude that the core problem is toxic mothering. Remarkably, that’s what psychiatry’s psychoanalytic ruling class concluded. After fighting the introduction of the medications tooth and nail in America and eventually losing, they came up with an accommodation: neuroleptics weren’t doing anything to the core problems of schizophrenia; they just sedated patients enough so that it is easier to psychodynamically make progress with them about the scars from how they were mothered. The psychoanalytic scumbags even developed a sneering, pejorative term for families (i.e., mothers) of schizophrenic patients who tried to dodge responsibility by believing that it was a brain disease: dissociative-organic types. The influential 1958 book Social Class and Mental Illness: A Community Study (John Wiley), by the Viennese psychiatrist Frederick Redlich, who chaired Yale’s psychiatry department for seventeen years, and the Yale sociologist August Hollingshead, explained it all. Dissociative-organic types were typically lower-class, less educated people, for whom “It’s a biochemical disorder” was akin to still believing in the evil eye, an easy, erroneous explanation for those not intelligent enough to understand Freud. Schizophrenia was still caused by lousy parenting, and nothing was to change in the mainstream for decades.

What is life? It is a series of arrangements that each of us makes in order to slow down the deterioration process as much as possible. Everybody faces the same decisions as they advance in age—behavior that was fun when you were younger (excessive drug and alcohol intake, indiscriminate sexual encounters with the powerfully magnetic and questionably sane, residing in shitholes with hygiene-averse scumbags) can’t continue when you get older or else the death march gets accelerated. Mature people learn over time how to structure their lives in such a way that the likelihood of dying is minimized. Eventually the menu of fun items that won’t instantly kill you is reduced to a small selection of spicy entrees, then a zesty appetizer or two, then a glass of water and a spoon (because forks and knives could cut your terrifyingly translucent skin, you decrepit old coot). I

What on earth did we do wrong? What harm did we inflict? What did we do to you? Who are you to judge us? Who gave you the right? Are you the representatives of mankind, or what? Who appointed you? Was it God? Yourselves? You don't care if someone loves to go bowling or shooting! You don't care if someone wants to be a doctor or a flight attendant! So why can't we love someone of the same gender? What makes you say that the way we love is wrong? Because we're not "normal"? Because we don't abide by the provisions of God? The laws of nature? Well, fuck you. What a load of bullshit. You want to create a land for God? Good. Then let's bring back the regulations on sex positions first! Don't use condoms, and only fuck in the missionary position, damn it! Since sex should only be for childbirth, and any other pleasure is against the will of God, am I right? Come to think of it, you guys are fucking disgusting. I mean, I know you all fuck doggy-style and blow each other! So I guess you're all going to hell as well! The same goes for singles who don't copulate at all! If the union of man and woman is what is "normal", singles are the most abnormal of all! You're all going to hell, too! On, and let's just kill all the ugly people, fat people, and poor people while we're at it. Then it'll be heaven on earth, with no abnormal beings! Where the normal are free to kill the abnormal! If you ask me, you uneducated, narrow-minded scumbags are the ones that degrade human nobility! You're fucking revolting! Ignorant morons! Do you feel good? Or pissed off? Mad? Then come at me! Instead of being fucking cowards, bashing someone that's all tied up. Won't it be more fun to beat up a person of color? Kill me before I infect your brains and turn all of you into homosexuals! Kill me first! Stupid scumbags!

said that’s enough, Kevin,” Mam shouted, coming to stand between us. “I don’t care how surprised or upset you are, don’t you ever speak to your sister—or any woman, for that matter—like that again. You were raised, not dragged up.” “Yeah, and so was she,” he countered defensively. “But apparently only one of us got the memo.” “That’s not fair,” Mam replied, tone thick with emotion. “You don’t understand what your sister is going through.” “No, because I actually happen to possess a brain between my ears,” he agreed, furious. “Unlike this idiot.” “Kevin!” “Jesus, I always knew you weren’t the brightest crayon in the box, but this?” my brother accused, eyes narrowed in challenge. “Getting pregnant while you’re still in school? Off a fucking scumbag like Joey Lynch? Wow, talk about scraping the barrel by mixing your genes with his. That poor fucking kid’s going to come out with a cocaine habit and the IQ of a gummy bear!

Voldemort’s just a warm-up act compared to you three – what’s the matter?’ he added, for Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had all looked stricken at the sound of the name. ‘He’s a mate of your dad, isn’t he? Not scared of him, are you?’ ‘You think you’re such a big man, Potter,’ said Malfoy, advancing now, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. ‘You wait. I’ll have you. You can’t land my father in prison –’ ‘I thought I just had,’ said Harry. ‘The Dementors have left Azkaban,’ said Malfoy quietly. ‘Dad and the others’ll be out in no time …’ ‘Yeah, I expect they will,’ said Harry. ‘Still, at least everyone knows what scumbags they are now –’ Malfoy’s hand flew towards his wand, but Harry was too quick for him; he had drawn his own wand before Malfoy’s fingers had even entered the pocket of his robes. ‘Potter!’ The voice rang across the Entrance Hall. Snape had emerged from the staircase leading down to his office and at the sight of him Harry

teacher in class. “The Divorce Fantasy will never happen,” I mumble finally, staring at my fingernails. “The Divorce Fantasy will never happen,” he repeats with emphasis. “The judge will never read a two-hundred-page dossier on Daniel’s shortcomings aloud in court, while a crowd jeers at your ex-husband. He will never start his summing up, ‘Ms. Graveney, you are a saint to have put up with such an evil scumbag and I thus award you everything you want.’ ” I can’t help coloring. That is pretty much my Divorce Fantasy. Except in my version, the crowd throws bottles at Daniel too. “Daniel will never admit to being wrong,” Barnaby presses on relentlessly. “He’ll never stand in front of the judge, weeping and saying, ‘Fliss, please forgive me.’ The papers will never report your divorce with the headline: TOTAL SHIT ADMITS FULL SHITTINESS IN COURT.” I can’t help half-snorting with laughter. “I do know that.” “Do you, Fliss?” Barnaby sounds skeptical. “Are you sure about that? Or are you still expecting him to wake up one day and realize all the bad things he’s done? Because you have to understand, Daniel will never realize anything. He’ll never confess to being a terrible human being. I could spend a thousand hours on this case, it would still never happen.

A careful reading of Scripture reveals that this is God's preferred way to make his presence known on earth - not chiefly through movers, shakers, and A-listers, but rather through out-casts, losers, those of ill repute, and those who were held in low esteem. If we examine Jesus' friendships, for example, we will notice a disproportionately low number of celebrities, powerful politicians, affluent business people, high-society people, prominent leaders, and the like. But if you were a known prostitute or a tax collector, an addict or an alcoholic, a no-name, a leper or a paralytic, or a despised and rejected sinner, your chance of being invited into Jesus' inner circle of friends would increase. So scandalous and unexpected were Jesus' associations that he was accused of being a glutton, a drunk, and a friend of tax collectors and sinners (Luke 7:34). The scribes and Pharisees shamed, scolded, and excluded such sinners for their failure to measure up. Yet these strugglers experienced Jesus as humble, gentle, and kind - attributes the scribes and Pharisees knew little to nothing about, because they were too busy separating the world between the good people and the bad people, the saints and the sinners, the virtuous and the scumbags, the insiders and the outsiders, the worthy and the unworthy. Meanwhile, Jesus was hanging out with, befriending, and welcoming religious society's choice rejects, thereby separating the world between the proud and the humble.

And I myself woke up one day and realized all the people in my old life hated me… but somehow I didn’t care. We each became immune to the Blue Plague, which labels all resistance as racist, bigoted, Nazi scumbags.

Who’s the scumbag here?” I taunted back. “Because honestly, you guys probably don’t have any more brains combined then that of a potato.

Trump shifted again to complaining about leaks, including that CNN had earlier reported this very meeting. “These people should be executed, they are scumbags,” he

The thought of a blazing satyr screaming, “Die, scumbag!” as he attacked Gaea was almost enough to make Piper laugh— almost.

What scumbag saw this perfect specimen of a woman and decided he didn’t want that?

Emma sat on her bed, smirking, satisfied that she had taken care of one more asshole in the everlasting procession of scum that seemed to come her way. In her world, people who fucked with children were scumbags and shouldn’t be given a second chance.

One of the first things Charlie had been taught, her first day on the job, was that generally only three kinds of people needed professional bodyguards: celebrities, scumbags, and celebrity scumbags.

I’ve killed hundreds of scumbags like your stepdad, and I never once felt like saying so much as a word to their victim. But for some reason, I can’t stay away from you. I want to breathe you in and let you live in my lungs and carry you everywhere I go, Blythe.

Beautiful terrible, how sobriety disabuses you of the sense of your having been a gloriously misunderstood scumbag prince shuffling between this or that narcotic crown.

Hey, um, you’re not gonna call him a scumbag to his face, right?” I said. “Nah.” “Whew…” “I’m going to call him a dirtbag.

Now, as we all know, a group of dolphins is called a pod, a group of crows is called a murder, and so on. Henceforth, I'd like all groups of people who call themselves reporters but are actually only bloggers writing listicles to be known as a scumbag.

I don’t want to, Bannick. I’ve lived in your miserable life for so long and I never dreamed I would one day be able to have a chat like this and tell you what a miserable scumbag I think you are. You’re a coward. Your crimes took no courage.

There are the usual terms of endearment, all perfectly acceptable in casual conversation between cooks: motherfucker (a compliment), cocksucker, sunofbeech, dipshit, scumbag, scum-sucker, dumb-fuck, rat-bastard, slackjaw, idiota, bruto, animale, asesino, mentiroso, whining little bed-wetter, turd, tortuga, strunze, salaud, salaupard, chocha podrida, pendejo, silly cunt, seso de polio, spazz, goofball, bucket-head, chucha, papi-chulo, sweet-cheeks, cupcakes, love-chunks, culero, shit-stain, cum-gargler, and so on.

Don’t bother coming home tonight, you cheating scumbag. I found the thong in your suit pocket so I can assume it belongs to yet another woman who can offer you a bed tonight. How could you do this – AGAIN?

But then,” he said softly, “I met someone who still managed to find defiance where I thought it didn’t exist anymore.” My throat tightened. Defiance. He made it sound so noble. “A stupid dream,” I choked out. “As if gutting a few vampire scumbags in the alleys means anything. As if it changes anything.” “Stop.” The word was a sharp rebuke. “You found a way to defend your world when everyone told you that you shouldn’t. Do you know how fucking hard that is? How rare? I wish I had fought the way you do. That is strength.

Get out of here!' He pointed at the stairs with the crowbar. 'We should meet in court, or if the police ask me to identify the crime scene! Do you want to turn into a white human figure line drawing, ah!' (From, The White Moonlight Stole Away the Little Substitute / 白月光拐跑了小替身)

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her. Gabby. She’s sitting at the bar, slowly stirring her drink, looking like she’d rather be getting a root canal. Her thick black hair is down, and she’s wearing this shimmery little dress that hugs her curves. When she looks up, our eyes lock, and just for a second it’s hard to breathe. Damn. She’s beautiful. Despite the fact that we’re neighbors, I haven’t seen her much this semester. I swear, she’s hotter every time I see her, which seems impossible. But despite having some damn good reasons for creating space between us, I’m tempted to cross the bar to talk to her. Then he walks up to her, that scumbag I inadvertently introduced her to when I called for the ambulance last May. But what was I supposed to do? Let her lie there on the concrete, pale, passed out, and bleeding, and not do anything? How was I to know Jason would show up like a fucking white knight? Nothing that day went right. They told me I’d just missed her at the hospital when I tried to track her down and make sure she was okay, and when I went to her place, she slammed the door in my face. She doesn’t see him yet, but Jason leans in to whisper in her ear. She arches away, clearly uncomfortable, and I realize I’ve made a fist. He’d better not be fucking with her. If this is what she wants, cool. I don’t have to like it, but making the moves on a woman who’s not interested is another thing. It’s been at least a month since I saw him ask her out. Have they been dating all this time?

I looked with hate upon the Steven Universe tee shirt that filled my vision. "Tenderqueer," I whispered, "Running dog of the TERFskyist tendency. Tumblr poster!" This last I delivered as a kiai, letting the release of air guide my hand as I delivered an open palm slam to the cartoonishly fake breasts of this clear she/they scumbag.

rush as she raced through the streets of Manhattan to track down the scumbags who were doing their best to add some spice to an otherwise bland shift. But after the birth of her

He continued yelling and screaming, calling us scumbags and maggots. He even said, “You are mere pimples on the face of humanity.” I thought he was supposed to be glad to see us. What was the issue?