Three Stooges Quotes

Sex and violence: the greatest duo since the Three Stooges.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda. They were the Three Stooges of regret. All they were good for was saying whoop-whoop-whoop and smacking each other over the head.

I'm like the fucking Three Stooges of espionage. All three of 'em. All rolled into one!

You’re not related to the Three Stooges are you? ‘Cause I could swear this escape scene is one of theirs.” ~ Jim

Women, they don't know what they're missing when it comes when it comes to the courageous comedy of the Three Stooges." "Yes, yes, we do know what we're missing. We miss it on purpose." Conversation between Flynn and Mallory in The Key of Light

Lewis finds the fourteen-foot aluminum ladder under boxes in the garage, Three Stooges in into the backyard...

Two different primaries," she continued, striding around the office. "Two different cops, and both of them fucked up the case. What are they using to train them in Chicago -- old videos of the Three Boobs?" "I think that's Stooges," Roarke remarked. "What?" He glanced up, focused fully on her, and smiled at the absolute baffled fury on her face. "Stooges, darling. The Three Stooges." "What's the difference, they're still incompetent knot-heads.

I can't be a mummy, I'm a daddy!

Two different cops, and both of them fucked up the case. What are they using to train them in Chicago—old videos of the Three Boobs?” “I think that’s Stooges,” Roarke murmured.

I stepped on a banana spider today. I didn't crush it, but I did slip and fall. Then I got bit by one of the Three Stooges, possibly John McCain.

it is disconcerting to learn that while 73 percent of Americans can name the Three Stooges, only 42 percent can name the three branches of government.6

When I was ten, I began to notice girls and had finally figured out that the bumps under sweaters weren’t hidden grapefruit. Now they were something to be admired, at least at a distance.

In speaking of the human brain as an electro-colloidal biocomputer, we all know where the hardware is: it is inside the human skull. The software, however, seems to be anywhere and everywhere. For instance, the software “in” my brain also exists outside my brain in such forms as, say, a book I read twenty years ago, which was an English translation of various signals transmitted by Plato 2400 years ago. Other parts of my software are made up of the software of Confucius, James Joyce, my second-grade teacher, the Three Stooges, Beethoven, my mother and father, Richard Nixon, my various dogs and cats, Dr. Carl Sagan, and anybody and (to some extent) any-thing that has ever impacted upon my brain. This may sound strange, but that’s the way software (or information) functions.

Here is a historical fact that somehow gets overlooked, and might seem controversial, but it just simply is true: The Beastie Boys should only be listened to by deaf people. Any other time it plays over speakers, it should be considered torture and an act of war. Even ducks, the songbirds of the feathered swimmers, hate The Beastie Boys, and consider them to be The Three Stooges of the musical world, with all of the vocal talent of Gilbert Gottfried.

Don't even get me started on The Beastie Boys—those Three Stooges of rap. They are The Triple Sam Bankman-Fried of the music industry, looting everything of value for their personal gain and leaving those behind far poorer for the experience.

What are you doing with your face?” Krissi asked, as I made myself a cheese sandwich in the kitchen. Having been away for two nights, I had a sudden, giddying perspective on just how much margarine seemed permanently smeared on our worktops. This whole room was a health risk. “What do you mean?” I asked—increasing the smugness as I sliced the cheese. “Your face—it’s clearly telling me to slap it,” Krissi said, staring at me. “It’s communicating with me on a frequency you can’t hear. It’s begging me to slap both cheeks at the same time, like the Three Stooges.

Our Chasers Aren’t Cheating! That was the stunned reaction of Quidditch fans across Britain last night when the so-called “Stooging Penalty” was announced by the Department of Magical Games and Sports last night. “Instances of stooging have been on the increase,” said a harassed-looking Departmental representative last night. “We feel that this new rule will eliminate the sever Keeper injuries we have been seeing only too often. From now on, one Chaser will attempt to beat the Keeper, as opposed to three Chasers beating the Keeper up. Everything will be much cleaner and fairer.” At this point the Departmental representative was forced to retreat as the angry crowd started to bombard him with Quaffles. Wizards from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement arrived to disperse the crowd, who were threatening to stooge the Minister of Magic himself. One freckle-faced six-year-old left the hall in tears. “I loved stooging,” he sobbed to the Daily Prophet. “Me and me dad like watching them Keepers flattened. I don’t want to go to Quidditch no more.” Daily Prophet, 22 June 1884

Comedy, much of the time, is built on disorder. Comedy is intoxicating to a young mind in distress. You see these famous people pointing out the ridiculousness of a world that you’ve never been able to make sense of. Comedians offer the hope, the chance, however slim, that it’s not you that’s broken but the world. And they dress up in cool clothes! And hang out with various late-night hosts named Jimmy! And they make people laugh, and those people then love them. I can’t say for certain that depression leads people to a career in comedy, but it seems like the path is smoothly paved and well lit. Comedian Solomon Georgio came to the United States as a refugee from Ethiopia when he was three years old, and his family relied on comedy early on for entertainment and education. “We all loved comedy because that’s one of the few things that we comprehended when we didn’t speak the language,” he says. “Surprisingly, standup comedy, too, which, even though we didn’t know what was going on, you kind of see a rhythm and you know people are being entertained and laughing along. So we watched a lot of old television. Three Stooges, I Love Lucy, and, like, slapstick. We just immediately started watching and enjoying. So you can only imagine how disappointed I was when I met my first white person in real life and I was like, ‘Oh, you’re not like the Three Stooges. I can’t slap you and poke you in the eye. You guys aren’t doing any of that stuff out here. Okay.

But even in such works where the author is ideally unobtrusive, he remains diffused through the book so that his very absence becomes a kind of radiant presence. As the French say, il brille par son absence — "he shines by his absence." In connection with Bleak House we are concerned with one of those authors who are so to speak not supreme deities, diffuse and aloof, but puttering, amiable, sympathetic demigods, who descend into their books under various disguises or send therein various middlemen, representatives, agents, minions, spies, and stooges. [...] Roughly speaking, there are three types of such representatives. Let us inspect them. First, the narrator insofar as he speaks in the first person, the capital I of the story, its moving pillar. [...] Second, a type of author's representative, what I call the sifting agent. [...] The third type is the so-called perry, possibly derived from periscope, despite the double r, or perhaps from parry in vague connection with foil as in fencing. But this does not matter much since anyway I invented the term myself many years ago.

He didn’t know how to help. If Max were anyone else, Jules would sit with him for a while, looking out at the night, and then start to talk. About nothing too heavy at first. Warming up to get into the hard stuff. Although, maybe, if he tried that now, the man would either open up—Ha, ha, ha! Riotous laughter. Like that would ever happen—or he’d stand up and move outside of talking range, which would put him away from the window with nothing to look at, at which point he might close his eyes for a while. It was certainly worth a try. Of course there were other possibilities. Max could put Jules into a chokehold until he passed out. So okay. Start talking. Although why bother with inconsequential chitchat, designed to make Max relax? And weren’t those words--Max and relax--two that had never before been used together in a sentence? It wasn’t going to happen, so it made sense to just jump right in. Although, what was the best way to tell a friend that the choices he’d made were among the stupidest of all time, and that he was, in short, a complete dumbfuck? Max was not oblivious to Jules’s internal hemming and hawing. “If you have something you need to say, for the love of God, just say it. Don’t sit there making all those weird noises.” What? “What noises? I’m not making weird noises.” “Yeah,” Max said. “You are.” “Like what? Like . . .?” He held out his hands, inviting Max to demonstrate. “Like . . .” Max sighed heavily. “Like . . .” He made a tsking sound with his tongue. Jules laughed. “Those aren’t weird noises. Weird noises are like, whup-whup-whup-whup”-- he imitated sounds from a Three Stooges movie—“or Vrrrrrr.” “Sometimes I really have to work to remind myself that you’re one of the Bureau’s best agents,” Max said.

Tarantulas have also received a lot of bad press in the movies. Many movies and television programs starring such noted actors as Sean Connery, The Three Stooges, Harrison Ford, and William Shatner, have featured tarantulas as dangerous to humans or menaces to civilization. The Tarantula That Ate Tokyo is a long-standing joke among horrormovie buffs. The fact is that these movies play with the ignorance and fears passed on for generations by unenlightened people. Nobody would pay to see the movie The Beagle That Ate Boston since everybody knows what a beagle really is. Few know tarantulas as well.

Snow stepped forward and slapped Josette, who slapped her back. Emmaline dropped the spoon and slapped them both - she had never slapped her child, or any child, before that moment. It happened so quickly - like a scene choreographed by the Three Stooges, which was what saved it. Emmaline started crying, then Snow. The three of them clung together. I want to cut off my hand, wept Emmaline. I never slapped you girls before. We should each cut our hands off, wailed Snow. Then making frybread two of us will have to stand together, you know, like each use our remaining hand, pat, pat. Josette and Snow demonstrated. Pat, pat, how pitiful, cry-laughed Emmaline.

My Wish The talents which the Lord gave me, Not great or many are But what he gave I know I’ll save, By spreading them afar. And should great riches come to me, At some bright future hour, T’would be my call with man to share, My fortune and my power. I could not be a happy man, Nor have a peaceful soul, Should I retain each thing I gain, Within my small control. If fame a distant happy goal, Should ever be my fate, The golden crown would bear me down, Should I not share its weight. My wish is ever to divide, The good things that I gain, Could I not give, I would not live, I could not stand the pain. If I should have a king’s great power, I’d have to share my throne, I’d give you most, no idle boast, Of everything I own. Good health has blessed me all my life, So conscious of that gift, I’ll use that strength throughout life’s length, My sweetheart’s cares to lift. Mosey

sure what happened after the accident was client-protected,” he told Mazzone. By their silence, “Markham and Gargan were taking the big fall to protect Ted Kennedy.” Paul Redmond doubted the lawyer-client issue would even arise at the inquest. “People were walking around Boston whaling the bee-jesus out of Paul Markham and Joe Gargan for not reporting the accident—that was so unfair. Here were two guys, good lawyers and fine men, made to look like stooges or worse by the press.” Gargan had told him he could not have reported an accident in which a driver faced a possible manslaughter charge, Redmond said. “It’s no secret Joe was a dear friend. When I left the U.S. Attorney’s office, Paul Markham took my spot.” A week before the inquest, Redmond bumped into Gargan in the elevator of the building in which both had law offices. The Boiler Room girls were “upstairs,” Redmond said. “They haven’t seen you in a long time. I think they’d like to say hello.” Gargan went straight to Redmond’s office for “a nice reunion, a pleasant chat. Very friendly.” There was no discussion about the inquest. Gargan did not want to become involved in the preparation of anybody else’s testimony. As one of two persons at the party who wasn’t “a bit bombed,” Gargan’s memory of the occasion was “clear as a bell.” So it was Gargan’s description of the party that, along with the Senator’s two public versions of the accident, would provide the scenario for inquest testimony. If Gargan testified to the Senator’s attempt to cover up his involvement in the accident as the reason he had failed to report it until the next day, he could blow the entire lid off the case. But that prospect became moot when a writ of certiorari was filed on Tuesday, September 2, asking the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court to determine whether “errors of law” had been made in Judge Boyle’s ruling on the conduct of the scheduled inquest in re: Mary Jo Kopechne. Justice Paul Reardon scheduled a hearing for three o’clock. Notified an appeal had been filed,

Most of the theaters in Jersey City and the surrounding area have been closed, demolished, renovated or restored, but nothing remained the same. The Stanley Theatre still stands in Journal Square, completely restored as a Jehovah’s Witnesses Assembly Hall. Originally built as a vaudeville and movie theater, having 4,300 seats, it opened on March 22, 1928 as the second largest theater in the United States. With only Radio City Music Hall in Manhattan across the Hudson River being larger, many celebrities attended the gala occasion. The well liked but notorious Mayor Hague was present to cut the ribbon. Famous and not-so-famous headline acts performed here, including the Three Stooges, Jimmy Durante, Tony Bennett and Janis Joplin. It was here at the Stanley Theatre that Frank Sinatra was inspired to become a professional performer. Being part of the audience, he watched Bing Crosby doing a Christmas performance. By the time the show was over, Sinatra had decided on the path he would follow. In 1933 Frank’s mother got him together with a group called the “Three Flashes.” They changed their name to the “Hoboken Four” and won first prize performing on the Major Bowes Amateur Hour show. Frank worked locally until June of 1939, when Harry James hired him for a one-year contract, paying only $75 a week. That December, Sinatra joined Tommy Dorsey’s band as a replacement vocalist for Jack Leonard, and the rest is history!

Dixie shook her head impatiently. “Not a chance, not a ghost of a chance! Our early-warning facilities are geared to detect the approach of missiles hailing from outside our borders, certainly not from Grizzly Gulch, Illinois! Try to imagine the resultant confusion, the bewildering questions—was the missile one of ours—was this an accident—what, where, how, why, whom? And all of this, mind you, with the very nerve center of the country obliterated!. Why, my God, Kirby, it would have been a scene out of a Three Stooges movie—we wouldn’t have known if our asses were punched or bored!

Barbara was all too familiar with the reality that boys are very different from girls. For example, their sense of humor is different. A group of boys can watch old "Three Stooges" episodes and howl with laughter while girls just shake their heads in confusion, wondering what's so funny. Boys' eating habits (and preferences) are also very different than girls. It's not that one is right and the other wrong. It's just that a boy finds nothing strange about a ketchup-and-peanut butter sandwich, or a cold piece of pizza for breakfast, or putting French fries inside his hamburger. In a boy's room, it's not altogether unlikely to discover a petrified chicken bone or a year-old empty Coke can stuffed into the back of a sock drawer.

Lewis finds the fourteen-foot aluminum ladder under boxes in the garage, Three Stooges it into the backyard, scrapes it through the sliding glass door he’s promised to figure out a way to lock, and sets it up under this stupid little spotlight, the one that all it’ll do if it ever works is shine straight down on the apron of bricks in front of the fireplace that Peta says is a “hearth.” White girls know the names of everything.

If at first you don't succeed, keep on succin' till you do succeed.

A perkier bit at the beginning of a Three Stooges comedy, Restless Knights (February 20, 1935), has Brennan playing their father, decked out in a large night cap and a fake white beard, lying on his deathbed calling for his sons. He confesses in tremolo that they are of royal blood: “Years ago I was the royal chamberlain of the Kingdom of Anesthesia.” Now, he urges them to offer their swords in service of their imperiled queen. The quality of the writing is best exemplified in Brennan’s telling Curly that his title is “Baron of Grey Matter.” Brennan then says, “Come close my sons so that I may bless you,” and rises enough to give them a sweeping triple slap, as the light fades on his 120-second part in this sixteen minute short.

Zuckerman shook his head. “You guys are funnier than the Three Stooges without Curly. Anyway, it’s a helluva campaign. Esme is running it for me. Male and female lines. Not only have we got Crispin, but Esme’s landed the numero uno female golfer in the world.” “Linda Coldren?” Myron asked. “Whoa!” Norm clapped his hands once. “The Hebrew hoopster knows his golf! By the way, Myron, what kind of name is Bolitar for a member of the tribe?” “It’s a long story,” Myron said. “Good, I wasn’t interested anyway. I was just being polite. Where was I?” Zuckerman threw one leg over the other, leaned back, smiled, looked about. A ruddy-faced man at a neighboring table glared. “Hi, there,” Norm said with a little wave. “Looking good.” The

If you absolutely had to have sex with one of the Three Stooges, who would it be?

If at first you don't succeed, kep on suckin' til you do suck seed!

Curly for a couple of hours, and talked to the doctors about him. They told me that in about six months his instep and ankle bones should be broken and put in a cast so that he would be able to bend his ankle. Curly decided against this, and although it gave him much pain and he limped his way through life, he never let it interfere with his work … or, for that matter, his play.

So what do we do, dress up like orderlies and sneak him out in the laundry cart?” “Something like that.” “Oh, c’mon, Spence, that routine is as old as the Three Stooges.” “Probably older,” said Spence, laughing. “Actually I was thinking of something a little less dramatic.” “Like what?” “Like just walking out with him.” Denny stared at Spence, then shook her head. “In one of the big hospitals in New York you might get away with that,” she said, “but in a little tiny hospital like Down East Community, it’ll never work.” “It might, if he’s dressed like a woman,” said Spence. Denny thought for a minute, then nodded. "Maybe," she said. "But where are we going to get clothes to fit him? My mom and your mom are way too thin." Spence smiled. "Miss Lizzie," he said. Denny's eyes opened wide. "Miss Lizzie? Do you really think she'll do it?" "She's waiting for us right now at the edge of town," said Spence.

What are you talking about?” I challenged. “You never even spoke to me.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Because you hated me!” he blurted. “I’d come late to class so I could choose my seat based on where you sat, and I’d rush out afterward so I could walk with you, ask to borrow pens every day for a week, fucking drop books Three Stooges–style when you hung back so it would just be the two of us, and you’d never even look at me! Even when we were workshopping your stories and I was talking right to you, you wouldn’t look at me. I could never figure out what I’d done, and then I saw you at that party, and you were finally looking at me and—that’s my point! I’m an idiot when it comes to you!

You know, all Kyle and I wanted to do was catch a little sleep after the excitement of last night but, no, you three had to come and act like the Three Stooges and wake us up.

All hell breaks loose because they are doing what the Marx Brothers do, jamming a hundred people into a ship’s tiny stateroom. They are crazy and anarchic, but they still have charm and warmth. They married intellectuality and a brushstroke of wit with their great physical comedy. The Three Stooges were a brilliant combination of timing and earnestness. They are very serious. Their physical timing was impeccable. They never laugh, or break up, or seem to enjoy the violence they inflict upon one another. They left that for the audience. They showed me that comedy is a juxtaposition of textures. Later in my career I got to do a Stooges-like routine with Rudy De Luca in Life Stinks when we slap each other silly. I

A suitably strange scene from Cuckoo on a Choo Choo from 1952, considered as one of the most surreal Three Stooges shorts and reportedly the one Larry Fine enjoyed the most. Courtesy of the Stephen Cox Collection.

A perplexing aspect of Long COVID is that numerous sufferers undergo a plethora of medical tests, which typically return results that are either 'within normal limits' or unusually abnormal, eluding easy explanation. On the surface, everything might look ostensibly normal, or biomarkers may display only slight variations. This diagnostic uncertainty leaves us grappling with a fragmented understanding of the condition, akin to a scene from "The Simpsons" where Mr. Burns is diagnosed with the fictional Three-Stooges Syndrome, humorously illustrating the dilemma of too many symptoms trying to manifest simultaneously, much like the Stooges attempting to pass through a door at the same time.

There were also three men in black flanking the desk. Probably FBI. Hair greased back, skinny ties, the whole nine yards. No expressions either. I was thinking the Three Stooges finally got real jobs.

The Americans had never managed to assemble an Afghan government that wasn’t a combination of the Three Stooges and Dr. Evil.

I attempt to process the myriad thoughts her comment provokes, but they all collide in my head and are now lying prone like the Three Stooges after a pratfall.

We'll see how big a coup it is," Zuckerman said. "Zoom is moving into golf in a very big way. Huge. Humongous. Gigantic." "Enormous," Myron said. "Mammoth," Win added. "Colossal." "Titanic." "Bunyanesque." Win smiled. "Brobdingnagian," he said. "Oooo," Myron said. "Good one." Zuckerman shook his head. "You guy are funnier than The Three Stooges without Curly.

Amelia nodded her head, "That makes perfect sense." "No is doesn't," jeered Otto. "Yes, it does,” sighed Amelia. "Don't you ever remember anything important?" "Of course, I remember how many Star Trek seasons there were and when the Three Stooges were born!

Trump has said that he would remove federal funding from Planned Parenthood because it helps women with abortions, even though that is only three percent of its work, which is mostly in women’s health services, and no federal dollars go to abortion services.