Tommy Lee Quotes

I'm a hopeless fu**ing romantic. That's a part of me that a lot of people don't know about. They know everything there is to know about another part of me, but not a thing about my heart.'- Tommy Lee

Just because we are wearing lipstick doesn't mean we can't kick your ass!

So there we were shooting Jack Daniels into our veins, like what the fuck we can just drink it.

On Ecstasy, Joan Rivers looks like Pamela Anderson, so imagine what Pamela Anderson looked like.

‘Wow, dude, come in,’ said Tommy [Lee], when I rang the door-bell. ‘I can’t believe it. Ozzy Osbourne’s in my house.’

We thought we had elevated animal behavior to an art form. But then we met Ozzy.

A thousand years ago, everybody knew the Earth was the center of the universe. Five hundred years ago, they knew the Earth was flat. Fifteen minutes ago, you knew we humans were alone on it. Imagine what you'll know tomorrow.

I also did some jail time a few years ago. Spent a whole summer in jail reading books. I pumped a ton of new knowledge and new thinking into myself.

Reader, do you remember that ridiculous movie Volcano, the one with Tommy Lee Jones? Do you remember how they stopped eruption in the middle of downtown Los Angeles? They diverted it with cement roadblocks and pointed fire hoses at it, and rerouted the lava to the ocean, and everything was fine? Sweet reader, that is not how lava works. Anyone can tell you that. Here is the truth: I keep waiting for my anger to go dormant, but it won’t. I keep waiting for someone to reroute my anger into the ocean, but no one can. My heart is closer to Dante’s Peak of Dante’s Peak. My anger dissolves grandmas in acid lakes and razes quaint Pacific Northwest towns with ash and asphyxiates jet engines with its grit. Lava keeps leaking down my slopes. You should have listened to the scientist. You should have evacuated earlier.

Face it: not everybody can be like Tommy Lee.

There was one dude in a jeans jacket who I swear to God shit in his pants when all of a sudden I was inches away from his face playing drums in the air.

The angry man will defeat Himself in battle As well as in life.

But what everybody always loved Mötley Crüe for was being a fucking decadent band: for being able to walk in a room and inhale all the alcohol, girls, pills, and trouble in sight.

If you show up late [for anger management], you don't get credit for the class, which made that car ride even more of a test of your temper. Being late was great-you could leave if you wanted to, but that wasn't going to help you at all. I was late a few times and I always stayed, hoping to get credit for good behavior. I never did, and that made me really fucking angry. Thank God I was learning how to deal with that.

Fate, however, has a way of finding your vulnerabilities where you least expect them, illuminating them so that you realize how glaringly obvious they are, and then mercilessly driving a spike straight into their most delicate center.

I announced to everyone that I was embarking on a solo tour. Not a music tour, but a tour of drugs and prostitutes.

One day, after practice, he came up behind me, tapped me on the shoulder, and as I turned around, he sucker-punched me and relocated my nose to the other side of my face. What up, Mr. Drum Captain? How's your drumming going, bro? Played any arenas lately?

Pharrell Williams: '[Tommy Lee] is a great drummer with a lot of style. He keeps his chops up in terms of technique and his style in drumming; his chops are very sharp. Also, 'Pour Some sugar on Me' can be played in the middle of any hip-hop party. I love that.' Man, that's awesome that Pharrell paid respect. I've always loved his shit, ever since 'When Doves Cry'. Oh, wait, my bad. Pharrell is that producer guy from Atlanta who dates Janet Jackson. The little guy, right? Discovered Kris Kross. Nice. Thanks, bro.

I understood then why rock stars have such big egos: from the stage, the world is just one faceless, shirtless, obedient mass, as far as the eye can see.

Pamela Anderson: 'He called and called, leaving about twenty messages, just drunk dialing. One of them was him singing his version of the Oscar Mayer theme song: "My baloney has a first name, it's L-A-R-G-E. My baloney has a second name, it's P-E-N-I-S. I like to use it every day and if you ask me why, I'll saaay, 'Cuz my Large Penis has a way with P-U-S-S-Y today!" Actually that was the message that got me interested.

Of course, it must be acknowledged that The Fugitive is a movie all about men, where women don’t do very much except die or sometimes hold a clipboard. It’s all men who are the boss, but who is the most boss of the men??? Is it the Harrison Ford kind of boss or the Tommy Lee Jones kind of boss? They’re both your dad, but which is the best spanker????? This is allowed because in 1993 it was still okay to make movies all about men, as their contract wasn’t up yet.

I just wanted peace and quiet. So I waded into the ocean with a bellar in my hand. The waves were cold and kept smacking my clothes, higher and higher, until they knocked my drink out of my hand. Soon, my hair was wet and sticking to the back of my neck. Then I blacked out.

Nowadays, I don’t believe in the Christian concept of a God who created people for the sole purpose of judging and punishing them. After all, if one of the commandments is “Thou shalt not kill,” does that make God a hypocrite when he does things like flooding the world or destroying Sodom and Gomorrah?

Those words—“Trust me, I’m a junkie”—should have been a clue right there.

Silence equals death.

If there’s one genetic trait that automatically disqualifies a man from being able to rock, it’s curly hair. Nobody cool has curly hair; people like Richard Simmons, the guy from Greatest American Hero, and the singer from REO Speedwagon have curls. The only exceptions are Ian Hunter from Mott the Hoople, whose hair is more tangled than curly, and Slash, but his hair is fuzzy and that’s cool.

It’s the scars that tell you who people are and that help you understand their motives. Understanding scars breeds compassion, and compassion breeds sight, and sight leads to forgiveness. How blind humans are while they think they see so clearly.…

Steven Spielberg’s 2012 film Lincoln is dramatization at its best. It shows the president, played by Daniel Day-Lewis, trying to make good on the claim, in the Declaration of Independence, that all men are created equal: what more praiseworthy cause could a hedgehog possibly pursue? But to abolish slavery, Lincoln must move the Thirteenth Amendment through a fractious House of Representatives, and here his maneuvers are as foxy as they come. He resorts to deals, bribes, flattery, arm-twisting, and outright lies—so much so that the movie reeks, visually if not literally, of smoke-filled rooms. 27 When Thaddeus Stevens (Tommy Lee Jones) asks the president how he can reconcile so noble an aim with such malodorous methods, Lincoln recalls what his youthful years as a surveyor taught him: [A] compass . . . [will] point you true north from where you’re standing, but it’s got no advice about the swamps and deserts and chasms that you’ll encounter along the way. If in pursuit of your destination, you plunge ahead, heedless of obstacles, and achieve nothing more than to sink in a swamp . . . , [then] what’s the use of knowing true north? 28 I had the spooky sense, when I saw the film, that Berlin was sitting next to me, and at the conclusion of this scene leaned over to whisper triumphantly: “You see? Lincoln knows when to be a hedgehog (consulting the compass) and when a fox (skirting the swamp)!

But, unlike us, Ozzy had a restraint, a limit, a conscience, a brake. And that restraint came in the form of a homely, rotund little British woman whose very name sets lips trembling and knees knocking: Sharon Osbourne, a shitkicker and disciplinarian like no other we had ever met, a woman whose presence could in an instant send us reeling back to our childhood fear of authority.

Listen to what I’m tellin’ you, boy! This is why we couldn’t tell you the truth—’cause you wasn’t lookin’ for the truth. You was lookin’ for confirmation of what you already believed. The truth was starin’ you in the face and you didn’t want it. How the hell could I get away wit’ killin’ somebody and authorities never come? Huh? I know we in the country, but we ain’t on Mars! That don’t make no sense! But you couldn’t swallow the truth that I had done changed, so you held on to the ignorance you always believed—that I was a mean, nasty, evil woman. That’s what’s wrong wit’ the world. We don’t let people change.” She paused, frowning. “Sometimes, when people change, we change ’em right back into what they was ’cause the change don’t fit how we know ’em. So people get tired of fightin’ to make other folks see ’em differently. Most stop tryin’.” TL

first-ever professional check. For writing and performing a smash hit routine on a national coast-to-coast radio program, I received the magnificent sum of seven dollars and fifty cents, less seventy-five cents commission to the Thomas Lee Artists’ Bureau (Tommy was Don Lee’s son). The thrill of leaving on our trip around the world was dampened considerably when Harrison Holliway asked me to do the character on a weekly basis. I was heartbroken, but I had to tell him that we were leaving in five days. The continuation of the great career that had begun that Monday would have to wait until my return. •   •   • Just a few words about our trip, which lasted for six interesting and delightful months. The cost, for the three of us, was just under five thousand dollars. In 1934 the only way to cross an ocean was by ship, and the seas were dotted with literally hundreds of vessels carrying their passengers and cargo from one end of the world to the other. Many lines provided ships to service the large and profitable business of transporting people and things from place to place. The Dollar Line, the President Line, Matson, Canadian Pacific, British and Orient, and North German Lloyd were just a few of the many companies, each of which had as many as a ship a week visiting any given

God already knowed what you was gon’ pray for befo’ you was eva born. He done already took yo’ requests into account when he was planning de world.

A funny thing about girls, though, is that the more you do wrong, the more they like you.

They were asking me about my life, suggesting that I was insane, while they probably head up pedophilia rings.

The rifle said more than the man. It was a short-magazine Lee-Enfield, three-oh-three caliber, and its worn brass buttplate and the scars & scratches on its woodwork spoke volumes of the century gone by. They spoke of Mons, 1914, where cries of TEN ROUNDS RAPID! convinced the German soldiers they faced machine-gun fire, and English bowmen from the time of Agincourt-- so legend has it-- appeared in the clouds to cover the retreat. They spoke of Harry and Jack on their way up to Arras, of the morning on the Somme where men of Ulster, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland, all the children of the empire fixed bayonets as long as swords and went to feed the earth. They spoke of Tommies on the beach at Dunkirk, taking hopeful potshots at the Stukas, and of stopping Rommel dead at Alam Halfa. They spoke of Normandy, the sneaking gang-fights in the hedgerows, where a platoon could bleed out faster than its predecessors on the Somme. Finally, they spoke of Afghanistan, the land that swallows armies. Of ancient rifles in the hands of men as hard as mountains, glimpsed on CNN & BBC, anachronisms next to things of tin and plastic. Of weapons taken by the locals from the empire that had fought them, an inheritance of iron and gun-oil out on the Northwest Frontier. They spoke of history. The man was Russian.

Our image, our attitude, and our message was as antiauthority, proshock, and indulgent as you could get. It didn't hurt that we looked insane, that we were insane, and that all of us, separately and especially together, were trouble magnets.

We were always about the rebellion at the heart of America not only because we lived that way but also because rock-and-roll has always been salvation for horny, aggressive teenagers as much as it's always been nothing but a fucking racket to their parents.

You amuse me. You who spent your life waiting for miracles and instead found us." "With all due respect, you can shove your amusement where the sun don't shine, mister." If he ever did write a book about his adventures in the forest, he'd give himself a better response. It wasn't like Mindy, Barbara, Tina, or Tommy could hear him. "And that is why you amuse me, Lee Burgundy. You are decrepit, your heart is weak, and your body is frail, and yet you stand here ready to fight me to protect the others. Why?" "It's the right thing to do." "There is no right or wrong, old man. There is only what brings us pleasure.

SIGUR ROS

As a person who is interested in someday becoming good at my job, it is inspiring how good US Marshal Tommy Lee Jones is at his job.

I don't care!

for Dunaway, constantly kneeling or sprawling to take photographs, her legs, especially her thighs, are far more important to her performance than her eyes; her flesh gives off heat. Tommy Lee Jones is the police lieutenant who represents old-fashioned morality, and when the neurotically vulnerable Laura, who has become telepathic about violence, falls in love with him, they’re a very creepy pair. With the help of the editor, Michael Kahn, Kershner glides over the gaps in the very uneven script (by John Carpenter and David Z. Goodman, with an assist from Julian Barry). The cast includes Raul Julia, Rose Gregorio, Meg Mundy, and Bill Boggs (as himself). Columbia. color (See When the Lights Go Down.)

Is Tommy Lee Jones 20 or 100 in This Movie?

She looked like she was being towed through the store by two submarines,” said Simon. “Major hooters,” said Troy Lee. “Major-league hooters.” Tommy said, “Can’t you guys see more in a woman than T and A?” “Nope,” said Troy. “No way,” said Simon.

South of Marfa is the road to Big Bend, one of the least visited national parks in the country, and also one of the most glorious. On the way, there is a pleasant resort, Cibolo Creek Ranch, built around several old forts inside the crater of an extinct volcano. Roberta and I once stayed there in the off-season, midsummer, and spent out time chasing hummingbirds and the adorable vermilion flycatcher. In more temperate weather, the ranch has served as a getaway for celebrities, including Mick Jagger, Tommy Lee Jones and Bruce Willis.

A warrior is an average man with laser like focus.” - Bruce Lee

When I got close to her, she got up and hugged me and kissed my cheek. After shoveling a mouthful of arena sand into my mouth and losing my hat, I had felt like the dumbest human being on planet earth. Now, thirty minutes later, I felt like I was surely somebody. I was sitting next to her and the rest didn’t matter.

It was an especially sad feeling because of the feeling in the room, the way it followed Oakland’s hopeful, light, fun presentation on race, whereas Sean’s presentation seemed to come off as judgmental of a system that was just doing its darndest, especially in a place like Oakland and in a place like this classroom for God’s sake can we have a moment to appreciate a little progress for once without having to complain about yet another discrepancy in the problematic way we keep doing things, was the feeling Sean felt in the room, why it felt so bad to be presenting after Oakland. But when Sean said I am Oakland at the end of his presentation, it felt more true than when he heard Oakland Lee say it. Sean felt good when he said it, about saying it, but Oakland Lee had made everyone laugh, and Sean had basically shit on white liberals celebrating diversity without really addressing the white supremacist, systemic problems that made diversity so necessary feeling as to be celebrated by white people who want so bad to be on the right side of history they forget they’re inevitably on the white side of history. So Sean ended up feeling really bad about the whole thing in the end.

I’m glad I met God before I met you.