Turd Polishing Quotes

Still as I've said all along, you can't polish a turd.

I recall a Tao of Mindy phrase: ‘You can’t polish a turd, but you can roll it in glitter.

Ah … politics, Sergeant. When the top brass hand you a turd, you polish it and say, “my, what a lovely jobbie!” That way they are impressed by your intellect, perception and ability. If you don’t, all you’ve got is a handful of shit.

You can't polish a turd

He laughed. “I’m never forgettin’, so….” “So what you’re saying is we’re doing this?” “Yeah, because I’m not forgettin’ you used to like me—” “Oh hell no.” I rolled onto my hip and freaking went for him. Not for his head but for his ribs. His weak spot. “What the fuck, Bianca!” Zac literally fucking shouted as he threw his body and head back against the headboard, his arms slamming down into place against his ribs… and my fingers. I cackled, digging my fingers even deeper into his sides. “You remember now? Who’s your daddy, huh?” Those big, strong arms jerked up and down along his sides, trying to disengage me as he tried to melt into the headboard to get away from me. “You said you were gonna noogie me! What the hell are you doing? Stop it!” “Duh. Ouch!” He instantly stopped moving, and so did I in surprise that he’d actually stopped after his elbow clipped one of the bones on my wrist. Zac’s face was flushed red, eyes bright, and I decided to take pity on him. So I smiled, keeping my fingers where they were but not digging in anymore. “You thought I didn’t remember?” I asked him before dipping my face in even closer. Then I whispered, like a psycho, “I remember everything.” I tapped my fingers lightly along his sides, feeling him flinch. “Especially you being ticklish.” Those blue eyes bore into mine, and his mouth went damn near flat. Zac’s voice was almost a whisper too as he said, “Did you ask me who my daddy is?” I nodded gravely. His voice was still a whisper when he went on with, “You’re my daddy now, I guess.” Pulling my fingers away, I sat back on my knees and laughed. “Deal. I promise not to use that against you unless I have to.” His nostrils flared, and he stared at me right in the eyes as he said, still quietly, “Bianca.” “Yes?” “I remember things too.” What? Before I could process who this man was, what he did for a living, and what talents he’d polished over the years, he came at me with one of those hands that were lightning fast and accurate. Zac licked the tip of his index finger and shoved that turd into my ear just as I started yelling, “Don’t you dare!” He dared.

No, I have no online presence. The internet is a hoax.” “A hoax.” I arched a brow. “Tell me more.” “It isn’t real. At best, it’s a bunch of people showing off filtered photos of their lives and pretending they’re happier than they actually are. At worst, it’s a virtual townhall to bitch and moan and treat opinions like facts instead of the polished turds that they are.

The worldview of the underdog socialist is that the neoliberals have mastered the game of reason, judgment, and statistics, leaving the left with emotion. Its heart is in the right place. Underdog socialists have a surfeit of compassion and find prevailing policies deeply unfair. Seeing the welfare state crumbling to dust, they rush in to salvage what they can. But when push comes to shove, the underdog socialist caves in to the arguments of the opposition, always accepting the premise on which the debate takes place... The underdog socialist forgets that the real problem isn't the national debt, but overextended households and businesses. He forgets that fighting poverty is an investment that pays off in spades. And he forgets that, all the while, the bankers and the lawyers are polishing turds at the expense of waste collectors and nurses.

If it’s a turd, don’t try to polish it.

All over America, in fact, people were up and out of their beds today in a continuing effort to polish turds. Sure, for the sake of survival, but more immediately for the sake of some sadistic manager or shit-brained client whose small imagination and numbingly dumb ideas were bleaching the world of all relevancy and hope.

A woman - so wrapped up in ruining my marriage - that she had clearly never heard the saying that you cannot polish a turd. I’m

Bruce Percy, a brilliant landscape photographer, once said to me, “You can’t polish a turd.” Wise words.

You couldn’t polish a turd, but you could roll it in glitter, and this unsub was the biggest turd-roller she’d seen in years.

But we all know what happens when you try polishing a turd. It smells bad and it isn’t pretty.

You can’t polish a turd, but you can roll it in glitter.

You can't polish a turd.

Apparently, it was possible to polish a turd.