Weird Al Quotes

I'm an ugly girl, My face makes you hurl, Sad I have it, I should bag it. Acne everywhere, Unwanted facial hair. I'm a relation to Frankenstein's creation.

Now you’re going to get it,” I said, guessing Al was coming when the ones in the back scattered. “You should have been nice.” With a weird cry, the closest surface demon fell back, but it was too late. A flash of red light exploded overhead, smashing the buildings away as if I were at the center of an atomic explosion. The surface demons scattered like brown leaves, the remnants of their clothes and auras fluttering. It was Al, and he burst into existence in a grand mood, an old-fashioned lantern in his hand and a walking cane at his side. “Rachel Mariana Morgan!” he shouted enthusiastically, raising the lantern high, and I painfully rose from my crouch, breaking my bubble with a small thought. “I’ve come to save you, love!

That's something the kids should know about. Reading is a gateway to witchcraft and lesbianism.

He who is tired of Weird Al is tired of life.

Man has to postulate weirdness, before reaching the new science.

I don’t know why dishonesty has always gotten under my skin. My parents taught me to tell the truth, but come on, whose parents didn’t? Well, okay, maybe Trump’s. The point is, I don’t know where exactly my particular obsession with lies and lying liars came from. And I admit, it’s a little weird. Part of it may be that I’ve always been an incredibly literal person.

I notice you're not wearing any... galloshes ;)

No matter who you are, not everybody is going to like what you do, so as long as you’re armed with that knowledge, you’ll be okay.

Quantum physicists discovered that physical atoms are made up of vortices of energy that are constantly spinning and vibrating; each atom is like a wobbly spinning top that radiates energy. Because each atom has its own specific energy signature (wobble), assemblies of atoms (molecules) collectively radiate their own identifying energy patterns. So every material structure in the universe, including you and me, radiates a unique energy signature. If it were theoretically possible to observe the composition of an actual atom with a microscope, what would we see? Imagine a swirling dust devil cutting across the desert’s floor. Now remove the sand and dirt from the funnel cloud. What you have left is an invisible, tornado-like vortex. A number of infinitesimally small, dust devil–like energy vortices called quarks and photons collectively make up the structure of the atom. From far away, the atom would likely appear as a blurry sphere. As its structure came nearer to focus, the atom would become less clear and less distinct. As the surface of the atom drew near, it would disappear. You would see nothing. In fact, as you focused through the entire structure of the atom, all you would observe is a physical void. The atom has no physical structure—the emperor has no clothes! Remember the atomic models you studied in school, the ones with marbles and ball bearings going around like the solar system? Let’s put that picture beside the “physical” structure of the atom discovered by quantum physicists. No, there has not been a printing mistake; atoms are made out of invisible energy not tangible matter! So in our world, material substance (matter) appears out of thin air. Kind of weird, when you think about it. Here you are holding this physical book in your hands. Yet if you were to focus on the book’s material substance with an atomic microscope, you would see that you are holding nothing. As it turns out, we undergraduate biology majors were right about one thing—the quantum universe is mind-bending. Let’s look more closely at the “now you see it, now you don’t” nature of quantum physics. Matter can simultaneously be defined as a solid (particle) and as an immaterial force field (wave). When scientists study the physical properties of atoms, such as mass and weight, they look and act like physical matter. However, when the same atoms are described in terms of voltage potentials and wavelengths, they exhibit the qualities and properties of energy (waves). (Hackermüller, et al, 2003; Chapman, et al, 1995; Pool 1995) The fact that energy and matter are one and the same is precisely what Einstein recognized when he concluded that E = mc2. Simply stated, this equation reveals that energy (E) = matter (m, mass) multiplied by the speed of light squared (c2). Einstein revealed that we do not live in a universe with discrete, physical objects separated by dead space. The Universe is one indivisible, dynamic whole in which energy and matter are so deeply entangled it is impossible to consider them as independent elements.

Arthur Jay Klinghoffer, a professor of political science at Rutgers University, has argued that geography seems less relevant than ever in a world where nonstate actors -- malleable entities like ethnicities, for example -- are as powerful and important as the ones with governments and borders. Where on a map can you point to al-Qaeda? Or Google, or Wal-Mart? Everywhere and nowhere.

note that, where comparative data are available “people in [WEIRD] societies consistently occupy the extreme end of the … distribution [making them] one of the worst subpopulations one could study for generalizing about Homo sapiens” (Henrich et al. 2010: 63, 65, 79).

would hope that they would know that I’m not the same person in real life that I am on stage. It’s a whole different type of energy and it would be exhausting to try to have that level of energy all the time, so I don’t put that upon myself and I think that would be really annoying to other people if I did.

From a young age we are conditioned to want what society (or family and friends) tell us we should want. Whether it’s the careers we perceive to be successful (doctors, lawyers, et al.), to the status symbols that we’re told will make us feel accomplished (money, material things, awards, etc.), we are conditioned to strive for all of these things, and rarely do we question why we’re supposed to want them.

The view that many well-established theoretical positions in psychology cannot be as widely generalized as their authors assume was given a boost by a carefully argued paper published in 2010. Joe Henrich and colleagues challenged the very foundations of the discipline in arguing that psychologists fail to account for the influence of culture or nurture on human behavior. From a large-scale survey they determined that the vast majority of research in psychology is carried out with citizens – especially college students – of Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, Democracies (WEIRD). They note that, where comparative data are available “people in [WEIRD] societies consistently occupy the extreme end of the … distribution [making them] one of the worst subpopulations one could study for generalizing about Homo sapiens” (Henrich et al. 2010: 63, 65, 79).

Do me a favor,” he said to her, “and stay close to me at all times. If I tell you to get down or to run like hell, you do it. No questions, you just do it, you got that?” A small furrow creased her perfect brow. “I thought I was safe in this town.” “You are.” George shot Harry a what-are-you-doing look behind Alessandra’s back. Harry ignored him. “Humor me,” he told her. “Please? I know you don’t believe this, but Trotta’s a son of a bitch, and he’s known for his persistence.” George opened the door. “Harry just wants an excuse to put his arm around you.” Alessandra glanced quickly at Harry, surprise lighting her eyes. Surprise and something else. Something as hot and electric as lightning. It brought her to life so completely and made her exquisitely beautiful despite the heavy makeup. But as instantly as it appeared, it was gone. Quaffed and shoved back inside. Somewhere down the line she’d learned to hide any excitement, any life, any passion. Someone hadn’t wanted her to be anything more than a pretty bauble. A decorative but unobtrusive piece of art. George closed the door. “If you want, I’ll turn around and you two can kiss.” Harry eviscerated George with his eyes. “George imagines there’s some kind of weird attraction thing between us, Al. But George is wrong. George is dead wrong.” He muttered under his breath, “In fact, George is dead.” He looked at Alessandra. “I’m sorry if he offended you.” “He didn’t. I’m aware that you’re not . . . that we’re not . . . I’m aware.” “Still, that was completely inappropriate.” Harry looked at George again, who was totally amused. “Stupendously, asshole-ishly inappropriate.” “I think we’re all a little punchy.” The ice princess had been replaced by someone softer, someone less certain. Someone he had far more trouble resisting. Someone he did want to kiss. And George knew it, too. The son of a bitch was grinning at him, damn him.

Studies even suggest that the social misperceptions surrounding psychological and neurological conditions can contribute to their exacerbation, perhaps even prompting a transition in severity to full-scale psychiatric disorders (Corrigan, 2007). The extent to which this impacts individuals diagnosed specifically with ADHD is highly under-investigated, but trends seem to point towards significant repercussions in their social lives. In addition to peer rejections due to perceived “weirdness,” anecdotal evidence appears to suggest that an official diagnosis of ADHD can lead to resentment from the undiagnosed. Furthermore, the effects of courtesy stigma mean that even individuals associated with the person bearing the brunt of a stigma can be negatively impacted, for no other reason than their closeness to the stigmatized person (Mueller et al., 2012).

He who is tired of Weird Al is tired of life.

Los danzantes que se congregan en torno al Zócalo siempre me han parecido un presagio ominoso, el recordatorio de una revancha que puede cumplirse en cualquier momento.

He who is tired of Weird Al is tired of life.

The Special Edition DVD of The King’s Speech should have a blooper reel—it’d just be a bunch of takes of Colin Firth enunciating his lines perfectly.

If they can put a man on the moon, why can’t they put a koala on the moon?

As a wise man once said (or probably should have), “If you’re going to hire somebody to write a book about you, it’s always a good idea to choose somebody who doesn’t think you suck.

Pheonix, Arizona,

Della told me you were into weird Al

De afgetrokken gangmuren vol plekken en putten waren zo dun als liefde.

Kemper astutely explains how the highly integrated music industry created, developed, and eventually abandoned the Monkees." -- Library Journal "A keenly incisive---and, at times, refreshingly objective and even-handed---analysis of the entertainment machinery of the era, and the manner in which radio, television, and other areas worked together to manufacture The Monkees seemingly out of thin air." -- Musoscribe "I spent the entire summer of 1987 on the road opening up for The Monkees, and I didn't learn 1% as much about them as I learned from this thorough and remarkable book by Tom Kemper." -- "Weird Al" Yankovic "The Monkees gets into the vast machinery that goes on behind the scenes of producing perfect pop - still relevant today even if the names and corporations have changed - and does it with a lot of fun." -- Chris Shiflett, Foo Fighters "Kemper's book clarifies so much that is misunderstood in the Monkees story." -- Susanna Hoffs, The Bangles "A knowledgeable and incisive portrait of the popular music industry." -- Paul Hirsch, Northwestern University "Fascinating and witty . . .The book is full of interesting insights . . . [and] Kemper is impressive in unpacking particular songs . . . a fresh and engaging take on an oft-told story." ― Shindig! " Valuable, interesting, well-argued, and built on a pile of documented evidence. " - Psychobabble "Belittled at the time of their creation in the mid-Sixties, as made-for-TV Help-era Beatles clones, The Monkees' music has stood the test of time, and then some. Tom Kemper suggests, in his excellent book, that the initial snobbery surrounding the group, at least in elevated critical circles, came about because of the rise of a new rock culture based on authenticity, individual expression and idealism." - Pick of the Week, Choice "Kemper helps us understand what it is that continues to make the Monkees phenomenon 'compelling, fascinating and divisive." - The Spectator

Il telescopio completò la sua inclinazione, ribaltandomi al punto che mi trovai a faccia in giù, e vidi su cosa davano i portelli aperti, su cosa stavo penzolando. C’era lava sotto di noi, un cratere pieno, arancio e rosso ardenti, e nella lava c’erano donne, che tendevano le dita per toccare il metallo del telescopio, premendoci contro le unghie. Vidi le radici incandescenti del mondo, e il modo in cui le donne ci si erano aggrovigliate, le bocche aperte, un mormorio assordante come il vento che sradica gli alberi. Vidi la moglie del signor Loury, la sua versione in pellicola Kodachrome, la pelle bianca e i capelli luminosi, gli occhi grandi e bistrati dalle ciglia finte. Mancavano gli occhiali da sole che portava sempre. Era nuda, le lunghe braccia attaccate con ferocia e coperte di vesciche, le costole scarne e le anche sporgenti. Vieni qui, disse, muovendo le labbra senza produrre suono, e il suo rossetto era perfetto. Altre madri erano lì, e le conoscevo. Ero stata ai loro funerali ed ero andata a scuola con i loro figli abbandonati. Avevo visto le X dove loro non c’erano. Vidi tutte le donne morte al centro della terra, e poi le vidi tendere le braccia verso l’alto dove io penzolavo. Vidi la mia terza madre, e lei vide me.

Life is like a Mop

Te necesito. A tí, querida alma de mi pasado sombrío -se apretó junto a él tanto que su aliento le rozaba los ojos, y su voz cantó literalmente al decir -: Te tengo, porque tu me amas y estás por completo a mi merced.

in the past i’ve thought i could increase probability of airplane landing safely if i’d listen to weird al or other unrealistic music to die to.

his lifetime NRA membership in a blistering letter. It’s worth reading the whole text to get a sense of the totality of Bush’s fury: I was outraged when, even in the wake of the Oklahoma City tragedy, Mr. Wayne LaPierre, executive vice president of N.R.A., defended his attack on federal agents as “jack-booted thugs.” To attack Secret Service agents or A.T.F. people or any government law enforcement people as “wearing Nazi bucket helmets and black storm trooper uniforms” wanting to “attack law abiding citizens” is a vicious slander on good people. Al Whicher, who served on my [U.S. Secret Service] detail when I was Vice President and President, was killed in Oklahoma City. He was no Nazi. He was a kind man, a loving parent, a man dedicated to serving his country—and serve it well he did. In 1993, I attended the wake for A.T.F. agent Steve Willis, another dedicated officer who did his duty. I can assure you that this honorable man, killed by weird cultists, was no Nazi. John Magaw, who used to head the U.S.S.S. and now heads A.T.F., is one of the most principled, decent men I have ever known. He would be the last to condone the kind of illegal behavior your ugly letter charges. The same is true for the F.B.I.’s able Director Louis Freeh. I appointed Mr. Freeh to the Federal Bench. His integrity and honor are beyond question. Both John Magaw and Judge Freeh were in office when I was President. They both now serve in the current administration. They both have badges. Neither of them would ever give the government’s “go ahead to harass, intimidate, even murder law abiding citizens.” (Your words) I am a gun owner and an avid hunter. Over the years I have agreed with most of N.R.A.’s objectives, particularly your educational and training efforts, and your fundamental stance in favor of owning guns. However, your broadside against Federal agents deeply offends my own sense of decency and honor; and it offends my concept of service to country. It indirectly slanders a wide array of government law enforcement officials, who are out there, day and night, laying their lives on the line for all of us. You have not repudiated Mr. LaPierre’s unwarranted attack. Therefore, I resign as a Life Member of N.R.A., said resignation to be effective upon your receipt of this letter. Please remove my name from your membership list. Sincerely, [signed] George Bush

artist now!” It’s more like, “We’ll see how well you do and then maybe you’ll get some royalties if you have a hit album.” So I had signed this deal, I had recorded my album, but I was still living in a $285-a-month

Anni di vita nei pascoli dell’Alaska mi hanno influenzato nei confronti degli aspetti più crudi e oscuri della letteratura fantastica. Gravito attorno al freddo e al violento, alla nozione che la vita senziente sia fragile, temporanea, e in possesso, al massimo, di un frammento soltanto del disegno globale della vita. Paesaggi selvaggi e brutali, e sinistre vedute pastorali mi rendono felice.

Il mio racconto weird tipo è quello che contravviene in modo essenziale alla realtà, che possiede almeno un cenno di alieno, e che emana inquietudine e disorientamento. Se posso citare la mia risposta da un’intervista per Weird Tales, in relazione a quale tipo di storia soddisfa i criteri weird: “quando c’è un senso di dislocazione dalla banale realtà, di sospensione delle leggi della fisica, di inversione o sovvertimento dell’ordine, di un cenno di alieno. Le storie weird toccano un registro diverso da quello degli altri generi. C’è l’esperienza del brivido ma è sostanzialmente diverso da quello che provo a seguito di un buon racconto horror. È qualcosa di personale. Io percepisco il weird come una tradizione letteraria distinta, intimamente collegata al fantasy e all’horror, e questa relazione è fluida, e forse anche un po’ complicata”.

As we talked, he tucked his legs under himself and then absent-mindedly contorted into different pretzel-like shapes, all while maintaining perfect eye contact. When I finally gave his legs a curious glance, he said, “Oh yeah, I have no bones.

It ought never to have been so swift, so much like a dance or a dream. It was as if there had been music playing somewhere, almost but not quite heard. He had fought those five men side-by-side with Rodrigo Belmonte of Valledo, whom he had never seen in his life, and it had been as nothing had ever been before, on a battlefield or anywhere else. It had felt weirdly akin to having doubled himself. To fighting as if there were two hard-trained bodies with the one controlling mind. They hadn't spoken during the fight. No warnings, tactics. It hadn't even lasted long enough for that. He ought to have been elated after such a triumph, perhaps curious, intrigued. He was deeply unsettled instead. Restless. Even a little afraid, if he was honest with himself... Come, brother; Rodrigo Belmonte of Valledo had said today as five hard men with swords had walked forward to encircle the two of them. Shall we show them how this is done? They had shown them. Brother. He had looked at Belmonte after, and had seen - with relief and apprehension, both - a mirror image of that same strangeness. As if something had gone flying away from each of them and was only just coming back. The Valledan had looked glazed, unfocused. At least, Ammar had thought, it isn't only me.