Wog Quotes

I roll my eyes even though he can’t see and I start to lightly wog. You know, the way you pretend to jog but it’s really no faster than walking, just bouncier? Yeah, that’s my goal. Fake it. I’m super good at wogging.

There came an awful day when I picked up the phone and knew at once, as one does with some old friends even before they speak, that it was Edward. He sounded as if he were calling from the bottom of a well. I still thank my stars that I didn't say what I nearly said, because the good professor's phone pals were used to cheering or teasing him out of bouts of pessimism and insecurity when he would sometimes say ridiculous things like: 'I hope you don't mind being disturbed by some mere wog and upstart.' The remedy for this was not to indulge it but to reply with bracing and satirical stuff which would soon get the gurgling laugh back into his throat. But I'm glad I didn't say, 'What, Edward, splashing about again in the waters of self-pity?' because this time he was calling to tell me that he had contracted a rare strain of leukemia. Not at all untypically, he used the occasion to remind me that it was very important always to make and keep regular appointments with one’s physician.

WOG - WAIT ON GOD

What did she say to you?" "Nothing." "Oh, great. I have to try to get you out of this mess after you hit a girl for nothing," he whispered angrily. "Josephine, don't waste my time. You don't seem like a violent type. She had to have said something to rile you. "I just don't like her. She's vain. She puts her hair all over my books when she sits in front of me in class." "So you hit her?" "No ... yes." "A girl puts her hair all over your books, so you break her nose?" "Well, I don't think it's broken, personally." "Doctor Kildare, we are not here to give a medical opinion. I want to know what she said to you." "God," I yelled exasperated. "She said something to upset me, okay?" "What? That you were ugly? That you smell? What?" I looked horrified. "I'm not ugly. I don't smell." He sighed and took off his glasses, sitting down in front of me and pulling my chair towards him. "I was just asking for a reason." "Never mind," I said. "That creep out there wants -you to pay for his daughter's nose-job. Because of that nose-job she will be a famous model one day and you'll be working in a fast-food chain because you couldn't finish your Higher School Certificate due to expulsion. Now tell me what she said." "There's nothing wrong with a fast-food chain," I said, thinking of my McDonald's job. "I'm really getting pissed off now, Josephine. You called me out of work for this and you won't tell me why." "Just go," I said, as he stood up and paced the room. "I'll defend myself in court." He groaned and looked up to the ceiling pulling his hair. "God save me from days like this," he begged. "Go," I yelled. "Okay. Let him win. He's a creep. Creeps always win," he said walking to the door. "But don't think you're going to make it in a court room, young lady. If you can't be honest, don't expect to stand up in a court room and defend honesty." "She called me a wog, amongst other things," I said, finally. "I haven't been called one for so long. It offended me. It made me feel pathetic." "Did you provoke her?" "Yes. I called her a racist pig due to some things she was saying." "Is she one?" "God, yes. The biggest.

The necessity, then, of those “lesser breeds without the law”—those wogs, barbarians, niggers—is this: one must not become more free, not become more base than they: must not be used as they are used, nor yet use them as their abandonment allows one to use them: therefore, they must be civilized. But, when they are civilized, they may simply “spuriously imitate [the civilizer] back again,” leaving the civilizer with no satisfaction on which to rest.

I have already told you about experiments where babies are taught the meaning of a new word, such as “wog.” If the infants can follow the speaker’s gaze toward the so-called wog, they have no trouble learning this word in just a few trials—but if wog is repeatedly emitted by a loudspeaker, in direct relation to the same object, no learning occurs. The same goes for learning phonetic categories: a nine-month-old American child who interacts with a Chinese nanny for only a few weeks acquires Chinese phonemes—but if he receives exactly the same amount of linguistic stimulation from a very high-quality video, no learning occurs.

You know, I’ve been called a thief before. Growing up in Hackney, going to the markets with my mother—the shopkeepers always kept an eye on us, in case we pilfered anything. Because we looked Indian, and you could never tell with those wogs, could you? The number of times I was told I wasn’t welcome because I wasn’t really English, even though I’d been born in London, same as them. I thought the circus was going to be different. I thought you”—she looked at Catherine accusingly—“were going to be different. But you know what? Why don’t you just search my stuff. Go on. Whatever you’re missing, jewelry or money—you just go ahead and look for it!” She bent down and drew her suitcase out from under the seat, threw it on top, and opened it violently, so that dresses and scarves spilled out. She shook the contents directly onto the seat cushions, then scattered them about. “Here you go, that’s what you wanted, right? And if you find whatever you’re looking for, you can go ahead and put me in gaol, or whatever they have for gaol here in Austria. I’m going to feed the snakes—they need their lunch too. They may be poisonous, but they’ve never made me feel like dirt. It takes a human being to do that.

Vor sechshundert Jahren besaß die Pariser Medizinische Fakultät die kleinste Bibliothek der Welt. Sie bestand aus einem Titel. Und diese Schrift war das Werk eines Arabers. Es war so kostbar, daß noch Seine Allerchristliche Majestät König Ludwig XI. zwölf Mark in Silber und hundert Taler in Gold hinterlegen mußte, als er sich diesen Satz auslieh, damit seine Leibärzte jederzeit eine Kopie als Nachschlagwerk bei möglichen Attacken auf die Allerhöchste Gesundheit zu Rate zu ziehen vermöchten. Dieses Werk, das den ganzen Bestand der Bibliothek ausmachte, umfaßte aber auch die Fülle des gesamten medizinischen Wissens seit den frühesten Griechen - bis zum Jahre 925 n. Chr. Und da die folgenden vierhundert Jahre hierzulande so gut wie nichts dazu beigetragen hatten, wog dieser eine mächtige, strotzdende Gigant aus der Feder des Arabers tausendfach die bescheidenen, dünnbrüstigen Schriften sämtlicher klösterlichen Biblitotheken auf. Wie sehr die Pariser ihren Schatz zu würdigen wußten, beweißt das Denkmal, das sie dem Andenken seines Autors im Auditorium maximum ihrer Medizinschule gewidmet haben. Heute haben die Studenten der École de Médecine täglich sein Bild und das eines anderen Arabers vor Augen, wenn sie sich in dem großen Hörsaal am Boulevard St. Germain des Prés versammeln. Rhases nannte ihn das Abendland. Die Araber nannten ihn ar-Rasi. Sein eigentlicher Name war Abu Bekr Muhammed ben Sakerija.

Die Male auf meiner Seele sind pechschwarz. Sie breiten sich aus, wie dunkelste Schatten, die den Tag verschlucken. Einst warst du es, die sie repräsentierten, doch irgendwann verschob sich das Bild. Weiß wurde zu Schwarz, was mich in Sicherheit wog, zerfiel zu Staub und die Grenzen zwischen Gut und Böse verschwammen vor meinen Augen.

Even if we’d been allowed to travel into the outside world, it wouldn’t have mattered much. Few of us possessed curiosity about life beyond our borders, because we had been led to believe the outside world was filled with ignorant people whom we called Wogs, short for “Well and Orderly Gentlemen.” From what we were taught, WOGS were completely unenlightened; after we’d been trained in auditing and Scientology, it would be our job to “clear” them. Wogs were to be avoided because they were unaware of what was really going on, and their unawareness was reflected in their shallow priorities. Wogs liked to ask a lot of questions. We were led to believe that they would find our lifestyle alarming, so we had to be careful that, when speaking to them, we spoke in terms they could understand.

Hitchens saw that the attack on the Satanic Verses was not an isolated occurrence, that across the Muslim world, writers and journalists and artists were being accused of the same crimes: blasphemy, heresy, apostasy, and their modern-day associates, 'insult' and 'offence'. And he intuited that beyond this intellectual assault lay the possibility of an attack on a broader front. He quoted Heine to me: 'Where they burn books, they will afterwards burn people.' hitchens referred to me as an 'uppity wog' before.

[More things are thrown down from above. The last object to descend from above lands again on DEVIUS's bed. It is a golly-wog.] [...] SALLY [looking at golly-wog]: Don't touch him father! DEVIUS: Why, what's the matter, girl? SALLY [lifting up the golly-wog]: How dared they touch him! How many times I drenched him with my tears. I have dried up - since then. [...] Oh, I was real then. My tears were true. PERCY [to golly-wog]: Give me the rocking-horse. Where have you been? Why did she banish you? Was she afraid you might be treacherous And tell the wide world where she kept her heart? Was she afraid she might become herself At some forgetful moment? Eh? Ah, Dobbin, Dobbin. To be oneself! To be oneself again! For I am choked with falsity and long To walk and talk with nothing on my back.

»Ein Stanišić, noch ein Stanišić und noch einer«, frohlockte Gavrilo. Sein Atem ging schnell, er stellte sich aufrecht hin, um sich Platz zu verschaffen. Die Luft wog schwer vor Ahnungen und Ahnen. »Und sie fanden den geeigneten Ort«, rief er. »Der Ort ist hier! Oskoruša! Hier schlugen sie ihre Wurzeln! Stanišić, Stanišić, Stanišić. Und jetzt – jetzt kommst du!« Um darüber zu schreiben? Über Vorfahren und Nachkommen. Gräber und Tischdecken und Wiedergänger. Überlebende. Und jetzt ja wohl auch über Drachen.

wog.

The dogma of the group is promoted as scientifically incontestable—in fact, truer than anything any human being has ever experienced. Resistance is not just immoral; it is illogical and unscientific. In order to support this notion, language is constricted by what Lifton calls the “thought-terminating cliché.” “The most far-reaching and complex of human problems are compressed into brief, highly reductive, definitive-sounding phrases, easily memorized and easily expressed,” he writes. “These become the start and finish of any ideological analysis.” For instance, the Chinese Communists dismissed the quest for individual expression and the exploration of alternative ideas as examples of “bourgeois mentality.” In Scientology, terms such as “Suppressive Person” and “Potential Trouble Source” play a similar role of declaring allegiance to the group and pushing discussion off the table. The Chinese Communists divided the world into the “people” (the peasantry, the petite bourgeoisie) and the “reactionaries” or “lackeys of imperialism” (landlords and capitalists), who were essentially non-people. In a similar manner, Hubbard distinguished between Scientologists and “wogs.” The word is a derogatory artifact of British imperialism, when it was used to describe dark-skinned peoples, especially South Asians. Hubbard appropriated the slur, which he said stood for “worthy Oriental gentleman.” To him, a wog represented “a common, ordinary, run-of-the-mill, garden-variety humanoid”—an individual who is not present as a spirit. Those who are within the group are made to strive for a condition of perfection that is unattainable—the ideal Communist state, for instance, or the clearing of the planet by Scientology.

The beautiful and “talented” proceeded from classic Anglo-Saxon stock, tribes of blond, blue-eyed Angles and Saxons and Jutes who immigrated to the British Isles from northern Europe in the fifth century in search of open farmland and whose descendants now went to the same churches, universities, and clubs that Galton frequented. The others, those inconvenient wogs, amounted to a deadly snake coiled in the garden of his Eden.