Planetologist call it the conundrum of unforeseen ecological consequence. I call it the whack-a-mole rule of human meddling. She clasped both hands like a child hammering. WHACK! We change something here. Oops, that makes another problem pop up there where we didn't expect it. WHACK! So, we whack that mole. Oops! We're so smart that we're a menace.
We shall creep out quietly into the butler's pantry--" cried the Mole. "--with out pistols and swords and sticks--" shouted ther Rat. "--and rush in upon them," said Badger. "--and whack 'em, and whack 'em, and whack 'em!" cried the Toad in ecstasy, running round and round the room, and jupming over the chairs.
Nonsense wakes up the brain cells. And it helps develop a sense of humor, which is awfully important in this day and age. Humor has a tremendous place in this sordid world. It's more than just a matter of laughing. If you can see things out of whack, then you can see how things can be in whack.
Halt shook his head. "You warriors don't do much geography in Battleschool, do you?" Horace shrugged. "We're not big on that sort of thing. We wait for our leader to point to an enemy and say, 'Go whack him.' We leave geography and such to Rangers. We like you to feel superior." "Go whack him, indeed," Halt said. "It must be comforting to lead such an uncomplicated life.
As you go higher up in the ladder, you look down, and it's a pretty far fall, so you tend to watch your step a bit more. That's all you can do. It's a full time job not to kill these niggas out here; every day I ask for the strength not to go off the handle and whack one of these stupid cunts.
Man is a megalomaniac among animals-if he sees mountains he will try to imitate them by pyramids, and if he sees some grand process like evolution, and thinks it would be at all possible for him to be in on that game, he would irreverently have to have his whack at that too. That daring megalomania of his-has it not brought him to his present place?
Literature duplicates the experience of living in a way that nothing else can, drawing you so fully into another life that you temporarily forget you have one of your own. That is why you read it, and might even sit up in bed till early dawn, throwing your whole tomorrow out of whack, simply to find out what happens to some people who, you know perfectly well, are made up.
I might have known better, nothing is what everybody wants, the world runs on that law. Personally, if I could, I would instigate Meat-Axe Day, and out of the goodness of my heart I would whack your head off with a couple of others. Every man should be allowed one day and a hatchet just to ease his heart.
I count on chiropractic sessions to keep my body aligned. Standing for hours can impact my posture, and that can throw the rest of my body out of whack. Acupuncture helps me relax and release stress. I'm also very into massage to help release tension in my back, neck, and shoulders.
Giada De Laurentiis
Having taken on the care of foster children, a mother forced her own daughter to beat them. According to her later account: Mom puts the fly swatter in my hand and shows me how to do it: grab their wrists, and whack the plastic handle over their pink baby palms. She stands in the doorway of their room until I can crack hard enough to make them scream.
Cameras are dangerous. With no waiting period or background check, any whack-job could just stroll into a Wal-Mart and walk out with a semi-automatic. Now, for years I've been pressing for stricter regulations on cameras, especially around our elected officials. Too many political lives have been cut short by some crazed shooter.
I used to get stuck trying to find the first sentence of a story, then I realised that it was often because I didn't know what problem a character was facing in the story. As soon as I did, I could have the character trying to do something about it or have the problem whack him between the eyes.
When the Universe was not so out of whack as it is today, and all the stars were lined up in their proper places, so you could easily count them from left to right, or top to bottom, and the larger and bluer ones were set apart, and the smaller, yellowing types pushed off to the corners as bodies of a lower grade, when there was not a speck of dust to be found in outer space, nor any nebular debris - in those good old days...
She told me to wait, that I was going to lose a finger." Earl looked toward the kitchen and back at Ty and Duece. He snorted. "I asked her, did she think I was stupid? Then a couple of snips later, whack. Off went the finger. And you know what that woman said to me? I said 'Mara you cut my finger off.' And your mother said to me, 'Well Earl who's stupid now?
I see that happening with hip hop purists now. Where you have an artist like a Kendrick [Lamar] or a Drake, who are really trying different things emotionally, different things musically, and on a mainstream level. And you have underground hip hop fans dissing it, for the simple fact that it's mainstream - not because what they're doing is whack, or what they're doing is not sincere.
There is a huge boom in autism right now because inattentive mothers and competitive dads want an explanation for why their dumb-ass kids can't compete academically, so they throw money into the happy laps of shrinks . . . to get back diagnoses that help explain away the deficiencies of their junior morons. I don't give a [bleep] what these crackerjack whack jobs tell you - yer kid is NOT autistic. He's just stupid. Or lazy. Or both.
There once was a Bald Man who sat down after work on a hot summer's day. A Fly came up and kept buzzing about his bald pate, and stinging him from time to time. The Man aimed a blow at his little enemy, but - whack - his palm come on his own head instead; again the Fly tormented him, but this time the Man was wiser and said: YOU WILL ONLY INJURE YOURSELF IF YOU TAKE NOTICE OF DISPICABLE ENEMIES.
Ce¡el sighed. 'Look, right now? Either you want Rose, or you don't. If you do-and, quite frankly, it's obvious to me that you do-then give the woman a break and give yourself some credit for not being a whack job. Women are strange creatures, Gray, and she isn't a mind reader. Who the hell knows what kind of conclusions she's drawn over your behavior? Shit or get off the pot.' It was a good thing Gray wasn't drinking anything, or he'd have choked on that one. 'That's your advice on love? 'Shit or get off the pot'?
At some point my friends and I began to ask, how can a country that produced hippies and such cool people also fight a war and kill people and act cruelly? You would see American GMC trucks go by and soldiers reaching down to whack a girl riding a bicycle. They would yank at her hat and she would get thrown and she would die. You would see Americans do this and feel like they can do anything in our country. But then you'd take an English class with an American soldier from Ohio who seemed just as nice as anyone, yet he was a soldier too.
Nguyen Qui Duc
One of the many things I love about bound books is their sheer physicality. Electronic books live out of sight and out of mind. But printed books have body, presence. Sure, sometimes they'll elude you by hiding in improbable places... But at other times they'll confront you, and you'll literally stumble over some tomes you hadn't thought about in weeks or years. I often seek electronic books, but they never come after me. They may make me feel, but I can't feel them. They are all soul with no flesh, no texture, and no weight. They can get in your head but can't whack you upside it.
And then there were cats, thought Dog. He'd surprised the huge ginger cat from next door and had attempted to reduce it to cowering jelly by means of the usual glowing stare and deep-throated growl, which had always worked on the damned in the past. This time they had earned him a whack on the nose that had made his eyes water. Cats, Dog considered, were clearly a lot tougher than lost souls. He was looking forward to a further cat experiment, which he planned would consist of jumping around and yapping excitedly at it. It was a long shot, but it just might work.
Zen is to religion what a Japanese "rock garden" is to a garden. Zen knows no god, no afterlife, no good and no evil, as the rock-garden knows no flowers, herbs or shrubs. It has no doctrine or holy writ: its teaching is transmitted mainly in the form of parables as ambiguous as the pebbles in the rock-garden which symbolise now a mountain, now a fleeting tiger. When a disciple asks "What is Zen?", the master's traditional answer is "Three pounds of flax" or "A decaying noodle" or "A toilet stick" or a whack on the pupil's head.
LYRICAL GOLD MEDAL OLYMPIAN STILL I GOT HARDLY NO, BENJAMINS MOTHERFUCKERS STOP FOR THE SHOW LIKE MAURY POVICH AND THEM I CAN SEE THE SORRY HO BITCH IN THEM WALK AROUND WITH THEIR NOSE IN THE AIR BUT WE JUST BRUSH 'EM TO THE SIDE LIKE AN EMO KID COMBING HIS HAIR I ROCK TIGHT LIKE THAT SAME KID'S JEANS YA'LL ARE LIKE X RIDDEN TEENS ALL GREEN WITH ENVY LIKE THANKSGIVING BEANS AND THE CASSEROLE BEAT YOU BACK INTO YOUR HOLE LIKE WE'RE PLAYING WHACK-A-MOLE DAMN, YA'LL SOME BUSY LITTLE BEAVERS PITIFUL ACHIEVERS WITH YOUR CRITICAL DEMEANOR'S WE DON'T DO IT FOR THE DOUBTERS WE JUST RIP IT FOR BELIEVERS IF YOU HATERS WANT A COOKIE GIVE A VISIT TO THE KEEBLER'S
Do I think it was inherent nobility that brought us out here?' He shook his head. 'Maybe. I don't call it nobility, though. I think it's our innate human need to champion the underdog. We are constant optimists. We're the emotional descendents of the caveman who stood defiant in the front of the wooly mammoth. We rebuild cities at the base of Vesuvius, get back on the bicycle when we fall off, whack that hornet's nest every spring. Humans cheer for the couldn't be, believe in the shouldn't be. We love causes; the harder, the more lost they are, the more we love them. Is that nobility?Maybe. Maybe it's a pernicious genetic defect that makes our species susceptible to shared delusion. Whatever it is, it keeps life interesting.
A cell phone rings. I can feel the vibration through Brittany's pants. 'It's hers, ' I say. 'Answer it, ' Isa Instructs. I already feel like I've kidnapped the girl. Now I'm gonna answer her cell? Shit. Rolling her a bit, I feel for the bulge in her back pocket. 'Contesta, ' Isa whispers loudly, this time in Spanish. 'I am, ' I hiss, my fingers clumsy as I fumble for the phone. 'I'll do it, ' Paco says, leaning over the seats and reaching toward Brittany's ass. I whack his hand away. 'Get your hands off her.' 'Geez, man, I was just tryin' to help.' My response is a glare.
The collective sign of relief heaved on V-J Day ought to have inspired Hollywood to release a flood of "happily ever after" films. But some victors didn't feel too good about their spoils. They'd seen too much by then. Too much warfare, too much poverty, too much greed, all in the service of rapacious progress. A bundle of unfinished business lingered from the Depression - nagging questions about ingrained venality, mean human nature, and the way unchecked urban growth threw society dangerously out of whack. Writers and directors responded by delivering gritty, bitter dramas that slapped our romantic illusions in the face and put the boot to the throat of the smug bourgeoisie. Still, plenty of us took it - and liked it.
A novel works it's magic by putting a reader inside another person's life. The pace is as slow as life. It's as detailed as life. It requires you, the reader, to fill in an outline of words with vivid pictures drawn subconsciously from your own life, so that the story feels more personal than the sets designed by someone else and handed over via TV or movies. Literature duplicates the experience of living in a way that nothing else can, drawing you so fully into another life that you temporarily forget you have one of your own. That is why you read it, and might even sit up in bed till early dawn, throwing your whole tomorrow out of whack, simply to find out what happens to some people who, you know perfectly well, are made up. It's why you might find yourself crying, even if you aren't the crying kind.
HOLD UP, THE BABY IS BACK FIND ME LOCATED WHERE THE LABIA'S AT THE BABY CAN RAP YO HOW CRAZY IS THAT YOU COULDN'T POKE WITH THIS KNIFE OR PLAY WITH THIS GAT OR SAY THAT HE'S WHACK OR PRESS PLAY WITH THE SLACK HONEYS LIKE THE WAY THAT I ACT CAUSE I STAY WITH THE STACK HOLA, NICE TO MEET YOU NICE TO MEET CHICKS THAT LIKE TO EAT DICKS LIKE A REFLEX NIGHTS WITH CHEAP SEX GET THE SHEETS WET SOMETHING LIKE KIEF SWEAT I GOT DREAMS WET I GOT ? AND I GOT THE BEST BUD AND I'M THE BEST CAUSE AN ULTRA MC LOOKING LIKE A HEARTTHROB THROWING DICK AT HONEYS ALL DAY IT'S A HARD JOB MA YOU LIKE ART? I'M A ART SNOB SPEND THE NIGHT TOGETHER NEVER SEE EACH OTHE
Big Baby Gandhi
NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE, AND NO TIME TO WASTE, I'M FEELING KINDA FUNNY, THINK MY DRINK IS LACED. I'VE GOT THESE OPIUM QUEENS THAT MOVE AROUND MY SPACE, I SAID IT'S WASTE NOT, WANT NOT, I THINK I'LL TAKE ANOTHER, I'M HOLDING ALL THIS PAIN THAT I'M TRYING TO SMOTHER, WITH THE NEON GLOWS THAT KEEP ME THINKING ABOUT MY BROTHER AND MY MOTHER IN THE CITY UPON THE BV SOUND. BRAN MAN GOT ME MOVING WITH MY EAR TO THE GROUND. WITH THOUGHTS OF COGNAK KISSES FOR THE MEN IN BLACK, LIKE IN THE FRONT LINE, BABY I'LL BE BACK. BECAUSE I'M CHEWING ON THESE THOUGHTS OF YOU DOWN WITH ME, PUTTING YOU BEFORE THE EYE BECAUSE ITS EASY TO SEE. EP GOT ME SMOOTHING FOR THE BV3, SO LET IT BE BABY, LET IT BE, FOR REAL BABY, YOU'RE THE ONE FOR ME, THAT MAKES LOVING SO MUCH FUN YOU SEE. AND I'M THE SMOOTHEST AFRODIZIAK, I'LL BE THE COOLEST AFRODIZIAK, I'M LIKE THE STRANGEST AFRODIZIAK, SO KNICK-KNACK PADDY-WHACK, BRING IT BACK...
Bran Van 3000
I NEED SOME BRAIN I THINK I LOST MINE I'M HIGHER THAN SWIZZ BEATZ HAIRLINE YOU ALWAYS CAKE UP THEN BAKE UP SAY WHAT? YOU RAPPERS CUFF AND YOU FAKE AS LACE FRONTS DOPEHEAD HUSTLE HARDER, NIGGAS CAN'T KNOCK IT SUPER SKINNIES, LOOSIES BREAKING IN MY BACK POCKET I SLAM A RAPPER HEAD FIRST LIKE THE UNDERTAKER HEAD BUTT YOUR WHOLE SKULL IN, NIGGA FUCK A HATER YOU SOFT AS ELVIN OF THE COSBY'S MY NIGGAS DOWN TO DO A HOMI BRUISER BRIGADE AND DON'T FORGET THE BREW STYLING ON RAPPERS SINCE NORTHWESTERN HIGH SCHOOL CALLING ME AHEAD OF MY TIME IS AN INSULT I DON'T NEED A PENCIL THIS SHIT IS ALL MENTAL YOU RAPPERS ARE WHACK, MAD AS HELL AND YOU BORED AS FUCK I HIT THE STAGE GRAB THE MIC AND DO MY JORDAN SHRUG