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"[about his mother] Without her I dont exist. Without her, I wouldnt be doing this for a living. Without her, in four states it would still be legal to kill a man with a cappuccino machine. She touched a lot of lives."
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Christopher Titus"Its been five years, we still cant catch Osama bin Laden, but weve nailed Martha Stewart and Barry Bonds ass to the wall. The worlds worst terrorist is still dragging his dialysis machine through a Pakistani strip mall right now, but the doily broad and the slugger prick wont bother us again."
Christopher Titus is an American comedian, podcaster, and actor. He was the star, executive producer, and co-creator of the eponymous Titus sitcom on FOX from 2000 to 2002. His life experience with a dysfunctional family is a common topic of his stand-up comedy.
"[about his mother] Without her I dont exist. Without her, I wouldnt be doing this for a living. Without her, in four states it would still be legal to kill a man with a cappuccino machine. She touched a lot of lives."
"How come Mom is crazy and Im not? Well, its possible my mom could stand up in front of this many people and talk about all the crap in her life and those people could have sat around and laughed with her, it wouldve meant nothing and she could have moved on cool. Its also possible she could have taken out the whole front row with a large-caliber weapon."
"And I want you to know something man, we all feel really bad that when you were in Troop 182 the Scout master rubbed your butt at the overnight jamboree. But what are you like 30 now? Youve got life on backwards, come here let me flip it, there see, now your past is behind you. Whats say you climb down off the cross use the wood to build a bridge and get over it."
"So it seems that because of every syndrome and disorder weve invented in the past twenty years, the Los Angeles Times reported that 63% of American families are now considered dysfunctional. My God! That means were the majority. Were normal! Its the people who have the mommy, the daddy, the brother, the sister, the little white picket fence — those people are the freaks, man!"
"[talking about a Christmas fight in which he locked his girlfriend out of the house] When all of the sudden there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter. I went to the window and tore open the blinds, And there was my girlfriend, quite out of her mind! And I was just standing there, heart pounding with fear, Shes bangin on the glass door with a vodka bottle…filled just bout to here. And I knew the window couldnt take it. She screamed, "Open the door, you bastard, or Ill fucking break it!" Well, I couldnt let her do that; twas my fathers place. So I cracked the door, and she punched me in the face! So I summoned my manhood from bottom to top, And I screamed like a little girl…"IM CALLING THE COPS!"
"CLINT EASTWOOD DOESNT MOISTURIZE!...but CLINT EASTWOOD NEEDS TO MOISTURIZE!"
"If it fulfills our hopes, this center will be, at once, a symbol and a reflection and a hope. It will symbolize our belief that the world of creation and thought are at the core of all civilization. Only recently in the White House we helped commemorate the 400th anniversary of Shakespeare. The political conflicts and ambitions of his England are known to the scholar and to the specialist. But his plays will forever move men in every corner of the world. The leaders that he wrote about live far more vividly in his words than in the almost forgotten facts of their own rule. Our civilization, too, will largely survive in the works of our creation. There is a quality in art which speaks across the gulf dividing man from man and nation from nation, and century from century. That quality confirms the faith that our common hopes may be more enduring than our conflicting hostilities. Even now men of affairs are struggling to catch up with the insights of great art. The stakes may well be the survival of civilization. The personal preferences of men in government are not important--except to themselves. However, it is important to know that the opportunity we give to the arts is a measure of the quality of our civilization. It is important to be aware that artistic activity can enrich the life of our people, which really is the central object of Government. It is important that our material prosperity liberate and not confine the creative spirit."
"James Burford, collier and fitter, was the oldest soldier of all. When I first spoke to him in the trenches, he said: "Excuse me, sir, will you explain what this here arrangement is on the side of my rifle?" "Thats the safety catch. Didnt you do a musketry-course at the depôt?" "No, sir, I was a re-enlisted man, and I spent only a fortnight there. The old Lee-Metford didnt have no safety-catch." I asked him when he had last fired a rifle. "In Egypt in 1882," he said. "Werent you in the South African War?" "I tried to re-enlist, but they told me I was too old, sir... My real age is sixty-three."
"‘Gerrard is an excellent player, absolutely world-class. If I was a manager, everywhere I went I would buy Steven Gerrard. ‘He is what Brazil needs, because he is always looking forward and has a big heart. ‘Two years ago I saw Gerrard play and then I saw him in Tokyo in a game against Sao Paulo. I said then that Gerrard is a great player. To me he is one of the best midfielders in the world. He is an excellent player.’"
"General Franco made it clear that Spain could enter the war only when England was about ready to collapse."
"Canada is a filthy country run by fags, which has Draconian laws making it a crime to preach the Gospel there. All of these cowardly kissy-poo preachers who telecast their milquetoast sermons into Canada have to edit out every single word critical of fags -- snip, snip, snip -- or the fag officials of Canada will arrest and criminally prosecute the Canadian affiliates, and shut down their stations! Theres no freedom of speech in Canada. Theres no freedom of religion in Canada. It is against the law to read the Bible in Canada."
"Ah well, towards happiness others will lead me With their tresses knotted to the horns of my brow: You know, my passion, that purple and just ripe, The pomegranates burst and murmur with bees; And our blood, aflame for her who will take it, Flows for all the eternal swarm of desire."