Best Doper quote you wish you had said

[NineToTheSky]

When I’m feeling down, I love going back to this thread whose title I have stolen.

manhatten’s fucking hall monitor and Master Wang-Ka’s attempt to be a coat are just two of many that I always come back to.

Do you have any more recent (or any other older) priceless moments or quotes that always crack you up?

[WordMan]

**Snowboarder Bo’s **-

I want my guitar to sound like I have Satan trapped under a lawnmower

[Shodan]

It was a Pit thread, about some woman with eighteen kids. To which the response was -

@Diogenes the Cynic

That’s not a vagina, it’s a clown car.

Regards,
Shodan

[Balthisar]

Oh, yeah, it’s my signature (which I never show, but will now, even though people don’t have to see my signature). It’s this:

“If you want to discuss cannibalizing black people, probably the best place for that is the BBQ Pit.” (Colibri)

[KennerTheGreat]

I think it was in MPSIMS, and the thread title was something like “Crazy half-naked woman in the shower with a pissed off cat.”

Someobody said “Most unusual solution to Clue ever.”

[Indian]

Sometimes ignorance fights back. Forgot who said it.

[Terraplane]

…prehensile asshole…

[elfkin477]

I’ve always liked **Tentacle Monster’s **“I beat my dick like it owes me money.” If I had a dick, I’d totally steal that line.

[Locrian]

Shit! I can’t find the thread, but it was a looooong opening post from Lacunae Quell or Lacunae Matata.
It was basically a schizophrenic type post with 18 subjects relating to religion mostly one large paragraph about three printed pages long.

The first response made me laugh throughout the day.

It was Bryan Ekers with, “Go Away.” His full response. Priceless!

[Der_Trihs]

Hmmm, I’ll check my quotes file.

@elucidator

My argument is shabby but impregnable, like Superman standing by the road with a “Will Work For Food” sign.

@Wolfman

I do not like Green eggs and man
I do not like them in the pan
I do not want it from the embalmer
I do not want it, Jeffrey Dahmer.

The nations of the world are like wild beasts, wearing the masks of saints.
ALL of them. Do not be fooled.

@Blalron

I should start my own twin to TBN:

Atheist Broadcasting Network

“Reminding our viewers yet again that God does not exist, and that we need your solicitations to keep us on the air so we can keep telling you that!”

@Tuckerfan

Oooh! You can have crippled people come on and talk about how they’re still crippled!

@BrainGlutton

Why can’t we kill Pat Robertson?

Because, you pathetic fools, you cannot kill that which is not alive, mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!! The Reverend has no heart, nor blood, nor does he breathe God’s air. His brains are made of congealed bile, his lungs traffic in flame and his veins are filled with black sand.

If ye would destroy him, take eight true men and women, each armed with a Bible and a stone dagger, and approach from the four points of the compass, and the four in between, striking all at once…

Or, just quit sending the bigoted moron money, for crying out loud.

@Cervaise

If you cut a zombie into two or more pieces, but do not destroy the brain, those pieces will remain dangerously ambulatory (to the best of their ability to amble, of course).

Question: If you then destroy the brain, will all the separate but dependent parts then “die”? In other words, if you destroy the parent chunk, will the child chunks be affected?

If so, what is the range of this effect? And the speed at which the information is transmitted?

Could you use it as a communication tool? Say, cut a bunch of zombies into a whole lot of small pieces, distribute them to military units designated “receivers,” have the “transmitter” back at command retain the head. If your piece of Zombie A dies, it means “retreat.” Your piece of Zombie B dies, that’s “advance.” Zombie C = “don’t eat the cornbread.” And so on.

That last was from the “lost days” while the SDMB was transferring to a new server.

[Der_Trihs]

@Terrifel

“I tell you, Gandalf, it was a dreadful moment. There I stood, on the very edge of the Crack of Doom. I held up the Ring, and cried out, “I have come. By Elbereth the Fair, I renounce Sauron and all his works! May his evil perish from the world!” And then I hucked the ring in.”

“Really? That easily? You just…”

“Yep, just like that. Well, those may have not been my exact words; but something to that effect, more or less. Sam was there. Wasn’t that what I said, Sam?”

“Er… I… er… don’t rightly remember, Master Frodo.”

“Yes, well. Anyway, in it went. Sploosh, blub blub melty melty. Then we ran like mad buggers.”

“I see. And what about Gollum?”

“Gollum? Oh, he, er… fell.”

“Fell?”

“Yes, he was… so excited… that the Ring was destroyed, that he… er… started dancing, and he, erm, tripped.”

“He tripped?”

“Yes. Into the lava. Poor fellow. Best thing for him, really. I mean, you saw him. Eurrgh.”

“Yes… and what happened to your finger, Frodo?”

“My… my finger?”

“Yes, your finger. Your ring finger.”

“Oh, that finger. Well… erm, you see… what happened was, er… the truth is… Sam ate it.”

“WHAT?!”

“Oh yes. It, er, happened when we were crossing the Plains of Gorgoroth. Dreadful conditions, no food for days… My fault really; I nodded off during watch and he just, he ate it. In his sleep. I don’t blame him for it at all. Isn’t that right, Sam?”

“…”

“Sam? I’m asking you, bearing in mind our respective social positions, and the fact that you are a paid servant of the Baggins family who stands to benefit enormously when we return home… is that or is that not what happened?”

(inaudible mumble)

“Good lad. Well, there you are then, Gandalf. I think that explains everything. Mind you, I’d prefer it if the whole ‘finger-eating’ episode didn’t get spread about too widely. Sam’s a good chap and I’d hate to hear people speaking ill of him. If anyone asks about the finger, we can just say one of the Eagles bit it off, okay?”

Terrifel on Frodo’s explanation of how the Ring was destroyed, Gollum died and he ended up without a finger

@Miller

In the linked thread, I mentioned the evil campaign I’m involved in. It’s a D&D 3.5 campaign. My character is an undead monk. I used the mummy template to create him, although he’s not wrapped in bandages like Boris Karloff. Rather, he’s a skeletally thin figure with skin like dried leather, dressed in vividly colored Asian robes. His teeth are filed to points and stained blood red, and his fingers are mangled bone claws. Here’s the backstory I wrote when I created him:
I was a member of a holy order, a remote order of wise and benevolent men and women. It was my honor to work in the kitchens, preparing food for my brothers and sisters. I took no small pride in my skills there, all agreed that my meals were of the finest quality. But there was one person’s praise I sought above all else: Ming Lei, a priestess of the temple, whom I loved. But she was sworn to chastity in the service of our order, and I knew she would not entertain my suit, so I swore to never speak to her of my feelings.

That, as it turned out, would be the first of many vows I would break. One night, unable to restrain my feelings for her, I came to her small cell and told her of my love. I begged for her to run away with me, to leave the order and be my wife. But she spurned me! She turned away from me, and said she would speak to our abbot about my advances, for they showed that my dedication to our order was not as strong as it should have been. I could not bear it. So I took from her that which she refused to give me. When I was done, I took a heavy candlestick from beside her bed and ended her life.

I had committed a great crime, one for which I would surely hang. If I left her body there and ran, they would know I was the criminal, and they would hunt me down. I had to hide her body. I could not remove it from the monastery without being seen, but I could think of a great many places within the monastery where I could hide her bones indefinitely. But what of her flesh? The meat would rot, and the smell would give away the hiding place. It was then that my course of action became clear.

I butchered her carcass that night, boiled the bones clean, and hid them where they would never be found. The meat itself I cooked into a hearty stew, with onions and carrots, and the next day I served it to my fellow monks. I must say, it met with great success. I do not think my brothers and sisters had ever enjoyed one of my meals so much!

Ming Lei’s absence was noted, of course, but I had the presence of mind to secret away some few of her possessions along with her bones. It was assumed that she had run off, possibly with some local farm hand. No one suspected the great crime I had committed, and I was free to live the rest of my life in service at my temple.

Except that bitch would not leave me alone! That first night, after the meal, she appeared in my room, her face a bloody ruin from my blows with the candlestick. I was sure that her shrieks and moans would bring the rest of the temple running to my meager chamber, but no one appeared. It seemed I alone could see her specter, but it was small consolation. I could not sleep with her caterwauling. She appeared again the next night, and the one after that. Soon she appeared during the day, hovering over my shoulder in the kitchen, her ghostly blood dripping into the soup I was preparing.

It was too much for me. Maddened by her spirit beyond endurance, I went to where I’d hidden her body and tore it open. The candlestick I’d killed her with was hidden with her, and I took it up and began to pulverize her bones. I was… not stealthy. Indeed, it seems I was very vocal in my imprecations of her. By the time the other monks had shown up and restrained me, I had already confessed to most of the sordid deed. It was not until my fellows brought me before the abbot that I revealed their own role in my crime.

My punishment was decreed, but by then, it was too late for them. My sin was in their stomachs, and now it was upon their hearts. Simply hanging me was deemed to lenient. These wise, benevolent elders wanted vengeance. They wanted to visit upon me an evil as great as the one I had visited upon them. And in this, they outdid themselves. A powerful curse was laid upon me, one that bound me forever to this world, not alive, but not dead. A great vault was carved into the foundations of their mountain fastness, and I laid in it, still conscious, while it was sealed with a great stone lid, laid down by powerful holy wards, to keep my imprisoned in their, alone forever with my hunger.

But the wards were not perfect. My sin had entered them, and their sin upon me had weakened them further. I could sense an imperfection in my prison, and so I began to dig. They had not been fit to leave me with any tools, of course, so I used my fingers to claw at the lid to that great sarcophagus. It took me three hundred years to claw my way through two feet of stone with my bare hands. It left them the ruins you see now, while hunger wasted the rest of my body. But I was stronger than their magic, and finally, I broke free of my tomb.

And that is when I discovered a curious and wonderful thing. Over the long centuries of my burial, the stain of my crime had entered into the souls of all those who lived and studied at that monastery, slowly warping them. The sounds of my constant scraping, just beyond the audible, had driven those that remained mad. And in my long absence from their kitchens, the monks of my order had developed a fondness for my cooking. No longer a haven for light and peace, the order had become a foul and twisted thing, a cannibal cult that preyed on the surrounding villages to stock their larders.

When I emerged from my vault, ready to wreck my just vengeance against those who had for so long imprisoned me, I found instead a group of willing followers, debased men and women who fell to their knees and called me “Master.”

I fed well on their flesh that night.

Many escaped, of course. They still roam the night, alone or in small groups, looking for fresh meat for their stewpots, or fresh converts to their ways. Their devotion to me remains great. They keep my sacrament, and even spread it to others, for there are many who, once they taste the sweetest meat, find it very much to their liking. And I, in my turn, hunt them. And when I catch them, they gladly go under my knife. To my most faithful, I give the gift of allowing to watch as I feed on their extremities. For they are loyal, and know that, to best serve me, they must serve themselves.

@Terrifel

The highlighted part seems to offer a pretty reasonable hypothesis for antipathy to iron among the fey folk.

“What the hell are all these pointy things we keep plowing up in the fields all the time? They look like spearpoints and arrowheads, but they’re made of stone instead of iron!”

“Ah, but no mortal man would prefer to make weapons out of stone rather than iron. Therefore, some otherworldly beings must be responsible. But why would they make their weapons out of stone instead of iron? Clearly, these otherworldly beings don’t like iron for some reason…”

“But, Conán… couldn’t these arrowheads have been made by some other race of humans, perhaps long ago, when they didn’t know how to craft iron weapons?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Óceallaigh. We’re as ignorant as it’s possible to be, and even we know how to make iron. No, once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. Obviously, these weapons were crafted by a race of invisible nonhuman beings with an allergy to iron.”

@parthenokinesis

Jeez, don’t get me started on Universal Heat death. The thought that my tax dollars go toward the heat death of poor people fill me with disgust and impotent rage. Dirty poor people think their entitled to my heat death. I mean I worked for that heat death. I don’t want my thermal equilibrium distributed equally, that’s socialism.

[Musicat]

Una Persson, 05-07-2004, 04:48 PM:

My pressure-assist toilet… only uses 1.5 gallons, and has never clogged. Every time you flush it your ears pop, papers fly into the room, and you have to count the cats.

[Fear_Itself]

Any day I can start with a 'luci comeback is always just a little brighter, and my step is always just a little lighter.

Here’s one, from among many:

@elucidator

@McGiver

Why wouldn’t I call a socialst a socialist? Explain that to me.

When a word has too many meanings, it has none. When you use “socialist”, it implies that Bertrand Russell and Pol Pot are roughly equivalent, both being “socialists”. This is like saying a hummingbird and a penguin are much the same, both being birds.

If you knew more about lefties, you’d know better. ACORN is a progressive populist branch of leftism, their defining characteristic is an unfathomable optimism and earnestness. They remind me most of hippies I knew who “cleaned up”, cut their hair, and started doing campaign work for Bobby, and then McCarthy. They believe that they can tinker with the steam engine that presses the life’s blood from the working class, tinker with it long enough and they can transform it into a solar powered rainbow extruder.

They are so well-meaning, it sets your teeth on edge, so sincere, it makes you want to drink. These people don’t hatch plots. They hatch organic, free-range chickens.

[Hypnagogic_Jerk]

@Der_Trihs

Hmmm, I’ll check my quotes file.

You have a few memorable ones yourself, Der Trihs. This one is one I’ll always remember.

@Der_Trihs

1 : Skinny people are often vegetarians. Vegetarianism has a known correlation with speaking German and invading Poland, and should be discouraged.

2 : Diets make people grumpy, and grumpy skinny people are more likely to beat up people with axe handles than cheerful fat people who don’t want to let go of their Big Mac to do so.

3 : Skinny people are more likely to catch you.

4 : People are irritating. Extremely fat shut-ins can’t get out to bug you, and die and get out of the way earlier.

5 : When Peak Oil, Global Warming, the End Times, and illegal immigration all combine to bring doom, fat people are better eating for when the food runs out.

Therefore, obviously being skinny should be discouraged. I suggest a $100 year-end bonus for every pound over the citizen’s medically ideal weight, and a $100 penalty for every pound under added to a basic charge of $1000 a year for everyone at or under their ideal weight.

[Rhythmdvl]

A lot of Dopers have said a lot of good things. For some reason, this really stood out. It’s not profound per se, but is an apt and extraordinarily succinct way of describing one of the great tragedies of people’s approach to politics:

@Ichbin_Dubist

There are far too many people (on both sides) for whom politics does not consist of discussion of government and law an economics, but is instead a comic book with good guys and bad guys.

ETA: The why I wish I said it bit is because I actually have (even with credit). It’s a great lead-in for diffusing a discussion that could get out of hand. Not as a preamble for a topic, of course, but more for general conversation about politics and what’s going on. It can take people off a reflexively defensive starting point and avoids instant confrontation and assumption that whatever comes next is overly simplistic or far from moderate.

[Agent_Foxtrot]

“Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder.” I think Scissorjack said that.

[Fear_Itself]

@Agent_Foxtrot

“Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder.” I think Scissorjack said that.

I first heard on Rocky and Bullwinkle almost fifty years ago. Fractured Fairy Tales, I think.

[rowrrbazzle]

@indian

Sometimes ignorance fights back. Forgot who said it.

John Corrado had it in his sig: “Fighting ignorance since 1999. Unfortunately, ignorance fights back.” [post=625751]link[/post]

Great saying. I googled this, and I was astonished to find that there are very few references to that exact formulation. Is he actually the originator? The closest prior use is a bit different:

To be sure, science encounters greater difficulty in the sociological world. Nature offers no resistance when its secrets are discovered, but man, blinded by prejudices and ignorance, fights back.

“The news in engineering at the Ohio State University College of …: Issues 4-10 - Ohio State University. Engineering Experiment Station - 1932” The News in Engineering at the Ohio State University College of Engineering - Ohio State University. Engineering Experiment Station - Google Books

[Sleeps_With_Butterflies]

Mine is:

@Lord_Ashtar

The “no u” technique, Daniel-san. You do right, no can defense.

From here: http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showpost.php?p=11687440&postcount=416

It’s ridiculous how hard I laughed at that.

[Isamu]

@elfkin477

I’ve always liked **Tentacle Monster’s **“I beat my dick like it owes me money.” If I had a dick, I’d totally steal that line.

]

Dave Chappelle.