I haven’t seen a beating like that since somebody stuck a banana in my pants and turned a monkey loose.
You’re not gonna fall for the banana in the tailpipe? It should be more natural, brother. It should flow out, like this - “Look, man, I ain’t fallin’ for no banana in my tailpipe!” See, that’s more natural for us.
I’m Chiquita Banana and I’ve come to say
Bananas have to ripen in a cartain way.
When they are flecked with brown and have a golden hue
Bananas taste the best and are the best for you.
You can put them in a salad (your salad).
You can put them in a pie–yie;
Any way you wanna them,
It’s impossible to beat them.
But… bananas like the climate of the very, very
tropical Equa-a-a-ator
So you should never put bananas… in the refrigerator.
John, I’m glad you called. Listen, I have Bobby the Baboon in lockup, and he says that for 20 bananas, he’ll provide evidence that John Chimpo is the pimp in charge of the Cartoon Network whorehouse
We gotta save Kong!
It wasn’t airplanes, it was beauty killed the beast.
It may be the dawning of suspicion, but, the fact that the airplane is faster than the horse, does not necessarily prove that the world is getting any better.
If we don’t end war, war will end us.
What would they say about me? “He died in a place he didn’t need to be, in a battle over something he doesn’t understand, in a country that meant nothing to him.”
No bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making some other poor dumb bastard die for his country.
Manchester, England, England!
England is under threat of invasion, and though we be on the far side of the world, this ship is our home. This ship, is England.
How did you ever get command of a ship? I realize in wartime they have to scrape the bottom of the barrel, but where did they ever scrape you up?
Pirate.
You’d make a wonderful Dread Pirate Roberts.
You’re a smart boy, Roberts. But I know how to take care of smart boys. I hate your guts, you smart college guys!
You know something? When I was studying law, and Mr. Keefer here was writing his stories, and you, Willie, were tearing up the playing fields of dear old Princeton, who was standing guard over this fat, dumb, happy country of ours, eh? Not us. Oh, no, we knew you couldn’t make any money in the service. So who did the dirty work for us? QUEEG did! And a lot of other guys - tough, sharp guys, who didn’t crack up like Queeg.
Disillusionment is what little heroes are made of.
Queequeg, such behavior isn’t Christian. In fact, it’s downright pagan and heathenish.
As am I.