A Quote by Emo Philips

I was walking home one night and a guy hammering on a roof called me a paranoid little weirdo. In morse code. — © Emo Philips
I was walking home one night and a guy hammering on a roof called me a paranoid little weirdo. In morse code.
I was walking down the street the other day and these construction workers were working on the roof hammering away. One of them told me I was a paranoid lunatic... in morse code.
Very few pilots even know how to read Morse code anymore. But if a pilot could read Morse code, he could tell which beacon he was approaching by the code that was flashing from it.
I was seen as a little weirdo. But I was certain I wasn't a weirdo. I knew who the weirdos were, and it wasn't me!
After 3 years, I left the army at the ripe old age of 20, but I'd like to think some of the skills are still with me. I'm great at physical movement; I can still remember Morse code, and perhaps most importantly, I can fold my socks up into little balls with smiley faces.
I studied Morse code.
Okay. how about that time when you smoked all that weed that you thought was laced with something? You fell into the tub, but you refused to get out because you were convinced that the back of your head was going to fall off? "That third story happened to a guy named Jace in my dorm. Me and Sam and another guy in our hall took turns reading "Paradise Lost" through the locked door. I think it made him more paranoid, though." "That's not true," he says. "Well, he *seemed* more paranoid to me," I say. "And he still gets a little weired out when any one mentions angels.
I was a teenager with a lot of strangeness in me that I didn't know how to express. I was trying hard on the outside to be very normal and fit in, but inside I was a big weirdo. Thank God that little weirdo persisted, otherwise I would be so sad.
From now on all of my guitar solos will be in morse code.
We ain't speak, clicking heat is our Morse code.
I think my heartbeat might be the Morse code for ‘inappropriate.’
You know who a complicated tax code kills? The guy or gal trying to start a business out of the spare bedroom of their home. So we've got to simplify our tax code.
I went on a date once with a police officer, unbeknownst to me. I thought he was a regular guy. And when I found out that he was a police officer... I wasn't so into it. I got paranoid that I would illegally cross the street and get a ticket for jay walking.
The ethics laws do not let us tap out the truth in Morse code.
At home, I had seven brothers, one sister. I sewed clothes for my sister's dolls although she was grown and gone away. I was a weirdo but didn't think I was a weirdo.
I've given him more mixed signals than a dyslexic Morse code operator.
It's more about when you come back from being out somewhere; in a minicab or a night bus, or with someone, or walking home across London late at night, dreamlike, and you've still got the music kind of echoing in you, in your bloodstream, but with real life trying to get in the way. I want it to be like a little sanctuary. It's like that 24-hour stand selling tea on a rainy night, glowing in the dark. It's pretty simple.
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