A Quote by Greg Gutfeld

As a New Yorker, this is what you do: you confront, jab, and slap, sometimes wrongly, then smile and forget about it. — © Greg Gutfeld
As a New Yorker, this is what you do: you confront, jab, and slap, sometimes wrongly, then smile and forget about it.
The thing that I'm most passionate about, I'm writing a book called 'Jab Jab Jab Jab Jab Right Hook,' and it really focuses on how to story-tell in a noisy, ADD world.
Fighters DON'T know how to jab. You take Roy Jones, for instance. He paws his jab. He throws it out, it don't land. And then he'll hit you with a left hook, hit you with a right hand. But he doesn't really know the jab. A guy needs to learn the jab, know the jab, and use the jab. And these guys don't do it today.
I'm constantly saying, 'I read a fascinating article in 'The New Yorker'... ' I say it so often that sometimes I think I have nothing interesting to say myself, I merely regurgitate 'The New Yorker.'
Another example of what I have to put up with from him. But there was a time I was mad at all my straight friends when AIDS was at its worst. I particularly hated the New Yorker, where Calvin [Trillin] has published so much of his work. The New Yorker was the worst because they barely ever wrote about AIDS. I used to take out on Calvin my real hatred for the New Yorker.
I'm a New Yorker. Matter of fact, the more I'm in places like Texas and California, the more I know I'm a New Yorker. I have no confusions. About that.
My family goes way back in New York. So I am a New Yorker; I feel like a New Yorker. It's in my bones.
In New York, all the crews read 'The New Yorker.' In Los Angeles, they don't know from 'The New Yorker.'
One of the nice things about 'The New Yorker' is they let you write stories that sometimes end up almost half a book.
Lilian Ross was a - veteran writer for The New Yorker. She, in fact, brought me to The New Yorker many years ago.
William Maxwell's my favorite North American writer, I think. And an Irish writer who used to write for 'The New Yorker' called Maeve Brennan, and Mary Lavin, another Irish writer. There were a lot of writers that I found in 'The New Yorker' in the Fifties who wrote about the same type of material I did - about emotions and places.
'Royal Beatings' was my first story, and it was published in 1977. But I sent all my early stories to 'The New Yorker' in the 1950s, and then I stopped sending for a long time and sent only to magazines in Canada. 'The New Yorker' sent me nice notes, though - penciled, informal messages. They never signed them. They weren't terribly encouraging.
I'm a New Yorker. I always have issues with trust - you adopt it from being a New Yorker.
Every true New Yorker believes with all his heart that when a New Yorker is tired of New York, he is tired of life.
Like every New Yorker, I have a love/hate relationship with the city. There are times it's overbearing, but when I'm away even for a little while, I can't wait to get home. I am a New Yorker.
Why on earth is the 'New Yorker' publishing puff pieces about pretty girls who go to parties? Does the 'New Yorker' ever run photos of cute boys just because they're cute and they come from money and they go to lots of parties?
Some of Mr. Gregory's poems have merely appeared in The New Yorker ; others are New Yorker poems: the inclusive topicality, the informed and casual smartness, the flat fashionable irony, meaningless because it proceeds from a frame of reference whose amorphous superiority is the most definite thing about it they are the trademark not simply of a magazine but of a class.
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