A Quote by Milton Berle

I bought an ideal gift for my mother-in-law - a battery-operated mouth. — © Milton Berle
I bought an ideal gift for my mother-in-law - a battery-operated mouth.
For Christmas the just came out with a battery-operated battery. But the batteries aren't included.
I thought, as a kid, that I was The Doctor's biggest fan, so my mum and dad bought me a battery-operated Dalek. I must have worn it out, I played with it so much.
I was in end stage heart failure, liver and kidneys shutting down, and on an emergency basis they went in and planted a pump in my chest. It was battery operated. That kept me alive for 20 months and that got me to the transplant. And I wake up every morning now with a smile on my face, thankful for the gift of another day I never expected to see.
Thus it was that in obedience to the law laid down by his mother, and in obedience to the law of that unknown and nameless thing, fear, he kept away from the mouth of the cave.
If I slip up and receive a good gift, I will not have given a good gift. This is probably a natural law that affects us all and needs a name. The Gift Reciprocal Law.
I bought my mother-in-law a beautiful chair for Christmas, but she won't let me plug it in.
Yet you would not drive a car with your mouth unless you are my mother-in-law.
I wanted to do something nice so I bought my mother-in-law a chair. Now they won't let me plug it in.
Maybe I shouldn’t mouth off to the elemental I kinda hoped was my future mother-in-law.
So my mum bought a jacuzzi, and I was in there along with my father and my sister, when my mother decided it would be the ideal moment to say - 'Guess what everyone in this jacuzzi has in common? You've all sucked on my tits.'
I'm not a tech fan. I don't get that charge that comes from having the new little gizmo in your pocket. Maybe I'm a dinosaur. There's nothing battery-operated that will help me write songs any differently from the way I've done it for years.
There is no limit to what this law can do for you; dare to believe in your own ideal; think of the ideal as an already accomplished fact.
My resume showed membership on both the Harvard and Columbia Law Reviews, a credit impressive abroad where it was not generally known that Law Reviews were student-operated publications.
I listened to a battery radio, old country and pop stuff. Because I was singing all the time, my dad bought me a $7.50 guitar.
A thousand times today I've started to open my mouth, started to squeak out, "Can you tell me...? But then I'd look into the front seat, at my mother's silent shaking, my father's grim profile, the mournful bags under his eyes, and all the questions I might ask seemed abusive. Assault and battery, a question mark used like a club. My parents are old and fragile. I'd have to heartless to want to hurt them.
The ideal mother, like the ideal marriage, is a fiction.
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