wessago

-˛aban bu neeaa
-elmaaa
-s koy
-selma.. ah˝h˝
-g˝á˝na gooooy
-ahah ay˝p ol˚rr
-goy goooooy!
-ahah herkesin iáinde!...
-yaw elman˝n g˝á˝na s gooooy
-elma.. elmass.. haaaaa elmas! kim áald˝ elmas˝

ben geená kˆr biir dilenciyiiim
sokaaak sokaaak gezeeeriim
beniii gˆreen zengiiinlerdeeen
biraazc˝k yaard˝m iisteriiim
(sutoglan, 12.12.2003 12:35 ~ 12:55)

stan: who are you?
johnny: we're that band, radiohead.
scott: [raises his head] jesus!
ed: jeez, what a li'l crybaby!
colin: are you gonna cry all day, crybaby??
thom: you know, everyone has problems; it doesn't mean you have to be a little crybaby about it.
ed: come om, guys, let's go. this kid is totally not cool. [the members of the band start leaving]
thom: yeah, that's the most uncool kid i've ever met.
phil: little crybaby!

[angel has just saved rachel from a violently abusive boyfriend, while spike watches ó and narrates ó from the rooftop.]
spike [as rachel, falsetto]: how can i thank you, you mysterious, black-clad, hunk of a night thing?
spike [as angel, basso]: no need, little lady, your tears of gratitude are enough for me. you see, i was once a bad-ass vampire, but love and a pesky curse defanged me. now i'm just a big, fluffy puppy with bad teeth. [rachel sways closer to angel; he steps back, warding her off with his hands.] no, not the hair! never the hair!
spike [as rachel]: but there must be some way i can show my appreciation.
spike [as angel]: no, helping those in need's my job. and working up a load of sexual tension and prancing away like a magnificent poof is truly thanks enough!
spike [as rachel]: i understand. i have a nephew who's gay, so...
spike [as angel]: ah. say no more. evil's still afoot ... and i'm almost out of that nancy-boy hair gel that i like so much. quickly! to the angelmobile ó away! [rachel and angel leave. spike lights a cigarette.]
spike [as spike]: go on, liam. play the big, strapping hero while you can. you have a few surprises coming your wayóthe ring of amarra, a visit from your old pal spike, andóoh, yeahóyour gruesome, horrible death.

you're *not* friends. you'll never be friends. you'll be in love till it kills you both. you'll fight, and you'll shag, and you'll hate each other till it makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends. (ba˛˝n˝ i˛aret eder) love isn't brains, children, it's blood... (gˆs¸ne vurur) blood screaming inside you to work its will. *i* may be love's bitch, but at least *i'm* man enough to admit it.

every man dies not every man really lives

i am constantine. john constantine. asshole.

i don't know! i don't know why i did it, i don't know why i enjoyed it, and i don't know why i'll do it again!

i didn't do it, nobody saw me do it, you can't prove anything

beatles'te be˛ minare.. let it be olan let it be.

was mich nicht umbringt macht mich st‰rker

bir rˆportajinda nazim hikmet¥i cekistiren denyomatik elemani "yahu, sen ne diyorsun, ben sagciymisim da, nazim solcuymus da, biz birbimizin d¸smaniymisiz da, yok daha neler, ulan, biz nazim ile b¸t¸n g¸n siyaset tartisir, aksam olunca da beyoglu¥nda beraber kiz tavlardik, ne diyorsun sen be ?"

ermeniler'in tehcir karar˝ndan sonra, bunu bir soyk˝r˝m ve vah˛et olarak niteleyen avrupa'n˝n, o dˆnem en g¸ál¸ ¸lkesi ingiltere'nin b¸y¸keláisi, abdulhamit'in huzuruna á˝kar. elái, abdulhamit'e, gˆr¸˛me s˝ras˝nda; "daha ne kadar ermeni ˆld¸receksiniz?" diye sorar. tum imparatorluk genelinde, muazzam bir istihbarat ag˝na ve buna bal˝ olarak kusursuz bir bilgi ak˝˛˝na sahip olan abdulhamit, gayet sogukkanl˝, eláiye dˆnerek, "4 aral˝k 1912 sabah˝ saat 03:30da yunan bal˝ká˝ teknesinin ta˛˝d˝˝ 33 kasa ingiliz yap˝m˝ t¸fei artvin'de ermenilere dag˝tan ingiliz ajanlar˝n˝n, silah ba˛˝na istedikleri t¸rk kellesi kadar daha ermeni ˆld¸receiz" demesi, zannediyorum tarihin en muazzam ayarlar˝ndan birisi olmustur.

what do you looking at? you're all a bunch of fucking assholes. you know why? 'cause you don't have the guts to be what you wanna be. you need people like me. you need people like me so you can point your fucking fingers, and say "that's the bad guy." so, what that make you? good? you're not good; you just know how to hide. how do lie. me, i don't have that problem. me, i always tell the truth--even when i lie. so say goodnight to the bad guy. come on; the last time you gonna see a bad guy like this, let me tell you. come on, make way for the bad guy. there's a bad guy comin' through; you better get out to his way!"

anlam˝:

neye bak˝yorsunuz ha? hepiniz lanet serserilersiniz. neden biliyor musunuz? olmak istediiniz gibi olmaya cesaretiniz yok. sizin gibi insanlar˝n bana ihtiyac˝ var á¸nk¸ o s.ktiimin parmaklar˝n˝zla beni gˆsterip ìi˛te kˆt¸ adamî diyebilirsiniz. bu sizi ne yapar. iyi mi? iyi deilsiniz. sadece nas˝l saklanaca˝n˝z˝ ve yalan sˆylemeyi biliyorsunuz. benim bˆyle bir problemim yok. ben her zaman doruyu sˆylerim, yalan sˆylerken bile. ˛imdi kˆt¸ adama
iyi geceler dileyinî

bir adam˝ sabah gˆrd¸¸mde tesad¸f olarak kabul ederim, ˆlen ayn˝ adam˝ bir daha gˆr¸rsem ku˛kulan˝r˝m. ak˛am kar˛˝la˛t˝˝m˝zda teredd¸ts¸z silah˝m˝ áekip vururum. tesad¸flere inanmam

the burden of originality is one that most people don't want to accept. they'd rather sit in front of the tv and let that tell them what they're supposed to like, what they're supposed to buy, and what they're supposed to laugh at. you have beavis and butt-head telling you what music you're allowed to like and not like, and you've got sitcoms that have canned laughter that lets you know when to laugh if you're too stupid to know when the joke is--people are too lazy and too stupid to think for themselves because america has raised them like that."

yani diyor ki..

"orijinal olmak beraberinde bir y¸k getirir ve insanlar bunu kabul etmek istemiyor. bunun yerine oturup televizyon izliyorlar ve televizyonun kendilerine neyi sevmelerini, neyi sat˝n almalar˝n˝ ve neye g¸lmelerini sˆylemesine izin veriyorlar. beavis and butthead size hangi m¸ziin iyi olduunu sˆyl¸yor. sitcomlar eer esprinin nerede olduunu anlayamayacak kadar aptalsan˝z, g¸lmeniz iáin kahkaha efekti veriyor. insanlar kendileri d¸˛¸nemeyecek kadar tembel ve aptal, á¸nk¸ amerika kendilerini bu ˛ekilde yeti˛tirdi"

eer áocukluumuzdaki alg˝ d¸zeyimizi b¸y¸d¸káe koruyabilseydik, hepimiz birer dahi olurduk

miroluu miroluuu bu ¸lkede ki˛i ba˛˝na 3 casus d¸˛¸yooo! (bkz: deli y¸rek)

kyle: okay. we can use my dad's computer to call all the kids together.
stan: wait. before we put a message out, do a search on the word, "clitoris."
kyle: oh, okay... "found: eight million pages with the word, 'clitoris.'"
stan: wow!
kyle: i'll just try the first one. "you must be eighteen to enter this website." okay. "welcome to 'german sick fetish video.' if you are undereighteen, do not--" well, okay...
german: do my sheiza game!
kyle: dude! it's a lady getting pooed on!
stan: whoa! is it cartman's mom?
cartman: oh, very funny.
kyle: hey! it is cartman's mom!
german: essen mein sheiza.
lian: all-righty, then!
cartman: aw, son of a bitch! [gets shocked] ow!
ike: ba-ba-ba-ba
kyle: get outta here, ike. you're too young for this stuff.
ike: bull shit.
stan: what's he doing, now?
german: essen mein sheiza.
lian: okey-dokey!
children: [watching video] oh! [gagging]
german: [undecipherable]
stan: click it off, dude! click it off! dude, what the fuck is wrong with german people?
cartman: all right, all right. let's just do what we came here to do, and put a message out to kids.
kyle: okay. let's see, i've gotta put out an all-access e-mail... god damn your mom sucks, cartman.