Top 19 Whipped Quotes

I was this Catholic kid, and I never really lost that. I loved the rituals of Catholicism. The mass is a magic ritual; it’s a transubstantiation, and the stations of the cross – I mean, a crown of thorns? Getting whipped? It’s punk rock.

My mom makes something called green pie, which I thought was a delicacy that many people only had at Thanksgiving, but it turns out it was just Jell-O with whipped cream on it. And it’s delicious.

I hate to tell you this, but I did not even like visiting Versailles. I found it just too ornate. It was like a complete diet of cotton candy, marzipan, and whipped cream. It gave me the mental equivalent of one of those toothaches you get when you bite into something too sweet.

One time, I was literally stopped on the street, literally and physically whipped around by this guy who looked at my face and was like, ‘Are you Felix?’ I looked very different then. I was like, ‘Yah… Oh, yah!’ I was stunned and slightly frightened.

If Mitt Romney is vanilla, Chris Christie is three hefty scoops of Rocky Road topped with whipped cream, Red Bull, and gravel.

I’ve never guided my life. I’ve just been whipped along by the waves I’m sitting in. I don’t make plans at all. Plans are what make God laugh. You can make plans, you can make so many plans, but they never go right, do they?

Paul Ryan whipped the votes to get fast track Trade Promotion Authority to sell our jobs to foreign countries. He absolutely worked on that. Paul Ryan owns it. He can’t say he doesn’t agree with it, because when he did that, that contract was already written. It was already set up – that treaty was already set up.

When a child, my dreams rode on your wishes, I was your son, high on your horse, My mind a top whipped by the lashes Of your rhetoric, windy of course.

Whenever there was a pause on the ‘Hercules’ set, everybody whipped their Blackberries out of their skirts – ‘Are you texting the King of Thrace to tell them we’re on our way?’

You can’t always write a chord ugly enough to say what you want to say, so sometimes you have to rely on a giraffe filled with whipped cream.

My mum didn’t understand that education was an important thing. She couldn’t do my homework with me. I was helping her read stuff. She once brought shaving soap thinking it was whipped cream.

I’m on the record for five losses or something like that, but the one guy who really whipped me was Muhammad Ali. And it taught me one big lesson. That no matter how big and strong you are, you’re going to have to use your mind. You must think things out.

There are some parents who always have their daughter’s hair whipped. Mine wasn’t always like that, but I appreciate that both my parents were into me having natural hair, so they did find Anota Scott, who I was going to for my cornrows and wrapping last year and a couple years before that.

It’s a disagreeable thing to be whipped.

You campaigned against rich people and you got enough envy whipped up in the country and you’re gonna get ’em. You’re gonna stick it to those rich people. But guess what? You may not get anymore revenue. You may not get anymore economic growth. But you can say, ‘I stuck it to the rich people.’

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone to present at the Golden Globes, come home, whipped the dress off and read to my daughter wearing gazillion-dollar earrings. That’s how it goes in my house, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

In 2008, Barack Obama did get Democrats hyperventilating, whipped up to a creamy froth, while John McCain creaked ahead like a cranky granddad whom Republicans let move to the front of the buffet line, deferring to seniority, as they had in 1996, when Bob Dole turtled to the top of the ticket.

I walked on eggshells a lot. I have a bad self-esteem problem, and my father probably facilitated it. He once looked at me very seriously when I was about 15 and had whipped cream smeared all over myself. He said, ‘You’d do anything for a laugh, wouldn’t you?’

The man who buried Malcolm X – my Muslim imam, priest – he, after I got beat up by police… came to me, and he said, ‘You don’t need this American name.’ And I was susceptible to it at the time because, God knows, I had just gotten whipped near to death. So he gave me an Arab name; he gave me the name Amir Barakat.