Ron White Quotes

We went out last and I got so drunk last night, I woke up this morning and somebody had shit my pants. [audience cheers] I don't know who it was...but I know he eats corn...and cake. Corn cakes, I think that's what he was eating.

It was medicinal marijuana. It was prescribed to me by a doctor in California, which is where I live, and I told the cop this. When I went to see the doctor, he asked me, "Do you have any medical problems that medicinal marijuana helps alleviate?" And I said, "Well, I get bummed when I run out of weed...medicinal marijuana cures that." They handcuffed me and put me in the squad car, and take me to jail. Now, I'm not being an ass about it. I broke the law, that's fine, but, fuck, this is Florida! These cops drove by three meth labs and a dead hooker just to get here!

I told my wife, I said, "You get there at 5:30 you can fly with me but let me tell you something Sugar Tits, at 5:31 I am wheels up and I am fucking gone!" ...I said that. Not very loud, but I said it. 5:31 gets there. Is she there? No! Do I leave? [Majority of the audience says "Yes!"] ...No! 6:01 gets there. Is she there? No. Do I leave? No. Why? Because this dick won't suck itself, that's why. (10:29)

[About airports with advanced equipment] You know, you can have fun with that if you do it like I do. I take two Viagra and demand a pat down. "What's that in your pants, Mr. White?" "I have no idea. You're gonna need to pat that down...Pat it back up again...Give it a couple twists. See if it's connected to anything...You might wanna go wash your hands." (2:57)

One day, I was picking up dog turds on my front yard, and I realized something: there are 6 people who work for me full-time, so I'm slowly reevaluating everybody's position at Ron White Inc., so that next time, I won't have to be the dog-turd-picker-upper. It's a tie between my pool boy and my tax attorney...and I'm leaning towards the tax attorney. But as I'm picking up these turds, I see one that's massive, even by Sluggo's standards, which are legendary, and I know it's his, because he outshits the Scotties 2-to-1. I'm looking at this turd – I'm admiring it, really – and I begin to think there's lettering on the side of it. I go in the house and get my glasses, because I can't read shit without my glasses. [Audience laughs] And it does. It says "Midland Park Golf Course". Sluggo had eaten and shat whole a golf glove, velcro and all...I rinsed it off and been using it for three weeks.

I have an airplane that you guys...bought me. I like it a lot. Half of the Fortune 500 companies in America have let go of their private jets. Not Ron White Inc., I'm flying that son-of-a-bitch straight into bankruptcy! I guarantee you, one day, I'll be livin' in a double-wide trailer with shag carpet, and I'll have a jet with weeds growin' through it. I'll be in the front seat goin', "Push me around some!" And I don't come from money. I come from the opposite of money. I come from...no money. 10 years ago, I lived in a camper in my friend's backyard. He didn't even know I was there. (7:12)

We got Bin Laden, man. It took 10 years, it wasn't exactly a calf-rope. He was in that house for six years with five wives. I would've shot my fucking self! I'd have my head out of the window screaming at drones, going, "I'M OVER HERE!" (26:53)

Yesterday, I was sitting on a beanbag chair naked, eating Cheetos and...[audience cheers], I was flippin' through the television and I saw Robert Tilton. He's a televangelist from Dallas, and uh, he was staring at me. And he said this. He said, "Are you lonely?" [shrugs] Yeah. "Have you spent half your life in bars, pursuing sins of the flesh?" [Takes a sip of his drink] This guy's good! "Are you sitting in a beanbag chair, naked, eating Cheetos?" [shocked look] YES, SIR! "Do you feel the urge to get up and send me a thousand dollars?" Close! I thought he was talking about me there for a second! Apparently, I ain't the only cat on the block that digs Cheetos.

I bought this big two-story custom van back when I was married. I forgot to tell you this, it was getting kinda cool, it had the James Bond couch in the back, when you push a button, the couch automatically turns into a bed, and I was like, "Well, that's cool." I finally got something over those Mercedes-Benz-driving in-laws of mine, you know what I mean? When I first bought the van, I was real proud of it. I took it straight over to my brother-in-law's house to show it off, 'cause he's such a prick. He takes one look at my new van and he goes [in snobbish accent] "I can't believe you didn't buy a Mercedes-Benz." They don't make a van. "Ron, I don't think you fully understand the intricacies of Mercedes-Benz engineering. Why, I got the three-inch windshield wiper that keeps my headlight clean in a rainstorm." I got a place to fuck your sister. I don't know why they didn't like me.

I promised Sears I would tell this story on stage every night till the lawsuit's settled. I had my van down at Savannah, Georgia, didn't like the way the tires were wearing on it. I took the van to Sears Automotive, "A trusted name in automotive service." Takes them 3-and-a-half hours to change four tires. Apparently, they had to whittle one of them out of a piece of wheat. I pay them $980 of MY hard-earned money, I take a right-hand turn out of the mall, the left-rear wheel falls off. It falls OFF. It FALLS THE FUCK OFF. Turning my van into a tripod, spinning me into a dimension of "pissed off" I've never been in before in my life!

I never had much of a vocabulary. In fact, my friend Bob Schneider would still be alive today if I'd known the difference between "antidote" and "anecdote". He got bitten by a copperhead, and I'm telling him funny stories out of Reader's Digest. His head started to swell, I said "This ain't working". He goes, "READ FASTER!!"

I decided last week that there are too many support groups in this country; you need to pick your own self up and go, you know? I saw this commercial last week, it was for a bladder control awareness group. I'm like, let me explain something to you: if you have a bladder control problem, you're probably aware of it. Or you're in some weird-ass denial I've never even heard of, you know? "Bob, I got a moisture problem in this area, and I don't know if it's condensation due to high humidity, or if I'm pissin' myself."

I like to keep the inside of the house between 70 and 75 degrees. My ex-wife liked to keep the inside of the house between 75 and a hundred and fuckin' ten. And you can't keep Tater Salad at that temperature.

I got my wife breast implants for her birthday. I've never been a big fan of plastic surgery, but I gotta admit, I've had a lot of fun playing with these things. I haven't given them to her yet...[Audience cheers] I just keep 'em on my tour bus and just rub 'em in my face...I'm glad they clean up easy. [Audience groans] WHAT?! I'm just glad they are not made out of corduroy, that's all I'm saying! I'd have to have 'em Scotchgarded. [imitates spraying Scotchgard on implants] I find it a little ironic that the product that I use to keep from ruining my sofa should spill my drink on it is actually called...Scotch-guard. [Audience cheers] Sometimes, things just work out perfect, don't they? "Yeah, I'm looking for a product that'll protect my sofa should I spill my Scotch on it. What'd ya have?" [imitates clerk turning to look at stock] "We've got Scotch-guard." "Yeah, let's go with that. Do you have Vodka-guard? How about Sperm-guard?" It's a busy couch.

(About valet parking in Atlanta and parking the car himself) He jumped out of his truck and he gets militant. And he jumps in front of my Range Rover and puts a hand on it, he puts his hands on the hood and he goes "Nobody parks their own car in this parking lot! I park the cars in this parking lot!" Well, I rolled down my window and very politely said, "Get out my fucking way!" [audience cheers] He goes "Nobody talks to me like that! You can't park your car in this parking lot!" And I said "FUCK YOU!". He goes "I'm calling the police. What's your first and last name?" "It's Fuck You. It's F-u-c-k CAPITAL Y-O-U! Fuck you, that's my name." He gets on his radio and calls the Dalai Lama of all parking lot attendants, who calls squealing up in his little red truck. Apparently, they give 'em to 'em. He hopes outta the truck like he's gonna do something. He immediately recognizes me and you see this big "Oh shit!" wash over his face. He literally shoves this kid outta the way and starts apologizing. He said, "Mr. White. I am sorry." I said, "Listen, this kid's not doing his job. He's an insolent little piece of shit. He needs to have his ass reamed." He goes, "Mr. White, he's gonna have his ass reamed by me and my boss and my boss' boss." And I was like, "Well, I had no idea the chain of command went that deep in the parking lot business..."