a few thoughts (part 4 of 5)
So let me get this straight… Donald Sterling was caught saying anti-black comments to his half-black girlfriend and Jay Z was wearing an anti-white medallion while sitting next to his bleached-her-skin-to-look-more-white wife. How can average folks deal with their own racial identity issues when even the racists don’t know what they want?
As time passes too many of us are like trees on the outside but bars of soap on the inside.
I’m alright with the “For he’s a jolly good fellow” part, as redundant as it may be; it’s the last bit that has me a bit skeptical. Nobody?
I’m sure that this makes me a horrible person but I just love to look at the promo pictures of shitty TV series that get cancelled after one season. Everyone in the picture smiling like an asshole, convinced that that they are part of the next big show.
If you want to ruin a wedding toast, include some real advice to the groom: “And finally, and most importantly, always clear your browser history. Never forget. Ever. Not once.” Half the women in attendance will glare at their husband.
I remember sitting at the edge of the bed with a good friend. I said “Will this make things weird?” She said “I certainly hope so.” It forever changed the word. From that moment on I equated weird with good.
It was just one of those games… three pucks in a row sailed into the crowd and killed somebody. You know how Pee Wee hockey gets…
If bombs sounded like mosquitoes then more people would be swatting at their necks before they died.
The desire to take a good look in the mirror is usually replaced with a realization that I strongly dislike mirrors.
Assuming for a minute that birds could use briefcases, would they? I like the idea of the skies filled with birds carrying little briefcases. One bird turning to the other in the nest, grabbing their briefcase and saying “Gotta fly,” before launching themselves off to work. Occasionally you’d get bonked on the head by a dropped bird briefcase but then you’d not only get the enjoyment of rummaging through it quickly before they swooped down to collect it but the amusement of them giving you the “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” face.
After reading that 90% of the medical advice on Wikipedia is incorrect I think it’s time to remove the bacon wrap from my testicles and go see a professional.
Last night there was a huge thunderstorm and a tree fell into my neighbor’s hot tub, flattening it. In surveying the damage this morning they looked at me straight-faced and said “Well, at least no one was hurt.” “Yeah, cause going out in the hot tub during a freak electrical storm is so commonplace.” I replied. They stared back. To clarify I said “Yep, you really dodged a bullet.” They continued to stare as I went back inside.
Of course the thumb is a finger. Otherwise the middle finger wouldn’t be the middle finger. Duh!
I picture a dark raincloud coming over the mountain and looking at the parched plains lustily and saying “Where do you want it?”
The defense attorney finished his arguments by saying “Don’t judge lest you yourself be judged.” The judge then said “Fine, but just so you know… I was going to rule in your client’s favor.”
I think it would be fascinating to watch a very muscular man take a dump in a field.
There was an old woman who lived in a shoe. Except she was a spider and one day the owner of the shoe returned and crushed her to death putting it on.
The time I’m most bewildered by humanity? When I hear someone calling another human being “His Majesty” or “His Holiness.” It’s just embarrassing. “Hey buddy” would work just as well.
What kind of demented mind writes circus music?
I want to write a book about finding love after 50 entitled “Finding The Perfect Mate Amongst All The People That Nobody Else Wanted.”
While I never give much thought to the coordination required to dry myself off when it comes time for each arm to dry the other I will invariably imagine one thanking the other followed by the second saying “Right back at you señor,” when it is their turn to wield the towel. I’m not sure why but whenever my limbs communicate with each other they do it in a heavy Spanish accent.
Men who have lived alone for a long time will usually start unzipping in the hall and have their dick out before they even reach the toilet.
Given that Tony the Tiger is the pitchman for Frosted Flakes, you’d think that there would be chunks of antelope in it.
When I imagine a product being shipped over to America on an enormous ocean-going freighter and then unloaded and placed on a giant, yet slightly-smaller train and then placed in a huge, yet slightly-smaller 18-wheeler and then again in a big, yet slightly-smaller van I like to finish the thought by picturing it being delivered to my door by a midget riding a unicycle.
Went to a Phillies game yesterday in an effort to blend in. As my fellow males debated the finer points of bunting and the designated hitter I finally offered up “And don’t try and tell me that home plate doesn’t give the other bases attitude.” Cover blown.
If I ever get a talk show I will have my guests sit on a leather couch on a slightly elevated platform and I, to show my humility, will sit in a pit of my own filth.
The past is the past. Who you were doesn’t matter. All that matters is who you are now. Who you are at this very moment. At this very moment I’m a drunk asshole.
All I know is that if I were a pro golfer, I’d get the oldest and frailest caddy I could find. That way nobody would worry about my score, they’d all be watching to see if he made it from hole to hole. Especially since I’d carry 40 clubs in my bag.
Whenever I see someone who is pigeon-toed it reminds me of when I was twelve. When I was twelve I thought I was a pigeon.
Given that the average gorilla weighs 400 lbs the 800 lb gorilla in the room would be who let the gorilla get so obese.
My friends tried to warn me that buying her a drink was wasted money. Her on/off switch was an off/really off switch.
If you smile broadly enough, long enough, people will conclude that you’re an asshole.
Is there anything I hate worse than listening to someone tell me how the child of a famous actor/actress chose to use a different last name in order to make it “on their own?” As if they weren’t handed roles because they were the child of a famous actor/actress. As if they earned them and changing their last name meant anything. They’ve earned nothing. It was given to them. Is there anything I hate worse than listening to someone tell me how the child of a famous actor/actress chose to use a different last name in order to make it “on their own?” No.