and in conclusion pt. 2
(originally posted 6/2/2107)
I sincerely believe that the current WWE champion should also serve as the US Ambassador to the United Nations.
I don’t know how to define pornography but I know it when I see it every day.
I had a lot of dogs growing up. My father loved puppies. Their energy, the way would endlessly romp around and show their affection. So much so that after a year, he would kill them and buy a new puppy. I had a lot of dogs growing up… and moms. My father loved honeymoons.
Just thought of a good premise for a Halloween story” “The Pumpkin Who Came Alive And Complained All Night About The Candle Inside It.” Someone remind me to write it next year.
I am a grizzled veteran of the War on Women, with three Purple Hearts no less.
It was a particularly poor choice of words to ask Darryl, an aspiring chef, to put his career on the back burner.
I’m sick of hearing about what we’re learning from insects. You don’t think they’ve picked up a thing or two from us?
Only two more weeks until the 2015 Babes of Feminism calendar comes out! A soapy Pam Allen washing up her pick-up truck, a bikini-clad Jane Alpert, Lauren Bethell in a French maid’s outfit, the sexy cop D.A. Clarke… mmm mmmmmmm!
Why is it as a kid, I assumed that when Superman ejaculated that he killed the woman? Relationships haven’t gotten any easier.
I like when I get so pissed that I grab the wrong end of a metaphor and beat the shit out of it. Earlier today: “It’s not even the tail wagging the dog. It’s the tail wagging a larger tail. A giant fucking tail sitting there with another tail sticking out of it. Wagging.”
There’s an important lesson to be learned as you watch the documentary R.E.M. by MTV. The moment the band went from viewing the creative process as a mysterious and sacred process to wanting to express their political views is exactly the time that their music began to suck. I will try to remember this moving forward. It seems inevitable that celebrity would cause Michael Stipe to go from a cool eccentric type to thinking he is the smartest person in the room. Apparently it’s true even if you’re borderline retarded… like Janeane Garofalo (admit it; you wanted me to give an example).
In Manion’s World of Tomorrow, cars won’t be controlled by the driver but by the car next to them.
I would empathize more with “protesters” if they were supporting the rights of victims as opposed to criminals. I know that writers and artists are supposed to be more sensitive/empty-headed and all but I just can’t seem to give a shit if a career criminal with health issues dies resisting his 33rd arrest. Not when a 12-year-old boy gets assaulted and curb-stomped and nobody cares because the assailants were the same color as he is.
I was asked to write a holiday story for a mainstream magazine, which I did, only to have it rejected for publication because I wouldn’t change the title. It was a heartwarming tale about a family putting up their Xmas tree called “The Erection.” Struggles.
Less than 20% of iceberg lettuce is visible from the aisle. “Whoa! This will barely fit in the cart.” Remember to lift with your knees, not your back.
My nerd lover was killed by her 50,000-sided die… and she only needed an 18+.
I remember a gift given to me by an ex-girlfriend. Truly the Red Rider BB Gun of adult gifts, a handmade coupon book good for 10 blowjobs. I’m sure if she ever gave a similar gift she would make sure to include the following: “Cannot be redeemed all at the same time.” It was the greatest Xmas day ever… but she wasn’t able to move her jaw comfortably until well after the New Year.
When the Weather Channel tells you that there is 100% chance of precipitation and then it doesn’t rain, it makes you wonder if they understand what 100% chance of something happening means. Technically speaking, there isn’t even a 100% chance of weather tomorrow. Any weather. I hope the Weather Channel doesn’t start to gamble. I’d hate to get my weather updates from a channel with broken kneecaps.
Driving today on a new road that my GPS was unfamiliar with. It showed me plowing through subdivisions and farms without a care. The rest of the drive the GPS’s female voice seemed sultrier… like she thought I was a bad boy. Recognize.
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