Regarding Pokçmon, Beanie Babies, and such: something is really wrong when a major news story concerns how hard it is to buy a toy.
I don’t know how you feel, but I’m pretty sick of church people. You know what they ought to do with churches? Tax them. If holy people are so interested in politics, government, and public policy, let them pay the price of admission like everybody else. The Catholic Church alone could wipe out the national debt if all you did was tax their real estate.
Whenever I see a large crowd of people, I wonder how many of them will eventually require autopsies.
Laptop. How can this be? A lap has no top; it has only two dimensions, length and width. It’s not like a desk. A desk has a bottom, a top, and sides; you place your “desktop ”on the top of your desk. A lap has only one plane; when you stand up your lap disappears. And your computer becomes a floortop.
Everything beeps now.
First there was rock ’n’ roll, now there’s just rock. What happened to “roll”? And what did Sears do with Roebuck? And exactly when did Montgomery leave Montgomery Ward? I have a theory. I believe that somewhere on a stage tonight a show will be performed by the Montgomery-Roebuck Roll Band.
I think there ought to be a feminine hygiene spray called “Sprunt.”
Think of how strange we’d look if all the cuts, burns, scrapes, bruises, scratches, bumps, gashes, and scabs we’ve ever had suddenly reappeared on our bodies at the same time.
Regarding jam sessions: jazz musicians are the only workers I can think of who are willing to put in a full shift for pay and then go somewhere else and continue working for free.
When someone asks you what time it is, glance at your watch and say, “It’s either six-fifteen, or Mickey has a hard-on.” Guaranteed they’ll ask somebody else.
What’s with these super-cautious drivers who pull way over to the far end of a speed bump so their cars won’t have to go over the highest point? Are they really worried that speed bumps hurt their cars?
Griddle cakes, pancakes, hotcakes, flapjacks: why are there four names for grilled batter and only one word for love?
I would like to open a restaurant, call it the Marilyn Monroe Café, and put hundreds of pictures of Jeff Goldblum on the wall.
I notice that unlike on other holidays, the police don’t seem to make a big deal about drunk driving on Good Friday.
You know what I never liked? The high-five. I consider it lame white-boy shit. When a guy raises his arm to give me a high-five, you know what I do? Stab him in the arm. I’m tired of that shit. Sometimes I watch an old sports film on ESPN Classic, and I see a whole game without a single high-five. It’s great.
When you think about it, 12:15 P.M. is actually 11:75 A.M.
At one time there existed a race of people whose knowledge consisted entirely of gossip.
A crazy person doesn’t really lose his mind. It just becomes something more entertaining.
Instead of having truck scales on the highway, I think they ought to get one of those guys from the carnival and let him guess the weights.
An art thief is a man who takes pictures.
You know a phrase I never understood? King size. It’s used to denote something larger, but most of the kings you see are short. You ever notice that? Usually a king is a short little fat guy. You never see a tall king. When’s the last gangly king you can remember?
I hope the world ends during the daytime. I want to watch “film eleven.”
Everywhere you look there are families with too many vehicles. You see them on the highways in their RVs. But apparently the RVs aren’t enough, because behind them they’re towing motorboats, go-carts, dune buggies, dirt bikes, jet-skis, snowmobiles, parasails, hang gliders, hot-air balloons, and small, two-man, deep-sea diving bells. The only thing these people lack is lunar excursion modules. Doesn’t anybody take a fuckin’ walk anymore?
The older a person gets, the less they care what they wear. Old people come up with some of the strangest clothing combinations you’ll ever see. I think of it as “cancer of the clothing.”
We’re not supposed to mention fucking in mixed company, but that’s exactly where it takes place.
The other day I was thinking of how many peanuts elephants owe us. Personally, I’m down about twenty-three or twenty-four bags.
Did you ever start hittin’ a guy with a big club for no reason? Just walk up to him and start beatin’ him over the head with a big, heavy club? It’s great, isn’t it?
If it’s true that our species is alone in the universe, then I’d have to say the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little.