“Stop a problem early.” That is why I kidnapped that SOB driving the ice cream truck around the neighborhood blaring that horrible music. #AprilSurprise
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I knew my doctor didn’t really like me. When I told him I was having breathing problems, he prescribed me an exhaler.
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Possible causes of anger:
1) Perceptive awareness
2) Underwear two sizes too small
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It turns out that the addition of a “Caution: crate contains 1 vampire” sign adds just the right amount of confused double-takes and laughter to the day…
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“He was so dangerous that the judge set the bond just for his booking photo at 1 million dollars.” – opening line from my next true-crime novel.
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Blank stare. That’s all I got when I told my co-worker that Neil Diamond’s classic song “Sweet Caroline” was actually a homage to cannibalism.
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To calculate the area of a circle, just multiply the radius squared by pi. To calculate the incoherence of the current president, just look at the face of his full-time sign language interpreter – the one with occupational Tourette Syndrome and arthritic middle finger.
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For everyone who is taking the time to early vote for me in Washington County, I’d like to take this opportunity to tell you that you’re probably high.
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“…it was a place where one simply knew that family trees weren’t fully-branched…” -X
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Early this morning as I exited the auxiliary building, I heard high-pitched screaming and shouts of pain and anguish. False alarm. Someone was sitting in their car listening to a Luke Bryan song with the windows down.
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I ain’t saying the officer was racist, but he did have an ACLFU bumper sticker on his patrol car.
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This joke was written specifically to irritate a friend of mine: “I don’t mind that Chik-fil-A is closed on Sundays. I just wish they’d take a good idea and make it great by closing the other 6 days of the week, too.”
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I took a long walk this morning on strange roads, before the sun arrived. Later, I opted to walk again, even though it was apparently 150 degrees here.
To the drivers on St. Loius St., my apologies. As I walked up the long, slow incline heading toward downtown Batesville, a vengeful bug flew into my left nostril. Not content with being stuck there in my nasal cavern, it struggled and burrowed. I immediately convulsed like I had just attended a Cook-Your-Own-Skunk competition. I’m not sure how long I attempted to expel the insect invader.
But it did choose to exit through the back of my nose and from my mouth. The result looked like a madman’s spilled petri dish.
My nose feels like my ears do when I listen to Luke Bryan attempt a series of high notes without causing the neighborhood dogs to bark and howl.
Bugs: 1. X: 0
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I knew the movie was going to be crappy. The standard warning had been modified to say, “…this feature is intended for manure audiences only.”
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I don’t agree with torture. On the other hand, Luke Bryan provides a positive example where it works.
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My latest effort, “The Smell of Music,” didn’t go over as well as I had hoped.
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The classic oldies song “In The Still Of The Night,” it turns out, is not a homage to nocturnal alcohol production.
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The professor was at first confused by the complete lack of spaces In all of his student’s final papers – until he saw the headline: ” Local Area Hit By Blank Robber.”
