My left hand is my bad hand. I spank it with my right hand. You might call it clapping, but I call it discipline.
I find out a lot about myself by sleeping. Dreams, they are who I am when I’m too tired to be me.
Diversity is like a buffet, only with people. That’s why I like associating with individuals who are as close to macaroni and cheese as humanly possible.
I want to get married. But first I need to get a divorce.
I built my ex wife a Castle of Love, and she dug a moat and filled it with sharks and lawyers. Oh well, at least I got to keep the unicorn.
I took my shoes for a walk. They’re furry and they bark.
I often laugh at a dog that chases its own tail. But aren’t there some people out there who spend a lot of time “chasing their own tails?” Well, maybe those people should seriously consider getting their tails surgically removed. It did wonders...
Orafoura was yelling at his dog (not a German shepherd) in German, and I thought, “I didn’t realize dogs can speak German.
When I walk my dog, people always ask if we’re twins.
I’ll give you a treat to get in your cage. I’m rewarding you for punishing you. Who am I? If you guessed either dog catcher or politician you are correct.
I would have fought the forest fire, but it was a dragon-breathing forest fire, and I forgot my sword, my pen, and my Geoffrey of Monmouth tunic.
I dreamt it in my dream. You tried to steal my dream—the whole thing. But even though it was a dream, it was still too heavy for you to lift.
I say eek to Zeke Ekez, the imaginary palindrome politician of my dreams. He looks like me, talks like me, and thinks like me, but I won’t vote for him, because I always vote for myself.
The right people came along with the right tools (eyelids), and it was goodnight, war. Peace felt like such a dream, probably because it was.
My headboard has bars, like a jail cell. Sometimes I’ll be asleep and think I’m in prison, and I’ll hear my alarm clock go off and feel like I’m out on parole. Only then does it hit me: life in the slumbering gulag wasn’t so bad after all, ...
In real life I was alone, but in my dream I was in a crowd, and that’s why I farted. But being the gentleman that I am, I blamed it on your dad.
I have aspirations of becoming the first man to put on a chicken suit, cross the road, and then explain my motives for doing so. I guess you could say that right now I am an egg, and my dream is an omelet; I see myself in my dream, yet it is greater ...
Dreamland, I couldn’t stay away, because I couldn’t stay awake. I traveled there in my sleep, at 65 miles per hour, while I was driving.
