Like a spy, I planted a bug. Like a farmer, I watched it grow into a politician that more than half the people chose not to step on.
If you’re too slow off a red light, I’ll lay on my horn, because I’m a honky. Was that racist? Only if you’re trying to stir up political votes.
I don’t break wind—I repair it. I am the anti politician, because when one speaks, he farts through his mouth, and the people always suffer.
He had a ten-gallon hat that hid a twenty-gallon fish tank inside his translucent forehead. He had fish for brains, as do most politicians.
I’d rather jump in a tank with a tiger shark than make love to his right hand. I don’t care if he is going around gathering political votes.
I love public speakers who give moving speeches—particularly if they bring boxes, packing tape, and dollies. The last local politician I heard speak was so moving that I took up residence in a new county.
If I say your breasts are perfect, don’t tell me I’m wrong—prove me wrong by showing me. If more people voted with their wallets, more strippers would be elected officials.
The political climate is stable, when you keep the ruling animals in a stable. I no longer vote for anything that can’t be ridden by a monkey dressed like a cowboy.
I could rant about political corruption until I’m blue in the face, but most people would just call me a Smurf and move on. My balls are also blue, but that is another subject, and not entirely related to politics.
Is a wind farm a field full of talking politicians? If so, I wonder what they grow? Probably the national debt.
I hate the smell of success, because most of the time it smells like sweat. Maybe that’s why I’m poor, because every pore on my body is dry.
For my birthday, a few of my wealthier friends got me a pot to piss in. Also, they were kind enough to fill it up with cat litter.
Poor Chad. Not the country, but the guy. Oh, and the country’s poor too. I feel so bad for Chad. I also feel so bad for Chad.
If my initials were Y.E.S., I’d probably go around smiling all the time.
If I typed out positive words, printed them out, blended them together with fruit and ice, and spoke all those words into my drink before chugging, would I absorb those positive attributes faster?
An anonymous man has no power, because nobody knows who he is. But he also has all the strength, because he can attack invisibly and without being identified.
I just got a promotion today! I’m now the branch manager of a local tree. If my father could see me now, the second thing he’d tell me is how proud he is. The first thing he’d say would probably be, “Thank God I’m not blind anymore!
My penis’ name is Pride. Pride is something every woman should be filled with.
