It’s times like these, in the middle of the night, that I wonder about the wisdom of nicknaming Florida “The Sunshine State.
Michael Phelps collects huhs. Huh? His mouth said nothing, but his actions said it all.
Laws are chains to the many, and whips to the few.
I wish somebody would combine tasers and dildos, and test the devices out on all the politicians in Washington DC. Well, all the politicians except Barney Frank, who’d actually derive pleasure from the experiment.
Enjoy a life of poverty. Become a poet.
Instead of putting a Band Aid on your cut finger, why not just amputate at the elbow? See, I’m a problem solver. I should go into politics.
Before you enter politics, I pray you lose your anal virginity to a unicorn.
On the card I wrote, “Thinking of you,” and the picture was of my erect penis. I hope my local congressman got it OK.
In my dream, the passenger seat of my car was a toilet. I guess I was on my way to pick up a politician.
Make your vote count. Be the guy responsible for counting and tallying all the votes.
There’s a faint whiff of feces wafting up my nostrils. But that’s natural, because I just walked past a politician.
This presidential election will be as electric as an eel—and just as snakelike.
It’s disturbing to me that criminals are freely roaming the streets of our nation’s capital. I’m not talking about escaped prison inmates—I’m talking about politicians.
I’m a gopher. If I see something I want, I go for it, Orafoura said . And I’m a shepherd. If I see a sheep I like, I fuck it, I replied. I mean I would, if I were sexually attracted to average Americans.
If our limbic system betrays our true intentions, and it’s beyond our conscious control, then only a fool would consider lying a wise course of action. Politicians are full of such wisdom.
I’m a poor worker. The quality of work I do is excellent, but I make no money.
Sword and words—same letters, and same ability to cut down.
It’s not true that selling stolen goods has no overhead. Prison’s got a ceiling.
Some wise guys came by my business establishment and tried to offer me neighborhood protection. They weren’t mafia, but they were wearing togas.
When you pay for security, it seems like you’re paying for nothing—and that’s the point. You’re paying so nothing happens. Safety is the absence of something.
A writer edits his thoughts more thoroughly the more readers he has. You can tell I only have two readers, myself included.
