If your favorite politician got ran over by a bus, I’d express my condolences by telling you I know how you feel. Why just the other day I ran over a rat, and I felt so guilty about it that I bought a whole gallon of ice cream, rather than just the...
Mr. Shit gives politicians a good name. It’s the rest of the politicians who give Mr. Shit a bad name.
The political brain is shaped like a peanut, only not as big.
I serve the people. Am I a politician? No, I’m just a greedy and corrupt waiter.
Walking is so monotonous. Left, right, left, right, it’s also all so political.
Politicians give criminals a bad name. A bad name like a bad word like shit.
Boy, when Grandma Wrinklebottom comes to town, you’d better hide your underwear. I know I’ll be hiding my political perspectives.
Let’s all roll up our sleeves and get back to work. Or let’s create jobs where other people roll up other people’s sleeves, so these other people can get to work helping other people get to work. That’s brilliant. I should be a politician.
Politicians think the only way out of a hole is to keep digging.
When I was 18 I got bitten by a snake, and since then I have refused to vote for either a Republican or a Democrat.
Your vote doesn’t count. All that counts is who counts the votes.
It’s a fact I want to own a factory that makes up facts and figures, and I figure to make a fortune selling to politicians.
I’m on a shoestring budget, which means I don’t have any extra money to buy the surrounding shoes to even lace up.
How to arrive unexpectedly and invisibly: show up looking poor, but not homeless.
When I look in the mirror, I see not only the person I am, but the person I could be. The person I could be is clean-shaven, and I like him better than me.
What ends in a W, has no beginning, and is always in the present? Now.
My motto: I’ll do it today, or tomorrow, or the next day, or not.
I walk with a purpose. And a limp. (The limp helps serve my purpose, which is to gain sympathy.)
If you listen to the rain long enough, you’ll eventually soak up the wisdom.
Clone One’s last name will be Martz. Clone Two I’ll call Martinez.
I put Chap Stick on before I read, because my lips move along with my eyes. Maybe when I’m a stronger reader, and can read such lofty literary classics such as “The Cat In The Hat,” I won’t need to protect my sensitive lips anymore.
