Stop a drunk driver and you stop a murderer—even if he hasn’t killed anyone yet. In all the alternate universes, the odds are he’s already killed—and will kill again.
My hair isn’t turning gray. It’s actually silver, and it’s going up in value, so you’d better buy it before the currency is completely devalued.
I’m not rich in paper money, I’m rich in packets of sugar. Actually, I’m richer, because at least the packets of sugar have some real value.
A bird was shot. I suspect fowl play. The next man to be shot is the man who wrote that pun. Excuse me while I load my gun and shoot myself.
You don’t need brass knuckles to discover if a man has a glass jaw. All you need to do is stick his face in a dishwasher, and then check for water spots.
I’ll stab you with a pointy thingy. Not a sword, a knife, or even a mountaintop. No, I’ll use my index finger—and just to make a point about violence.
Thanks to my grandpa, I can go to France and not be visiting Germany. He single-handedly won WWII (he only has one hand).
I spoke the word “moo” into a glass of water, hoping to change the structure of each water molecule into the shape of a cow. I felt like drinking a steak.
I didn’t win a championship, but I did pop some champagne bottles—and a few locks. Why bother training when you can just steal the trophy?
I gather wisdom like a net gathers fish. And the more fish I get in my net, the more I feel like a chicken.
If I had three magic wishes, I’d use the first wish for one more, to replace the one I just wasted wishing for something I already had.
I had to stop selling stick-figure portraits of women at the beach, after too many customers complained I was making them look “too fat.
If you’re wondering how I’ll ask you how you’re doing, the answer is silently and invisibly. My love is often overlooked, like a midget behind a counter.
Her mouth contorted, and the wrinkles around her lips were like the dunes of a frosted cupcake. And I just wanted to lick her living word machine (mouth).
I don’t mince words—I mincemeat. And combining these two I’m writing a cookbook called, “101 Pies I’ve Never Eaten—And Neither Should You.
I meant to spend the day writing, but instead I spent the afternoon cleaning out my belly button. Historians will thank me one day.
I like using White Out. But sometimes backspace or delete works just as well, when I don’t have Windex to clean my computer screen.
Writing all day every day is good, but it’s not good enough. You need to have your clone ghostwriting for you too.
I wrote a zen koan once about love, but it didn’t make any sense. That’s how I knew I had accurately described love.
A radio in a song in an ice cream cone. Two licks for free, and the third is for sale. My favorite flavor tastes like a commercial, because it’s made with 100% natural advertisement.
The spotlight hides blemishes, and shadows hide from the brightness. When love shines down on you, you’ll be glad you purchased your Albino Survival Kit, available for sale starting at $99.99.
