Drawing on my past experiences, I used a lot of erasers. My aging wisdom is starting to look a lot like a nude portrait of Alice Neel.
I should charge my bank money every time I endorse the back of a check. What is the going rate these days for the autograph of an aspiring writer?
One great thinker said one thing, another said another, and while the two thoughts are contradicting, the one that backs my argument at the moment is the superior statement.
Awesome is a substance I sell in times of peace. And despair. It’s slippery and smells like freedom, so do not attempt to apply it anally. That advice is mostly directed at politicians.
I’m trying to cover all my bases so I can be a complete baseball nonplayer. I’ve already not bought a bat, a glove, and a bed to sleep on.
While I’m no Major League Baseball prospect, I have thrown a few no-hitters in my day. And not only were there no hitters, there was also nobody there to catch.
In a battle, an army of farts would surely beat an army of noses, even if those noses were armed with fingers that could flick long-range boogers.
That was some powerful shit. Like mind and pussy-numbing, fuckilepsy inducing, reproductive organ-exploding powerful. You really are some kind of flogger wielding sex God.
For being so ugly, I think God should reward me handsomely. He should give me the tender hands of a lover—and not those of a self-lover.
I haven't personally met God yet, but when I do, I'll ask him if he still believes in you. I'm sure he does.
The road to hell isn't paved with gold, it's paved with faith. Faith in a dollar that's backed by a belief that people have faith in other people's belief in it.
I know sex sells. I also know gametes are sex cells. Her and I had chemistry together, and that’s just biology.
The birds fly south for the winter not because it’s cold, but because they have wings. Similarly, love has the ultimate flight pattern, and that pattern is plaid.
The birds bark my name, and I meow theirs in return. I may be a bit mixed up about life, but not about love. Or maybe I mixed that up.
I’ve had the paperwork sitting on my desk for the past nine months, waiting to be filled out and sent in. I feel like I’ve given birth to procrastination.
It takes a lot of commitment to sit on a committee. Only the most courageous could boldly command all that power, yet remain detached from any personal blame.
If I were to be elected World Leader someday, I’d wear an outfit made of Band-Aids, as a symbolic gesture of sticking together, healing, and the blood soon to be spilt.
I’m hard to love, but I love hard, like my heart is the sun yearning to tan your naked body. I promise I won’t burn you.
I would visit Hawaii, but I’m not that strong of a swimmer. My strength is all in my heart, and I love like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s body looks.
Some people read books on musicians, while I read music books. Not books on music, but literally books full of sheet music. Fascinating reading.
I want to publish a book on toilet paper—not only about toilet paper, but actually print it on toilet paper. That way nobody will be surprised by how shitty my book is.
