Sometimes I ask God what I did to deserve her love. I maintain my innocence, and of all the forms of God’s wrath from plagues, pestilence, and famine, her love is by far the cruelest.
I’m growing a love seat in my heart. It’s leather and covered in fur, from a mix up with my cat’s back, some glue, my tongue, and my confusion over how to best clean the chair.
The girl of my dreams got married to someone else. But that’s OK. I don’t need her beside me to keep her locked in the dungeon of my heart.
In the morning I brush my teeth with hope, and at night before bed I brush them with defeat. Both are mint flavored, so I try not to get them mixed up.
Having a clone to bounce ideas off of would be a way to generate more ideas. Another way would be to build an idea generator that plugs into a wall socket and works only when the power has gone out.
I am a great customer. I’m not a loyal customer, but that’s what makes me great—my willingness to shop other brands for better buys.
If I can just find my wife’s foot under the covers, I know everything will be OK. Then I can put that foot where I hid the rest of her body.
-There’s a beautiful woman here for you who wants to have sex. -Tell her I’m married. Then tell her I’ll be there as soon as I can.
When I first heard Twilight was a book about vampires that sparkled in the light and shape shifters/wolves eager to assist the vampires, I thought, Finally, a metaphorical book dealing with politicians and lobbyists.
Republicans are a glass half full, and Democrats are a glass half empty. Either way, I want a new glass. I want it full, and I want it clean.
I like when wind works. But in this depression, does anything work? If it’s not unemployed, it’s broken. When I hear the politicians talk, all I hear is them breaking wind through their mouths.
You vote Democrat even if you vote Republican, because they’re two sides of the same coin. So stop flipping that coin. The illusion of controlling the outcome of the coin toss is why we’re all poorer.
Arlington National cemetery is huge! But that’s not surprising, because DC is the world’s largest graveyard of good ideas and intentions. Politicians are natural hunters. If there is a good and productive thing, they will surely kill it.
My name is Sam (my name is Am), and I am my own fan. I’m a clone of Jarod Kintz, and he supports my message.
On TV, I can hit the mute button and silence any moron. I wish real life came with a hush button I could push and enjoy instant quiet.
If the ink of my writing morphed into ants, would they march along with my thoughts? Would they find my work as enjoyable as a picnic? If the answer is no, I wouldn’t hesitate to stomp all over my writing.
I don’t want to rail against modern railroad barons, because this is America, and I believe that I too will one day be wealthy.
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