You know how football players always wear those mouth guard thingies that make them walk around with their mouths all halfway open looking vaguely dumb? Well, if I had a football team, I’d make buy mouth guards that looked like orange slices, that way all of my players would look like the Godfather. Because if there’s one thing that NFL players fear nigh-universally, it’s the Godfather.
The other day I saw a license plate that said IM4 BUCS. In order to get that plate you must either really like deer, or be a severely discounted prostitute.
Why is it that evil doctors, upon capturing someone, always feel the need to demonstrate their evil by doing something evilly doctorious to them, like making them into a freak or giving them a bad haircut or something? It’s just so cliche these days. That’s why if I’m ever an evil doctor and I catch a good guy, I’m going to do something completely non-medical to them, like feed them to a tiger that happens to be on fire, or shoot them in the face with a paintball gun full of bees, neither of which, to my knowledge, is an actual medical procedure anywhere except in Mexico.
I saw an ad for cars the other day, and it said that Dodge was a registered trademark. I sincerely hope that doesn’t mean that I need to use a different word to describe not getting hit by something.
To Treebeard,, mosquitos are nothing, but yellow-bellied sapsuckers are like tiny little vampires of death (as opposed, one imagines, to all the other varieties of vampires out there which are not of death, such as the vampires of tragically poor fashion choices, and the dreaded vampires of chronic typographical errors).
Duck hunters are willing to spend like, all day out on a freezing river in the dead of winter just on the off chance that some ducks will fly by and they can shoot them. Don’t get me wrong, I hate ducks too, just not enough to go to all that trouble to vent my boundless fury upon them. Most types of hunting are like that, you just sit around in the woods being all extra quiet, hoping that you can shoot something and eat it. With one exception: zombie hunting. Zombie hunting is sooo much better, because not only are they marginally more evil than ducks, but you also don’t have to build a temporary treehouse and wear an orange hat. Also, you can use chainsaws, which, if I recall correctly, are generally discouraged in duck hunting.
Neptune is my favorite god of the ocean if I had to pick one. Not because I love the ocean though; I just really enjoy the sugarless gum he invented.
It must really suck being an Indian superhero, because everyone expects you to have thematically Indian superpowers. So, you can’t just be like a guy who flies around and stops crimes; your motivation has to be to avenge your ancestors. And your name, by law, has to either make reference to a specific tribe, or bears. So, Captain Badass is not an acceptable name. Chief Mataponi Thunderpants I Really Love Bears, is much more appropriate. Also, you can’t just be really strong or really fast, unless right before you use your powers, you say something about spirit pumas and your ancestors. Finally, you will never get your powers thanks to a scientific accident or radioactive Toby Macguire bite. Rather, you will find an ancient relic of your people, like a dreamcatcher, or a casino. So yeah, if you’re an Indian, just forget about being able to try being a cyborg, ninja, or time traveler.
Someone needs to make a sitcom where the Cowardly Lion and Aslan share an apartment in New York and hilarity ensues.
You know those bumper stickers that say, “Don’t Let the Car Fool You, My Treasure is in Heaven”? The other day I saw one on a brand new PT Cruiser. This suggests that, contrary to the bumper sticker, at least a good $35,000 of their treasure is in fact driving around Richmond. Really, if you’re going to get that sticker, then your car needs to be either at least ten years old, or a Daewoo.
