I heard some friends of mine were starting up a fantasy football thing, so I got all excited and tried to join up. I was greatly disappointed however, when I discovered that despite the name, no unicorns whatsoever were even tangentially involved in any way.
I bet that Noah would have totally rocked at Pokemon, because he did catch ‘em all, and then probably kept them all inside brightly colored balls when he wasn’t making them fight to the death in order to stave off boredom on the Ark.
If it really is a gift to be simple, then no wonder I ended up in the gifted class back in 3rd grade.
There’s a place in Richmond called Liberty Tax Service, and they always advertise by having some guy dress up in a Statue of Liberty costume and wander around on the median strip outside. And that’s cool and all, but it would be so much better if say, a little tiny Charleton Heston ran up to him sometime and ranted about the destruction of Earth, or maybe if a tiny little Wolverine could have an epic battle on the dude’s head. Even without needing to resort to hiring lilliputian celebrities, they could at least build a replica of New York around the guy for him to walk through on his way to smack down Vigo the Carpathian.
I bet when Worf was growing up back on the farm, his mom probably used his forehead to do the laundry on.
I read a lot of Victorian novels, because I am a dork. The thing is, every one of them has these illustrations which would be really nice were it not for the fact that nothing sufficiently interesting ever happens in a Victorian novel to warrant a picture of it taking place. So you get a lot of pictures with titles like, “Mr. Darcy proceeded to dine with the credenza” and “Nigel was abruptly stricken with ennui on the threshold of the vestibule” or “Anna rapaciously devoured the crumpet” Personally, I think that if you’re going to go to the trouble of illustrating a Victorian novel, the pictures ought to at least depict things like, “Mr. Collins manfully wrestled with the venomous electro-squid while playing at whist” and “Wearing his coat composed entirely of living squirrels, Heathcliff proceeded to gad about the drawing room” or at least “Mrs. Bumweasel, the housekeeper, promptly dropped the indolently writhing sack of gibbering cummerbunds as the unholy army composed of the vengeful ancestors of a thousand boy bands hove shrieking into view upon the hillock as it occurred to her that ‘The Gibbering Cummerbunds’ might be an appropriate name for a band.”
I wholeheartedly hope that before their tragic drug-related deaths the California Raisins did an album entitled “Raisin Hell.”
I was looking at a tin of instant coffee creamer the other day (as I am wont to often do) and on the label it said “Serving suggestion shown here.” The picture, however, simply depicted a picture of a cup of coffee which appeared to have had some creamer put into it. No offense, but I don’t believe I needed an illustrated guide in order to grasp the purpose of the product. “Hey, I got some coffee creamer! I wonder what I ought to do with it now. Ooh, put it in some coffee; now there’s a thought!”
I was doing a Bible study with some of my various and sundry homies and one of the questions was “If you were to look up ‘acceptance’ in the thesaurus, what do you think you might find?” I said that you would probably find a bunch of other words that meant similar, though slightly different things. This was apparently not, from a theological standpoint, the correct answer to the question at hand.
I bet that after the Israelites went all wiggety wack out in the desert and God made them wander around for forty years, from up where He was, it looked like a really big Family Circus cartoon, where they left a big convoluted dotted line as they’d like, all climb over a tire swing, and then through a big pipe, and around a tractor or a golden calf and stuff like that. And then when they finally get to the Promised Land, Moses is standing there with his hands on his hips going all like, “I was supposed to take Jeffy to soccer practice an hour ago!”
If you were a handgun manufacturer looking for an opportunity to exploit a seasonal ethnic holiday in order to boost your sales, you might want to think about calling it Glocktoberfest. That would be totally gangsta.
