When I was little, and I saw that episode of Next Generation where Picard gets borgled, I always wondered why he kept saying “I am so cute as a borg.” I mean, obviously he was, he didn’t need to keep pointing it out, like Riker was going to be all like, “Darn right you’re so cute as a borg, girlfriend!”
I was at the bank, and they had a sign which read, “It’s always a good thing to save for a goal!” But what if your goal is something evil, like committing genocide, or buying a bunch of Partridge Family records? Good job First Market, way to encourage financing for evil.
I saw a Mercedes the other day, the plate of which said MB OF R3. Mere words cannot express how relieved I am to know that not only have The Monkey Butlers of Richard the Third come back to
You know how they have fat camp for the portly youth of today, where they go and earn like, I dunno, fat merit badges, and study fat lore, and fat basket making? They need a camp like that for kids with ADD and call it concentration camp. And they’ll learn all sorts of good study skills and like, ways to help them pay attention in class and stuff. Also, it’d be fun to tell kids who were acting up, “Timmy, if you don’t stop fidgeting this very moment I’m going to send you to concentration camp!” That would wunderbar.
There’s apparently a coastal plant called Diablo Buckwheat. Nothing I can add to that could possibly make it any funnier than it is already.
I saw a boat being towed down 95 the other day called “Bound for Pleasure.” There’s just something wrong with society these days when someone can go and take their freakily-named S&M boat down a public interstate like that without some decent-minded citizen setting them on fire, though they’d probably enjoy it anyway. Freaks.
There’s a barber shop in the mall called Mr. Nick’s. You know, if you’re going to be shaving people, maybe your name oughtn’t be Mr. Nick. At least Abercrombie & Fitch had the good sense to change their name from Mr. Make You Look Like a Three Dollar Ho, take a page from their book, Mr. Nick.
Barnes & Noble had a book called, “The Book of the Dead.” So I got all excited, because I love the Dead. I opened it up though, and it was just full of pictures of mummies and skulls and Bob Dole and stuff, no Jerry Garcia anywhere. I was severiously disappointed, to say the least.
They say if you buy an animal and plan on killing/eating it, you shouldn’t name it first. That can cut both ways though. Sure, your kids’ll hate you if you get an axe and go out into the backyard to kill Mr. Buttons, but say you got say, a sheep and named it after something unspeakably evil, that’d only make it easier to kill it. “Where’s my gun woman, I’m a going out in the yard to shoot Paris Hilton!” “But Cletus, you only bought her yesterday!” “I said, ‘where’s my gun?’”
The other day I saw Saruman out hiking on the trails at Henricus. That’s great and all, I just hope he’s not breeding orcs with goblin men back there; we’ve already got enough of that going on down at the boat landing.
If Ted Danson ever learns how to read and decides to write an autobiography, it had better be called, “Danson in the Moonlight.”
There’s a restaurant in Carytown, and their sign says, among other things, “We’ve got a Patio!” Like, in quotes, just like that, which strikes me as really weird, assuming it’s just a regular patio. I mean, quotes are for saying stuff like, “Our priority is quality!” or, “Putting the pug in pugilism!” So unless it’s like, the metaphorical patio of good customer service, I think it’s time someone taught them a lesson. In grammar.
