You know how when you go to
You know that terrorist guy we’ve been after for a while, Zarqy Zark and the Funky Bunch or whatever his name is? Well, it turns out that not only is he actually the long lost third Olsen twin, but our army has a dedicated force of specialists whose only job is catching him and forcing him to do the truffle shuffle on a live worldwide podcast. Which all sounds like a great idea and all, until you realize that the worst way in the world to motivate people is to give them a job, pay them by the hour, and then tell them they’ve got no set date to be finished by. Heck, they probably caught him months ago, but just keep saying he’s on the run to keep getting paid. “Hey, did y’all catch Zarkon yet?” “Nope, we almost had him this time, but then he turned into a beautiful narwhal/helicopter and flew away in a hail of rainbows.” “What, not again, that’s like, jeez, the fifth time this week, you guys need to hurry up and bag him!” “Haha guys, I just told him the one about the narwhal/helicopter again; we’re gainfully employed for another week!”
I passed by Ducks in a Row the other day, because even though I love my ducks, everybody knows that when you buy them pre-rowed like that at a big retail chain, there’s a severely scandalous markup on them. That’s why I prefer to go to Ducks in a Heap, where they just dump ‘em off the pallet and you pick out your own. Sure you have to sift through a few factory rejects and slightly irregulars, but hey, a man’s gotta save his money for more important things, by which I mean medieval weapons and curried mutton gummi bears.
I saw a car bearing a plate the other day, the text of which read, I SELL UM. Okay, if you can’t even remember what you sell, maybe you oughtn’t be trying to put it on your car, unless of course the poor soul in question merely didn’t know that you can only have eight letters and actually said, “I sell, um, y’know, those things, whaddyacallems, like pants, but with, you know, more of that stuff, that fire stuff, like cheese or something, yeah,” little knowing that DMV does not smile kindly upon dictation.
You know how much of a geek I am? I recently bought an external hard drive. But wait, it gets worse, because I could either get a boring one or one that looked like a book. And I got the one that looked like a book. And I did this because Inspector Gadget’s niece, Penny had a computer book and this somehow struck me as a quality worthy of emulation. So, yeah, the worst part is, I could not be happier.
Why does everybody only eat artichoke hearts anyway? I mean, not like that’s all that we all subsist off of, but rather that that seems to be the preferred part of the artichoke anatomy for culinary use. I bet the Indians used every part of the artichoke, you know, as great herds of artichokes used to blanket the
It’s a darn good thing the letter K exists; otherwise we’d have no readily available way of making words that start with a C all extra cute. Also, people would always be getting the Klan mixed up with all those other clans out there, and they hate that, though I suppose that, being the Klan and all, they probably hate lots of stuff anyhow, like HDTV, ferrets, the Pope, Diet Rite Cola, steak’ums, speedboats, apricots, electrical tape, provolone cheese, Adlai Stevenson, Luxembourg, the collapse of the American pants industry, the ipod Nano, DVD-Rs, pinking shears, Colorado, and William Shatner, to name just a few.
