Death cannot stop true love. That’s why it’s pointless for me to try to murder all my adoring female fans.
Money is seen as a great evil. But I've never seen a pile of cash stab someone.
The love between a man and an animal is a sacred thing. Well, at least it was, until the politicians started answering to the lobbyists and not the people.
A brick could be used as the lead singer of a band called “The More Interesting Than.” I would say get Miley Cyrus to do it, but she isn’t interesting enough.
When three women all ignore each other, and each ignores me, it reminds me of Dark Jar Tin Zoo’s definition of love. Love is isn’t—even when it isn’t.
The issue, let’s pick it up in the AM. The mannequin, let’s pick it up now and dance like our stiff moves are cool and by design.
A blanket could be used as an American flag. It could keep the world warm with its patronizing patriotism and imperialism.
A blanket could be used as a parachute, for jumping out of dreams.
A brick could be a politician, if you attached strings, taught it to dance, and allowed it to read a teleprompter. Remember: whether it’s Republican or Democrat, it’s still a brick, and it will do whatever the Mason’s want it to. But if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get back to work. Now, where did I leave my secret handshake?
I want to write a book on sex. It will be filled with phrases like "Uuuhgh yeeeaaaah," and "Ooooh that's it," and "Whose hands are those?
Sadness and silence, two things I keep in jars in my basement that I label “Warning: Do not open.
I had a dream about you. The sky was overcast, and my mood was gloomy. Then you walked in. You were a breath of fresh sunlight, and my lungs immediately caught fire.
Reach into your heart and find the gold in it. Mine is shaped like an Olympic medal.
Whenever I see a gorgeous woman, I think, Who is that tall drink of water, and how come I’m suddenly thirsty?
She texted me telling me her mom was dying, so I did the right thing and texted her back a picture of my erect penis and said, “Let’s start a new family.”
I misplaced time. Two minutes of my life just disappeared. Then I wasted another four minutes looking for the two minutes, for a 200% increase in decreased efficiency.
Writing is hard, but I don’t want to kill myself trying to write. Not unless I’m writing a suicide note.
My cat has long hair. Like a hippy.
The guy in the white fedora looks like he’s reading a love letter. I say that only because he looks so confused, what else could the subject matter be?
In Jacksonville, there are more childrenless children than fatherless children. Barely. But that’s one bad thing that’s actually a good thing.