The greatest part about having broken up with your girl is how easy it is to see which girls are interested in you. You just mention your break-up to a girl and, if she’s even slightly interested in you, she’ll smile (instead of offering pity). This is the greatest hook-up time saver since money.

One of these days, someone’s gonna have the brains to remake “Columbo” and the world will be a worse place because of it.

The first girl I hooked up with after the breakup was cheating on her man. I hate this world, sometimes. Sometimes I really do.

Our first piece of hurricane hype finally arrived the other day. It’s about time. I mean, it’s the second week of hurricane season. This particular entity is now a depression, and as such, is not worthy of a name. They call it Tropical Depression One, a name that is, well, kind of depressing. I hate summer, sometimes. Sometimes I really do.

The newest “discussion I am most tired of having” is officially the debate as to whether or not LeBron James is the next Michael Jordan. I’m now walking away from this. I’ve made my points (two or three hundred times) and I’m done. Seriously, don’t bring it up around me. Please.

In case you’re wondering just how close we are here at Points in Case, E. Mike Tuckerson is helping my mom with a presentation for an annual meeting of churches. If you weren’t wondering, well hey, consider that a bonus.

There’s nothing worse than unnecessary hyperbole.

You know you’ve been drinking too much when you go a day without alcohol and think to yourself, “Wow, I feel good. I’m at like, one hundred percent capacity or something.”

And finally, because logic and fluidity absolutely refuse to work on Sundays, I leave you with the following, which was told to me in New York.

“Wow, I never saw anyone get caught in the train’s doors like that before.”

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