People who kill themselves really take life too seriously.

I always want to ask really obese people how they have sex. And what it's like in airplane seats and toilets and what not. But I never do. Strange.

Lately I've been considering wearing a bib when I eat. I think my clothes would look better and last longer as a result.

You can tell a career air traffic controller by his eyes. I can spot an air traffic controller with more than ten years experience from twelve feet away in a dimly lit room. Their eyes look exercised (one of those things that's hard to describe but easy to spot, like sex).

I think it's great that Ron Paul has got a ton of people saying to themselves, “Wait. What the hell is the Federal Reserve Bank again?” That makes me feel good about Americans.

I wish we were allowed to hunt on the grounds of my apartment complex. I think it would totally liven up the place.

Writing when you're exhausted is like trying to pull a string out of tube without touching either: a slow process.

Come to think of it, writing when you're exhausted and downing a couple of beers on an empty stomach is a slow process, too.

Has anybody beat up crooked NBA referee, Tim Donaghy yet? Because I would like that to happen.

If I owned a bar, I would trap a room of fat chicks and then unload them onto the floor an hour before closing time. I think that would be an interesting sociological experiment. Of course, I don't know what sociological means either but I'm pretty sure that watching a bunch of drunk men react to a bevy of sauced up fat chicks would be entertaining in the funny way. And if you disagree, you're wrong. Even if I don't know what the hell I'm talking about.

And finally, because logic and fluidity are taking a well deserved nap, I leave you with the following, which I overheard at a barbecue:

“I don't know why more people don't hula-hoop.”

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