Tell a man a joke and he laughs for a second. Teach a man a joke and someone else laughs for a second, later.

Groundhog Day means six more weeks of winter. Ground Beef Week means we’re eating like kings.

My first grade teacher was Mrs. Password.

You are not you're mistakes.

Hanging with art friends and repeatedly pointing at graffiti and shouting “Is THAT a Banksy?!” until they snap.

Anthropologists believe Bigfoot will remain hidden until he has finished his screenplay.

Magicians don’t retire, they become disillusioned.

No matter how well read you are, there’s always someone weller read.

I knew this failed sculpture—huge chip on his shoulder.

Non sequitur? I hardly know her.

It's not my fault I say dumb things. It's in my D&A.

If you ever show your friends a picture of your crush, and you have to say, “Let me find a better picture of them,” it means they're ugly.

I want to write a novel about Schrödinger’s Cat, but I don't know if there's a story there or not.

I used to do a lot of Shakespeare in the park, or, as the Chicago Police like to call it, “Drunk and Disorderly Conduct.”

You may not believe that contractions are difficult for me to use correctly, but they’re.

Leatherface was always outshined by his fabulous cousin, Patent Leatherface.

The Home Shopping Network is always saying “Operators are standing by,” and I'm like, “Finish the fucking sentence.”

I’m an anesthesiologist by day and a ventriloquist with a sedated patient by night.

I hate when people say Frankenstein's penis when they really mean Frankenstein's Monster's penis.

If you want to be an expert on the Middle Ages, you really gotta know yore shit.