P.C. Richard & I Have No Son
I cannot believe you had the gall to march into our Farmingdale headquarters, and rather than claim your birthright, insist that you go to college.
I cannot believe you had the gall to march into our Farmingdale headquarters, and rather than claim your birthright, insist that you go to college.
Being is a condition that has been linked to depression, a crippling sense of loss, getting attacked by alligators, and even death.
Some people say that sharks take nibbles to satisfy their curiosity. Rest assured, we're coming to bite you because we want to bite you.
What could be more healthy than taking a spelling test while boulders—such as the one that just flattened Senator Constantine—fall from the sky?
"Her butt is coming out first," my mom's ob-gyn told her six hours into her contractions. "This baby is just not the right fit."
An elderly couple sues the mother of a teenager for damages to their 1998 Buick Skylark, on which the teen wrote on “I’m a Dirty Bird” with hand sanitizer.
If the Mouth Police catch you they send you to mega jail. It’s like jail but bigger and where my rebel dad is.
We wanted to take a minute as a company to step back, take a look at each other, and ask the question, "Which one of you can we fire?"
Listen, I know these struggles are just theoretical for me—but that’s why they’re so easy to argue against!
Please stop graffitiing the Batmobile with hurtful slogans like “The Caped Contager” and “The Dark Blight.”
Mystery Inc is an LLC, and you're your shareholders' puppets: driving from town to town, pushing out the little guys so big business can take over.
I heard that in Heaven, you can ride on the backs of angels and use their halos as steering wheels. That’s something I would like to check out.