I can put up with anybody. I’m a flaw-suffer king.
Why do children love hotel rooms?
Because they have a fondness for suites!
Many of our schoolchildren know next to nothing about moss! I’m worried it’s a crisis of sphagnumeracy.
Bored? Try dissecting a testicle. You’ll halve a ball.
Would a flower-powered car run on vase-oline?
The gangland baseball star established a huge mafia umpire. Of course, he won’t say a word about his past hits: He follows the code of homerta, and brushes off all allegations as baseless. But he has been seen patrolling the alleys, and out of left field, he takes a swing at the pitcher. ‘Don’t try to put one past a man with three balls,’ he gloats. Despite facing the heat for two controversial strikes–and repeatedly ending up in foul territory–he ends up walking. Of course, the other guys balk. The next inning he decides to stick a cap on a fan. This time the hard liners get to him. So he winds up in the pen. Before, he would feast on sliders, but now he kills time sacrificing flies and collecting booze tins on his mickey mantle. Some say he dabbles in CyYoungtology. During this short stop, he pulls off a deadly sidearm delivery. He rallies, ends up running all the bases, and despite being violently tagged, he makes it home, safe. The truth of the matter? You could ask the catcher, but the catcher knows squat.
It’s easier to fake a drug test than urea lies.
Was Picasso into wedgies?
War on Terror prisoner scandals? Man, shit keeps hitting the fan down in Cuba. They should call it One Mo’ Ton O’ Guano Bay.
Why do carpenters have such large toolboxes?
Because they have to be awl-encompassing.


