And so we begin…

I just finished a 946 page screen play for a movie called “The Wizard of Uz.” It’s about a girl named Dorthea who bangs her knee during a Tsunami and then takes a nap. She dreams that she and her dog Doto go to a magical land and meet a straw-guy, a brass man, and a fearful cheetah. Gina’s reading it now. OK, got to go take out the garbage. Whoa! Heavy! What the hell is in here a thousand page encyclopedia or something?


The truth will set you free. Unless the truth is that you’re in prison.


I have finished my dissertation on anti-matter and its relationship to our world.

See below for summation.

hot dogs

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. And if you’re allergic to bee stings, keep your EpiPen closest.


I wrote a book about a white man and a black kid that go up the Mississippi in a kayak. It’s called fuckleberry hinn.


A simile is like a comparison.


I’m not saying I’m cool, but my existence can solve global warming.


It would be better if all butterflies on earth were killed for 2 reasons:

1. if one flaps its wings far away, I don’t have to worry about something bad happening to me.

2. no more butterfly feces.


I don’t understand the phrase “it takes two to tango.” That may have something to do with the fact that I use the word “tango” instead of the word “masturbate.”


Everything in moderation. Except moderation. You need to do that all the time, hardcore.


I’m writing a soap opera for those who believe in reincarnation. It’s called “An infinite number of lives to live.”


I’m going to get a dog and name him Happens. Then when people say “shit happens” I’ll say “Happens shits.”


The song “The sun will come out tomorrow” is a pessimistic song if there is a drought.


haikus are so lame

why must i obey the rules?

well i ain’t. i won’t, yo.


I just went into a gay bar to ask the bartender some questions, and I can’t get any straight answers out of that guy.


There should be a straight pride parade. On the float would just be a guy sitting in a chair reading, and a woman on the couch knitting. No music. Lots of bored sighs too.


There’s a new show coming out about Richie Cunningham’s sister’s adoration of crappy odds and ends. It’s called Joanie loves tchotchkes.


I know pi to two places. Call me ladies. 😉


Elvis could have saved, like, five bucks a night had he stayed at the Heartbreak Motel


I saw a unicorn today at a horse farm. Someone cut off his horn, though, and hair grew over the stump. Come to think of it, there were a lot of them there.


This came to me in a dream….March! April, may June?


What quality do a horn and a former Egyptian king share? They both toot in common.


A majestic owl delivered my mail on Saturday, just like in the Harry Potter movies. It was all junk mail, though….talk about a bummer!


Those Livestrong bracelets by Lance Armstrong are great, just great. Of course, the 14 year-old kids in China who are making them aren’t living so strong.


I just opened a box of mushrooms and there was fungus in there…gross!


Remember that movie when the guy held the radio playing that nice song outside that girl’s window? Anyway, I can’t afford a radio, so I had to think of a different way to show my love for Gina. So, in this digital age, I downloaded a song from itunes and I stood outside of our bedroom window in silence holding this sign…

love poster

I am writing a remake of the Wizard of Oz. In this one, a crash test dummy is missing his spleen. It’s…I mean, the movie is kinda boring…it’s just him, reading a medical journal, trying to figure out what the spleen does. And he’s kind of depressed, so he sleeps a lot.


Margaret Wise Brown wrote Goodnight Moon. One of the pages says “goodnight nobody” and the page is blank. A stroke of minimalist genius to some, a lazy bitch who ran out of ideas to me.


I have a date with my avatar on Tuesday. Any recommendations on what to do? And don’t be a wiseass and say “go fuck yourself.”


String theory proposes that matter is made up of tiny wiggling strings. I have been doing my own research for nearly a decade, and here is what I have concluded. String theory is true for “stringy” stuff, like silly string, spaghetti, and spaghetti squash. String theory is false for “non-stringy” stuff, like pudding and Elmer’s glue. And you scientists, don’t give me any shit, because I can prove it.


I think Nigella Lawson would be subtler if she took her clothes off while she was cooking and just pointed at her vagina.


I have to get this monkey off my back. That’s not a metaphor. There is an actual monkey on my back. It’s the 800-pound gorilla in the room. That’s a metaphor.


I’m writing a sitcom called “The theory of RELATIVE-ity” It’s about a guy named Albert Deinstein whose relatives are staying over his house and annoying him….get it? And at the end of each episode, Albert will look at the camera and say “it’s all relative” and then there will be funny “wah wah wah” sounds.


A lot of highly educated people try to figure out why Mona Lisa has that knowing, condescending smile. I think it’s because she’s only an average painting, and she’s worth a shitload of money.


You know, a lot of people know Henry Clay’s nickname “the great compromiser” but are unaware of his other nickname “big dick Hank.”



Yesterday I built a time machine. Now I regret it. So I am going back in time so I can not build it.


Jim Henson made a typo. Those doll-things you put your hand into are called puppets.


Humans can get robots on Mars and control them remotely with amazing precision. Now think about how we handle garbage: we put it in a bag, then another guy takes the bag and gives it to another guy. That other guy puts it in a field. That’s what you call misappropriated funds.


Tuesday I will start wearing a toupee. But it’s a bald toupee, so I’ll look the same. Also, I am going to get a life-size tattoo of a nose on my nose. Again, you really won’t be able to tell.


Remember that song from the 80s…”I always feel like, somebody’s watching me…..don’t got no privacy….” Well, of course someone’s watching you and you have no privacy. You’re on TV.


Think different. Don’t buy an iPod.


Unless I’m missing something here, the Visigoths were not skinny chicks that wore a lot of eye makeup.


I’m a farcavore. I only eat things that had to travel at least 10,000 miles to get to Shoprite.


ny times

Those guys at the NY Times don’t miss a trick, do they?


I never understood what the big deal about déjà vu is. Every day you take the same train to work, go to the same job, see the same people, and go home to the same house. Clearly, now and then, you will feel like this has happened before.


Magritte sure was smart to paint that apple in front of that guy’s face. Painting eyes, a nose and a mouth can take HOURS.


Why doesn’t Stephen Hawking’s voice synthesizer have a British accent?


Check out this retouching I did…the client said,

“I want the car to be more froggish. See what you can do.”



I know how to solve all the world’s problems. I will make a cupcake for everyone on earth, to spread love and compassion. Of course, to get that much flour and butter at a reasonable price, I’m going to have to kill a shit-load of people.



Today I met a Buddhist monk. I asked him “what is the key to life?” He said, “living in the present moment.” Then I said, smirking, “no it isn’t, this is the key to life!” and I held up a big key I cut out of cardboard. Then he gave me the finger, and said I was an asshole.


This is from the NY times…. “Are Lady Gaga and her admirers confusing sexual power with self-objectification? I respond with…”Is the New York Times and their admirers trying too hard to be over-intellectual?”


I was thinking of writing this grammar book, called eat… oh shoot, the phone’s ringing, i gotta go.


The hair on your arms grows to a certain length, and then stops growing. If you shave or cut the hair, it grows back. How does the hair root know the hair that used to be above it is gone?


it’s a good think george michael doesn’t have dyslexia, cause then that song would have been “wake me up before you og og.”


i’m writing a book about business. I talk about the ins and outs of bankruptcy in chapter 11.


there are 2 sides to every story. especially stories that are typed on the front and back of pieces of paper.


why didn’t the guy climb the ladder to get the cooked meat? the steaks were too high.


i think cheerleaders would be far more effective if they used double negatives….”don’t not be aggresive!” etc.


You can attract more bees with honey than you can with vinegar. Except for vinegar bees.


were there soy milk men?


if 2 ants are doing it, but one lives in the living room and other in the den, is that a long distance relationship?

dude, went to the mall today, saw SO MANY MILFS! yeah, there were a LOT of Mommies I’d Like (to be) Friends (with). none were attractive at all, but very compassionate, good listeners, willing to play Candy Land with me, etc.


i just figured out, no joke, that the poorest people on earth, earning about a dollar a day, assuming they worked everyday, would have to work for about 215 million years to have as much money as bill gates is worth (77 billion). That is incomprehensible. i’m not criticizing Gates at all-he has done more to alleviate human suffering through his foundation than any individual in history, it’s just the this gap is beyond understanding. let me know if my math is wrong. i kinda forgot how to multiply. it took a while.


Snufalufagus and big bird are not the brightest bulbs on the tree if you know what i’m saying. i’m not judging that giant doofus canary and that transvestite mastadon, i’m just saying they ain’t going to be working for NASA anytime soon.


i don’t understand why men would want to have a dominatrix. a woman who is mean to you? ridiculous. I don’t get it. i’ve never actually seen what they look like, let me type in google here, i’ve got google open “hot sexy dominatrix” ok, hit enter, and HOLY JESUS LOOK AT THAT CHICK…ok, now i get it.


My wife grew up like Paris Hilton. Freakin, Westchester County (Yonkers), trips to the golf driving range, the beach, ice cream from the truck. and here i am, growing up in Harrington Park (or HP as we call it in the biz), living like a feakin gangster, one time the guy who came to give me manis and pedis called in sick because he had some disease he made up called “small pox”, then 6 years later my limo driver is 8 minutes late and i’m 14 minutes late for my oboe lesson. Come on, players!


a number of women have told me i am amazing in bed. that number is zero.


i’m not saying i’m cool, but my existence can eliminate global warming.