Should have sunroofs so people who can’t afford limousines can still have the limousine experience.
ME (STANDING THROUGH TAXI SUNROOF, ARMS OUTSTRETCHED): Ahhhhh!
NEIGHBORING CAR: Where you headed? To a rager?
ME: No. Home.
Worthless… unless you need a great alibi. Since their picture quality is so low, you can take a picture of a picture of Botswana, send it to your mom and tell people you were on a mission trip at the time Rocco’s Liquor and Handgun Mart was robbed.
Rollerblade: it sounds like a knife that wouldn’t cut very well.
"Mom, this won't even cut my Gouda!"
You probably fear dying in the nude. If a heart attack’s your way to go so be it, just please don’t let it be during your alone time watching the CBS Evening News with Katie Couric.
Including the phrase “Doctor Recommended” on your products is not a good sales pitch. Talk to me when you get more than one doctor.
Have you ever channel surfed past some band you’ve never heard of and immediately decided you think their music’s STD-riddled garbage? And also your TV’s muted?
You stereotyping sons of whores.
When I hook every one of them in my house up to the sound effect of a garbage disposal.
Freaks.
People.
Out.
Why bother with ten when there’s one flagrant frontrunner:
1. The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air
The impetus for FP’s mom (the Queen?) sending him westward is the “one little fight” he gets in at the playground, but as you’ll note at the 0:31 mark, that “one little fight” features five gentlemen way badass-ier than FP bum rushing our likable protagonist, yet by the time the Queen sends him to his Auntie and Uncle’s in Bel-Air (not exactly a maternal role model, is she?) he has nary a scratch. Translation: a lot of time elapsed between the “one little fight” and the move, time likely spent by FP in the ICU and/or in traction and/or in a coma, thus it made sense to move him where he wouldn’t be the biggest Dilbert on the block.
Dear Fresh Prince,
Much like parents, I just don’t understand.
Love,
Ryan
Did you know that in the olden, olden, olden (and some might say “golden”) days you could purchase a dozen apples for a single penny?
Fantastic… but what if you only wanted one?
FARMER: I’ll give you 13 apples for $0.01 to beat Old Man Fairyweather’s prices.
YOU: How much for one?
FARMER: Get off my property.
Last week, the L.A. Times ran this piece:
Teachers start hunger strike to protest layoffs
It ran way back on page ten, and as you can see it’s under 100 words, which isn’t exactly good pub, and which can’t feel good, primarily because a hunger strike can be considered the slowest (and thus one of the more painful) means of suicide. So what we assume are otherwise rational people (they are teachers, after all) have decided to ATTEMPT SUICIDE TO MAKE THEIR POINT, yet their point only managed the smallest of Times New Roman fonts. Sigh.
This lack of pub is bound to show if their glasses are half full. Of course, given the whole hunger strike thing, their glasses are actually empty.
