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Grandfather clocks are too expensive. Unless grandfathers actually turn into clocks when they die – then they’d be totally worth it. I’d buy the Rodney Dangerfield grandfather clock so that time would be hilarious and get no respect.

The happiest place on Earth is not Disney World. The happiest place on Earth is the ice cream rainbow that Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny sleep on.

Sew what? is the best name for a sewing store. It works on so many levels. Well, only two levels, but still – that’s a decent amount of levels for a store filled with sewing crap.

One thing I learned from camping is that a balled-up t-shirt is not a pillow.

Sometimes I’m uncomfortable with the thoughts that materialize in my brain. Once, I was in the middle of a conversation with a pregnant woman when a friend suggested she have the baby in water. Instantly, I thought, “No, you should have the baby in my mouth!” Anyway, I had to leave that conversation immediately.

Dial-up porn was a nipple treasure hunt.

It’s funny when businesses are overly literal. Northern California is home to a chain of grocery stores called Ray’s Food Place. Ray apparently doesn’t know that the English language provides words such as “supermarket,” “delicatessen,” and “restaurant” to describe “food places”. Please let him know by e-mailing him at RaysElectronicMailingAddress@InternetServerLocation.com.

Everything looks grosser in a pile - garbage, ants, and happy people.

I witnessed the loneliest moment of a complete stranger’s life when I walked into that enormous interstate restroom and noticed a single pair of legs peeking out amidst a dozen unoccupied stalls while the John Tesh version of Silent Night echoed softly off the dirty porcelain urinals.

We’re all scared of bugs and it’s irrational because they’re so tiny. That’s like the beanstalk being afraid of Jack. Beanstalks don’t even have emotions, Terry Schiavo.

My religion is very unique. Sure, I eat unlevened bread and drink wine blood. But I believe the universe is actually a skin cell on the fourth labia of a Spaceapotomous. It’s not a very popular religion. Yeah, just me and Bob Villa.

Hair Math! Comb over is the square root of toupee.

We need to reevaluate the classification of dreams and nightmares. I keep having these seemingly “awesome” dreams where I’m handpicked by Louis C.K. to write comedy for Conan O’Brien or I’m madly in love with some beautiful girl from the past whom I never had the opportunity to date. But as far as I’m concerned, these dreams are infinitely more nightmarish than that one about endlessly falling into a menstrual volcano in the shape of Rosie O’Donnell’s pumpkin head during Big Bird’s muppet funeral.

It was a clear black night/A clear white moon/Warren G was on the streets/Tryin’ to consume…

So begins Regulate, the epic poem by gangster bards Warren G and Nate Dogg. Like Homer and Virgil before them, these Long Beach City (L.B.C.) regulators penned a funked-out odyssey in the summer of 1994 that signified the dawn of a new age, the G-Funk Era.

But while Cicero practiced his oration by gargling stones at the beach - Warren G and Nate Dogg strengthened their storytelling chops by pulling on blunts, squeezing triggers and spitting game at hoes. This is their story…

The code of the regulators is outlined by a quote from the 1988 film Young Guns: Regulators are a vigilante gang of law enforcers that will not allow any geek off the street to join ranks - gotta be handy with the steel if you know what I mean, earn your keep.

Our regulator heroes, Warren G and Nate Dogg, begin their tale during a typical L.B.C. mission – peeping skirts for the eve. Warren G, however, is sidetracked by brothas shooting dice and suddenly a conflict arises. The busters pull out their gats and proceed to jack up Warren G – robbing him of his rings, Rolex, and who knows what’s next?

Meanwhile, Nate Dogg causes a car full of hookers to look so hard that they hit the curb. Stranded on the sidewalk and ripe for pimping, these hoes will have to wait for G-assistance because Nate Dogg suddenly notices his fellow regulator getting jacked by suckers all in his mix.

Surrounded by busters, Warren G envisions growing wings and flying away to contemplate. To his relief, he glances to the cut and sees his homey Nate rolling up with sixteen bullets in his clip and one in the hole. Nate Dogg’s strap explodes on the group of busters until their bodies turn cold. After proper regulation is complete, the pair gather themselves and switch their minds back to freak mode.

The regulators decide to get some funk from the horny tricks who crashed their car. Nate Dogg sizes up the dames, one of whom is sexy as hell, and he cordially offers them a ride to the East Side Motel. With the busters out of the way and the skirts in toe – another successful night of regulating comes to a close.

Chords, strings, melody, and g-funk work together in perfect harmony. Our heroes live in a world where rhythm is life and life is rhythm. You don’t want to step to the regulators from area code 213. Leaders of the G-Funk Era, they are getting high, like, everyday.

And if your ass is a buster/213 will regulate.

Sometimes you make a snap judgment about a person and it sticks throughout your entire relationship. I met a girl named Brie who has no chance of altering my negative opinion of her because I think it’s dumb that she’s named after cheese. This rationale does not apply to Mayor McCheese because that guy overcame all odds by being elected into public office despite having a cheeseburger for a head.

For some people, the saddest sight they’ve seen might be a starving puppy whimpering in a puddle of garbage. But for me it was definitely that fat family eating jumbo Slim Jims at Wal-Mart.

The toilet should have its own room separate from showers and vanities. This proposed “toilet room” would have a comfortable throne, a faucet to wash your hands, and that’s it. I’m sick of brushing my teeth with turd air.

Candy bars are the #1 cause of liposuction in America.

It’s amazing how eating certain foods can cause introspective thought to occur. For instance, eating a donut can trigger contemplation on one’s physique and lead to dieting. Also, a banana can make a man jealous of fellas who don’t have to bite off half of the thing to create an accurate representation of their erect “manana”.

Pet names and euphemisms are a common way for people to refer to taboo subjects like their own genitalia. My special area is like a bed of roses that I retreat to when no one is around. That’s why I call my vagina, “the secret garden”.

It’s hard to relate to people who have the motivation to accomplish stupid tasks. A chubby lady next to me at the movie theater was all excited to eat her enormous soft pretzel when she realized the snack bar forgot to include a cup of melted dipping cheese. Personally, just finding the motivation to get up and search for a bathroom is difficult enough - yet this woman had the iron will to force the moviegoers in our row to stand up and let her loose on a nacho cheese re-con mission. As a result, she got her kiddie cup of chemical cheese to dunk her radioactive pretzel in and I got to listen to her digestive system scream for mercy like an orphan at the bottom of a well.

I bought a book on Tai Chi so I have something new not to read.

Will someone please write a funny skit about a courteous rapist? Herbert Chesterworth III is a gentlemanly chap who apologizes while biting off his victim’s panties and always remembers to tip the brim of his top hot during each violent sexual jolt. “Me lady, might I trouble thee for a handkerchief to wipe thy blood spatter off this antique monocle?” It writes itself, folks.

Tigger is not only the biggest asshole in the Hundred Acre Wood but the entire cartoon community. Today we will take a look at the top five reasons why he is an asshole while excluding obvious ones such as the fact that his name is one letter away from “the n word”. So without further ado…

The Top 5 Reasons Why Tigger Is An Asshole

5. He’s the Official Mascot of Poverty - All over the United States, obese 15-year-old mothers draped in grease-stained Tigger sweatshirts drag their malnourished brood across acres of Wal-Mart aisles while blending seamlessly into the flock of similarly dressed dregs of society adorning this all-too-familiar Tigger-sponsored wardrobe of failure. Faded Tigger tattoos forever inked into the cankles of gas station clerks serve as a misguided substitution for lost childhood happiness. The trailer parks of America are waving the Tigger flag of surrender higher than the cartoon tiger could ever wish to bounce. Tigger keeps the poor down by infusing a false sense of joy through his phony animated personality - he is such an asshole.

4. He Has The Voice of an Old Man - Having the voice of an elderly man doesn’t automatically make someone an asshole but this trait must count against Tigger simply because of how creepy it is in contrast to his personality. For all intents and purposes Tigger is a child - innocently bouncing around the forest with a carefree spirit, always looking for someone to play with. Now couple that with the voice of a 74-year-old guy with emphysema and his playful “hoo hoo hoo hoo!” sounds like the mating cry of someone tempting a child with chocolate from the back of a Ford Econoline van with no windows. Tigger hides his voice only to seduce children on instant messenger - he is a creepy asshole.

3. Tigers Do Not Belong in an English Forest - The Hundred Acre Wood is understandably home to a bear, donkey, pig, owl and rabbit. Granted, it is also home to kangaroos but Australian marsupials will not threaten the entire British ecosystem by carnivorously devouring the shit out of all indigenous creatures like, say, a psychotic Indian tiger. Tigger’s invasion and subsequent occupation of “the wood” can only be seen as an act of cartoon terrorism. How is Eeyore supposed to defend himself against a tiger? Mope him to death? Tigger is a ruthless dictator who cleverly infiltrated a habitat with no natural enemies - what an asshole.

2. Over-Inflated Ego - Narcissism and egocentric behavior don’t even begin to describe the bloated ego of Tigger. Ignore his catchy songs about how wonderful and one-of-a-kind he is. At the end of the day - he’s full of shit. Claiming to fly or jump farther than a kangaroo are one thing but Tigger goes out of his way to tell the other animals that he’s willing to eat anything and then proceeds to systematically reject every delicious thing they offer including honey and acorns. Ultimately he concedes to eating extract of malt, which I don’t even think is real food. Face it - Tigger is a deceptive liar that manipulates the naïve forest inhabitants while putting on airs - he’s a self-righteous asshole.

1. Constant Tackling of Other Animals - Up to this point Tigger’s crusade against all that is good has been limited to inflicting psychological damage. But in order to satiate his taste for becoming the ultimate asshole - Tigger takes it upon himself to physically harm others by tackling, pinning and standing triumphantly on top of any challenger to his bitter throne of dickery. The worst part is that no one else is even participating in this struggle for forest douchebag dominance. Rabbit will be quietly hoeing carrots in his garden when Tigger suddenly springs out of thin air, knocking him to the ground and ruining months of work by uprooting his crops. What a bully. What a jerk. What an asshole!

Conclusion - The most wonderful thing about Tigger - is nothing.

I’ve opened up a store where you can now get Julius Bloop T-shirts. Currently available are the Paulie Potato T-shirt and The Tourist T-shirt. I am selling these at cost and will not make a penny on them - I’m just providing them for any weirdos who want them. Like you!

Human ingenuity can transform everyday items into remarkable, multifaceted objects. For instance, a hobo in downtown Portland discovered that a broken umbrella can become a magical cloaking device that conceals the act of smoking crack from passersby.

I almost slipped and fell in the shower today and it was terrifying. No wonder old people smell so bad - nobody wants to die wet and naked. Interestingly enough, the opposite applies to fish.

A four pack of Guinness is more expensive than a fifth of Courvoisier. I’m just throwing that out there, alcoholics.

A friend asked me, “Why don’t you move to Los Angeles – there are celebrities everywhere!” I replied, “Well, I’m not friends with anyone famous so I’d be left to gawk at them like a child at the Zoo.” Unfortunately, my rebuttal lost its impact when I looked outside at the Ringtailed Lemurs and realized we were arguing inside my apartment at the Zoo.

Does anyone else hear voices in their head while they’re trying to fall asleep - or is that just us?

Today I made the analogy that my bedroom is so small it’s like living in an elephant’s ass. Normally an elephant’s ass would be used to describe very large things but not if you have to live in the goddamn thing.

The absolute most unequivocally awesome thing in the world is going to a familiar bar, falling ass backwards into a conversation with a beautiful girl and then, an hour into your fairy tale discussion about kung fu and Akira Kurosawa films, her lighting a Virgina Slim and introducing you to her 6’2” douche-nozzle boyfriend. At that point she might as well rip off her mask, reveal herself as your 7th grade science teacher and rape your head with every stranger’s dick in the bar.

Earlier today I saw a frog and it landed on a stick I was holding. I proceeded to fling him into the river. It was my happiest moment in recent memory.

It’s really hard to avoid stooping to low brow comedy and just writing blowjob jokes all day. But does it make me look more legitimate if I ignore the burning desire to write an editorial about a guy begging his girlfriend to suck his dick despite the fact that she’s sick with the flu? Do I win points for resisting the urge to explain in several paragraphs how the guy is willing to slather his balls with Vick’s VapoRub to ease her sore throat during the process?