My stamp collection consists entirely of Fabergé eggs

Horse-tranquilizers are for wusses. I inject whale tranquilizers into my lonely and mis-guided adolescent face.

People get upset over the half-naked women being objectified in hip hop videos but isn’t a music video merely a representation of what it’s like to be inside the song? And have you ever been inside a rap song? There are literally hoes shaking their giant asses everywhere!

Beef jerky is the official snack of poverty.

As children we spend a great deal of time attempting to piece together puzzles of Big Birds and puppies but rarely get the opportunity to flash those skills in adulthood. That is why I propose Hasbro sink all of their research and development into marketing pornographic puzzles. When Porn Puzzles™ become all the rage – the pathetic single men that buy them will inevitably lose the piece with the vagina.

Whoever said that Eskimos have seven words to describe snow was wrong. Eskimos don’t exist.

I have no sympathy for people who parachute and crash land because their chute malfunctioned. It’s like, “Yeah? Well maybe you shouldn’t have chosen to jump out of a fucking airplane, Terry Schiavo!”

Bea Arthur’s sexuality is no mystery to me. I’m positive that if I ever lift up her blue pastel frock and drop those flowing pajama pants I’ll find a smooth, androgynous, Ken-doll-like lump where genitalia usually exists. Oh, and her vocal chords are there as well.

NERF pulled a fast one on us by manufacturing mattresses and renaming them Tempur-Pedic. The company executives were forced to change the name to Tempur-Pedic after customers repeatedly complained of getting their NERF mattresses stuck on the neighbor’s roof.

I love to eat crack babies. I mean…crab cakes.

If I’m ever trapped in an elevator with a pregnant woman in labor I’ll bash my head against the carpeted wall until I fall unconscious. Hopefully by the time the paramedics wave the smelling salts across my nostrils – the baby will be born, the woman will be gone and the elevator will be at the top floor of my penthouse apartment full of sluts and booze.

One time the power went out and I had to shower by candle light. It wasn’t romantic at all. More like a wet and mildly spooky adventure into cleanliness.

It’s tough to find boobs nowadays but back in the 1980′s it was impossible for filmmakers to make a comedy without baring some breasts. Revenge of the Nerds, Back to School, hell, a major subplot of Adventures in Babysitting was Elizabeth Shue resembling a Playboy centerfold. There must have been some sort of tit clause in Hollywood’s contracts.

I need a tit clause at my job. “Oh, a cup of coffee you say? That’ll be $1.35 and two knockers.” Special note – I reserve the right to veto my own tit clause on a tit for tat basis. No flapjacks, please.

That old cartoon was right on the money. An octopus would be a kickass drummer.

Windshield is a great word. It’s a functional description of the object for which it’s named. More imporantly, it sounds like some awesome medieval device.

“Lord Xavier, the Curds approach from the Eastern Hills! Relinquish your goblet of mead and man the windshield!”

Yeah, hi. I’d like a chocolate pizza salad, a pudding sub, and a bowl of cheesy loose meat. Is there anything bigger than super-sized? I’ll have that.