Ron Paul is 17-feet tall and has the Bill of Rights tattooed on his balls.

One time I had to sleep at a truck stop behind a Wendy’s with a horny old trucker driver. His name was Hugo and after he had his way with me the only things he left were a dirty quarter and a pat on the back. Oh, and a temporary tattoo of a butterfly. I guess it was worth it.

It’s a good thing dudes aren’t the ones secreting natural lubrication in response to sexual arousal. The world would be like a giant slug’s slime trail left by soggy wieners.

I’m pretty mad at this toilet that has trouble flushing toilet paper but I’m sure if I confronted the toilet it would be like, “Come on, buddy. Forget about the damn paper – at least I be suckin’ down your poops and pees!” Toilets do not speak proper English.

Teenage angst and depression are heavily influenced by childhoods filled with fairy tales and fables. The futile hopes for Santa Clause’s arrival and unrealistic dreams of becoming the President of Astronauts are soon crushed by puberty quicker than a pair or testes dropping or a couple of doorknob breasts emerging. Knock, knock. Who’s there? No one – go back to bed, turd boy.

It amazes me when I overhear middle-aged adults timidly discussing their recent revelations regarding the hypocrisies of religion and the status quo. What were these people doing during puberty? No one can possibly masturbate during their entire teenage years – surely there were a few moments of philosophical questioning amidst counting the recent sprouts in the mighty pubic hair forest.

After countless hours of close observation – scientists have yet to discover an ideological difference separating kung fu from porno flicks.

A typical response to viewing Conan The Barbarian is as follows; “Wow, that enormous warrior is violent, borderline retarded and almost entirely incapable of communicating the simplest of thoughts… I’d love to know his strategic growth plan for California’s transportation system. Hey, did he just say ‘GNNAAHHH?’”

The majority of music I hear lacks one of two things – emotion or a message. If a singer isn’t explaining the countless ways in which he or she is currently dying, you might as well be listening to Raffi performing Baby Beluga from a ball pit at the local Chucky Cheese knock-off during the birthday party for someone who hasn’t really been your friend since 3rd grade.

I’m not very good at remembering my life. It’s taken me three months to remember to write this down. Hopefully I don’t forget to hit “save” at the end of this senten