Sometimes, one little discovery can solve a great mystery. Like when your travel disc won’t start and suddenly you notice the Jupiter crystal is dirty or when Bea Arthur cast aside her lowly celebrity shell and was finally revealed as Mother of all CelibriGods.

Have you seen the new Heinz squeeze bottle that only combines ketchup, mustard, BBQ sauce, and mayonnaise? Don’t tell me I have to buy a separate squeeze bottle for tartar sauce now. What is this? The 2050’s?

My great grandfather told me he had friends named “mike” and “chris” which is so stupid because names like that don’t even indicate blood type let alone what function they serve at the Social Betterment Facility. Ridiculous!

I swear to Bea Arthur that some days you just wake up on the wrong side of the sleep-regulating rejuvenation chamber.

Dear Science Masters, thank you for curing AIDs II, regenerating lost appendages, and transplanting eagle eyeballs to blind people, but can you please put a little more effort into curing the common cold? Or would you rather pay the dry cleaning bill for getting the puke out of my dolphin-skin couch?

It’s getting increasingly harder to stay above the law. Recently, I forgot to upload my breakfast to Yahootube and the Knowledge Investigation Bureau fined me ten billion world coins…no big deal, right? But then those monsters of authority disconnected my Internet for three life-altering hours that I’ll never get back. Never!

I thought I finally saw a woman today but it turns out it was just a very sexy cloud of nitrogen gas.

I accidentally slept through the back nine on Golferday and now I have to hit five birdies of repentance in order to appease Father Woods. Sometimes I just hate Golfism and I want to sleep through every single Golferday – there I said it!

Some citizens claim they can’t recall being born but I remember it like it was yesterday – the cytoplasmic growth sac, the energy transference module and alllll that sour cream!