MTVh1 had Donald Trump III on Space Cribs last night and his residence pod was beyond typical extravagance. Sure, he had oil lamps and a hangar filled with luxury air cars but I almost feinted when they revealed his banana tree. I didn’t think anyone outside of the Royal Intergalactic family could afford a flarking banana tree!

Kids say the darndest things. Like one time my nephew said, “Can I have an orange soda?” I was like, “Haha, what other kind is there?”

I’m not one to be judgmental, especially since the government increased the voltage on my prejudice-collar, but I can’t stand these Earth-born, Flargon wannabes with their Flargon clothes and fake tentacles. Shave those armpit braids, Fliggers!

Who still watches TV shows with real people in them? They look so fake compared to ultra CGI.

If I were a space pirate, I’d hide all of my booty in an underground bunker on Planet Zorp. The other space pirates would all be like, “Hey, Rogue Bloop, where’re your nitrogen dodecahedrons?” and I’d be like, “Definitely not in a bunker on Planet Zorp, haha…” They’d all join in the laughter and go back to drinking Flargon blood out of gorilla-bird skulls – but I’ll sip my star juice quietly knowing that the jokes on them.

My work associates from the community factory are always making me pick up the check after lunch. What am I? Made of bananas?

Have you seen the documentary about the terrible working conditions in Sector B5? Their furniture is so dusty; you’d swear they’ve never owned a pair of Swiffer Pants.

The Science Masters want us to stop using our electron-inhibiting ozone-protectors because of global cooling. I say, damn the sun, bring on the glaciers and crank up the M.H.T.’s (Magma Heat Tubes)!

Who are you going to vote for in the 2110 Presidential Cage Match? At first I thought maybe Chelsea Clinton would win but then I remembered Jeb Bush Jr.’s finishing move – The Sunshine State Vote-Dump.