Growing up, I had a lot of dreams. I was depressed and I slept all the time.

Since the day I was born, I’ve spent my time being a human being, and I regard this as a good decision. But not a great one.

Bricks could be used to generate smiles among the general population. Just hand them out, along with handshakes, and say, This will make everything OK. And guess what? They’ll believe you.

The most the average person probably reads in a day is a STOP sign or two. And based on how people drive in Jacksonville, I don’t think they even read that much.

I don’t want to work a 9-5 job, because 20 hours a day is just too much.

A blanket could be used to warm the hearts of all the nonbelievers. We are all nonbelievers, because nobody believes in everything.

Jacksonville has more public libraries than people who know how to read.

I am the bathtub of love, but all Agatha ever wanted was a shower.

A brick could be used to manipulate people into doing what you want. If anything could offer one man an unfair advantage over another, it’s a brick—especially if that brick is made of gold.

Freedom isn’t free. But there are some really great coupons if you know where to look. Buy one liberty, get the next one half off.

I want to make something of myself. I believe it’s called a statue.

Why did the brick and blanket cross the road? Because some maniac had just run over the chicken. That maniac was me, and that chicken was delicious.

Music can elevate man to new heights. Especially elevator music.

In these modern times, the only sensible thing to be is nonsensical.

A blanket could be used to smother a fire—but not the fire that burns in my heart for you. Or perhaps that’s merely heartburn, and you’re just as common as a brick.

I always thought I’d make a great backup singer. I don’t practice. It’s just pure talent.

You know, poets and songwriters have long known that people like repetition. You know, poets and songwriters have long known that people like repetition. I guess when I say people, I mean everyone but my...

A blanket can be rolled up, much like I roll up my emotions when I listen to political rhetoric.

Deciduous trees are trees that can’t decide what outfit to wear, so they change three times a year.

To maximize love, I try to emulate an omelet. And I’m not just saying that to sound romantic.

I pee whilst seated. But it’s hard to focus with people honking at me.

And the next morning, after a night of passionate sex, I said those three little words I knew she’d been waiting to hear: woman, I’m hungry.

You’ve seen what they wanted you to see. They gave you a blindfold to wear and convinced you it would improve your eyesight.”

A blanket could be used to suffocate our secret desires. And what do I secretly desire? I desire suffocation, and that is why I must suffocate my desire.

I like sex. Let’s get a group together. You know, for a better discount.

She likes her wine white, and that’s how I like my clam chowder. So chuggable!

A brick could be used as a Blushometer. To find out how embarrassed you are, just measure you blushing cheeks against the rouge of a brick.

I’ll bring “The Hammer,” let’s have a Thorsome.

I’d like to play a game of Marco Polo—in the 13th century.

A brick could be used to represent society as a whole. But to represent society as a half, I’d recommend using either a full carton of half and half, or a half-full carton of whole...

I remember the first time we made love like it was the second time. We never made love again, and I don’t regret it for a second.

I remember the first time I fogged up your astronaut’s helmet. That night we made space like outer love. But I kept it cool like Coors Light in the fridge, even though I felt heavy...

A brick could be used in conjunction with another brick to be the Democrat and Republican Presidential candidates. People will say, Vote for the brick on the left, or, The brick on the right is...

You will know my power when you feel me compress you into a ball and bowl with you. I make love like I just rented these fabulous shoes.

This is the true story of my life, as told by a complete liar (me). While that sounds like an honest statement, it’s also a lie. I just can’t help myself. Unless I’m helping myself...

If you come by my place, you might see a wheelbarrow full of broken bricks. I broke them with my fist. I was practicing for your face.

When I masturbate, I pump my hand so fast it’s like a hummingbird blur. But I make love like the anti-hummingbird. In fact, in bed I’m so slow with my love making it’s almost indistinguishable...

I still have wagon splinters stuck to my ass, from when my high school coach made me ride the bench.

Somebody tell Uncle Sam the ultimate stimulus package is a bottle of Viagra.

Why would anybody want dick for free?” What kind of lover would that make?

My grandmother is dating a grandfather clock, and I’ve started wearing a wristwatch on my ankle. I also wear my love for Agatha like a raincoat, and I am jealous of every umbrella I see.

I celebrate my birthday in ways not seen this side of the Old Testament. I celebrate my life like the Dead Sea, and my party is a BYOP (bring your own plague) event.

I am your Wednesday Sex Meatloaf. At least, I’d like to be. This Tuesday I have a vacancy, if you like leftovers from six days before.

10% ago I was 90% unsure of what I didn’t want to do. Now I’m just 33.3% sure that I’m 66.6% unsure. And I can say this with .1% certainty.

A tickle, an itch, and a scratch walk into a bar while I was in the corner drinking a thermos full of epidermis, and I thought, this must be what love feels like.

If we were both standing beside Niagara Falls, the only thing you’d be able to hear is the sound of me urinating in a pitcher of lemonade. Gorgeous scenery is great and all, but I’ve...

Your pants are unseasonably bitch. I beg your pardon. Excuse me, madam, but you are sitting on my erection.

I’ve got a piece of the American Dream. I don’t have a house, but I do have a new chandelier. Now I just have to build a house around it.

A telephone cord used to make an excellent leash on people. Now metal chains work better.

The 27th letter has always been my favorite letter of the alphabet. But, then, I also love ghost stories, invisible beings, the supernatural, and Bigfoot. Just ask The Mythical Mr. Boo, who’s first name begins...