Do I look like someone you know? Well you don’t know me, so why don’t you go bother my clone? And if you do see my clone, tell him I should have made an omelet...

Taste my tears and tell me I don’t have the saltiest love you’ve ever licked. My love for you is like a liquid potato chip.

A great band name would be Tickling Whiskers. Especially if the lead singer is a cat. I’d love to audition for backup dancer.

He seemed to swallow the lie I fed him. I hope he’s not still hungry. If he is, I’ll give him the illusory dessert known as the American Dream.

If your house was burning, what would you grab? I’d grab my penis. Repeatedly.

I believe in the power of love. Also, I like cats.

The best part about a murder mystery dinner, of course, is the dinner. I make a killer Bubble and squeak, if you know what I mean. The mystery, of course, is what’s in the dinner.

More people are leaving TV behind to read my books than ever before. In the last year alone I gained over two readers (three, to be exact). So I’d like to take a moment and...

No matter how much water a sink takes on, it never lives up to its name. The Titanic would never have sunk if it were made out of a sink.

I made dinner reservations for two, because I like eating alone. And I drink coffee by the bathtubful—but only while simultaneously taking a shower.

It’s just a dream, I told myself. I hate when I dream of alarm clocks going off.

Is a picture really worth a thousand words? What thousand words? A thousand words from a lunatic, or a thousand words from Nietzsche? Actually, Nietzsche was a lunatic, but you see my point. What about...

I don’t need a steak knife to cut my meat. That’s why karate chops were created. I’m like a butter knife, only slightly less deadly. But I’m great with bagels—and disobedient old people.

When I see a cop’s lights behind me at two in the morning, and I have my disco ball dangling from my rearview mirror, it’s like, Hey, a party! Especially if I’ve been drinking.

The other day I went to the Huddle House. I wasn’t hungry, I just wanted to call some plays.

Here, why don’t I carry that for you?” I was in stupid love.

Who would you rather make love to—me, or the dead carcass of a deer? Don’t deliver a hasty answer. Think it over.

I have good news and I have bad news. The good news is that your house hasn’t burned down, you don’t have cancer, and your daughter hasn’t been raped or murdered. The bad news is...

A window—it’s more entertaining than TV. Just ask a cat looking out, or a man looking in on a life he desires.

He doesn’t have sex with sheep—he sleeps with scapegoats. He is my father, and I haven’t seen him since before I was born.

I’m twice as old as she is tall. She’s half my age in height. We have a David and Goliath kind of love.

The closer I get, the faster I have to go. Otherwise, I might be late to the very place where I’m not even expected. Adding to my tardiness is the fact that I don’t even...

Many people wonder, is my love a llama—or an alpaca? The answer, is yes.

My love is like the shape your mouth makes while you whistle. Would you mind if I accompanied you on my harmonica?

Some people believe that people are essentially evil. Others believe people are essentially good. I believe they are somewhere in the middle, like Denver.

I have a phobia of balloons—and other sharp objects. I also have a fear of too much love—giving, not getting.

I went to a potluck. I brought my own pot—and luck. The pot was empty, just like my promise to bring food the next time.

A light on my car’s dashboard came on, and instead of fixing the problem, I waited for the bulb to burn out. Crisis solved.

I had tons of fun, minus 3,999 pounds.

A brick is a lot like love. I mean, I’m sure it is. It simply must be. However, I can’t think of how at the moment, but that’s natural, because I’m not Cupid. OK, here’s...

You don’t say.

Question for your life: If you could change War’s name, do you think you’d change its nature?

A brick could be used as a stamp on a letter, to increase the weight and boost the cost and profitability of the postal service. It would be government efficiency at its finest.

Sometimes life is sad. You can cry in your booze, if you want. I think that’s called a Whiskey Sour.

I once watched several criminals engage in an organized argument, while an audience of supporters cheered them on, but I was so disgusted that I had to turn off the political debate.

Nothing, Everything, Anything, Something: If you have nothing, then you have everything, because you have the freedom to do anything, without the fear of losing something.

I hid my feelings for her for years, and I thought all was well until my neighbor went digging in her garden and found them buried in the ground. I’m so embarrassed I could just...

I’ve felt alone, cold, and clothed in shame for too long. Let the sunlight be my blanket, wardrobe, and toilet paper.

A brick, with its rigid conformity, could be used as a model for how the government wants its citizens to be treated. Every brick in this country is equal, and as such they should be...

If I were a superhero, I’d be Honesty Man. I’d be so transparent I’d be invisible.

I want to have five or six wives, and a few dozen sheep, all for my pleasure. I should be a politician.

A brick could be laid on a blanket, so the blanket doesn’t blow away. But why would the blanket blow away? I just turned the fan off.

I think good advice for a father to give to his only son would be, “Don’t make the same mistake I made with your mother. Remember to pull out.

We fell in love like the Fourth of July. But there was nothing red, white, and blue about it, because we fell in love in England, despite the fact that the colors on their flag...

Anything disguised as anything is chameleon. A ghost disguised as an unobservable and invisible object is a great example. Still, that’s easier to see than the love my ex wife had for me.

A blanket could be used to make all your dreams come true. Well, not all of them. Just the ones that are happening while you are sleeping.

Love is like being featherless in mid flight and not even wondering if you taste like chicken. My love must taste like ostrich, because I’m always running from it.

My humble spirit takes shape as mashed potatoes on the side. I already ate the instructions.

A blanket could be used to sail with the wind. That wind is provided by my ceiling fan, and my boat is my bed. Why don’t you come over, and I’ll teach you the art...

I oft go to a loft aloft in the sky. I go alone, because I enjoy the company of a lofty intellect.