Not everything worth saying belongs in a paragraph.
Cold, rainy days in June are less crappy than they seem.
When someone asks you what you want on your pizza, the only wrong answer is, “Whatever.”
The only thing anyone named Newt should be president of is Chess Club.
Grown Paul Reubens dressed up as Pee-Wee Herman: funny. Kinda old Paul Reubens dressed up as Pee-Wee Herman: creepy-sad.
The Star Wars prequels happened. Deal with it.
Junk mail is so much nicer than spam.
How much does a gorilla have to weigh before it becomes a topic no one in the room wants to discuss?
Someone invented knock-knock jokes and most likely died by bludgeoning.
I’ll probably add more later, but I’m typing this all on an iPod, which is getting old (the process . . . and the iPod).
See? I told you I’d add more later (now is later, by the way).
The soundtrack to Michael is still a great listen and ridiculously overlooked and underrated.
The Spin Doctors, not so much.
If you were to tug on Superman’s cape, he’d probably give you an autograph or something; I don’t get that axiom.
The law of averages states that the Cubs will probably win again this year (but probably not today).
I love a good dangling participle.
I’ll probably add more later. But I need more coffee more than I need random thoughts.
I decided not to add any more.
I can be pretty indecisive.
The most oft-ignored instructions in all the world: “Fold this flap in first,” on the ice cream carton.
After listening to Prince’s thoughts on the matter hundreds of times, I’m still no closer to knowing what it sounds like when doves cry.