I was morbidly obese, so I needed to lose weight.
All you need to do is reduce calorie intake and exercise more.
That worked for me.
All of the fad diets are a marketing scam.
Atkins diet, Paleo diet, South Beach diet.
Someone comes up with a magical formula, and they get rich off of your hunger and suffering.
The greatest scam was the Diet of Worms that King Charles recommended to Martin Luther.
Several of Martin’s loyal followers died as a result of it, and it nearly led to his death, too.
Did Martin Luther end up rich?
Recently, I was fitted for invisaligns.
These are clear plastic trays that act like braces, but don’t use all that metal and rubber band crap.
People can barely notice that you have them snapped in.
The problem is, my teeth are yellow and stained. So people can see my yellowed and stained teeth.
My dentist won’t bleach my teeth and replace my bonding until after the invisalign treatments are done.
In two years.
I asked if I could get white trays instead of clear trays.
“Then they wouldn’t be invisaligns,” they said. “They’d be whitealigns.”
I need a new dentist.
TS Eliot wrote famously that he measured his life out in coffee spoons.
I’m sure this led to him being late to a lot of important meetings, crucial appointments, and dinner dates.
How do you measure time in coffee spoons?
Maybe he stuck the spoon in the ground and used it like a sundial.
Or he threatened passers-by with his spoons and demanded to know the time.
WHAT TIME IS IT?
WHAT DAY IS IT?
Now that I think of it, a man who threatens others with spoons isn’t very likely to get asked to all that many dinner dates.
I’ve found from experience that praying to solve a problem doesn’t solve anything.
In fact, it makes things worse.
Not just because praying wastes time that you could otherwise use to come up with a solution.
When was the last time you solved a math problem with prayer?
Pick up a fucking calculator, you dipshit.
Not only does prayer not solve the problem, but it annoys God.
He’s the Almighty Creator, not a third-grade math teacher.
Add the five and the seven, carry the one.
There. You got it.
Save the prayer for something important next time.
Like long division.
It’s amazing how quickly a preacher will turn from preaching love and brotherhood to revenge and bloodshed when you touch his daughter.
Is she an adult? Damn straight, she’s an adult.
The things she can do with her tongue…
The hellfire and brimstone hypocrite reaches past his bible for the shotgun.
Now’s not the time to tell him “She came on to me!”
Now’s the time to run. Run like Hell.
And if you want to pray, pray.
Pray that he didn’t load it, or it jams.
“Call me!” she shouts at your back, as you hear the first blast.
Even though you may think that it’s sexist to use the term “mailman” instead of the gender-neutral terms “mailperson” or “letter carrier” the truth is that no matter what gender ratios the Postal Service uses for hiring quotas, much like the clownfish and other unusual coral reef-dwelling species, the staff that runs delivery routes for letters and packages undergoes a metamorphosis which slowly transforms all of them into the male gender.
The Postal Service denies any involvement, because the biological agents they force staff to drink is supposed to render their letter carriers into neutered, docile homonculi, not all men.
“Leave no man behind” isn’t the official policy of our armed forces, but they do their best to bring every soldier, pilot, and crewman home that they can.
The obvious exception is when they get vaporized by nuclear weapons, as what happened when the North Koreans tried to reunify with the South.
Or when the Russians let ISIS acquire a pan-dimensional energy source and they sent most of Libya to a parallel dimension. Ain’t nobody coming back.
So, go ahead. Test this new light-speed spacecraft.
If it works, great. If it doesn’t, you get an empty coffin at Arlington, okay?
The old general used to give out his wristwatches as gifts.
He’d take off his wristwatch and hand it to you, saying “Here, have this.”
And you’d say “Thank you” like it was some Rolex.
But they never were.
They were cheap knock-off wristwatches.
Most of the time they were broken. Or had a worn-out leather strap.
Or something else wrong with them.
But a gift’s a gift, right? It’s the thought that counts.
Mine runs pretty well.
Damn thing wasn’t waterproofed, and I wore it in the shower.
Maybe I’ll give it as a gift to someone?
Hardware sores and department stores in the city are so expensive.
Even the electrical outlet specialty store is out of my price range.
So, when I’m looking for a new electrical outlet, I shop at the outlet outlet store.
It’s in a mall outside of town along with all the other outlet stores for The Gap, American Tourister, and other brands.
Except that instead of fashion, the outlet outlet store has great deals on electrical outlets.
Sure, you have to pay a bit for the gas to get there, but if you’re buying in bulk, it’s well worth the trip.
Debbie and Marsha had the unexplainable ability to trade body parts.
When Debbie sprained a wrist before a basketball tournament, Marsha swapped wrists with Debbie.
And when Marsha had a rough period before a gymnastics tryout, they traded vaginas.
Whenever one needed the other, she was there, literally lending a hand or whatever was needed.
They found a lump in Marsha’s breast after she had a baby.
Debbie underwent the double mastectomy for her.
They take turns feeding the baby.
After all, with the constant swapping between them, they’re not really sure which one of them is the true mother.