You think heroes are hard to find? Try finding a good po’boy in this town!
I can’t begin to describe what my life was like before I became articulate.
I caught my buddy putting corn flakes in his E -cigarettes. It’s quite a shock, finding out your best friend is a cereal vapist.
I was on a Cruise to Nowhere, reading a fake news story about UFO’s that was written under a pseudonym. When a cross-dressing waitress brought my mock turtle soup and Virgin Mary, I asked if the chef had frog’s legs. The waitress sniffed haughtily, “That’s a different joke, sir!”

I don’t care what detractors have to say about me, but when de backhoes start spreading ugly rumors, that hurts!
You got one guy offering his two cent’s worth, and another guy willing to pay a penny for those thoughts. There’s gotta be a way I can get a piece of that action.
I am currently gruntled, peptic, jointed, and eased. Life is good.
My brave face hides a frightened inner child. At least, it did, until I lost custody.

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