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When a girl asks you what you like the most about her, do not name a body part. Trust me on this one.
I think people would have respected the teachings of Jesus more if he had some kind of get rich scheme cooking. I mean, the road to salvation is awesome, but salvation plus an early retirement, that's literary gold.
If you ever want to let a senior citizen know how bad his good old days were, tell him how easily men get laid nowadays. It might piss him off, but at least he'll shut up.
I do my best writing during the commercials.
My friend Ben, like most of my friends, does not read my column with any regularity. However, his girlfriend does. And she recently read this one here and sent it off to some of her friends. Later, while sharing a few drinks, Erin (that's my friend's girl's name) asked one of her friends what she thought about said column. Her friend's response, “I fucking hate that guy.” And that's just from reading one column. Imagine how much she'd hate me if she really got to know my body of work.
Fearless Editor Court Sullivan recently designed this Ron Paul page without any provocation on my part or anyone else's. Say what you will about PIC, but at least we do things randomly and for the good of freedom. Take that, MSNBC.com.
Quick: what's the difference between propaganda and public relations?
Even quicker: what's the difference between a dry hump and a lap dance?
I love asking strippers how business is going because they always look at me like I'm crazy for a second (as if I forgot what they do for a living), then they remember that I know what they do for a living, and then they smile and say, “Good. Real good” or something to that effect. I like making women smile.
And finally, because logic and fluidity are in a hurry to get up to happy hour, I leave you with the following, which I saw on a sticker on the bumper of an actual, working DeLorean:
Chewie is my Co-Pilot.
Labels: observations