If you saw two guys named Hambone and Flippy, which one would you think like dolphins the most? I’d say Flippy, wouldn’t you? You’d be wrong though. It’s Hambone.
Whether they find life there or not, I think Jupiter should be considered an enemy planet.
To me, clowns aren’t funny. In fact, they’re kinda scary. I’ve wondered where this started, and I think it goes back to the time I went to the circus and a clown killed my dad.
Most people don’t realize that large pieces of coral, which have been painted brown and attached to the skull by common wood screws, can make a child look like a deer.
If the Vikings were around today, they would probably be amazed at how much glow-in-the-dark stuff we have, and how we take so much of it for granted.
If you had a school for professional fireworks people, I don’t think you could cover fuses in just one class. It’s just too rich a subject.
If you’re a circus clown, and you have a dog that you use in your act, I don’t think it’s a good idea to also dress the dog up like a clown, because people see that and they think, “Forgive me, but that’s just too much.”
Maybe in order to understand mankind, we have to look at the word itself. Mankind. Basically, it’s made up of two separate words–“mank” and “ind.” What do these words mean? It’s a mystery, and that’s why so is mankind.
Children need encouragement. So if a kid gets an answer right, tell him it was a lucky guess. That way, he develops a good, lucky feeling.
If you ever drop your keys into a river of molten lava, let ’em go, because, man, they’re gone.
Instead of trying to build newer and bigger weapons of destruction, mankind should be thinking about getting more use out of the weapons we already have.
If you ever catch on fire, try to avoid seeing yourself in the mirror, because I bet that’s what really throws you into a panic.
I wish my name was Todd, because then I could say, “Yes, my name’s Todd. Todd Blankenship.” Oh, also I wish my last name was Blankenship.
Dad always thought laughter was the best medicine, which I guess was why several of us died from tuberculosis.
Just because swans mate for life, I don’t think it’s that big of a deal. First of all, if you’re a swan, you’re probably not going to find a swan that looks that much better than the one you’ve got, so why not mate for life.
If you’re robbing a bank, and your pants suddenly fall down, I think it’s okay to laugh, and to let the hostages laugh too, because come on, life is funny.
You know something that would really make me applaud? A guy gets stuck in quicksand, then sinks, then suddenly comes shooting out, riding on water skis. How do they do that?
If I was being executed by lethal injection, I’d clean up my cell real neat. Then, when they came to get me, I’d say, “Injection? I thought you said ‘inspection.'” They’d probably feel real bad, and maybe I could get out of it.
Love is not something that you can put chains on and throw into a lake. That’s called Houdini. Love is liking someone a lot.
When you die, if you get a choice between going to regular heaven and pie heaven, choose pie heaven. It might be a trick, but if it’s not, ummmm, boy.
I wish there was a disease where you’re afraid of clouds, because I think I could cure it. First, you sit the patient down and have a long, personal talk. After that, I’m not sure, but maybe you could throw water in his face or something.
As the light changed from red to green to yellow and back to red again, I sat there thinking about life. Was it nothing more than a bunch of honking and yelling? Sometimes it seemed that way.
How come the dove gets to be the peace symbol? How about the pillow? It has more feathers than the dove, and it doesn’t have that dangerous beak.
I wish outer-space guys would conquer Earth and make people their pets, because I’d like to have one of those little basket-beds with my name on it.
If I could be a bird, I think I’d be a penguin, because then I could walk around on two feet with a lot of other guys like me.
The big, huge meteor headed toward the Earth. Could nothing stop it? Maybe Bob could. He was suddenly on top of the meteor–through some kind of space warp or something. “Go, Bob, go ” yelled one of the generals. “Give me that” said the big-guy general as he took the microphone away. “Listen, Bob,” he said. “You’ve got to steer that meteor away from Earth.” “Yes, but how?” thought Bob. Then he got an idea. Right next to him there was a steering wheel sticking out of the meteor.
If you want to be the popular one at a party, here’s a good thing to do: Go up to some people who are talking and laughing and say, “Well, technically that’s illegal.” It might just fit in with what somebody just said. And even if it doesn’t, so what, I hate this stupid party.
I hope they never find out that lightning has a lot of vitamins in it, because do you hide from it or not?
There are many stages to a man’s life. In the first stage, he is young and eager, like a beaver. In the second stage, he wants to build things, like dams, and maybe chew down some trees. In the third stage, he feels trapped, and then “skinned.” I’m not sure what the fourth stage is.
I wish I would have a real tragic love affair and get so bummed out that I’d just quit my job and become a bum for a few years, because I was thinking about doing that anyway.
If aliens from outer space ever come and we show them our civilization and they make fun of it, we should say we were just kidding, that this isn’t our real civilization, but a gag we hoped they would like. Then we tell them to come back in twenty years to see our real civilization. After that, we start a crash program of coming up with a new civilization. Either that, or just shoot down the aliens as they’re waving good-bye.
I wish I could shrink down to the size of an ant. And maybe there would be thousands of other people shrunken down to ant-size, and we would get together and dig tunnels down into the ground, and live there. But don’t ever call us “ants,” because we hate that.
If you’re travelling in a time machine, and you’re eating corn on the cob, I don’t think it’s going to affect things one way or the other. But here’s the point I’m trying to make: Corn on the cob is good, isn’t it.
If you’re in a war, instead of throwing a hand grenade at some guys, throw one of those little baby-type pumpkins. Maybe it’ll make everyone think of how crazy war is, and while they’re thinking, you can throw a real grenade.
At first I thought, if I were Superman, a perfect secret identity would be “Clark Kent, Dentist,” because you could save money on tooth X-rays. But then I thought, if a patient said, “How’s my back tooth?” and you just looked at it with your X-ray vision and said, “Oh it’s okay,” then the patient would probably say, “Aren’t you going to take an X-ray, stupid?” and you’d say, “Aw fuck you, get outta here,” and then he probably wouldn’t even pay his bill.
One thing kids like is to be tricked. For instance, I was going to take my little nephew to Disneyland, but instead I drove him to an old burned-out warehouse. “Oh, no,” I said. “Disneyland burned down.” He cried and cried, but I think that deep down, he thought it was a pretty good joke. I started to drive over to the real Disneyland, but it was getting pretty late.
Too bad when I was a kid there wasn’t a guy in our class that everybody called the “Cricket Boy”, because I would have liked to stand up in class and tell everybody, “You can make fun of the Cricket Boy if you want to, but to me he’s just like everybody else.” Then everybody would leave the Cricket Boy alone, and I’d invite him over to spend the night at my house, but after about five minutes of that loud chirping I’d have to kick him out. Maybe later we could get up a petition to get the Cricket Family run out of town. Bye, Cricket Boy.
When I die, I would like to go peacefully, in my sleep, like my Grandfather did. Not screaming and yelling like the passenger in his car.