Every time I see my cat licking its asshole I think about my ex wife. But that’s how nostalgia works, right? We only remember the best of the available memories.

“If the ink of my writing morphed into ants, would they march along with my thou…”

“I serve the people. Am I a politician? No, I’m just a greedy and corrupt waiter.”

“Maybe I could hear better if my ears weren’t flipped inside out. Unlike a cat’s…”

“Based solely on the mustache, who would you rather be: Mark Twain, Rollie Finge…”