In a battle, an army of farts would surely beat an army of noses, even if those noses were armed with fingers that could flick long-range boogers.
Jarod KintzI had a dream about you. We were in a band. I was the lead singer, guitar player, saxophonist, harpist, violinist, bassist, cellist, harmonica player, pianist, and drummer. Oh, and I played the trumpet. And you, you had the important role—you played air guitar. I feel this dream accurately reflects me as an unselfish person, willing to stand in the shade so someone else might enjoy the spotlight and get all the glory.
Jarod KintzI had a dream about you. We were traveling in your car. You were driving, and I was securely fastened by ropes and duct tape in the trunk. I tried telling you my family has no money, but you had to find out the hard way.
Jarod KintzI had a dream about you. You were Ginger Rogers, and you were trying to teach me to dance, even though my movements were as stiff as a mannequin. I think you tolerated my abysmal rhythm because I was naked, and my body was so sexy it could be used to sell clothes.
Jarod KintzI had a dream about you. We were fishing in the Utah desert. You caught a dinosaur, but due to Federal regulations, we had to release the bones so Ted Kennedy could drive back to the cemetery, drunk.
Jarod KintzI had a dream about you. We went for a ride—you on all fours, and me on your back, and you didn’t like it when I kept calling you “donkey face.” I was shocked, and I said, “You should be flattered that I think you look like Miley Cyrus.”
Jarod KintzI had a dream about you where you were an economic hero. So is the real life you like the dream you? Answer this question: If Paul Krugman and Ben Bernanke were about to die, and they only had 59 seconds left, and you could only save one, would you take a minute to think it over?
Jarod KintzI had a dream about you. You told me you loved me, and then you stabbed me with a spoon. Luckily, moments before your attack, I assumed the identity of a bowl of Jell-O. Later on in the dream, as a half-eaten bowl of Jell-O, I launched a successful political campaign, got elected, and moved to Washington DC.
Jarod KintzI had a dream about you. You took control of my body and forced me to have sex with you. Then you called the cops, and the police said I raped you—but I was the one who was raped. If I had known you were that kind of person, I’d have never voted you into political office in the first place.
Jarod KintzI had a dream about you. We were at a buffet, but instead of eating food, we were forced to eat our words. You were eating words like “Winner,” “Victory,” and Triumphant,” while I was eating words like “Macaroni,” “Pizza,” and “Meatloaf.
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