When I was in the second grade, I used to think love was the feeling a man gets while riding a motorcycle and having a woman embrace him tightly from behind. Maybe I’m cynical now, but I’m starting to think love is a unicycle with a flat tire.

“He wore red, white, and blue, but he didn’t look patriotic—he looked like a slo…”

“A brick and a blanket aptly describe my former roommate. He was as dumb as a br…”

“I’m not a bicycle. Don’t try to ride me and leave me in the garage. I’m a tread…”

“Blankets could be used to represent the warmth and comfort of Libertarian ideal…”