Farmers don’t picket government corruption, they picket fences. Let this be a lesson in love and the proper way to separate churlish and state.

“I’m reminded of a story I told my 5th grade class in the 4th grade.”

“If I could capture the rays of the sun in a can, I'd paint a canvas with it and…”

“His last name was Worthless. Or was that just the perfect word to describe him?…”

“Right now I’m naked, like how my pizza comes out of the oven. I like my topping…”