Napalm and Silly Putty

SHORT TAKES

Have you ever been on trial for murder? It’s weird. You don’t know what to do with yourself. Singing is out. Mostly I stare at the judge.

Is a vegetarian permitted to eat animal crackers?

I’ve figured out how to commit the perfect double murder. You pick one person up by the ankles and beat the other person to death with him. They both die, and there’s no murder weapon.

Peg Leg Bates’s wife is one person who never had to wait for the other shoe to drop.

Have you ever had a hatchet go right through your face? Not a glancing blow, but a full-on shot, deep into your forehead? Deep enough so you can shake your head and the hatchet doesn’t fall out? It’s the strangest feeling. Because just after the hatchet goes in, and before there’s any pain, you can feel a gentle puff of cool air on your brain. It feels good. But since it’s the only way to get that feeling, I try not to get too hung up on it.

Wouldn’t it be great if just one of these times at Daytona or Indianapolis, because of accidents and various mechanical failures, there were simply no cars at all left to finish the race? What color flag would they wave then?

Suggested bumper sticker We Are the Proud Parents of a Child Whose Self-Esteem Is Sufficient that He Doesn’t Need Us Advertising His Minor Scholastic Achievements on the Bumper of Our Car.

When did they pass a law that says the people who make my sandwich have to be wearing gloves? I’m not comfortable with this; I don’t want glove residue all over my food. It’s not sanitary. Who knows where these gloves have been? Let’s get back to human hands making sandwiches for human beings.

As you swim the river of life, do the breast stroke. It helps to clear the turds from your path.

Have you ever tried to throw away an old wastebasket? You can’t do it. People keep bringing it back: “Here, Howie, I found your wastebasket in the garbage.” Apparently, you have to completely destroy a wastebasket in order to convince people you really don’t want it anymore.

In Los Angeles, there’s a hotline for people in denial. So far no one has called.

Just once I’d like to see a high-speed funeral procession. A hearse, some flower cars, and a bunch of limousines tearin’ ass through town at 70 miles an hour, on their way to the cemetery. May be someday a race-car driver will put that in his will.

You know a business that doesn’t lend itself too easily to the Internet? Pay toilets.

Here’s something I consider a crime against society: women with hyphenated names. Hey, lady, pick a fuckin’ name, will you?

“Hi. I’m Emily Jarrikov-Fortescu.”

“Hi. I’m George Jerkmeoff-Fuckyoutoo!”

Attention women: You don’t attain self-esteem or personal dignity by adding a name to your name. Modern feminists apparently think hyphenation is a radical act. It’s not. Castrating a man in a parking lot with a Coke bottle is a radical act. Hyphenating your name is pretentious, middle-class bullshit.

No one ever knows what’s next, but they always do it.

You know what they don’t have? A really good French football player. You never hear about some guy named Pierre La Doux smashing through the line of scrimmage and picking up a first down. Why is that?

The only hip thing left to do in America is to blow up a building. Believe me.

Fun Stuff: Walk into a gun store, buy three guns and a bunch of ammunition. Then ask them if they have any ski masks.

I have a very inexpensive security system. If someone breaks into my house, I run next door and throw a brick through my neighbor’s window. That sets off his alarm and when the police arrive I direct them to my house.

As Asian immigrants become more completely assimilated into American society over the next few generations, their standards of hard work and academic excellence will drop, and they will feel more at home here.

Some teenage girls delay getting abortions because they’re afraid to comply with the parental notification laws. Especially if one of the parents also happens to be the father of the child.

Here’s a plastic surgery option: have one nostril sewn shut. I feel like I might be ready for that.

Regarding the Pledge of Allegiance and other patriotic nonsense: what does placing your hand over your heart have to do with anything? Or removing your hat when the flag is passing by? Am I missing something?

True Stuff: There is actually a Tow-Truck Hall of Fame.

I just realized I haven’t been scared in a really long time.

Didn’t the first guy who wore a sombrero realize it was completely impractical when eating pussy?

I don’t understand motivation books. What happened here? Suddenly everybody needs to be motivated? It’s a fairly simple thing: either you want to do something or you don’t; there’s no mystery. Besides, if you’re motivated enough to go to the store to buy a motivation book, aren’t you motivated enough to do that? So, you don’t need the book. Put it back. Tell the clerk, “Fuck you, I’m goin’ home. I’m already motivated.”

Safety Tip: Always wear a leather glove when giving a porcupine a hand job.

You know a word you don’t hear enough anymore? Hosiery.