I'm looking forward to the pleasure of your company since I haven't had it yet.
When you pass away and people ask me what the cause of your death was, I'll say your stupidity.
Well, I'll see you in my dreams---if I eat too much.
I've had many cases of love that were just infatuation, but this hate I feel for you is the real thing.
You're the best at all you do---and all you do is make people hate you.
Don't you realize that there are enough people to hate in the world already without your working so hard to give us another?
The thing that terrifies me the most is that someone might hate me as much as I loathe you.
When you get run over by a car it shouldn't be listed under accidents.
All of your ancestors must number in the millions; its hard to believe that many people are to blame for producing you.
Ever since I saw you in your family tree I've wanted to cut it down.
I hear that when you were a child your mother wanted to hire someone to take care of you but the Mafia wanted too much.
I hear that when your mother first saw you she decided to leave you on the front steps of a police station while she turned herself in.
You were born because your mother didn't believe in abortion; now she believes in infanticide.
No one should be punished for accident of birth but you look too much like a wreck not to be.
Yours was an unnatural birth; you came from a human being.
You were the answer to a prayer. Your parents prayed that the world would be made to suffer and here you came along.
You're a habit I'd like to kick, with both feet.
I hear the only place you're ever invited is outside.
I would like the pleasure of your company but it only gives me displeasure.
You've never been outspoken; no one has ever been able to.
At your speed you'd better not stop your mouth too fast or your teeth will fly through your cranium.
If you ever tax your brain, don't charge more than a penny.
Don't you have a terribly empty feeling---in your skull?
You have nothing to fear from my baser instincts; its my finer ones that tell me to kill you.
It's your life---but I wish you'd let us have it.
I don't consider you a vulture. I consider you something a vulture would eat.
I think you should live for the moment. But after that I doubt I'll think so.
Man alive! But I wish you weren't.
I believe in respect for the dead; in fact I could only respect you if you WERE dead.
I admire you because I've never had the courage it takes to be a liar, a thief and a cheat.
You're acquitting yourself in such a way that no jury ever would.
Buy my book!
Mundane Journeys through an Amazing World
begins with Interstate 80. Not the most engaging topic, I know, but when you think about it, I-80 runs all the way across the North American continent linking San Francisco and New York. It's not just a ribbon of asphalt, it's a portal to far away, almost magical places.
My visits to major cities like Tokyo, London and Washington DC have been business affairs. I haven't rode a lot of roller coasters or ridden in open air buses, but I have visited with senators, bought yams from the back of a truck and barely escaped complete embarrassment when I was introduced to Matt Wiener in Vegas.
As I wrote the book I realized that over the years exotic, distant places have become more like the mundane places I've called home. But, as it turns out, there really aren't any mundane places, only mundane ways of looking at things.
If you have the cost of a latte and a Kindle, you can buy a copy at Amazon by clicking here.
Or buy it in print! Mundane Journeys Trade Paperback
Be sure to check out my blog at
-- maybe not as funny as the 5,000+ jokes here, but I ramble about life, technology and other things that make
the world... nutty.
Today's blog: A bit about Starbucks-ese
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