[Some random facts, musings, and assertions for a Friday afternoon:]Swans mate for life, bears are notoriously bad with names, and a moose will never give you the correct time. Even if he's wearing a watch.
The only proper answer to "Do you have the time?" is "I've got all the time in the world for you, sweet cheeks."
The square root of 169 is 13, but math skills never got anyone laid. Isaac Newton invented calculus and died a virgin.
"E.R." is currently the only narrative on television to deal with the situation in Darfur.
If a tree falls in the forest and nobody hears it, could Manute Bol still use it as a walking stick?
We hold the truth to be self-evident that all men are created equal, but a black man in America only counted as three-fifths of a human being until 1865.
Thinking about baseball and envisioning Margaret Thatcher in B&D gear are the two most effective ways to delay male orgasm.
You can't fake a parade.
The only good elevator ride is a solo elevator ride.
Honestly, who throws his shoe?
Sometimes, no matter how cultured or sophisticated you would like to appear, an unexpected fart will elicit more than its due amount of snickering.
Yawns are contagious, but nobody knows why. My favorite theory is that they are a vestigial growl left over from our days swinging in the trees, and that their contagiousness is now merely an unconscious form of submission to the alpha-primate.
Monkeys fling poo, though I've never seen one yawn.
Nobody flosses three times a day.
Anyone over the age of 22 who watches MTV regularly is trying too hard.
Raiders of the Lost Ark might be the best movie ever.
On that note: Harrison Ford and Mel Gibson can only star in movies that involve threats against their families or wives (respectively), Al Pacino has been screaming instead of acting since his histrionics won him an Oscar for Scent of a Woman, and Robert De Niro needs one more sequel to Meet The Parents before I write him off completely.
Seriously, he's almost dead to me.
More people need to read Jitterbug Perfume, by Tom Robbins.
Hunter Thompson made up most of the drug shit in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Still, it's a better story for it.
Grace Slick planned to bring a vial of LSD and spike the punchbowl during an invite to the Nixon White House. She didn't follow through, but that single act could have saved countless lives and changed the course of history.
I'm out, and I'll catch you all on the flipside. Have a nice weekend.
[After consideration, a brief addendum:]The most effective means of delaying female orgasm is being the guy who thinks about baseball and/or Maggie Thatcher, with or without said B&D gear.
Newton also dabbled in alchemy and may have suffered from mercury poisoning and Asperger's Syndrome, a mild form of autism. No word on that information's effect on the ladies.
Cats always land on their feet, and toast always lands jelly-side down. I have yet to Smuckers a cat and test both hypotheses.
No matter how many stories up, it's always a kick to spit over the railing.
