It’s not a proper conspiracy when you have to tell me about it so that I notice! Ah! Racoons! Look cute but are completely useless.
I think they prefer “trash pandas.”
And there are “danger noodles” and the “American Murder Log” and “Texas Speed Bump” and a bunch of other corrected names. I came up with “skoyote”.
Dead by a thousand posts. 2644, to be precise.
Let me tell you about my paper cut.
You have paper cuts? In my day, all we had was leaf cuts, and we liked it!
Luxury! We used to dream of having leaf cuts.
Leaf cuts? Paradise. We had rancid, moldy cold cuts. And we were thankful for them.
Luxury! In the mornings, our dads would peel off our skin with a rusty blade, pour salt on our open wound, and dance around singing hallelujah.
You’re such a child of privilege! I didn’t have a dad or other parent, or even a nearby solar prominence to generate a morning! I had to assemble myself painstaking subatomic particle by particle every day in the cold dark nothingness just so I could endlessly injure myself merely by existing, before being dispersed again when my exhausted consciousness waned, only to do it again when it returned!
Bah!
Marvin? Is that you?
Brain the size of a planet and I spend half the day reading the Dope.
Oh dear, I hate being re-integrated.
That’s what she said!
You can just differentiate to undo that re-integration.
Don’t be so sure: I tried it with my wife and it almost backfired.
You probably forgot to account for the “+ C”. Women prefer it by the C.
If it weren’t for all that damn sand getting everywhere….
Just don’t let things get so hot you fuse the sand into glass.
don’t ask me how I know