Mmmmmmm…yeah baby…I’m gonna get my oil rig out, and drill into your wetlands…
Snipers, bah. Frothy madmen with rusty knives can defeat anything.
Go ahead and spit on it. It makes no difference in this big crazy world whether you or anyone else hacks giant phlegm balls all over it.
I don’t doubt that, so does that make me a fool?
About the “Paranoia” part of that last sig: That’s what I keep telling my shrink, but she doesn’t wanna listen.
And in regards to the second part (about zombies): They may be unreliable, but at least they’re focused.
It seems disembodied voices also charge by the hour.
Ah, “strangling reality,” so that’s what they’re calling it these days.
I gotta tell you. It’s not really the MARGARITAS I’m concerned about getting beach sand crammed in.
So that’s where all my thugs is at…
that can’t be from the Shrub’s website! Nowhere does it have the phrase “for the rich only.”
dammit! forgot to add sig!
All my questions and comments are actually snide remarks, so there’s no point differentiating between them. Some people just can’t pick up sarcasm when it’s in written form.
Your mom! Creativity must be sending snipers after yo’ momma by now 
it unclicked itself! sorry… 
It’s just too deep for mere mortals like you to understand. 
Nietzsche was totally wrong about that. No doubt about it.
So, basically, when God drinks, he becomes this sort of half-God, half-Monkey type creature? Would Ms. Krabappel call that “Playing man”?
Underpants gnome? Are you the one in charge of panty raids? That must be the secret code giving the order.
No I am not. My name is Michael Ellis. You set up this joke without a punchline. Prepare to die.
Armadillo sex is overrated. Every time I’ve tried sex in plated armour it’s been very unsatisfying … my SO uses WD40 as a lubricant and I’m allergic to the stuff.