I didn’t earn it, I don’t need it. But if they miss one payment, I’ll raise hell!
Dear Advertisers, I am disgusted at the way old people are depicted on television. We are not all vibrant fun loving sex maniacs. Many of us are bitter, resentful individuals. Who remember the good old days, when entertainment was bland and inoffensive. The following is a list of words I never want to hear on television again: Number 1: Bra, Number 2: Horny, Number 3: Family jewels.
Dear Mr. President: There are too many states nowadays. Please eliminate three. P.S. I am not a crackpot!
Shut up. Shut up. Kiss my butt. Shut up. Go to Hell. Go to Hell.
Look, Homer, all of us pull a few boners now and then, go off half-cocked, make asses of ourselves. So, I don’t want to be hard on you, but I just wish you wouldn’t curse in front of my boys.
It’s kind of a funny story, really. After five years in a secret P.O.W. camp, I was sold to China for slave labor. And since '77 I’ve been making sneakers at gunpoint in a sweatshop in Boo-Haun.
The year was 1968. We were on recon in a steaming Mekong delta. An overheated private removed his flack jacket, revealing a T-shirt with an iron-on sporting the MAD slogan “Up with Mini-skirts!” Well, we all had a good laugh, even though I didn’t quite understand it. But our momentary lapse of concentration allowed “Charlie” to get the drop on us. I spent the next three years in a POW camp, forced to subsist on a thin stew made of fish, vegetables, prawns, coconut milk, and four kinds of rice. I came close to madness trying to find it here in the States, but they just can’t get the spices right!
Get your Haggis right here! Chopped heart and lungs boiled in a wee sheep’s stomach! Tastes as good as it sounds!
Well, maybe if you’d eat some meat you’d have a natural lubricant.
Oh, I have had it, I have had it with this school, Skinner! The low test scores, and class after class of ugly, ugly children!
I’m enjoying this “iced cream”…
Yes, I’d like to send this letter to the Prussian Consulate in Siam by aero-mail. Am I too late for the 4:30 autogyro?
Oh, Mr. Burns, we’ll thaw you out the second they discover the cure for seventeen stab wounds in the back.
Several? That’s more than a few, and almost a bunch.
Send a ham to his widow.
Family. Religion. Friendship. These are the three demons you must slay if you wish to succeed in business!
Oh, in the meantime, sir, may I suggest a random firing? Just to throw the fear of God into them?
Oh, you Americans with your “due process” and “fair trials”! This is always so much easier in Mexico.
¡Ay, Dios no me ama!
¿Ay, donde esta mi tequila?