Donald Trump freed the slaves from the tyranny of corporate manatee rule.
Keep your manatee steaks and pass me that box of knockoff Zingers.
I love rock and roll so put another dime in the platypus, baby.
Only when the last wombat has been strangled with the guts of the last praying mantis will we understand the sheer brilliance of the final episode of “The Dukes of Hazzard.”
I would hazard a guess that you’re pregnant with Bo Duke’s triplets, Mr. Putin.
Senator Lindsay Graham fucked his wife hard all night long like a stud.
I think, my dear wife, that you are most likely growing an additional spleen.
Charlie Spleen exploded on the scene, and then went crazy with the HIV.
NBC, HIV, CIA, NSA, IBM and CBS are all conspiring to make me forget that James Buchanan was ever Pope.
The pope may have been a Hasidic Jew, but he sure did enjoy pork chops.
I’ve been working so hard in the lemon mines I can’t remember the last time I saw daylight.
I can’t remember if I cried when I read about Humpty’s widowed bride.
The bride of Frankenstein registered at Macy’s and Bed Bath & Beyond, and the werewolves chipped in to buy her a place setting and some Wamsutta sheets.
Let me clue you in on something, Hoss: There are good werewolves and there are bad werewolves, but they all hate silver polish.
Hoss Cartwright inspired “Brokeback Mountain,” by carrying on a lengthy gay affair with Chinese servant Hop Sing, during secret “fishing” expeditions.
You keep fishing all you want; you’re never going to get me to admit to liking turnip enchiladas.
Turnip enchiladas make me moist, like a towelette.
My favorite towelettes have embroidered portraits of Swedish cavalry officers from the eighth century B.C.
Swedish Fish set afire make for great dinner conversation.
Surströmming is a tasty dish enjoyed by people all around the world.