I’m delusional, but it works for me

Dear Aging Celebrities who suddenly open a Facebook account and begin posting refried quotes, old pictures of yourselves, and comments like, “I wonder if anyone remembers who I am”: I wonder if you remember who you are. Or if it’s even you. Do you all have the same publicist? Because I see a lot of boilerplate. I’m glad you only show pictures of yourselves from long ago, because you now appear to have dementia as well as a dirty diaper.

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I’ve been hearing strange noises in the pipes for weeks, and now am convinced my house has a giant tapeworm.

tapeworm

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One day, in this country, parents will encourage their children by saying, “Look, you can be someone like Donald Trump, and still grow up to be the president of the United States of America.”

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I encountered a flirtatious Mormon and thought, “I hope he doesn’t think I’m second wife material.”

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Five stages of grief:

  1. Reagan
  2. Bush 1
  3. Bush 2
  4. Obama
  5. Whoever gets in

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Silver lining for depressives: on days you cry a lot, you don’t have to run for the bathroom as much. #dehydration #CloudsAlsoPee #HaHaHaWe’reAllGonnaDie

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I’m terribly disappointed in the Olympic athletes. During the events, so many of them are out at night, partying and having wild sex. If it were me, I would be back in my dorm room each night, alone, getting high.

olympic-rings

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Future geezers, oohing and ahhing over pictures of their transgender grandchildren: “She got her mother’s hips, and her father’s dick.”

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I read that couples who do chores together have better sex lives. What that really means is husbands who help their wives around the house get more blowjobs.

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Since corporations are people, I’m now waiting for the first one to go into psychotherapy. Many of them seem pretty dysfunctional.

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Heard about a Scottish man who died from a germ living inside his bagpipes. This has just ratcheted up Celtic festivals to a new level of excitement.

bagpipes

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Literally and metaphorically, rubbing noses for Eskimos is considered boning.

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A California friend had an unpleasant encounter with a weirdo while hiking. She was wearing all white yoga attire. He was wearing binoculars.

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I’m planning to write a song dedicated to the wheat industry called “Thanks For The Bulkiness.”

wheat-field

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My husband hates it when I burp, but he’s the main reason for my acid reflux.

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I dreamed I met Jesus in the ER and asked Him if He accepted insurance into His heart.

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You know society is in a major transition when black people are shushing old white ladies in movie theaters.

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If you really wanna get picky, everything on the Bristol Stool Form Scale is technically a #2.

 

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