Pure Guava

Thrill of a lifetime? Try DRILL of a KNIFE...MIME! Next up on an all new Goober's Locker, see a mime get a knife drilled through his face, will he scream like a real man or just do his flappy French charades for "Ambulance, tres rapidé" over and over until he bleeds out, silently? Stay on this channel to find out or else maybe you'll be the mime next time, Christopher.

You miss 100% of the catchphrases you don't make. #morningmotivation #hockeyquotesthatapplytopodcastcatchphrasewriters #Gretzky'sButthole

Naked wieners make me chuckle, braless boobies? My knees buckle. If this sort of nonsense is what I'm most famous for in 20 years? A shotgun I will suckle. #IFeelBadForTypingThis #BetterCoverMyAss #suicideIsNoJoke #talkToSomeone #PreferablySomeoneNotProSuicide #ImportantDistinction #CallMeIfYouNeedSomeoneToTalk To #8315219762

Next up on All Things Considered, the one thing that snuck by our considering crew, who should now consider themselves unemployed.

Me and Colfax Corndog huffin' gas with a weird mall kid

To poke fun at a war veteran's knee void? Even for a scandalmonger such as you, Cornflask Nibblerstalk this is a cob too far. Sure he lied about serving in the military and sure he got caught with beastiality porn several times and sure he can get rapey during full moons and sure he may have been directly responsible for several instances of genocide world-wide and sure he cut his own knees off while in a PCP binge, throwing the detached knees at a nursing mother in a park he claimed was "too ugly to be trusted" (the park not the mother) but this not a war veteran war veteran did not suffer for his country and that is where your line crossing has crossed the line, Crossy McLinerspeck. This didn't end at Squirrelgate, cornstar.

Hot cross buns. Hot cross buns. Boy, someone really pissed off those buns.

Hey you fucking corporate newspaper whore, take the white house's dick out of your ass and quote this: "I'll give you a proper interview after I finish my breakfast, I'm simply a bear without my tea and biscuit, please return in 15 minutes if it's not too much trouble, Cheerio"

Jam on toast, taste buds can boast. Jam on toes, waste muds ban roast. And so began chapter one of my father's dementia diaries.

We interrupt this broadcast to bring you this braking news: The harder you press the quicker you stop, same as before.

Shots fired. You rolled a 4 on the dexterity check sorry, that's not gonna cut it, Elvish or not you just got a side of McG to the FACE HOLE, SON

They say the line between madness & genius is thinner than the wire the CIA planted in my teeth to keep track of my spending & send instructions on overtaking Peru's gold supply using the laptop I made out of walnuts, car batteries & mommy's night soil

So thankful that dog parks have moved out of the "meet cute" location placed in every rom-com phase and into the "meat flute" location placed in every Tom's mom phase. Ha HA TOM, DOG PARK BANGED YOUR MOM!!!

Except for the occasional necromancer shenanigans, inside-her trading is virtually 100% in-utero babies determined to put together a retirement nest egg weeks before they are born.

Deceptively simple, ye olde phrase of catch be

I've heard of whiskey dick but experimental psychedelic research chemical snuck into my water supply by the government as punishment for defaulting on my student loan penis?

In the name of the father, the son, and the Holy Spirit, there are vowels and there are consonants. Thus ends your grammar lesson for today.

My dog's bark is worse than his bite. By that I mean he has a rare skin disease that makes his fur turn hard and peel like bark, a side effect of the medicine is total tooth loss hence the weak bite.

SORRY, IT'S NOT THAT KIND OF SHOW

If you break a rib and it's poking out of your chest, damn son, that body chest is like a treasure chest, black market demand for fresh man rib through the roof

4 score and 7 beers ago Babe-raham Lincoln ended the civil war by giving the South what it was totally begging for, full-frontal nudity, bro!

Saturday 2/2 is Groundhog's Day and oh, would you look at that, it happens to be my birthday, I was going to tell you about parking around the venue but since you brought it up I should remind you that due to ancient birthday/holiday laws I'm eventually going to find myself in a Bill Murray/Groundhog's Day/time loop situation when I wake up on 2/2. So to cover all my bases I thought I'd ask anyone going to the show what their dream birthday present would be. Because if I'm looping tomorrow? Sure I'll have time to rob banks and master piano playing (if your birthday wish is for a time wizard to play a solid gold piano for you you are already covered) but for those with bigger, less weird dreams let me potentially make them come true. Don't worry about identifying yourself because after 10,000 live HH shows every single one of you will be on stage eventually or I'll just pick your pocket and read your license (don't worry about your valuables, it's for identification purposes only, remember, I will be a master jewel thief/bank robber by then and don't need the 43$ out of your wallet). Chef Kevin, if you are reading this I can't make Anime girls become real no matter how many loops so pick something practical.

We have to stop all this hatred and killing based on race, sex, & religion because the only thing that truly matters in a person is if they prefer early prog-era Genesis or the later pop star garbage years.

Not to be a dick but most of you dicks missed the dicking point of them picking U2 and REM for the first two go-rounds, it's because they were the two bands Scott and Scott wore out the LP's and 8-tracks and cassettes and CD's and MP3 players you could say U2 and REM were the soundtrack of their formative years and at first I'd want to punch you for putting it in such garbage language but then I'd remember punching is not something I've ever done or know how to do and so I'd roundhouse kick you in the face instead for not saying it cool like this : you could say U2 and REM were the soundtrack of the years that were formative, wick-a-wick-a-slick-a-pick-a-wha-wha-wha-WU TANG CLAN BITCH, now that is something to remember for next time, always end on a scream and gang sign to make your point emphatically, and if we are cool here I will walk on outta here and will keep my ninja foot off your jaw, assuming you read this note I dropped as I walk out the door: "Whopper-Stopper, that's what my throat is Wish it was bigger so I could get wit the burger biz Quicker, sicker, to get them down so I throw them back up Don't judge my fetish bro, I bet you are one sick pup Speaking of sick pups, I wish they'd do Ween for season 3 because I want to hear Scotty Aux cord plug in and blast Mr. Would You Please Help My Pony (New no-no: Ponies are puppies now) while special guests RZA and GZA do a freestyle about my lightning fast feet they heard about on the street rocked their world more than a hype sick dope beat, yo. Word.

You call that a catchphrase? Sounded more like a bobbled-and-dropped-phrase to me, butterwits.