Colfax McLiverneck

A corn nut, a sentient fart, and a spoon named Walter walk into a bar. The bartender says “What is this? Some kind of catchphrase?”

Fun Fact: Cornhole is a game where you throw bags of corn at holes in a board while drinking box wine out of a Dixie cup until you wake up with a bleeding ear in a pool of cold vomit in the floorboard of your 2004 PT Cruiser in the Walmart parking lot.

I came here to chew bubble gum and eat corn. Not at the same time, of course. That's gross.

Your mom sells seashells by the ho-shore.

Humans residing in silica domiciles should avoid tossing weighty objects.

Outside a book inside of a dog, a dog without a book inside it is a man’s best friend. Inside a book inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read whether the book tells how to get a book out of a dog.

Golly I sure am cornfounded by all this corn I found.

People who live in glass houses should move to regular houses because glass is not an approved structural material and could cause serious injury or death in the case of thrown stones.

Corn farmer use hayman, hay farmer use nongman. Crow, he don’t care bout no man.

Chapter the Twentieth: In Which the Vicar of Cornhole-on-Buttsford is Investigated by the Constabulary After Five Straight Weeks of Suspicious Sermons on the Positive Attributes of Sodom

She vends discarded mollusk carapaces down by the littoral zone.

There once was a man from Corntucket whose cob was so long he could shuck it.

Non sequitur? I barely levitate corndogs!

I reluctantly inspected your categorically scatological mixology encyclopedia and found it intractably infected with excremental daiquiri wackery.

If life gives you corn, you win. The end.

Spiderman’s legal guardian built a corn labyrinth that’s only open one month in the spring. She’s calling it Aunt May’s May Maize Maze.

If I’ve said “if I’ve said it once I’ve said it a 1,000 times” then I’ve said “it” at least a 1,002 times.

When life gives you lemons, sequence their genetic structure, bioengineer a self-replicating race of sentient warrior lemons, and take over the world.

Come and listen to my story ‘bout a man named Scott / A poor podcast host that never had a funny thought / And then one day while he was readin’ forum posts / Santa beat his ass and Zouks became the host

Not for all the corn in the world, Jason. Not for Every. Single. Kernel. You sick, SICK man.

I think so Brain, but if dogs were made of corn, what would we call corndogs?

You can lead a Jimmy to corn, but you can’t make him crack it.

Welcome to Cornedy Barf Barf—I’m your host, Snot Boogerman!

Imagine a dog made of corn.

It puts the corndog in its mouth or else this ep will turn due south.