Colfax McLiverneck

Impactivus Erectismash Testifuego! Oh man, OUCH. Should have kept it in your pants, Hagrid.

My uncle Rufous the Murderous Homunculus’s crumpled knuckles are unfit for fisticuffs, roughhousing, or rushed unctuous self-love.

Zeno of Elea walks halfway into a bar.

If life gives you dodecahedrons, make dodecahedronade.

In the land of the cornless, the one-eared man is king.

“Toonces Situgation Going Gone” is the new “Heynong Man,” and the fact that I have to point this out means SOMEONE at CBB isn’t doing their job.

You. Me. A box of frozen corn dogs. And a jar of warm mustard. ‘Tis a consummation devoutly to be squished.

Due to the corn tariffs, rationing begins today with the following guidelines: 1) All the corn is mine. 2) You will get nothing. 3) So fuck off.

Recipient of Iceland’s “Cooler Than Ice, and We Know, ‘Cause We’re Ice-LAND, Bitches!” Podcasting Excellence Award

Catchphrases are like assholes. You’ve got to learn to love your own before you can love someone else’s.

There are 2 kinds of people in this world—those who think there are only 2 kinds of people in the world, a 3rd type of person, and Big Chunky Bubbles.

Winner of the 2018 Ohio Literary Critics Award for Spoken-Word Ass Crap.

I put my pants on one leg at a time just like you—but I stop at one because of the leg infection I picked up from your mom at Bonnaroo in 2004.

There once was a man from Nantucket who had an average sized penis and worked in sales until he died of sleep apnea at 52.

A bar walks into a horse. The horsetender says “Why the long flat wooden surface?”

A horse wearing a sign that says “Ask me about my long face” walks into a bar.

A horse flies into a bar. The bartender says “Man, if you had arms, I bet they’d be tired!”

Though I appreciate this gift of corn cobs on a string, tub of Crisco, and VERY specific instructions, as I’ve said before, IT’S NOT THAT KIND OF SHOW

I know the eggs are disgusting—but it was clearly advertised as an Incontinental Breakfast.

Comedy equals tragedy plus time plus more tragedy plus crushing sadness plus a little more time plus a painful death after an unremarkable life. Ha ha

Yea, though I walk through the valley of motorcycle ramps, I shall fear no Knievel.

B-I-N-G-O-G-H, B-I-N-G-O-G-H, B-I-N-G-O-G-H, and Bingogh was my one-eared dog’s name-OGH

If you want to destroy my sweater you’re going to have to do better than throwing a handful of moths at me.

Non sequitur? I barely cucumber fermata!

He who smelt it may have dealt it, but he who felt it filled his underoos with a juicy sluice of loose poop.