Colfax McLiverneck

You had me at Comedy Bang!

You say catchphrase, I say tagline, let’s call the whole thing an alternate universe that only exists in the mind of Philip K. Dick, who is alive and lives in a Nebraska cornfield nailed to a stick. To clarify, it’s the cornfield that’s nailed to the stick. And Phil lives in it. Weird, right? I know.

There once was a man from Savannah Whose eyebrow had perfect pitch. He said with a guffaw, As he wandered toward the Baby GAP, “Yes, I would like a corn pie with cheese!”

A catchphrase without corn is like a day without sunshine without corn.

My prayers to He Who Walks Behind the Rows are answered. The corn flourisheth in the field, the nongs heyeth in the wood, & Womp It Up hath returned!

1, 2, knuckle my moose. 3, 4, camel my toe. 5, 6, twist my nips. 7, 8, it’s a date!

Verily, my dreams have been answered be He Who Walks Behind the Rows. And now I shall womp it, while I eat this bowl of corn.

This is a catchphrase read by an idiot, referencing corn, signifying nothing.

Endor? I barely Ewok whore.

Shall I compare thee to an ear of corn? Thou art yellower, and more delicious.

Captain’s log, post-coital. Having narrowly escaped the Yomamma wormhole, sick bay is overwhelmed with reports of subspace cooties.

“I do not know what I may appear to the podcast world, but to myself I seem to have been only like a farm boy playing in a corn field, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother kernel or a prettier cob than ordinary, whilst the great plains of truth lay all undiscovered around me.” - Issac McLiverneck, Green Head, Nebraska, 1704

You say catchphrase / I say tagline / let’s call the whole thing a steaming sack of corn casserole-stuffed pigeon niblets

Scoob-a-dee-mazing.

I humbly prostate myself, heart a-flutter and eyes brimming with tears of ecstatic joy, before the magnificent profundity that is the Solo Bolo Olympic Song Challenge.

Gasp! I soiled my pantaloons when I saw that this bloodcurdling ep had been uploaded!!

Your mom sells seashells by the ho-shore.

The Last Jedi? More like the Last Jed, Aye?: The Beverly Seabillies and the Curse of the Black Gold

I was a porn star in a previous life. Your mom’s previous life.

I originally thought about naming my dog Barnelope Whiskertits, but the name was already taken. By your mom.

This is the slow junk what smelt to engrumbling people.

You’re gonna wanna to take the 610 to the 90, on up the 8 around to the 59, then down the 45 until you hit the water. Then you’ll have to swim from there.

A veritable tour-de-fantasmicamazingness! Kudos, bravos, hip-hip-hoorays, jolly-woggers, and flipper-snickles to you all!!

And furthermore, NASA should recall the Voyager probe, add "Bucket On My Head" to the gold record, and relaunch it.

I've been listening to podcasts since I was but a wee lad teething on his first cob of corn, and never have I been as thoroughly amused as I am with this profound offering of melodious jape-filled audio. Bravo, sirs and ladies! Bravo indeed!