Colfax McLiverneck

You’re as useless as tits on a boar hog in a world where perpetually-lactating hog boobs grow on trees.

I’m as nervous as a long tailed-cat in a room full of sadistic, scissors-wielding cat-haters.

Now that her seashell shop is shuttered, she scalps Smash Mouth tickets down by the Stop ‘n Save.

He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists that Prince’s ghost keeps rearranging his LEGO minifigure collection.

There are two types of people in this world.

I don’t care what your state motto is, Missouri—I’m not showing you my wiener.

Sad King Billy spent his boyhood impaling bugs on a barbed-wire fence. But karma’s a bitch, Billy. An immortal, razor-thorned, time-travelling bitch.

Why did the chicken bisect the toroidal polyhedron? To invert the integer matrices of its homeomorphically-equivalent Eilenberg-MacLane space.

A horse walks into a bar. The bartender says, “Why the long face?” The horse says, “My goldfish died.”

Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, bypassing the pepper-pickling industry and initiating a hard market reset, causing interest rates to plummet and drawing sharp criticism from newly-appointed Federal Reserve Chair Joyce Dewitt.

If life gives you gators, make gatorade. Or run away, because gators might eat you.

Anthropomorphized podcast slowly walks across room. Takes shrimp from hor d'oeuvre platter. Dips in cocktail sauce. There’s a knock on the door.

She sold seashells by the seashore until Susie's Seaside Surf & Sundry Shack started selling shinier, sexier seashells at substantial savings.

Welcome to Comedy Bang Bang, the only podcast to have been ejected from a Blues Traveler concert for aggravated assault with a duck.

Please join me in observing ninety minutes of complete silence, followed by a little something we call PLUGS!

Live from New York, it’s COMEDY BANG BANG!!!

Would you rather be reincarnated as a 17-year-old Steven Tyler but only be able to eat food that begins with the letter “W”, or have an orgasm button on your forehead that anyone can push except you?

Coming Summer 2017! Shartnado: Revenge of the Girthy Pegger

You say “titular”, I say “eponymous”—let’s call the whole thing off and go with “nominative”.

Taco Wednesday? Why not. I can’t think of any foods that start with “W”.

Some say love/it is a river/that drowns a bag of puppies, devours their cold dead bodies, shits them out, and force feeds them to your whore mother

When the moon hits your eye like a big piece of corn, that's not cool, man.

As the most renowned private investigator in medieval Indiana, The Hunchman of Terre Haute relied solely on gut instinct—cause dem guts don’t lie, son.

Don’t give up your day job—it would be nearly impossible to study sunspots at night. Plus, you’re a terrible jazz trombonist.

They say that good fences make good neighbors. I say yo mamma left the window open.