Colfax McLiverneck

I got this partially masticated apple straight from the horse’s mouth.

The Neverending Story is a movie from the 1980s, Kyle. Yes, that’s why we haven’t left the theater, Kyle.

I like bacon tree.

He spotted the giraffe four hundred yards down the trail with his binoculars; how the giraffe got his binoculars he could not ascertain.

No, you listen to me, Words With Friends! Bootytastic is too a word!

I like corn tree.

It was a dark and smarmy night. The dreaded earwolf loosed its mournful howl in the distance, and we served guacamole to the cat with a spoon even though cats don’t know how to use spoons.

Knock knock? Who’s there? Interrupting plugs theme. Interrupting plugs theme whOH SAY CAN YOU HEAR/ALL THE PLUGS THAT WE HAVE/TO TELL YOU ABOUT/SO YOU CAN GET BIG LAUGHS

Well ain’t that the bees knees. How will that poor bee ever walk again, you cruel bastard!

Well that’s just fantastic, Scott. How are we going to explain this to Alan Thicke’s ghost?

I like apple tree.

Seashells she sells down by the seashore, but choose our own seashells from the seashore itself we must, because overpriced and poorly located her business is.

Frosty the Snowman was a bitter, hateful soul, with a corncob hemorrhoid, a button-sized melanoma on his nose, and two eyes filled with malicious virulence.

‘Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished in one hand and shit in the other and see which one shuffles off first.

Captain’s log, subliminal. First Officer Johnson (give your soul to the bananaman) on the holodeck malfunction (all your donuts are mine) regarding dilithium reserves (weird al’s lips are soooo moist) Admiral Miller’s recommendations.

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

Captain’s log, subtextual. Regarding the recent revolt in the Epsilon Sector, give me that sandwich now or I’ll beat your candy ass.

Try adding some corn to the mix. CORN

Captain's log, supplemental. Having destroyed planet Omega 3, we must find a new source of dietary supplements. Ensign, set course for the GNC Nebula.

If Harry Connick Jr. was a shifting plate in the earth’s crust, he would be Harry Tectonic, Jr.

Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear. Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair due to the pharmaceutical study he was participating in because he lost his job at the honey-packing factory. Thanks, Obama.

Considering the sheer number of seashells already on the seashore, her choice of location was somewhat questionable from a business standpoint.

I need a photo opportunity, a shot a redemption, a Volvo with a rotomolded bust of George Carlin, and a tiny saxophone with pearly white keys.

I don’t want to end up in a cartoon unless it’s that one with the cross-dressing Bugs Bunny.

Don’t call me Al, and I won’t call you Betty. Deal?