Colfax McLiverneck

If it looks like a duck, you should probably consult two more senses—perhaps hearing and taste—before you conclude that it actually is a duck.

A long time ago, in a cornfield far, far away, a hoedown went way, way too far with the whole hoe thing.

Granny McLiverneck’s banana cornbread recipe is classified. Please stop asking.

Word puzzle of the day: take the 10-letter name of a red giant star that is a homonym of the title of a 1988 Tim Burton movie starring Winona Ryder, discard all the letters except T and S, then add a T, an O, and a C to get the first name of a sweater-clad podcast (and FORMER TV show) host that rhymes with Blot Chopperfan.

The legendary triumvirate of Beetlejuice, Bloody Mary, and the Diego the Foot Man was shattered in 1977 when Cleveland resident Connie Calderdash only said Diego’s name twice.

Betelgeuse, betelgeuse, betelgeuse. And that’s how you summon a red giant star that, if it were to appear, would touch the orbit of Uranus. Giggity.

Like the bumper sticker says—a bad day fishing is better than a good day getting flayed alive by antediluvian cosmic proto-cockroach demons.

Like the bumper sticker says—God is my copilot. Jesus is my stewardess. And the sleeping hottie next to me has angelic-smelling hair.

Like the bumper sticker says—guns don’t kill people, genetically-modified hyper-intelligent badgers with laser eyes kill people.

Captain’s log: it’s what I leave in the bathroom after a delicious meal of replicator meatloaf.

The theme of this three-theme catchphrase is that it has the word “theme” in it three times.

There’s a place in France where the ladies wear no pants. It’s called La Maison de la Femmes Sans Pantalons.

Dammit, Jim—I’m a person doctor, not a ghost doctor. Wait, isn’t Shatner dead?

Captain’s log: Doctor McCoy is very close to diagnosing Ensign Shapely’s mysterious condition—but it seems that he can’t see de forest for de trees.

McCoy smiles wryly as Spock shows a hint of emotion. Spock gives unironic thumbs up as he is lowered into vat of molten steel.

Yo mamma is so ugly, you’ve got to hang a piece of bacon around her neck to get cannibalistic pigs to play with her.

In the beginning was the Word, and then in 1986 there was Cameo’s Word Up, which was much catchier than just plain Word.

Verily I say unto you, he that readeth this catchphrase shall be exalted among his peers, and shall be given everlasting guacamole and corn chips—and I’m talking the big, scoopy kind, not those little yellow toenail-looking bastards that break every time you hit a big un-mushed chunk of avocado.

Don’t assume anything. Because “assume” is a word that begins with “ass”, which is what you are.

Please bow your heads while the Reverend Fartswhilepraying delivers his legendary—and hilarious—benediction.

The "Canticle for Leibowitz" reference made my cob tingle.

God grant me the serenity to change my underoos daily, the courage to try new hot sauce even if it’s called Facemelter Bigelow’s Five-Alarm Pain Dip, and the wisdom to change my underoos again after the hot sauce thing.

Prayer-warriors mobilize! This chicken-fried steak ain’t gonna resurrect itself.

Having caught the tiger by his toe, Moe waited patiently for the surprised vocalization and easy, recurring payday.

Nonsensical nonshmensical. All catchphrases matter. Now give me all your corn.