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Days Won
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Posts posted by Colfax McLiverneck
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I like to see you go, but I love to watch you leave. Because it’s the same thing. I enjoy them both. Now stop looking at me like that and get outta here.
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Me and Herbie Buttcorn suckin' milkshakes down at Milton's Fount.Â
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Me and Wormy Kornshack bleepin’ cussers down at Weedford’s Hump.
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Me and Hubert Humphrey smokin’ corn silk down at Wartson’s Pond.
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Me and Bunkie Twillchaps chuckin’ corn cobs down at Fingster’s Bridge.
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When the moon hits your eye like a sentient pizza pie locked in transdimensional battle with the Flying Stinkmouth Nebula of Korlog-19, that’s Rick and a-Morty
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Once if by land, twice if by sea, three times if by a lady
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This is the way the world ends—not with a bang, but with a bang bangÂ
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When the moon hits your eye like an intangible asset incrementally devalued over a defined time period, that’s amore-tization.
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Since my baby left me, I’ve found a new place to dwell—in a van down by the cornfield.
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So much depends upon the red wheelbarrows on aisle 12 next to the cordless drills—we’ve got to move forty this quarter to make our sales target.
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Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise, this minor tributary will continue to discharge water at its current level and we can attribute it to divine intervention.
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Roses are red, corn is yellow, yo mamma looks like Lou Costello
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I am only podcaster to hold an Honorary Doctorate in Scatology from The University of Shartford-on-Poopshire.
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If life gives you podcasters named Mark, make Marinade.
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There are 1,345 kernels of corn in a can. The Black Death first appeared in Europe in the year 1345. Milton Berle once stayed in Room 1345 of the Belvedere Hotel in Manhattan. Coincidence? I think not.
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Craptown ladies sing this song, doo-doo, doo-doo / Craptown ladies pushin’ brown, all the doo doo day
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I like my women like I like my beef. Corned.
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Chapter the Nineteenth: In Which the Dreadfully Filthy Slasher of Shropshire is Captured in an Immense Vat of Treacle Disguised as a Public Bathing Cistern
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We’re running out of time, so we’ll end the show with our final segment—and that’s a little something we call on-air autoerotic asphyxiation.
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Shuck on, shuck off.
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On the cob, off the cob, get a job or slob my knob
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In an effort to synergize our content platforms, curate relevant stakeholder synergy, and optimize SEO funnels, Earwolf will now be known as Cornwolf.
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What do we want? Corn! How do we want it? Creamed!
Why aren’t corn sandwiches a thing?
in New Catchphrase Suggestions
Posted
Why aren’t corn sandwiches a thing?