The next time you’re standing near a tall building, look up and imagine the whole thing is underwater and you’ve got to swim all the way up to the top for your next breath. It’ll be good practice for global warming. Actually, those of us in England and the Pacific Northwest get to practice this every winter.
(sung to tune of Spider-Man song)
Spider paws, spider paws,
So much cuter than spider jaws.
Climbing up all your bedroom walls,
Flouting all of those fizziks laws.
If you tunneled through the center of the Earth, where would you come out? Spoiler: Pack your swim fins.
It turns out, in ancient hieroglyphics, “boats and canals” is code for “hundreds of thousands of slaves forcefully yoked by religion and inbred narcissistic monarchs.” Who’da thunk?
You know you’re in deep shit when they name the impending doom something clinical and cold like “A-68.” It’s how they control the panic. That’s probably why Trump’s military code name is “Anal Thermometer.”
If you let champagne warm to 68 degrees before popping it, something amazing happens.
John, seriously, “cat food for people”? You’ve obviously never had salmon mousse on butter crackers with a nice Chardonnay.
The South Carolina Lizard Man cometh. Crap, it’s starting.
I’m near ground zero in Oregon but I’m not too worried: all the hillbillies will be cowering inside, rocking back and forth with a copy of the New Testament in their laps. The rest will be blowing each other up with fireworks between sips of Budweiser. Nature’s plan.
