Tag Archives: French Bulldog

Ender’s Game: Maybe Dogs In The Future Take Their iPads To The Restroom

Ender’s Game: Maybe Dogs In The Future Take Their iPads To The Restroom

I’m bringing back “Great, kid. Don’t get cocky!” You know, from when Han Solo says it to Luke Skywalker in Star Wars. I say it all the time now. Watch out, people who just did something great but are starting to get cocky about it—you’re about to get put in your place. By an old man quoting Star Wars.

Imperial Trouble Episode 75: The Sober Episode!

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Bunny and Jason clean up their act and discuss the upcoming Star Trek: The Next Generation/Doctor Who crossover, leading to a comparison between the two properties. A debate rages on whether Jason’s dog resembles Batman. Swear words in comic strips and the ultimate sci-fi crossover is also discussed.

There Is No Arguing With Results: Jokes About Orville Redenbacher, LL Cool J And Facebook
popcorn

There Is No Arguing With Results: Jokes About Orville Redenbacher, LL Cool J And Facebook

A lot of people think that the first person to cut a hole in a tub of popcorn to put their dick inside of it was a guy in a movie theater trying to get a handjob. Actually, it was Orville Redenbacher. He used his penis as a measuring stick. Anytime he wanted to test a new flavor of gourmet popcorn with a focus group, he’d fill a tub and put his dick inside. If all he could see afterwards was the tip, he knew it was back to the drawing board. But if the level of popcorn dropped to the base of his shaft, he knew he had a winner. In fact, this is where the phrase “Poppycock” comes from. He’d get so excited about a successful new line of popcorn, he’d try to yell, “Popcorn Cock!” but would get too worked up to say all the syllables.

Everyone Has A Wheel: In Defense Of Summer
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Everyone Has A Wheel: In Defense Of Summer

This essay was originally written and performed for Write Club Atlanta, a monthly competitive writing event. 

Everyone has a wheel.

For some people, the wheel is a grindstone, an oppressive force pushing them down into the dirt as it turns, squeezing the air out of their lungs as it spins against their back. For others, the wheel is a puppy in a velour tracksuit, massaging their shoulders with a tender professionalism, because it is a certified massage therapist in addition to being a soft, wiggly puppy. And for some, their wheel is a grindstone in a velour tracksuit that dropped out of massage school to become a cashier at Target, a place notorious for not giving massages.