Florida is America’s limp penis, and it is in dire need of receiving a botched circumcision.

The joy I get from ironing is what I imagine heroin feels like.

Valentine’s Day is a lot like getting asked to tell a joke on demand. There’s a lot of pressure to perform perfectly and usually you come up short.

He always notices. No one else does. Those buttery eyes, like velvet embraces when they glance upon you. How is it possible for eyes to hold the universe? He can’t be human. He’s a man who moves with wings upon his shoulders, his feet just above the dirty ground, never soiled by the earth. And he always notices you.

"I’ve been so busy lately. I got up to page five on that memo from the democrats. I vetoed it because it was so boring. Someone needs to tell the democrats to use more graphs. I like wheels."

Obviously, no one sends a greeting card to honor the martyrdom of some dude who was interrogated (and likely tortured - it was Rome and he was a Christian priest) and killed (probably in some really grotesque and humiliating fashion - again, Rome). I'm not sure it would do to have children in elementary schools cutting out construction paper implements of torture or crayon drawings of a cat being stoned to death.