The other night I had a nightmare. I dreamt of that Jerry Falwell was running for president. I woke up as if I had never slept at all.

A man was muttering to himself in the booth next to me at IHOP. I don’t know what he was saying. But he sounded disparaged.

The world is getting very odd. You never know what is going to happen next. Like 4chan vs. Scientology.

It’s cold outside. It’s been colder. But my head is still cold.

“Are you ready for the tax workshop today?” “Yup, I got my energy drinks so I don’t pass out, and I have some sedatives so I don’t kill anyone when I go into a blind rage while looking at so many numbers.” But what I actually said was, “Yes.”

Rambo had a moral: Pacifists are pussies. And guns are fun.

I learned something yesterday. If I date the post for tomorrow, it’s will not post until tomorrow! Say hello to the future for me.

I realized something on the T today. I do not listen to any artists that are younger than me. Step it up, kids.

It is impossible to find a picture of Sarah Silverman naked. I would know. I couldn’t.