More jokes.

Here are more jokes the world didn't ask for.

I love reading explosive Cold War literature as much as the next guy. But I’m a bit of a skinflint. Penny-wise. So I have this neat little trick, see, where I sit in one of those bookstore chains and just read for hours and hours and never actually purchase anything. Listen, I love learning about the bad actors and bad reactors spread across the entire Union of Soviet Socialist Republics while keeping Ol’ President Jackson firmly in the trifold. But I think I flew a little too close to the sun last month spending so much time in Barnes and Chernobyl.

Call me Paul Blart Mall Cop, because I’m big on segues.

Now I’m normally not one to eat electronics, but my streak is in serious jeopardy ever since I bought that Ham Radio.

“Ariel” is a terrible name for a sea-bound woman. Along with all that belly button action, a better name for her would be Naval!!!!

People say that things that aren't exciting lack bells and whistles, but I'll be honest: a bunch of fuckin disparate noisemakers isn't exactly my idea of a good time.