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You remember eating out at nice restaurants, but you can't recall ever having to pick-up a check.


Whenever you make love, you leave a long trail of clothes leading up to the bed.


Most of your memories are montages with soundtracks.


You, and everyone you know, have phone numbers that start with 555.


You know that beatings don't hurt, that bullets don't wound, but even the slightest cough can quickly become terminal.


Rent never comes due in your New York City apartment, which is good, because if it did, you couldn't afford it.


Every time you lose control of your car it crashes through a fruit stand.


Friends keep bringing up things you did together that you are already very well aware of.


You never, ever read, but yet you have read.


It seems like every time you make a best friend that isn't particularly good looking, they die on you.


You can't recall the last time you went to the bathroom.


The kooky gay guy who lives across the hall is always friendly and always around.  And no matter how mad he gets at you for screwing up your life, you know he'll always be there for you.


Every time you get really depressed (like after a break-up), rain washes against your windows.  When you feel better, it clears.


When you look through binoculars you see the outline of a pair of binoculars instead of just a magnified circle.


Every time you turn to walk into the sunset, credits start to roll.

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From the "Hartford Chronicle," 1955


I have a problem.  My little boy, Michael, who is rather homely, really loves to sing.  If he could, he'd sing all day long at the top of his lungs, but the trouble is, he has no talent.  I've sent him for voice lessons, to music school, even to music camp, and everyone agrees that he can't sing.  And now, for his birthday, little Michael desperately wants a guitar.  I'm worried that if I encourage his music, it'll lead to a lifetime of humiliation and ridicule, and that's if he succeeds.  What should I do?

Signed, Mrs. Bolton


Response:  Even though Michael has no talent, I believe that young men need all the encouragement they can get.  And as he's still young, I say give him the guitar, let him fail, and then he'll move on to something he's more suited for.  What harm could it do?



From "Blimps & Dirigibles," Germany, 1935


My name is Fred, and I am currently building a giant rigid airship (a zeppelin) that will be able to carry passengers across the Atlantic.  Right now, I am having trouble deciding whether to fill the airship with hydrogen, which is a highly unstable, flammable gas, or helium, which is much more safe.  What do you think?

Signed, Fred Zeppelin


Response: While helium is a fine gas, and a very safe gas, I don't believe helium is the gas for you.  In a recent survey, 3 out of 4 Germans said they preferred hydrogen in their airships.  Another magazine recently called hydrogen a hip, trendy gas.  So either you can play it safe, and go with helium, or get with it, and go with hydrogen.



From "Powersex," Washington, DC, 1990


I am the mayor of a large East Coast city (and it ain't Washington, DC), who just loves the ladies and loves to smoke crack.  Now me and this little lady, we had something real good going awhile ago, but then it ended.  A few years pass, I hear nothing, then all of the sudden she starts calling me, wanting to get together for some sex and crack (by the way, is crack bad for you?).  But the thing is, she won't come to my place.  She keeps insisting I meet her at this fancy hotel where she's rented a room specially for us.  Now I know she ain't got no money.  So what do you think?  Is the goddamn bitch trying to set me up?

Signed, Not the Mayor of Washington, DC


Response: Sounds like you're getting a little paranoid, which, as we all know, is what power can do to you.  I think the fact that you once dated this lady, and nothing bad happened when it ended, tells me that her feelings for you are genuine.  I think she's just trying to offer you a peace pipe, a crack peace pipe.  So no, I don't think the goddamn bitch is trying to set you up.  So go, have fun with her.  And about smoking crack, while you might not want to do it all the time, don't worry, it's not habit forming.



From "Dreams and Premonitions," London, 1912


The other night, I had this dream I was stranded in an ocean, a big, ice cold ocean, and there were hundreds of other people (rich people) in the water with me.  All around me were chunks of ice, and pieces of a ship, and looming over this whole scene was a giant mountain of ice, and this giant mountain of ice was laughing at me.  Do you think this is some kind of premonition?  Could it have anything to do with a cruise I'm taking on the Titanic?

Signed, Fear of Drowning


Response: My dear sir, if dreams were that clear, then every time I dreamt I was having sex I'd wake up and slap my husband.  Your dream tells me that you will be coming into money soon, perhaps from the death of a loved one.  You will use that money to try to get into the ice business, but don't do that, because it'll be a big failure.  So I'd say stay out of the ice business, and enjoy your trip aboard the Titanic.



From "The Russian Post," August, 1530


For the past few months, I've been driving myself crazy trying to think of a nickname for my son.  Nowadays, it seems everyone is giving their sons big, important nicknames, like Alexander the Great, or Todd the Especially Clever.  I happen to like the name Ivan the Terrible.  But do you think, with a name like that, it might make him grow up into a bad person?

Signed, Ingrid the Concerned


Response: I've heard plenty of lousy names for children, Frederick the Idiotic and Joseph the Flatulent come to mind.  Personally, I think Ivan the Terrible is a great name, and I do not believe for one second that it could effect his behavior.  As a matter of fact, I once knew a Doug the Disemboweler who was the nicest guy you could ever meet.



From the "Troy Gazette," 12th Century BC


My country, Troy, is currently at war with Greece.  Recently, it seems like Greece is looking for a truce, and to show that they're serious, they've given us this giant wooden horse.  They've pushed it right in front of our gate.  The Greeks tell us it's an offering for Athena which will make Troy impregnable.  But I'm not sure.  I've gone out and looked at the horse, and I swear I could hear people mumbling inside.  What do you think?  Are the goddamn Greeks trying to set us up?

Signed, Troubled in Troy


Response: I'm happy you wrote me, as I happen to know a few things about wooden horses.  First, I'd like to mention that Greeks are the most trustworthy people I know.  The wooden horse is exactly what they say it is, and if you bring it inside the gate, not only will it make your city impregnable, it'll make you a better lover.  So if I were you, I'd welcome the horse inside, and then I'd leave it all alone for a few days.  Magical wooden horses don't like to be watched by guards.

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Troy McKinley: No one would deny that Troy McKinley, who died last week from a heart attack at the age of 65, lived a full life (judging by the size of his casket, I'd say he was full most of the time).  Troy was a stellar businessman, and he liked to portray himself as a self-made man, but I do believe that he tended to minimize the role his in-laws played in his success.  Also, because of Troy's constant battle with his weight, I found his death, much like his life, was overly predictable.  While it's no stretch to say that Troy lived the good life, it was by no means great.  I'm awarding his life 2 stars.


Carol Moore: Carol proved you could have it all.  She had both a family and career, and except for Tommy, she did a wonderful job raising her children.  Carol was a good friend of mine, and I was sad to see her pass away from cancer at the age of 68.  One thing about Carol, though: if she really was so devoted to beauty, then how come she never got a nose job?  Minor quibbles aside, Carol had the perfect life, and were it not for the regrettable incident at the Howe party (that punch was far too strong), I'd be giving her a perfect score.  Instead she gets a near perfect 3 stars.


Ruth Williams: Poor Ruth.  Where to begin?  Ruth Williams, who disappeared in the jungles of Borneo two months ago and is assumed to be dead at 43, represented the good in all of humanity, and she never missed an opportunity to remind us of that.  I know I am not the only one who found Ruth to be overbearing and hypocritical.  And those outfits!  No wonder she never found a man.  Ruth gave her life to saving the world, and it gives me no pleasure pointing out that she so obviously failed.  I'm giving her a generous 1 stars.


William Cryer: Bill Cryer had it made.  He had the wife, he had the kids, he even got to live to the ripe old age of 87.  But I still have this sneaking suspicion that, for as long as Bill lived, things just came a little too easy for him.  Maybe if he'd experienced more conflict, like a divorce or two, and hadn't spent so much time on the golf course, then maybe his life wouldn't have seemed so overlong.  Bill certainly was a nice guy, but for such an uneventful life, I thought that it stretched on about five years too long.  Bill gets 2 stars.


Edith Stanhope: No one was more saddened by Edith's death last Thursday from natural causes at the age of 85 than me.  Edith Stanhope was a pillar of society, she threw the best parties, and as long as you stayed on her good side, she could even be quite friendly.  It's almost nitpicking to point out that Edith could be narrow minded at times.  Also, I found her recent conversion to Catholicism entirely unbelievable.  While I think we will all cherish our memories of Edith, I don't believe those memories will be all that long-lasting.  Edith gets 3 stars.

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It seems an Elvis impersonator from California has been charged with a series of home burglaries.  The Elvis impersonator insists he's innocent, saying, "they're just hassling me because I'm a black Elvis impersonator.  You don't see them bothering no white Elvises."  He is currently being detained in the Davis Correctional Building.  Let's hope he gets himself a good attorney so that Elvis can leave the building.


Looks like the Steven Spielberg impersonator has got himself a stalker.  Said pseudo-Steven, "at first I wasn't too worried, you know, because I just figured he was a Steven Spielberg stalker impersonator.  But then, once he killed my cat, I knew he was for real."  I called the real Steven Spielberg for comment but could not get through.


A Bob Hope impersonator died recently due to complications following heart surgery.  Bob Hope's career has spanned six decades in show business, from his film pairings with Bing Crosby to his TV specials to his work entertaining the troops, and his impersonator will be sorely missed.


The Keanu Reeves impersonator I ran into the other day seemed despondent over the weak opening of Keanu's new film, "Sweet November."  Said the Reeves look-alike, "If Keanu's box office doesn't pick up soon, I might have to put on a floppy hat and red shirt and go back to impersonating Gilligan."


My sources have reported that there was a Kevin Costner impersonator spotted at a bar last week with more than a few drinks under his belt.  Apparently he is going through a particularly difficult identity crises.  Said the Costner impersonator when I reached him, "Now that Kevin Costner is coming out with a film where he plays an Elvis impersonator, what the hell does that make me?"  All I know is if the drinking keeps up, then he may have to check himself into the Betty Ford Impersonator Clinic.


There's a vicious rumor going around about Rupert Everett's impersonator: there has been some speculation that he may not be gay!  Asked about the charges, the fake-Everett responded, "Look, if the real Rupert wanted to sleep with me, I'd go to bed with him in a second, so doesn't that make me gay?"  Then he added, "I don't think people should judge me just because my domestic partner happens to be a woman."


The faux-star studded party to benefit Muscular Dystrophy last weekend at the New York, New York hotel in Las Vegas was a total blast.  The hotel really rolled out the off-red carpet for the gala event.  The Robert Downey, Jr. impersonator was partying as hard as, well, as hard as the real Robert Downey, Jr.  And it seems the on again, off again romance between the Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman impersonators is off again (apparently they both want to be single just in case they get a chance to hook-up with their real life significant others).  And who can forget the fight that broke out between the Ernest Hemmingway impersonator and the Pee Wee Herman impersonator (thank god the Arnold Schwarzenegger impersonator was there to break it up).  Also, I guess the Marilyn Monroe impersonator was having trouble with a very insistent JFK impersonator (who kept saying, "Come on, we have a history together.").  Finally, because he wouldn't leave her alone, the Marilyn impersonator ended up going home with a Pauly Shore impersonator (who may or may not have been an impersonator).


And how was your week?

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If you want to boldly go where no man has gone before meet me in this stall tomorrow night.


How come every time I ask Scottie to beam me up to Uranus I end up here?


Who's that dumping in the stall next to mine?
Stinks so bad my nostrils hurt
Is it Chekov?  Is it Sulu?
Guess again it's Captain Kirk


Is that an alien life form or did someone forget to flush?


Know why Spock can't get it up?  'Cause every time he pees he holds his dick with the Vulcan death grip.


What's red and scaly and itches?  The rash of Khan.


Fight Klingons.  Wipe twice.


Stardate 3457.2: the Captain's log is not coming out of the Captain very easily.
Stardate 3457.3: Captain's log is flushed.


Why do human beings cover these walls
With their foolish attempts at being comical
I do not understand their species at all
I find them most illogical

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This is the tale of a Grinch

Who thought love was no treasure

He had a heart ten times tougher

Than dinosaur leather

And could not stand to let lovers

Make Music together


Sure he knew about love

He had been to the movies

He liked Steven Seagal

He wasn't too choosy

But instead of "Love Story"

He liked "My Brand New Uzi"


So to all the chocolate heart candies

And the "I love you" sweets

He added some instant headache

And a dash of Salt Pete

To make sure Valentine's Day

Was love making's defeat


And the Grinch knew that jewelry

Was a Valentine's winner

And while awaiting a ring

Many loved ones would simmer

So he left all the diamonds

But made-off with their glimmer


Then the next trick he tricked

Took every brain cell to think

For he crafted the craftiest

Invisible ink

And all the "I love you" cards

When opened up read "You stink!"


And what about roses?

This one takes the pot

He counted every last petal

Of every rose bought

And all who plucked out "She loves me"

Got "She loves me not!"


So what happened with love?

On this day most diabolical

I really wish I was wrong

But my facts are reliable

Many couples uncoupled

Their differences irreconcilable


And who is this Grinch?

What sort could he be?

The kind who'd knock love

Down on one knee

If you haven't already guessed

He's a divorce attorney

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There is a no-return policy on items that have been wished.


If your wish contains words that are ambiguous or have a double meaning (i.e. pussy, or a little head), then the genie will choose whichever meaning is most ridiculous.


If a husband so chooses to wish his wife young and sexy, the genie is not responsible if the wife leaves him.


The genie is not responsible for any items that are lost or stolen when being transported to some wished upon destination.


The genie cannot honor any wish involving Tom Hanks as his life is already under the influence of three very well stated wishes.


When wishing for money, if the currency or amount is not stated clearly (i.e. dollars can be either American or Canadian), then the genie will choose whichever amount has the lowest value.


Anyone wishing to sleep with Pamela Anderson must be prepared to wait as there is a rather long genie-wish waiting list (although there is some availability in the five minutes or less line).


The genie will grant only three wishes.  Not four, not five, not five hundred.  Three!  Anyone who insists on wishing for more wishes will, rest assured, wish they never had.


If one of your wishes is to be IMPORTANT, please make sure that you pronounce the word slowly and clearly and that you enunciate the R.


The genie is not a licensed doctor, and therefore cannot be held responsible for any medical problems that may result from impossibly large sexual organs.


Anyone wishing to live forever, please remember that forever is a very long time.

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