Shooting for Third

My type of music sounds best playing loudly from of a Jeep careening recklessly from of a mini–golf parking lot into a hot Midwestern dusk.

This recession’s hitting everyone. Eddie Money just changed his name into Ed Check–Into–Cash.

A surprise party is still your family and friends conspiring together to deceive you. “Here’s your cake. Never trust us again.”

If I released a jazz album it would be called “Abortion of the Cool.”

Look who’s here: @goddamnitDoug

Friday night and I’m nothing more than a box of farts and a beard that smells like the parking lot of a Georgia Satellites concert

Another thought never shared on Twitter: “What I just wrote esoterically wasn’t funny or informative, but merely done to confirm I exist.”

A thought never shared on Twitter: “Nevermind. Better I just keep that one to myself.”

Played flag football yesterday. Easiest way to get a flag was to tackle the person first. I was ejected from the game because of my insight.

Snack Kerouac and William S. Churros (my favorite of the Eat Poets)

Kabob Dylan was an affiliate.

Oh, and thanks for the nice words, everyone. Really eating a hat by being here.

Lawrence Ferlinspaghetti. I’m done. Seriously.

The sad luck is the genocide of the Native Americans still doesn’t make turkey and stuffing any less delicious.

domestic beer=domestic dispute. imported beer=hate crime.

“Twilight: New Moon?” I thought she said “Moonlighting.” Shit. Well, here’s to another disappointing birthday present from your Uncle Kyle.

No longer calling it death. Will now be referred to as “getting out of the way.”

They say to play music for your unborn child, but we’ve already scheduled the abortion. “Ava Maria” or “Final Countdown?” Help me out, guys.