Anytime there's a bad female stand-up somewhere, some dickhead Interblogger will deduce that “women aren't funny.” Using that same math, I can state: Male comedy writers piss in cups.

The life of every individual, viewed as a whole and in general, and when only its most significant features are emphasized, is really a tragedy; but gone through in detail it has the character of a comedy.

Some guys step on a rake in the dark, and get mad and go punch somebody. Others step on a rake in the dark and fall down laughing at themselves. I know which kind of guy I'd rather be. So do my friends.

At the last moment, she remembered that her Master might be watching her and, knowing that good girls bend at the knees while bad girls bend at the waist, she picked up the cigar butt, as it were, in style.

If you put any effort into anything you do and have a strong sense of self to the point where you don’t even question your choices before you walk out of the house— you’re a fucking weirdo.

Meaning, yes -- I don't really exist except on the page or in the back of your brain. But if you think it's weird a fictional character's telling this story, you ain't seen what happened, yet.

And as their penile pain began to subside, the two men were able to form more complex thoughts, resulting in a collaborative work: the development of a worldview that might be described as “penilosophy.

But despite these and many other differences, Evan and Heeb had become close friends – an improbability that could have been produced only by the even greater improbabilities that brought them together.

SHUT UP," Carot Top say, the cocane now taking effect. "This isnt Poetry 101. People want to laugh. Your suposed to be a 'King' of Prop Comedy. But youve been acting more like a jester of prop comedy.

What do you hope to get out of this meeting? - CIA Counterintelligence official, polling the audience before the start of a briefing on CIThat's what I hope to get: out of this meeting. - The Covert Comic

Suddenly, however, the dastardly department of my personality presented two plans, one of which involved dynamite, mustache wax, some rope, and train tracks . . . which I rejected due to financial investment.

Can I speak to Sayvyer, please?”“You’re looking for the savior? At 1:15 a.m.?”“No. her name’s Sayvyer.”“There’s no savior here. Especially not at 1:15 a.m.

Pissec approaches Pamela Geiger’s cubicle, itching in rhythm with her. He wants to ask her a question while Kalist is out of earshot. She’s not a grass, he’s sure, but stupid people die first.

Saer is a great big poop, and you shouldn't listen to anything he says," I said, panting just a little."Obviously, he was trying to demoralize me.""Men who are poops demoralize people all the time," I agreed

It was the first time her eyes had really met mine and to be honest I think there was more warmth between the lamb chops in the freezer." Daniel meeting Felicity in Cousin Felicity and the Eels of Misty Point.