Laughing stock: cattle with a sense of humor.

When I was five years old I was on a merry go round. There was a gunshot nearby. The horses stampeded. There I was running down the street on a purple wooden horse.

The doctor says he has to amputate all of me.

I'd like to sing you a song now about my old girlfriend. It's called "They'll Find Her When the Leaves Blow Away 'Cause I'm Not Raking 'Til Spring."

The sky is falling. No, I'm tipping over backwards.

It usually helps me write by reading - somehow the reading gear in your head turns the writing gear.

Why doesn’t the fattest man in the world become a hockey goalie?