If heat rises, then heaven must be hotter than hell

I stayed in a really old hotel last night. They sent me a wake-up letter.

In Vegas, I got into a long argument with the man at the roulette wheel over what I considered to be an odd number.

I put hardwood floors on top of wall-to-wall carpet.

I'm writing a book. I've got the page numbers done.

I was thinking that women should put pictures of missing husbands on beer cans.

I play the harmonica. The only way I can play is if I get my car going really fast, and stick it out the window.