Whack 'em, stack 'em and pack 'em.

How many more times are we going to cower under tables and chairs, whimpering like mindless dogs, thinking that someone else has the responsibility to save and protect us?

If Elvis Presley had been a bowhunter, he'd probably be alive today.

They got how many trillions of dollars in gold and silver and jewelry and art and real estate and stained glass and they're passing the basket on Sunday so they can get the tomato farmers' donation?

I was a walking, talking hunk of human poop.

With all due respect, many in the entertainment industry are deep into mind-altering substance abuse, and when one's logic and intellectual calculating powers are replaced with dopey feel-good, fantasy-driven denial, the democratic party serves them well.

Anybody that wants to disarm me can drop dead.