Christmas time, Walloo, Walloo

(I still want a hula hoop)
Golly gee whiz, Mr. Wilson, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas. In fact, I'm sitting here in front of a potted pointsettia. I once knew a lady who tried to kill herself by eating a Pointsettia; little did she know, they're only poisonous to cats. Similarly, I once knew a mogwai who ate a Pointsettia after midnight and turned into a Gremlin; little did he know that it was the after-midnight aspect of his snack and not the Pointsettia that led to his downfall. And in a third, completely un-related situation, I once knew a boy who had two guinea pigs named Simon and Garfunkel. Simon killed Garfunkel with a bite to the neck and then ate him -- just like in real life. Little did Simon know that guinea pigs are not poisonous to each other; alas, perhaps Simon assumed he was on a suicide mission, and then when he didn't die, poor Simon felt such remorse for the acts he comitted so he threw himself into the dishwasher, where the kitten used to sleep. Unbeknownst to Simon and to the kitten, the boy's grandmother decided it was time to do the dishes and she dishwashed both the poor kitty and also Simon, the murderous cannibalistic guinea pig.


What did Crime Scene Investigators working on the Donner party case have to research?
Caniballistics.

HA HA HA HA HA, oh, HA HA HA HA.

I love how the tail end of a laughing jag sounds orgasmic -- the laugher loses control completely, makes weird squealy sounds, tries to catch his breath, and finally sighs contentedly and then goes off to make a sandwich.