He has won the same Lifetime Achievement Award........twice.
No matter which side of the tracks he is on, he is on the right side of the tracks. When he goes to the other side of the tracks he is STILL on the right side of the tracks.
He once gave himself up for collateral.
He was once found guilty, of being innocent.
When he wakes up the roses smell him.
His bear hugs are actually hugs he gives to bears.
You cannot buy him, but occasionally trimmings from his chops come up in auctions.
Even his enemies list him as their emergency contact.
He never says anything tastes like chicken, even chicken.
If he disagrees with you, it is because you're wrong.
He has never lost a sock.
He has been known to cure narcolepsy, just by walking into the room.
His organ donation card, also lists his beard.
He’s a lover, not a fighter, but he’s also a fighter, so don’t get any ideas.
When it is raining, it is because he is sad.
Even his parents’ advice is insightful.
If there were an interesting gland, his would be larger than most men’s entire lower intestines.
His shirts never wrinkle.
He is left-handed. And right-handed.
Even if he forgets to put postage on his mail, it gets there.
He once knew a call was a wrong number, even though the person on the other end wouldn’t admit it.
You can see his charisma from space.
The police often question him, just because they find him interesting.
He once punched a magician. That’s right. You heard me.
When he orders a salad, he gets the dressing right there on top of the salad, where it belongs…where there is no turning back.
If a monument was built in his honor, Mt. Rushmore would close, due to poor attendance.
His Chops alone has experienced more than a lesser man’s entire body.
His blood smells like cologne.
On every continent in the world, there is a sandwich named after him.
He doesn’t believe in using oven mitts, nor potholders.
His cereal never gets soggy. It sits there, staying crispy, just for him.
His pillow talk is years ahead of it’s time.
Respected archaeologists fight over his discarded apple cores.
We are like shop windows in which we are continually arranging, concealing or illuminating the supposed qualities other ascribe to us - in order to deceive ourselves.
from Nietzsche's Daybreak,
[b:25f8566f18]Now you're in the world of the wolves
And we welcome all you sheep
Been to hell!
I can show you the devil!
Down you fell!
Can't hold yourself together!
Soul to sell!
Down here you live forever!
Welcome to a world where dreams become nightmares![/b:25f8566f18]