By Cameron Heffernan

Yet again, a few quirky observations from everyday life.

– All I’m saying is that the only difference between a funeral and a wedding. Is the dead body.

– Pot shouldn’t be a drug. I know you’ve heard this before, but let’s be real. Real drugs make you do things like eat people’s faces and shit like that. The only thing you want to eat on pot is everything that isn’t a human face – or a human for that matter. You’re pleasant, helpful and creative on weed. You just want to eat cookies, and dammit, potheads deserve to eat cookies without being lumped in with those face eating bastards, doing other drugs. Someone, please think of the children!

– “But I liked him and he’s good in bed,” is the lazy, “make love, not war,” of this generation. Oh, and to most living in a relationship like that: I’m working on a shirt for all of you that says, ” I was a bang buddy for six months, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.”  I make ’em cheap.

– For men out there, that “like” or “share” a picture of a half-naked woman, and then post about how lonely they are, and, “how no woman understands them.” Please shut up. Woman understand you. They understand that you’re a pig who’d much rather boil a woman down to her looks or body, than her personality. You’re only digging a hole you’ve already dug too deep. And your collection of, “vintage” “action figures” and posters, is a huge hindrance on your vaginal-getting abilities. You gotta hide that shit. Then, like two-three months into the relationship; break that shit out.

– Life makes no sense, like Chewbacca living on Tattooine. It’s got two suns, it’s hot and he’s got all that fur. I’m just saying.

– I don’t know about you, my fellow brethren with penis, but I would like a package cozy in my underwear. Like a winter jacket for your cock and balls, that’s apart of your underwear. Imagine, a world where your balls never get stuck to your legs. A world where your junk looks impressive all the time because it’s never cold. Think about this utopia for your junk? Countrymen, lend me your ears, rise up against your oppressors, clinging on to your life sacks. Separate them, and be free.