I don’t have a lot of time, as I recently found out I am dying. I don’t know when, how long I’ve got left, or the circumstances under which I go, but as you can understand, it’s still quite a shock. Let’s jump on this pony and ride to victory.

I’ve recently heard the greatest invention of all time is the wheel. Did I ever get a thanks? No. It just goes to show you, never talk loudly about your ideas in bars.

The other day, for the first time, I had popcorn shrimp. Have you seen this stuff? It’s not popcorn. And it’s not shrimp. Only, it is shrimp, I suppose. But it’s not popcorn. That’s all I’m saying.

Hollywood has promised us another Daddy Day Care. Save your lies, charlatans. I’m still waiting for the Buckaroo Banzai sequel I never got.

You know what I hate? Rastafarians.

Whatever happened to Regis Philbin? You hear nothing about him anymore. It’s like they erased all memory of him from existence, like someone went back in time and farted on a rare flower or something, and poof! But I remember. And I’ll never forget.

Everyone knows the Second Law of Thermodynamics. But they all snicker when I ask them to explain it to me. I don’t think that’s right.

If you watch The Bachelor does that make you gay? A friend wants to know.

It’s when I first wake up in the morning and I feel the cold sweat on my face, the shudder in my chest, and I feel like I can’t move my neck and can only stare at the ceiling—like I’m waiting, merely waiting for the end. It’s those moments I feel closest to knowing insanity. But then, I have a cup of instant coffee, and everything gets better.

I just read some of this bathroom wall art—does anyone edit that stuff? The spelling is terrible. Nice gig, if you can get it.

Judge Judy has gotten way too sassy for her britches. It’s high time someone in the administration step in. There’s got to be some kind of constitutional clause to cover this kind of thing.

On The Jeffersons, everybody loved Bentley most. Everybody. You think the network would have played that up, but no. Pure gold, slipped right through their fingers.

I have heard before if you put peanut butter on your private parts, your dog will lick it off. Well, I can’t speak for all breeds, but pit bulls didn’t make for the kind of experience I envisioned.

Isn’t it like 1939 all over again these days? Sure, it’s different, but you know what I mean.

I lost a matchbook to a hip club back in 1965, and sometimes, when I lie in bed at night, I wonder whatever happened to that matchbook. I hope it’s doing someone some good, and some day I can sneak behind their house and set their bushes on fire. Just as a distraction. To get it back.

I love British television, and I hope to buy one some day. But I hear they don’t work with our power outlets. Which is just plain wrong.

I believe we’re done here. I’ll see you again.