The Comedian's
Notebook VII
by M. V.
Montgomery
Before I have my morning
coffee, I would totally fail a concussion
protocol.
Why don’t you take
selfies of someone else for a change?
The limelight isn’t
always as refreshingly citrusy as it sounds.
If Miley Cyrus doesn’t
learn to tone it down, she’s going to achy-break
her dad’s heart.
If my last name was O’Lert,
I would name my daughter Amber. She’d feel
special hearing her name on the news all the time.
The Great Millennial
Paradox: not being able to answer a phone that is
in one’s hands.
Cat got your tongue?
Silent auction goin’ on there?
Sign for an IT department:
NO PHISHING.
The most masculine names of
all are the ones that can take a “the”:
“the Mick,” “the Mitch.”
“Hey, look, it’s the Mitch. And
what do you know, he’s brought the Max and
the Jake with him! What a great buncha guys!”
“I feel threatened by
you.” Is that a compliment or a
criticism?
Trying to teach a
Millennial who is holding a cell phone is like
trying to carry on a conversation with a glutton
who has a sandwich stuffed in his mouth.
I ate an undercooked burger
with onions today and felt like Gaseous Clay.
Question: What do matadors
grease their hair back with? Answer: Oil of
Olé.
The best thing about Blu-Ray
is that you can sort of watch TV without your
glasses.
They say you should live
each day as if it were your last. So
why not just stay in bed all day in hopes you’ll
die there?
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