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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?