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Won't You Come Home, Mitch Hedberg?
by M. V. Montgomery

If two surrealist artists challenge each other to a duel, do they first yell out, “Avant garde!”?

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, but a journey of a thousand steps begins with a pedometer.

A legal dose vs. a lethal dose? Is that meant to be deliberately confusing?

I thought I might be onto something with my idea for a new, all-in-one dining implement, the Spork-k-nife. But then I thought, Wuh-oh, hold on, dude. Could be a lawsuit waiting to happen.

It’s kind of a paradox that in our cult of entertainment, people have to be taught to appreciate so many things. And “entertainment” is such a schlocky word. Entertainers. The Entertainer. Go entertain yourself. Even to entertain a thought seems kind of embarrassing.

I see you’re still hanging out at the Starbucks, living la vida mocha.

Can I have a bite? Not a megabite, just a bite.

I need to eat something empty of calories, not more empty calories.

I’m getting so fat, I might need Tommy Boy surgery.

You sound like one of those nutritionists who would like to hold up a sign, Gluten is Murder.

Maybe to build a reputation that is less ghetto, malt liquor simply needs to have a new name: “I’ll have a single-malt unScotch, please.” Malt liquor: the unScotch.

Gentlemen, start your bingin’.

Oh My Jah!–Lately, I’ve been trying to put that phrase into circulation, along with OMJ!, which I like to intone in a reggae voice. It’s easy to say, like OMG, yet lite and refreshing, like OJ.

I’m one of those holdovers from the Jerry & Jimmy years, more Goofus than Gallant.

Bad girl! Have you been delving into the Wickedpedia?

You mean I really have to stand in this long line to get my new ID card? Hell and Lamination!

A farting ghost would be funny. You’d look wildly around you in all directions, saying, “Who did that?!”

Try to look on the bright side, dude. You’re not losing a wife, you’re gaining a garage.

Why do ex-wives and ex-girlfriends always have to guzzle bottles of Love Poison #9?

It felt like Gallagher had just taken a sledge to my heart.

Sometimes life sucks, and you could just shoot yourself in the head, but guns are too dangerous.

When football players suffer a serious blow to the head, you call it a concussion, so if a discus thrower hits you, would you call it a discussion?

The first safety rule for installing the high dive at the pool is that things really do depend on the deep end.

Speak slowly. I’m not a rocket surgeon.

That guy is too clever by about ten and a half.

Name for a little girl who’s always angry: “Maddie”.

I practiced my speech in my leather jacket, and the leather was suede.

Where are you all from? Not all at once. Let’s try to organize ourselves, people, by electing some row captains.

I think I must’ve felt guilty about forgetting to water my neighbor’s flowers while she was away–in my dream, I peed on them.

Rise of the Planet of the Apes: not really sure what that flick was all about, but I think it had something to do with the Simian Liberation Army.

I saw a headline about Walmart signing this “record deal” with a tiny start-up company. Really? I thought. I didn’t know those guys could sing.

I refuse to eat candy jujubees. Sure, I like them, but I’m afraid they might be anti-Semitic.