Phone Guys:

I want to open a journalism school. There’d be teachers and whatever to teach the stuff that needs to be taught, but I would be in charge of the final exam. I’d make up a new story about a whale and then the students would have to do an article about it. Any student who uses the phrase “Whale of a tale” would be failed and punched.

Haiku!

I need a new leg.
My old leg was eaten up.
It was delicious.

If evolution is real, why can’t sharks walk? They get tons of experience points from killing people all the time, obviously one of the sharks would have got legs when it levels up by now. Therefore, I have disproved evolution.

I’ve received word from my father that Bart has died. Bart is the cockatiel that has been our family pet since a time that none of us can remember. This is him:

We don’t know exactly how old the little guy was, but I expect he was near twenty, possibly just above it. Bart did not have a very exciting life, but that is okay, he hated excitement. Bart was ever terrified of everything around him. The poor guy did not like anything close and would hiss at anything that he didn’t know that got too near (and often things he did know, too). And if anything close to him moved too quickly, it was just straight up panic time! For a bird, he was not a flyer. He almost never ventured further than his own cage (walking on the outside of the cage was his idea of getting out). What did he like? He liked chewing on plastic, being sprayed with water, and chirping. He is my favorite cockatiel.

Thanks for being around, little guy.