Al Gore: I told ya! I told ya! I told ya! Ya wouldn’t listen but I told ya! I told ya!
GA: Calm down, Mr. Kennedy! Have some of this.
AJ: It’s all natural and green, just like you like it! Except for these purple hairs.
LH: Was that 160 square miles? And why I am always the Frylock to y’all bitches Shake and Meatwad?
Al Gore: Ahhh. Much better. Where was I? Oh yeah, look at my airbrushed junk!!!
In a purchase that should ease concerns about the declining value of the dollar, a cornflake in the shape of The Prairie State has sold on eBay for the bargain price of $1350.
Whether you are looking to pay off a mortgage, take a well-deserved vacation, or just trying to save a little nest egg for when you next need to post bond, your financial desires can be fulfilled at your local QuickChek. Not through risky lottery tickets, but good old-fashioned cereal windfall. Take a look at these current price comparisons:
1 troy ounce of gold - $916.35
1 barrel of oil (crude) - $101.84
1 cornflake, state shaped - $1350.00
Apparently, this type of cornflake generates it’s own cottage industry, consisting of:
a) The hapless, unsuspecting cornflake maker. Likely a poor corporation like Kellogg (NYSE: K) that is forced to sell their product at pennies per flake.
b) Grizzled prospectors sifting through cornflake boxes, searching for recognizable cornflakes.
c) Venture Capitalists tired of risky emerging technologies, seeking the safe haven of cornflakes. They will purchase the cornflakes at high prices in hopes to attract:
d) People who will go to traveling museums to view valuable cornflakes.
If you would like to view this particular cornflake, but cannot afford to attend these traveling museums, you can click this link to view the cornflake. I assure you, these museums will keep the precious art behind impenetrable velvet ropes, and smudge-proof glass encasings, so you won’t lose too much of the "real-life" experience just clicking the link. Alternately, you can look at a map of the United States, point to Illinois, and envisualize it as a cornflake.
GA: SHIT! I told you guys not to blow the whole stash in one day!
AJ: Ben Bernake?? Sounds like he Berrrrrrrrrned up all our shit!!
LH: I hate to add to the bad news, but our cell phone bill is $420,000.
All in Unison: YAAAAAY-UHHHHHHHHH BITCH!!!
It’s been 3 days and I’m still waiting for the punchline.
Maybe the joke got botched, maybe it wasn’t funny to begin with, but there would be a punchline nonetheless. The punchline doesn’t even have to make sense. Sense is overrated anyhow. But that often happens when someone so smart is telling the joke; the rest of us can’t understand it.
I suspect it would come from another country. Qatar, Germany, Jamaica, doesn’t matter. As long as the punchline came. Probably in the form of a postcard, or an e-mail. The last thing you sent seemed to come from an iPhone. Always some new gadget, eh? I never understood how you could drive some clunker to California to abandon it, yet always had the new gadget.
But there I go looking to find some sense again. As if it’s going to help. As if there’s something to figure out, something the rest of us can grab onto and use to understand why things turned out like this. It can’t possibly be that you just wanted out that quick that badly? That makes too much sense.
It’s more fun thinking that the postcard or e-mail will come and the genius will have fooled everyone. Faked it all for whatever reason. I wouldn’t even be mad. It would be great. I’d still think you were bat-shit crazy, but I’d laugh along with you.
And if I’m wrong, and you could never read this, the person I remember would probably find me trying to make sense of this awfully amusing. How ridiculous that I would think the whole time you were ready to spring a practical joke-trap, like Noah hiding behind those giant, heavy green couches. Ready to unleash the rapid, clawless paw barrage on the unsuspecting passerby. Sudden, scary, but in the end comically harmless.
But hell, we never seem to look at anything the same way anyhow. It’s why being your friend has been so much fun.
So I’ll just keep hoping for the postcard. Or the next time I’m in the obx, you can just walk out of the water, with a pipe and a cup of coffee, while the usual depressing ass music you enjoy so much is playing.
It would be a great punchline. And we’d all be a hell of a lot happier than this.
GA: OOOOOOOOOOOOEEEE! Stickay-Ickay-Ickay!
AJ: Alan GREEN-Span!! Ahhh what’s that all about!!
LH: But aren’t you two a little concerned about inflation and rising energy and food costs? Ahh, pass the dutchie.
You know What Really Grinds my Gears? The way that law enforcement has a vendetta against the elderly rescued survivors of the S.S. Minnow. Sending Mary Ann to jail for simple possession after already busting Gilligan seems like blatant Castaway Profiling.
Haven't these people suffered enough? Gilligan toiled for years under the ruthless authority of the Skipper, and Mary Ann had to live in the shadow of Ginger and her constantly choppered-in clothing and make-up. Of course they were going to become addicted to the forbidden leaf!
As always, final say goes to The 420 Wizards.
GA: Better them then us!
AJ: Didn't the Harlem Globetrotters appear on that island once?
LH: Any y'all got her digits?
GG: "Hey! Nice costume! Pull up a chair, we're just getting started!"
GG: "Hey, wait! What the hell! No, No, stay back! Roll 2d20! Roll 2d20 AIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!"
Later, holmes.