Contact, Vol. III
What the hell is a ‘specialty baby store’? Making it a baby store is already a specialty; you can’t get more special than a really tiny store.
Men can only greet each other by stiffly nodding their heads once. If they attempt to smile or make two nods then this is considered an act of foreplay.
The sentence “No way, man, you’ve got some homemade buch [boo-ch]?!” should be an offense punishable by death.
Old people don’t shut up about their ailments. What more could there possibly be to say about your hip? It either works or it doesn’t.
Why is it once humans learn someone’s ethnicity you immediately try to think of jokes involving their people? Or having to do with their people walking into a bar?
Ok, you caught us. We built the pyramids – well, correction: we enslaved the Jews to build the pyramids. We ain’t standing out in that heat. Plus, they love sand.
What is in your jello that could possibly make you want to spontaneously dance? We all know your chocolate is made out of MDMA to make women instantly reach euphoria.
Dogs don’t need their own bakeries. The cream puffs must have a real bite to them, especially with the added flavor of Kibble drool. (We just learned about puns)
What in all astronomical wonders is a macrobiotic meal? Is that like a petri dish of bacteria you’re eating? Are you eating parasites? We just…we just think that’s disgusting.