A co-worker across the aisle hasn't been in for a couple of days. I asked if he was home sick or had completed his assignment and was told he had completed his assignment.

I think Buzz Lightyear fired him.

He was hoping to get on permanent, for the benefits.

It's tough to make a living.

Have Large Pyle write a book called REVERSAL OF FORTUNE: THE GREAT AMERICAN LITERARY MAKEOVER.

Like Cormac McCarthy using his genius grant to write Blood Meridian and All the Pretty Horses.

Great poets die in pots of steaming shit.

I don't think I'm a great poet. But I feel like I'm in a pot of steaming shit.