The Frogman

I’m only answering this because I want to show off my awesome arrow photoshopping skills. 

Look at that sweet-ass arrow. It’s all 3D and shit. 

I suppose you are referring to this post where I’m holding a Klingon Bat’leth. 

I’m usually not one to judge people’s decisions, but of all the people you could have sent hate to, you chose the big fella with the large bladed weapon?

Comedy is all about failure.

At first you will fail all the time. No matter what.

If you have talent you will eventually fail less.

If you have talent and you work hard, you will start to fail only some of the time.

If you have talent, work hard, and are tenacious despite all of the soul crushing failure, you might have a chance of making it a career.

The people who make it are the ones that don’t give up.

If you just want to be funny, make fart jokes.

People love fart jokes. 

Have you ever sneezed so hard that you farted?

I was in 4th grade math class. We were doing quiet work. I felt a sneeze coming on. It didn’t seem like a big deal. People sneeze all the time. I decided to just let it happen. I did the “ah… AH… CHOOOOO!”

But the choo brought a friend.

We had these old timey desks with curved wooden seats. They were designed in such a way that if flatulence were to occur above them, they would amplify the sound and add maximum reverberation. So when I snarted, it could be heard miles away. The class erupted into laughter and I sunk into my desk. The teacher tried to keep her stoic resolve, telling the kids it wasn’t funny. Until she started laughing as well.

I guess what I’m saying is… don’t laugh at snarts. They cannot be stopped. They are a terribly embarrassing methane juggernaut hellbent on escaping your bowels. If someone snarts in your presence, give them a hug.

Maybe wait a minute to let the air clear. 

I don’t mind. I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I also have narcolepsy and depression. Not a great combo. 

You’re absolutely right. I feel pathetic and ashamed that I made a responsible decision under difficult circumstances. A debilitating, incurable chronic illness is no excuse. I should have considered the judgment of strangers and how bad living with my parents would make me look. I mean, I’m 31 years old. That’s way too old. I should definitely be living elsewhere. Can I move in with you?

I need to stop reading my messages with Otis.