No, Megan. There's no punchline. I wish there were. Unfortunately, Mr. Fock is somewhat disabled. It's a complex psycho-pharmacological issue. I advise you to enjoy your cheese and try to move past this incident. It won't be easy, but it is necessary.
Michael Jackson is a punch line to any joke you want. If you forget the punch line of a joke, all you gotta say is Michael Jackson. Two Jews walked into a bar... Michael Jackson. Why'd the chicken cross the road? Michael Jackson. And so the farmer brought his daughter to the dinner table; Michael Jackson. It works for fuckin' anything!
And don't listen to Kelly. He's just jealous of my marvelous collection of cheeses from around the world. I'd say something nice about him if I could think of something...Ah. He still has his hair, there's always that.
9 comments:
I don't know you but these posts make me think we must have been friends in high school.
You like cheese?
it appears I did.
No, like real cheese: cheddar, curds, swiss, smoked bree...
Yes. I do like cheese...is there a punch line coming?
No, Megan. There's no punchline. I wish there were. Unfortunately, Mr. Fock is somewhat disabled. It's a complex psycho-pharmacological issue. I advise you to enjoy your cheese and try to move past this incident. It won't be easy, but it is necessary.
Michael Jackson is a punch line to any joke you want. If you forget the punch line of a joke, all you gotta say is Michael Jackson. Two Jews walked into a bar... Michael Jackson. Why'd the chicken cross the road? Michael Jackson. And so the farmer brought his daughter to the dinner table; Michael Jackson. It works for fuckin' anything!
I have nothing clever to say in response.
And don't listen to Kelly. He's just jealous of my marvelous collection of cheeses from around the world. I'd say something nice about him if I could think of something...Ah. He still has his hair, there's always that.
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