"Caption Gallery Page 26"





Tumbler:
Yes, we had B&W, but, Tumbler soon realized, that NOBODY knew attennas like his Dad... sure, the neighbors had color - but, hey, everyone's not unshaven. (That obscure ref, concerns fuzzy reception.)


E_B_A:
"So... Mr. Welles... is that PURE gravy you're drinking there?" "I'd smack you, but my arms are too heavy to swing..."


MirandaRamsey:
Sexual intellectuals, the greatest and most ineffectual intellectuals, of all!


Hippie:
So three weeks after the crash I had to start eating my fellow passengers... *sob*. And a day after THAT, wouldn't you know it, my razor broke! Shit on me week!


Jazzsoda:
"Now that Art's cap has doomed me to a life of dreaming about Satan's Dick, singing Cardigan's songs, I've taken up painting my nightmares..."


Dairai:
Purple Haze! Woooo....!!


Jazzsoda:
Buster Douglas rolls over in bed. *clang* *crash* *shatter* "Uh man... time to call room service."


Tumbler:
This way to Satan's Penis -->


Fee:
"Hmm, horses... I count thirty, thirty-five. What say you, Redfeather?"


SunSinner:
Little Timmy had to learn about the birds and the bees sooner or later, but the poor thing should've never been subjected to hard core praying mantis'ing.


Artanas:
"Hey folks, Satan's Penis here with a word about contraception. Love me, love me!"


Agent_Moldy:
o/...my fair lady. Take the key and lock him up, lock him up, lock him up...o/


Tumbler:
"5 off the 14 ... 2 cushions ... hmm ... side pocket. Move your damn drink .. and your hand." "Whaaaa?"


Tumbler:
"Forget Viagra, guys... you all need another Rolling Rock... trust me on this one."


animebabe:
"It's nice of you to want to go for a walk Billy." "Yeah, well, Grandpa said the old bitch needed taken out to pee; I thought I'd let him stay home with the dog."


Dairai:
o/ since the networks cancelled me *duh dun* I found a new place in hell *duh dun* It's right at the the end of the cable line it's... SciFi Hotel...o/


Agent_Moldy:
"You're right, Mom, amplehymen _does_ make a good shower curtain!"


Jazzsoda:
Hitchhiking is a three-step process. First, you rely on the ol' thumb in the air. Next, you fall back on your boyish good looks. No luck? Throw the dog!



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