Musing With Mitch
by Mitchell Kobriger
I'm glad I smoked when cigarettes were still safe, before the warning labels.
The Chinese clerk at the all night liquor store near my place sure is a jumpy little fellow.
Those Osbourne kids aren't as fit as one would think.
I like my sodomy, but hoo boy, I sure don't like cleaning up the mess.
Seeing Katie Couric on TV every morning has me convinced: It's my duty to please that booty.
One of the modern world's under-appreciated wonders is that anybody can get a chunk of cow at the corner market already all dead and cut up and stuff.
We're way overdue for another cult tragedy. My money's on the Lutherans.
With the way things are going, there is no way that any of the people who voted for George Bush are going to vote for Jacques Chirac.
In my book, if it's not iambic, then it's not pentameter.
If you're selling shoes door-to-door in my neighborhood, better walk on by, 'cuz I ain't buying none of that crap.
If 1974 was any indication, this year will belong to gingham.
My friends say bleeding like that is alarming, but I just say it's just good spicy Mexican.
Adam Rich had his shot. Let's move on.
Who says there's no place for velour in a hunting cabin?
You won't find any futons in my home -- and believe me, it's best not to try.
I think I could get by with only 9 toes. And if this athlete's foot gets any worse, I might just have to.
Don't touch that dial! (Ha! I've always wanted to say that!)
Strangulated Hernia might be a good name for a rock band, but it's no picnic in your pants.
Whenever I want to let someone know that there is a booger hanging out of their nose, I always use the "lick the area under my nose with my tongue" technique. Everyone should.
For my money, having man-boobs ain't so bad if you have the right nipples for it.