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Musing With Mitch  

by Mitchell Kobriger  

Mitchell Kobriger

If they ever decide to make a fourth-place medal, I like the sound of "Gold, Silver, Bronze and Cobalt."

One thought on monkeys in tiny cowboy hats: Nowadays, everybody knows *someone* who can score them a monkey, but I'll bet those little hats are damn hard to come by.

For my money, those Bush twins look nothing alike. Ol' Mitch smells a milkman conspiracy.

Robots can be frightening, but we need them to live.

You'd think campers were conquering Everest these days, what with all the gear they pack. Throw a sleeping bag, a case of Pabst and some back issues of Pontoon Repair Weekly in the station wagon, and you've got all the gear you really need, folks.

Idea! They should start using that color-coding scheme for everything. It just makes sense.

The new football season is just around the corner and you know what that means: I get to wear my beer-drinking hat again.

I'm not sure if it means anything, but in my dreams, I'm always the conjoined twin of Merle Haggard.

Mitch's quick sushi review: If you can't take the time to cook it, why should I take the time to eat it?

Just curious: Am I supposed to be able to feel my duodenum?

If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: You can make anything better if you just add "-aroo" to the name.

Let me get this straight: He was deaf, dumb and blind, yet he could still play a mean pinball? Just how gullible do they think we are?

When it comes to the company of the fairer sex, it hasn't been the best of summers for ol' Mitch. My southern hemisphere is currently at Threat Level Blue, if you get my drift.

When we get universal health care, I'm going to be first in line for something bionic.

Take it from me: There's no better way to spend a Saturday evening than with a tall glass of Sunny D and a full-length Lee Majors poster.

It's a shame men's butt-cleavage doesn't get any respect.

If Chip and Dale had been rats, we'd be living in a very different world, my friends.

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