Musing With Mitch
by Mitchell Kobriger
Now that Saddam is caught, who should we fear and loathe? I humbly suggest Celine Dion.
If the president really knew his stuff, he'd have dispatched my barber to Tikrit after they dug up that dirty bastard.
Does anyone know if that elf ever became a dentist or not?
Tingling in my left arm, shortness of breath, nausea. I suppose it's my body's way of telling me to stop lollygagging and kick the snow shovelling into high gear.
I'm glad ecru never caught on as a Christmas color. It's not without its charms, but ecru sure as hell ain't festive.
When it comes to holiday nuts, Mitch says, "Macadamia, por favor."
I don't see what the big deal is about prostate exams. Hell, I can't get enough of 'em.
Mine isn't the only nativity scene on the block, but it's the only one that can be seen from space.
I can't prove it, but I strongly suspect that my dentist is Canadian.
Enough with the Hilton sisters already. I want to know what the Motel 6 heiresses are up to these days.
Idea! Someone should add Teflon to Butterfinger bars. No more candy stuck in my crowns!
Keep your Tofurkey and Turducken. Come Christmas, ol' Mitch will be digging into his world famous roast lutefisk, sames as every year.
Pabst Nog. Don't knock it until you've tried it, my friend.
Odd how my car's air conditioning always seems to work better this time of year.
I look forward to the nightly pulling of tinsel out of my dog's rear. Hey, you've got your Christmas traditions, I've got mine.
Aside from the sleeping-outside part, I think a wino's life must be pretty sweet.
I managed to work the word "akimbo" into normal everyday conversation 17 times last week. It's that easy, folks.
What does Swami Mitch see as the hot trend for 2004? Bagpipes!
I think a gift certificate to a yard sale makes a fine -- and personal -- Christmas gift.
There's gonna be hell to pay if Santa bumps my satellite dish. I finally got that thing perfectly adjusted.
"Peace on Earth. Goodwill to all." Man, I wish I had written that.