#humor

Small town folk are so mannered towards sameness. City dwellers are so classy about Chinatown, Harlem, Greenwich Village. But suburbanites are the most tolerable of all: lacking either manners or culture, they just sprawl out in their four-bedroom, two child homes and close their doors to all the other four-bedroom, two-child homes. Suburbanites don’t abide, they abed, and we’re all abetter for it, since they don’t know how to say that they don’t have anything to say. ↗

— Benson Bruno

#humor #suburbs #funny

Scream at the mangled leather carcass lying at the foot of the stairs, and my parents would roar with laughter. "That's what you get for leaving your wallet on the kitchen table. ↗

— David Sedaris

#humor #humor

Enjoy yourselves. And Hap: Don't let Umber near the arrows and bows; he's liable to shoot himself in the nose." Dodd grinned and snapped the reins, and the carriage rolled away. Umber sniffed. "One of his lesser poems. Come, Hap. ↗

— P.W. Catanese

#poetry #humor

No theory ever benefited by the application of data, Amy. Data kills theories. A theory has no better time than when it's lying there naked, pure, unsullied by facts. Let's just keep it that way for a while." "So you don't really have a theory?" "Clueless." "You lying bag of fish heads." "I can fire you, you know. Even if Clay was the one that hired you, I'm not totally superfluous to this operation yet. I'm kind of in charge. I can fire you. Then how will you live?" "I'm not getting paid." "See, right there. Perfectly good concept ruined by the application of fact. ↗

— Christopher Moore

#whales #humor

June: halfway towards the reiteration of a delusion. ↗

— Bauvard

#humor #new-years-resolution #funny

I'M SCOTTISH! ↗

— Elizabeth Wein

#english #funny #humor #scottish #funny

I have a sixth sense for things I don't want to know and her manner pegged this as top of the scale ignorance-is-bliss material. ↗

— J.F. Lewis

#humor

Fearghus entered what he now considered her chamber, but immediately ducked the book flung at his head. Clearly she’d been waiting for him. And she was not happy. “He’s the one supposed to be helping me,” she roared at him. “Did you just throw a book at me? In my own den?” “Yes. And I’d throw it again!” Fearghus scratched his head in confusion. He’d never met a human brave enough—or stupid enough, depending on your point of view—to challenge him. “But,” he croaked out, amazed, “I’m a dragon.” “And I have tits. It means nothing to me! ↗

— G.A. Aiken

#humor #humor

Then there are some minor points that strike me as suggestive - for instance, the position of Mrs. Hubbard's sponge bag, the name of Mrs. Armstrong's mother, the detective methods of Mr. Hardman, the suggestion of Mr. MacQueen that Ratchett himself destroyed the charred note we found, Princess Dragomiroff's Christian name, and a grease spot on a Hungarian passport. ↗

— Agatha Christie

#humor #mystery #humor

In Canada, they speak two languages. Canadien: eh? And French: eh? ↗

— Matthew Harney

#humor