When you meet a flat-earther in real life don’t bother arguing. You need to immediately outcrazy that shit. “Don’t tell me you believe in ‘Earth,’” you’ll demand.
[making a friend at work]
Brain: Make it weird
Me: *thinking* No stop it
Brain: Say something weird
Me: Get out of here, you
Narrator: Here we see the
Me: Here we see the
M: the nature program narrator
N: THE GAZELLE IN ITS
M: WHOSE FOREHEAD VEIN IS
Friend: How’s the wine?
Me: It’s exCHARDONNARY—
Friend: *taking my glass away* No.
Me: My son is pathologically literal.
“Perhaps he should see a child psychiatrist?”
Me: I think we’ll try an adult doctor first thanks.
Sadly, at 8:11 PM Mark Jones was mispronounced dead.
Doctor: I’m afraid this man has deed. Am I saying that right? He’s deed.
Guy Who Invented Figurative Speech: I’ve got something that’ll blow your minds.
Townspeople: *fleeing in abject terror*
“Excuse me, do you validate parking?”
I sure do, champ. *kisses your forehead* Your parking is second to none.
To their credit, selfie sticks may be the only proof future archaeologists have to dispute the notion cameras grew directly out of our arms
Timothy: I was not involved
Victor: Nor was I
Lawyer: You could say it was a Vic-, Tim-less cri-
Judge: You’re all going to jail