The cat then returned to his mortal body. He awoke slowly and with a fading daze. He again picked up the glass of whiskey that sat beside him and again looked at the picture of them together. He smiled, raised his glass and said “Here’s to number eight.”, and once again pulled the trigger.

“A familiar face” is a funny way of putting it. I only know of two existing pictures of her, the one shown here and her more official looking portrait. It’s weird, like the rest of them.

The snake then bit the sloth, which returned him to the infinite innocence of oblivion. (The snake then fucked his wife.)

He’s not smart, his ego just can’t handle everyone, everywhere seeing what a loser he is.

This is not the picture I would draw if someone asked me to explain what a “top” and “bottom” were.

The celestial administrators looked at his dating record and just made the assumption.

“I wish for an elephant sized cock.”

Not aliens, bourbon barrels. Bourbon barrels outnumber people in this part of the world.

The burden of the obsequious.

“Finally!” - Pete, the incredibly hung horse fucker.

Yeah dummies, those faces Biden was making weren’t him forgetting, they were incredulous expressions in response to the lies Trump was putting out during the debate.

This looks like bad taxidermy.

He should have saved time and just made a sunflower instead.

Gerold Ford let him in.

Yep.