Yes, it's a small boogie in my fingers. Just because my mouth is open doesn't mean what you think.
This boogie will be up for auction at the next climate summit meeting.
This boogie could feed a family of four flees in Fallujah.
It's not a boogie, it's the amount of change that will take place between now and the Summer Solstice.
Does anyone have a Kleenex?
UUUhhhhhhhOOOAum...
An old favorite...A guy is walking down the street snapping his fingers. A little boy says, "Hey mister, you've got a lot of rhythm." The man says, "It ain't rhythm... "I got a buger on my finger and I can't get it off."
As we age we worry sometimes, that perhaps we haven’t lived out our dreams. Even worse, we’re sure we didn’t live out, at minimum, one of our dreams—something we could describe with superlatives. Worst of all, we’re green with hateful envy at those who stole and lived out what would have been our dream-come-true. Mine was to become the worst doctor in world, then kill the most famous and beloved entertainer in the world. Que sera, sera. Now what will I be?