Coming soon to a theater near you, Star Wars Episode 7 – The Phantom Nuisance. In this latest installment of the Star Wars Saga, an aging Phantom, no longer capable of mustering up enough energy to be a full-fledged menace, still manages to annoy the shit out of everyone with his incessant bickering.

You may have heard the term “shoot for the stars and settle for the moon.” Well personally, I’ve come to embrace the “shoot for the top of a decent sized tree and settle for sucking only moderately” approach.

I bet when they first discovered that the world was round it must have come as a terrible blow to all those poor bastards who had based their lives on the premise that they were just part of a really elaborate board game.

They say “the proof is in the pudding” and I truly believe it. So here I find myself once again, fat, naked and alone, consuming vast quantities of instant pudding in search of a proof that has thus far eluded me. Some might call it a burden. I prefer to think of it as a quest.

When someone is speechless people will often say “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” Well using the same logic, I like to ask constipated people if the cat’s got their ass.

I read the other day that in some small French town they baked the biggest cookie in “recorded history.” Of course, that still leaves the door open to the possibility that the cavemen may have at one time made an even larger cookie, which by the way, would go right along with my theory that extraterrestrials once visited the Earth and taught the ancient peoples how to produce oversized baked goods.

I recently discovered that “peep shows” do not actually feature little yellow sugar-coated marshmallow bird-shaped treats and let me tell you, big let down!

They say that “two’s company and three’s a crowd.” Well try telling that to the Three Musketeers, the Three Stooges, the Three Amigos, the Three Blind Mice, the Three Wisemen, the Three Little Pigs, the Three Men with that baby, Charlie’s Angels, My Three Sons, the Father the Son & the Holy Ghost, Huey Dewey & Louie, Alvin Simon & Theodore, Snap Crackle & Pop, Peter Paul & Mary, Emerson Lake & Palmer, Crosby Stills & Nash once they ditched that stinkin Young, and last but not least, those three friggin Wise Monkeys. You know, “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.”

I truly feel blessed. Perhaps it’s because I sneeze quite a bit.

I really hate the term masturbation. It’s just that it sounds so unromantic. Instead, I prefer to think of it as sleeping with myself and I must admit, I do sleep with myself quite regularly. I reckon you might even say that me and my hand are in a committed relationship. Now, don’t get me wrong, there are times when I do cheat on my hand and have sex with my wife, but I can honestly say this happens only very rarely and in my defense, my hand is always present and often involved, so I guess it’s really more of a threesome situation now that I actually think about it.

They call them restrooms and yet I still get strange looks every damn time I curl up to take a nap at the foot of one of those urinals?

So, it turns out that “finders keepers, loser’s weepers” actually isn’t one of the Ten Commandments. I guess that means I’m not as righteous as I thought and I probably should give my neighbor his lawn ornaments back. That sucks! Next they’re gonna tell me it was wrong for me to have been coveting his wife all these years.

What the hell is so damn international about the House of Pancakes?

The other night when I was gazing up into the heavens I decided to wish upon a star. Well moments after making my wish, I realized that the star I had just wished upon was moving in the sky. That’s right, it became sadly obvious that I had inadvertently wished upon a plane. I say sadly on account of the fact that aircraft don’t grant wishes. And that sucks too because I really think I would have made a terrific fairy princess.

Ironically, I don’t think hot cakes actually sell like hot cakes.

Who let the cat out of the bag? Does it really matter? I mean, anyone with even a shred of decency would release a poor cat trapped in a bag. The real question is who stuffed the cat into the bag in the first place?

Jesus must really be a pretty righteous dude, because if they took the day that I was tortured and crucified and started referring to it as Good Friday, you can bet I would be mighty pissed off. Seriously, I’d be like, “Good Friday, my ass! Forget about that whole forgiveness of sins business, cause all y’all can go straight to hell as far as I’m concerned!”

I happen to have a small fortune. Oh yes, I got it out of a Chinese cookie. Apparently, “my principles mean more to me than money or success.” I guess that explains how I wound up a penniless loser. And to think, I had always just assumed that it was a result of my degenerate gambling.

They say that the “early bird gets the worm.” Well, to tell you the truth, I think I’d just as soon not have the worm anyway. I mean, what the hell am I gonna do with a freakin worm. Just let me sleep, damn it!

I think that if I was a bull I’d be mighty tempted to just meander into some random china shop, but instead of breaking stuff, I would be real cautious and very calmly browse around. Then, after a few minutes, I’d make a small purchase and exit uneventfully.

I’ve long suspected that Charlie Tuna was, in fact, the ruthless leader of an elaborate undersea underworld. Oh yes, and you can be damn sure that any flounder who didn’t play by his rules found himself “sleeping with the humans” in a pair of balloon shoes. Of course, I could never prove that.

They say that “all roads lead to Rome” but I’m starting to become a bit skeptical.

The next time some punk offers me a penny for my thoughts I think I’m gonna have to try and hold out for at least a nickel.

Looking back now, I sometimes wonder if the monster in my closet was really just a harmless gay guy not yet ready to come out.

They say “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks” but then again, who cares? I never felt that old dogs made good magicians anyway.

I think that little orphan Annie was a true pioneer in the field of meteorology. I mean, singing forecasts, what a brilliant concept.

They say that imitation is the highest form of flattery and it’s so true. I mean, I can’t even begin to tell you how flattered I feel personally to have been mocked by so many people over the years.

A joke that never seems to get old is me standing in the fresh produce section of my local supermarket alongside a big bin of apples and screaming “How do you like them apples” in the face of every poor bastard that passes by. Of course, the punchline comes when I begin pelting them unmercifully with apples as they walk away. I have to say it’s a pretty good gag.

They say that revenge is a dish better served cold. I guess in that sense it’s not unlike fruit salad.

I never did understand that whole “sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite” business. First of all, telling someone to sleep tight is just bad advice. I mean, you’re much better off sleeping loose. Sleeping tight, in the end, will only lead to stiffness. And as for that part about not letting the beg bugs bite, hey listen, if the bed bugs are looking to bite, there ain’t nothing you can do to stop them, especially while you’re asleep. So why even bring this up and instill pointless fear in someone just before bedtime. As I see it, the entire phrase is extremely negative and totally counter productive. Of course, it’s not as bad as that “if I die before I wake” bedtime saying. If you ask me, that one really takes the cake as far as negativity is concerned.

There was an old lady who lived in a shoe. In a damn shoe! Would you believe that?

I’ve always wondered if Justice really is in fact blind, or if her lack of sight is simply the result of that damn blindfold she seems to have on all the time. And what’s with the scales? I’m sorry, but I don’t know if we should be putting all our trust in some blindfolded lady in a robe who, apparently, is obsessed with weighing stuff.

As far as I’m concerned, horses have a pretty crappy selection to choose from when it comes to footwear.

My friend told me that I should see that “Omen” movie. He said it would “scare the pants off me” but I’m a bit skeptical. I don’t know, it’s just that I simply can’t imagine any possible scenario in which I would become so frightened that I would feel compelled to remove my slacks. Then again, it would give me a good excuse to run through the theater naked, so I may have to see it after all.

They say “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” If you think it through, that must mean that there aren’t any scorned women in Hell. So now you know why I spend so much of my time in drag trying to get people to scorn me. The way I see it, that’s my ticket to Heaven. Of course, it’s fairly easy finding potential scorners when you’re a six foot two inch weird guy running around in a dress. Most folks you approach do tend to scorn you, after all. But then there’s the little technicality of my not actually being a woman. I sometimes wonder if God will overlook that. I tell ya, things would be so much more straight forward if the saying simply could have been “Hell hath no fury like a lazy dude who tends to over eat and enjoys watching sports."

I’m assuming that whoever said the pen is mightier than the sword must have been referring to one of those cute little plastic swords that you sometimes see holding finger sandwiches together.

They say you can’t have your cake and eat it too. Unfortunately, I found out the hard way that the same rule applies to other foods as well.

Whenever somebody accuses me of being “all talk and no action,” I have to remind them that talking, in itself, is a form of action and for that matter, so is curling up in a fetal position at the first sign of trouble.

I've always wondered if those guys in the Trojan Horse shouted "Surprise" as they popped out of there. I mean before they started killing everybody and all that.

You know that saying, "Always a bridesmaid, never a bride." Well, it seems to me that women who fit that description should at least take solace in the fact that they don't fall into the "never a bridesmaid, never a bride" classification.

If I ever do get arrested and charged with the possession of narcotics I think I'll have to remind the Judge that possession is only nine-tenths the law. Oh yes, and believe me, I'll emphasize the significance of that other one-tenth until it seems impossible to ignore. Then, to put the icing on the cake, after I've gone on and on about that last tenth, I'll close my argument with something along the lines of "There's your shadow of a doubt right there, Buddy!"

Why do I usually carry an onion around in my pocket when I go out in public, you ask? Actually, it's to preserve my tough guy image. Allow me to explain. You see, I have a tendency to get all sentimental and emotional over certain things. For instance, those touching love stories you sometimes see on TV or in the movies often set me off. So whenever I feel a good cry coming on, I just whip out the onion, break it open and proceed to rub it directly in my eyes. That way, instead of coming off like a sappy little sissy boy crying over a love story, I reinforce my image as the bad ass dude who's both tough and crazy enough to rub raw onions directly in his own eyes for no apparent reason.

Most people have heard of the "Grapes of Wrath", however, only a precious few are familiar with the "Blueberries of Indignation". Why is this?

I stopped going to the psychologist because it seemed like he was always trying to over analyze everything I would say. Like when I told him I was deathly afraid of my neighbor's cats and that I was sure they were out to get me. He couldn't take that at face value. He just dismissed the notion that these were evil angry cats bent on orchestrating my demise. As a matter of fact, he took the onus off the cats entirely. He implied that my fears might actually be the result of my own paranoia. Now how ridiculous is that?

Can you ever just come right out and shout sweet nothings or do they always have to be whispered in someone's ear?

Why has the term "chicken" become synonymous with being afraid? After all, it's not like you'll ever see a chicken with its head stuck in the sand trembling at the first sign of danger. Not like those cowardly stinkin ostriches. Yet you never hear anyone taunt someone else with a phrase like, "What's the matter, you ostrich?" Of course, by using the term chicken you have the opportunity to follow it up with the "bak bak bakah" and that arm flapping business to really hammer home the point. With ostrich, you don't have that option. So there you go, I guess I answered my own question.

You may have noticed that a lot of the foods at McDonald’s have Irish sounding names. Big Mac, Chicken McNuggets and Filet O’ Fish to name a few. As an Irish American, I have no problem with this. It’s just good natured fun. But the same cannot be said for what Burger King has done. Their attempt at poking fun at the Italians is simply inappropriate. I mean the Whopper, come on. I think that’s taking things a little too far.

Based on the premise that you can't judge a man until you've walked a mile in his shoes, clowns really have it made. I mean, sure, you could throw on a pair of clown shoes, but if you're not a trained professional, you'll be stumbling around so much, walking a mile would be out of the question. For this reason, when it comes right down to it, clowns can only feasibly be judged by other clowns and you know how that goes. You never see clowns judging each other. It's just not done. So there you have it. Untouchable clowns impervious to judgment. It's no wonder they get away with acting so damn silly.

If there’s one thing I learned from Dickens' “A Christmas Carol”, it’s that you can probably get away with being a real bastard for most of your life, just as long as you make an effort to clean up your act when, in your later years, you finally do get that wakeup call from the ghosts.

They say good things come in small packages but, apparently, only to those who wait. So I guess that means impatient people get big packages full of useless crap.

Wouldn’t it be really neat if a guy could take a little puppet and make it seem like the puppet was actually talking when really it’s just the guy pretending to be the puppet by moving the puppets lips and keeping his own lips pretty still while talking in an imaginary puppet voice?

It occurred to me that the phrase, “There’s more than one way to skin a cat,” must be pretty disconcerting to cats.

Does anyone actually, and I mean really deep down, wish they were an Oscar Meyer Weiner? Cause it seems like that just wouldn’t be all that great of an existence.

Things have changed so much since I was a kid. I remember being six years old and riding the train with my Dad. I would always wear my little railroad cap and pretend to be the conductor collecting tickets from the other passengers. It never seemed to bother anybody. In fact, most of them couldn’t get enough of me. They would go on and on about how cute I was. Now, when I do that, most of the other passengers avoid eye contact and make me feel like some sort of a freak. It’s as if they’d never seen a naked guy in a railroad cap before. It just makes you wonder what this world is coming to.

If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. Just to illustrate the point, take the old coke machine example. You can try to get the machine to take your dollar once or twice at most and then walk away thirsty and dejected, or you can continue to try again and again, repeatedly jamming the bill into the slot for hours. Eventually, and I know from personal experience, you will find yourself on your knees, reduced to a delirious quivering wretch, not knowing whether to blame the machine itself or your crinkled-up dollar bill for this terrible betrayal. OK, maybe that’s a bad example.

If it’s true that those who do not learn from past mistakes are doomed to repeat them, then I just want to make it known that the mistake I made last weekend, sitting around watching football and drinking beer when I was supposed to be doing yard work, well, let’s just say I don’t think I learned a whole lot from that.

Everyone knows that an apple a day keeps the doctor away. Less well known, however, is the fact that cauliflower will scare off the mailman.

Every time anything halfway decent comes along, people start saying it’s “the best thing since sliced bread.” Now I enjoy a nice sandwich just as much as the next guy, but come on. Don’t you think this sliced bread thing is a little over blown?

Why did they have to say "Beware the Ides of March". I mean what's with this Ide nonsense. Do you really think your average person is going to have any clue what that is? It sounds like some kind of strange creature or something. The point is, if you want to provide someone with a warning, don't get all fancy pants with your terminology. In this case, if they just simply said "Beware March 15th" old Julius could have taken the necessary precautions and maybe he would still be with us today.