Sunday, April 03, 2005

 

Mitch Hedberg, R.I.P.:

I bought a doughnut and they gave me a receipt for the doughnut. I don't need a receipt for the doughnut - I'll just give you money and you give me the doughnut. End of transaction. We don't need to bring ink and paper into this. I can't imagine a scenario in which I would need to prove that I bought a doughnut. Some skeptical friend . . . don’t even act like I didn't buy a doughnut, I've got the documentation right here. Oh wait, it's back home in the file . . . under "D", for doughnut.

I was walking down the street with my friend and he said "I hear music." As though there's any other way to take it in. You're not special. That's how I receive it too . . . I tried to taste it, but it did not work . . .

I think Pringles' initial intention was to make tennis balls. But on the day that the rubber was supposed to show up, a big truckload of potatoes arrived. But Pringles was a laid-back company. They said "Fuck it. Cut 'em up."

posted by Michael 7:07 PM