me: “So, why did the apple cross the road…?”
apple:
me: “Give up? Because it’d been eaten by the chicken.”
apple:
me: “…who, y’know, then himself crossed the road, presumably…”
apple:
me: “…the chicken, that is.”
apple:
me: “Heh.”
apple:
me: “..You don’t get it, do you?”
apple: “Oh, I get it. It’s figuring out how a dork like you managed to nab a mate and procreate that’s got me puzzled.”
Presumable you have a certain appeal…
Right. I’ll go now.
Presumably, sorry.
Huh. I ‘d heard it was the chicken’s core following.
On my blog, I sort of copied you. I did a brief conversation between Howard Dean and Chewbacca. I apologize for copying you, but I think you could do a lot better with it than I did.
Its puzzled us too, apple.
Obviously, it was the GIANT C… um, COLOGNE.
I’ve met Jeff’s wife. She’s a total babe.
My hypothesis: Jeff has a huge life insurance policy and a terminal disease.
I’d leave the cookbooks out on the countertops, opened to the “Pie” sections, and a rolling pin in plain sight next to an open bag of flour.
And buy vanilla ice cream. Y’know, be obvious about it.
Because we all know what Citizen Journalists demand…
Hmmmm, chickenshit…..
Best theory I’ve seen, Robert
apple: And it’s not like your audience wouldn’t all much rather coo over some Baby Goldstein pics, instead of parsing another screen full of …-littered non-conversation.
Um, Jeff, have you actually procreated? Does the spawn of JeffG exist upon this planet?
I’m just asking, because I was really hoping to get some sleep tonight.
Michael, not only does he exist, he is the cutest lil thing you have ever seen!
You can sleep easy.
Takes after his mother fortunately.
The apple crossed the road to file a devastating column proving that the BushCo junta was responsible for the planned demolition of the Twin Towers on 9/11.
And don’t you dare scoff at the apple’s theories, even though he was trained as an apple and isn’t a structural engineer. After all, these theories shouldn’t just be dismissed as the ramblings of a bitter, crackopt piece of fruit that was thrown out by the White House kitchen staff. We’ve got to take the questions raised by the apple seriosly.
I mean, ask yourself..if you were an apple that could press a button and vaporize 3,000 innocents to be included in an award-winning pie at a bake-off, would you do it?
Sean, after reading your comment I’ve got a very large hankering for applesauce. Step aside please.
[lifts mallet]
So this snotty little apple gets a computer named after him, and now he’s all that ? Too good for a classic, All-American joke now, huh, Mr. fruit ? Well, how ‘bout I introduce you to my lil’ fren.
apple: … and so AGAIN he comes up to me and tells another joke that I just don’t get. So I wait, thinking there’s more to come and he just looks at me with that goofy grin. Maybe he’s expecting me to laugh, I don’t know. He keeps adding more and I keep getting more confused.
Freud: Und what, exactly confuses you in this, mmm?
apple: Well, I’m an apple, right? He’s supposed to be brighter than I am, right? And rumor has it that he runs the funniest blog on the planet, but when he talks to me it’s chicken jokes that I either don’t get, or he’s using them as threats.
Freud: Does he remind you of your father, this threat maker?
apple: Gimme a break, doc. He’s not leafy, he moves a bit more than a tree does, and he’s not remotely woody. Oh! Nevermind, let me take back that last bit, I really don’t want to go there. What really scares me is his constant conversation about pie.
Freud: You fear irrational numbers?
apple: I fear irrationsal pie-o-philiacs. I gotta go.