Life is short. Eat the garnish.

tombstone magick sandwich fixins

Sandwich Fixins #9

 When I can’t stand the clutter in the fridge, I bring you another serving of sandwich fixins.

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What’s the warranty on an exorcism?
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I’m sad that Hugo Chavez’ body was too decomposed to be preserved and displayed like Lenin. It means no one will ever be able to break into his glass casket and dress him in crotchless panties.
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Why do pickles say “Refrigerate After Opening?”
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People who love pigeons should be forced to feed them worms and grubs. Do they
just assume the birds prefer stale bread, with all those carbs and
gluten?  Why isn’t PETA on this?
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Could Lois Lane get cancer from Superman’s X-ray vision?
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If tombstones are our final caption, I’d like mine to read “Ask me
about alternative medicine.” Or maybe “Incurable romantic.” I also like
“This isn’t my gum.” I can’t decide. Maybe I could pay people to let me
carve things onto their dead loved ones’ gravestones. That could work.
tombstone magick sandwich fixins

Fixins Archive:
Sandwich Fixins #8
Sandwich Fixins #7
Sandwich Fixins #6

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