For more than 20 years, journalist P. J. O’Rourke was a foreign and war correspondent – or, as he put it in his 1988 book Holidays in Hell, “what I’ve really been is a Trouble Tourist — going to see insurrections, political crises, civil disturbances and other human folly because…because it’s fun.” At least it was until the Iraq War, when the realization finally dawned that “I was too old to be scared stiff and too stiff to sleep on the ground.” Which is why we now get Holidays in Heck, a collection of milder globetrotting experiences. Fortunately, all O’Rourke’s other characteristics – his boozy hedonism, his political irreverence — remain in place, along with his trademark one-liners. In one chapter, he even manages to make gags about being diagnosed with cancer: “I’m told I have a 95 per cent chance of survival. Come to think of it — as a drinking, smoking, saturated-fat-hound of a reporter — my chance of survival has been improved by cancer.”
Just found the worst page in the entire dictionary. What I saw was disgraceful, disgusting, dishonest, and disingenuous.
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My cat just walked up to the paper shredder and said, “Teach me everything you know.”
“Just because you can’t dance doesn’t mean you shouldn’t dance.” —Alcohol
@yoyoha (Josh Hara)
My parents didn’t want to move to Florida, but they turned 60 and that’s the law.
Q: What do you call an Amish guy with his hand in a horse’s mouth?
A: A mechanic.