EDITOR'S NOTE:  This was written before the incident, the BC's thought that we should go ahead and publish it just like it was originally written. 

Just for the record … Big Boy isn’t the only deep thinker around this place!

My young brother asked me what happens after we die.  I told him we get buried under a bunch of dirt and worms eat our bodies.  I guess I should have told him the truth--that most of us go to Hell and burn eternally--but I didn't want to upset him.

I don't know about you, but I enjoy watching paint dry.  I imagine that the wet paint is a big freshwater lake that is the only source of water for some tiny cities by the lake.  As the lake gets drier, the population gets more desperate, and sometimes there are water riots.  Once there was a big fire and everyone died.

I like to go down to the dog pound and pretend that I've found my dog.  Then I tell them to kill it anyway because I already gave away all of his stuff.  Dog people sure don't have a sense of humor.

When I go to heaven, I want to see my grandpa again.  But he better have lost the nose hair and the old-man smell.

One thing kids like is to be tricked.  For instance, I was going to take my nephew to Disneyland, but instead I drove him to an old burned-out warehouse.  "Oh no," I said, "Disneyland burned down."  He cried and cried, but I think that deep down he thought it was a pretty good joke.  I started to drive over to the real Disneyland, but it was getting pretty late.

Whenever I see an old lady slip and fall on a wet sidewalk, my first instinct is to laugh.  But then I think, what if I was an ant and she fell on me.  Then it wouldn't seem quite so funny.

If life deals you lemons, why not go kill someone with the lemons (maybe by shoving them down his throat).

To me, clowns aren't funny.  In fact, they're kinda scary.  I've wondered where this started and I think it goes back to the time I went to the circus and a clown killed my dad.

I can picture in my mind a world without war, a world without hate.  And I can picture us attacking that world, because they'd never expect it.

I hope some animal never bores a hole in my head and lays its eggs in my brain, because later you might think you're having a good idea but it's just eggs hatching.

Instead of a trap door, what about a trap window?  The guy looks out it, and if he leans too far, he falls out.  Wait. I guess that's like a regular window.

During the Middle Ages, probably one of the biggest mistakes was not putting on your armor because you were "just going down to the corner."

If I ever get real rich, I hope I'm not real mean to poor people, like I am now.

If your friend is already dead, and being eaten by vultures, I think it's okay to feed some bits of your friend to one of the vultures, to teach him to do some tricks.  But only if you're serious about adopting the vulture.

Broken promises don't upset me.  I just think, why did they believe me?

Consider the daffodil.  And while you're doing that, I'll be over here, looking through your stuff.

For mad scientists who keep brains in jars, here's a tip:  why not add a slice of lemon to each jar, for freshness?

I think a good product would be "Baby Duck Hat."  It's a fake baby duck, which you strap on top of your head.  Then you go swimming underwater until you find a mommy duck and her babies, and you join them.  Then all of the sudden, you stand up out of the water and roar like Godzilla.  Man those ducks really take off!  Also Baby Duck Hat is good for parties.

Dad always thought laughter was the best medicine, which I guess is why several of us died of tuberculosis.

You know what would make a good story?  Something about a clown who make people happy, but inside he's real sad.  Also, he has severe diarrhea.

Mom-D got offended that I used the word "puke".  But to me, that's what her dinner tasted like.

If you're a young Mafia gangster out on your first date, I bet it's real embarrassing if someone tries to kill you.

A man doesn't automatically get my respect.  He has to get down in the dirt and beg for it.

I bet for an Indian, shooting an old fat pioneer woman in the back with an arrow, and she fires her shotgun into the ground as she falls over, is like the top thing you can do.