Corn comes in many forms

The other day I decided to bake a cake and so I set to work in the kitchen. I discovered that I didn't have any butter, so I sent my dog to buy some. On the way, he passed a bookstore and, being intrigued by a display in the window, he went in and came home with a dog-eared book
of poems.

The point of my story is:
Never send a literary dog to the grocery store because . . . he'll get verse before he gets butter!"

That's the reason my dog is a professor of philosophy.

I was accosted once on the streets of Cinncinatti by a group of young punks.
One noticed my leather jacket and said " How many cows died for your jacket ?"
I replied "none, it's made of human skin."

Shut them right up.

Groannn for Stilly.