Category: Quips

Relationships. Well, Sigmund, relationships are so fragile, it just takes one thing, one…tiny little offense, and it can snowball on ya. And if that snowball starts to pick up speed, God forbid, you better tuck and go, my friend.

Angie. Put on your flats, we’re going for a walk.

Long story short, there, Molly, I will always whistle at you like you’re a blonde with big bombs and I’m a construction worker just released from prison. That clear?

So Jordon tells me that while you were on your world leukemia tour, you neglected to visit a single doctor, medicine man, or scary shaman with the giant saucers in his ears. Psst. Ben. Turns out cancer’s the kind of ailment that you occasionally want to check up on.

Hypnosis is for birthday parties and bad Vegas lounges. Now, you go tell your patient to let you do what you do best: Knock her out, and then start digging around inside of her like a blind man looking for a nickel.

You know, as a doctor, I rarely root for the disease, but with you I find myself cheering, Go hypercalcemia with underlying MEN syndrome! Go! Go! Go!” “

if you ever were able to actually release all the tensions that are bottled up inside you, what would that look like? How would that go?

Are you actually saying you enjoy telling people their spouses are going to die?

I’d make you swear on a Bible, but I know how contact with holy stuff makes your skin sizzle. So just…promise me?

So you haven’t noticed that my supporting cast in this theater of hell, is a veritable who’s who of incompetent puppets.