Friday, April 26, 2024 Text is available under the CC BY-SA 3.0 licence.

Jeff Foxworthy

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[Talking about "The First Singles Apartment"] They're all furnished pretty much the same way. In your bedroom, you have the mattress on the floor, protected by a mountain of dirty clothes, milk crates for night stands, lava lamp with a permanent glob at the bottom, stolen road sign on the wall, a blanket for a curtain, out in the hall it was the mystery stain on the carpet, Budwiser mirror on the wall. Out on the balcony it was the rusted out Hibachi grill, plant with no leaves on it, bike with no chain on it. In the den you had the spool. If you get one of those, you'll be like "it's coffee table time!" Next to that the $9,000.00 stereo. We're going hungry, but we've got tunes! That was the stereo, you could turn it on after midnight and make the people down the street wet the bed. And the beanbag chair with duct tape on it to keep the stuff from fallin' out of it.

 
Jeff Foxworthy

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I understand when men complain about women giving mixed messages, because women have given me a lot of mixed messages. I understand the rage that this can cause. ... A woman I'm talking with at some event says, "Let's leave here and go to this bar," which is a lesbian bar. We go to the bar and we're talking and then she says, "Let's go have coffee," and we go to this coffee shop and end up, at three in the morning, half a block from her apartment. Finally, she says, "All right, well, goodnight." She's ready to go home alone and I look at her, like, "What do you mean? Aren't we going to go back to your apartment?" "No." "What?" And she says, "Do you think I was leading you on?" Un-f**king-believable. I can't tell you the rage. I am, at that point, looking at her and.... All I can say is, if I had been an 18-year-old street kid instead of a 45-year-old woman, I would have stabbed her. I was completely humiliated and furious. If I had been a guy with a hard-on, I would have hit her.

 
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Yesterday, I was sitting on a beanbag chair naked, eating Cheetos, flippin' through the television and I saw Robert Tilton. He's a televangelist, out of Dallas, and he was staring at me. He looked at me and said, "Are you lonely?" [shrugs] Yeah. "Have you spent half your life in bars, pursuing sins of the flesh?" [Takes a sip of his drink] Man, this guy's good! "Are you sitting in a beanbag chair, naked, eating Cheetos?" [shocked look] YES, SIR! "Do you have the urge to get up and send me a thousand dollars?" Close! I thought he was talking about me there for a second! Apparently, I'm not the only cat on the block that digs Cheetos.

 
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But at some point, you know that— you know what poem keeps going through my mind is, "first they came for the Jews." People, all of us, are like, "Well, this news doesn't really affect me." "Well, I'm not a bondholder." "Well, I'm not in the banking industry." "Well, I'm not a big CEO." "Well, I'm not on Wall Street." "Well, I'm not a car dealer." "I'm not an auto worker." Gang, at some point, they're going to come for you!

 
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Leonid Brezhnev needed a haircut, so he went down to the ground floor of the Kremlin and plopped into the chair. It was understood that at such times the barber was to say not a word, just cut hair. But this morning, after a few snips he said: "Comrade Brezhnev what are you going to do about Poland?" No reply. Some minutes later: "Comrade Brezhnev, what about Poland?" Again no reply. Then, pretty soon: "Comrade Brezhnev, you've got to do something about Poland." At this Brezhnev jumps out of the chair and tears away the cloth: "What's all this about Poland?" and the barber says: "It makes my job so much easier," and Brezhnev screams: "What do you mean?" and the barber says: "Every time I mention Poland your hair stands straight up on end."

 
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