There are a few deep, philosophic questions that have been burning a hole in my mind. One’s that you wake up in the morning and say, “Why do I have wood?” These are basic life questions–applicable to all, pondered by the masses. Maybe you’ve had them, maybe your brain exploded because you just couldn’t wrap your mind around them.

Well, call me Buddah, and rub my belly, because I’m about to unleash them…

1) Are the sizes of people’s shits proportionate to their body size? In other words, does an morbidly obese person take morbidly obese-sized dumps? Because, I’ll be honest with you, I have let some snakes loose that nearly filled up the bowl. We’ve all been there. They are the shits we’re proud of. But does a person twice my size take a dump twice as big? I was pondering this over Thanksgiving dinner, as my quite large Uncle was stuffing his face next to me. I think we’re going to need more TP…

2) In the movie King Kong, where the hell is this enormous Gorilla’s balls? Now, I’m not asking to see them–honestly, I can do without. But come on. It’s a 5 story-tall male gorilla with enough testosterone-driven rage to destroy the city, and grundel is as smooth as a porcelain doll. Plus, you got that chick running in between his legs, hiding in between his legs, making a nest in there. Let’s be honest, she would have gotten the biggest pair of Arabian Goggles in the history of nuts.

3) If Dentists really care about our teeth, why the hell do they send us home with the cheapest freakin’ toothbrush known to man? Look, Dentist. I appreciate the parting gift. Really. Especially after you made my mouth all bloody and told me I can’t eat ice cream for an hour (I need that shit). But don’t think I’m going to say “thank you” for supplying me with a toothbrush that’s too cheap to even be sold in stores. “What is this, the 3-bristle model? Oh, that was a humdinger in the 50s.” Even if I try to use that flimsy toothbrush you gave me, my mouth doesn’t feel even remotely clean. It knows better. And nothing can wash the taste of bitterness out of my mouth.

4) Does the Pilot of the airplane think I really give a shit about what our cruising altitude is? Or what our flight route is going to be? Seriously, I’m packed in like a fucking tuna can back here. I don’t even get a meal any more. So the least you could do is just shut the hell up and let me try and sleep. Don’t wake me up with mindless jibberish. I can’t even see the window. I’m stuck next to the wing of the plane and some fat terrorist-looking guy–so I just need you to drive. Get me home as soon as you can. I don’t care if you fly in reverse. Just shut up and do it.