I called my boss one morning and told him that I was staying home because I was not feeling well. "What's the matter?" he asks.
"I have a case of anal glaucoma," I told him in a weak voice.
"What the hell is anal glaucoma?", he asks.
"I can't see my ass coming into work today."
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"You hear the one about the fella who died, went to the pearly gates? St. Peter let him in. Sees a guy in a suit making a closing argument. Says, "Who's that?" St. Peter says, "Oh, that's God. Thinks he's Denny Crane."
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