Secret talent

If you ever end up in Hell, just ask the demons to please turn down the air conditioning. They'll probably get really confused and have to go talk to Satan about it.

My Will

To Will: Woofever you are. Congratulations on surviving this long given the numerous times I've yelled Fire at Will!

To my children, have I any: I have left you twenty dollars which you will find hidden under my mattress. 

To Grandma: Wait. You're already dead! That's right. There's no way you were gonna outlive me.

To the aliens: Wherever you are, you may be laughing because us humans haven't learned how to prevent death yet, but I dare you to stick a fork in a power outlet. Who's laughing now?

To the old lady whom used to stand at the door at Wal Mart and give me a pinch on the rear as I walked in: 

To my loved ones: Ten years ago I bought a bag of candy with twenty dollars I found under my mattress, this candy I leave for you.

To my fiance: If a plethora of other women all claim that they were my fiance, they are just hungry for attention. You were my real fiance. If they get really angry and start a brawl, you should just join in and I'm sure you will prove that you are the real fiance.

I wish to leave this earth on good terms with mostly everyone. You may have heard that I am a dirty rotten scoundrel, but I haven't heard that. Tell me to my face!

You may have thought some of the choices I made in life were stupid. But I challenge you to look in the mirror and ask yourself if they were really stupid choices.

At the funeral I would like Grandpa, if you are still alive, to play all seven verses of A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief on your harmonica. Then, I would like the congregation to sing Just Cry. That is my original composition for which you will find the lyrics written in my seminary journal. It is to the tune of Lady Gaga's Just Dance. 

Some of you have chosen not to be my friend because I am not very famous. But I have met some famous people and they didn't want to be my friend either. To you I also say that you have missed out. My friends have been promised many bountiful things in my other secret will that is hidden so well they will probably never be able to find it.

Words that rhyme with blog and how they can be used in a poem

Not all poems have to rhyme. If you don't believe me, look behind you. Ha! Gotcha!

blog

shmog

fog 

smog

bog 

clog

frog 

hog 

jog

log

bird dog

leopard frog

rubber frog

give me that rubber frog

belgian sheep dog

eskimo dog

chrysanthemum dog

eggnog

synagogue 

goldenrod

squad

slob

agog 

two Chinese men walked into a synagogue

grog 

There was a young duck family 

that lived on a log.

They lived pretty happily,

you could tell that by their blog.

The day after the hatch,

the parents looked at their new squad

and thought, "what an ugly duckling that is."

"Two Chinese men walked into a synagogue."

Indeed, one duck was uglier than the rest of the kids.

It was so ugly, it was even uglier than an eskimo dog

which as we all know is very ugly

eggnog.

Anyways, the kids started growing

and began to go to school.

School doesn't rhyme with eggnog, shmog.

The ugly duckling realized he wasn't very cool.

All the other ducklings called him names like belgian sheep dog,

loser, ugly, punk,

dumbo, orphan, bird dog, grog,

short, really ugly, and punk.

Chrysanthemum dog.

So the ugly duckling was the object of all humor.

Give me that rubber frog. 

But they didn't know Ug, as they called him, was a late bloomer.

And the day Ug was spotted swimming away into the fog,

no one knew he was going away to bloom.

Some smoke and fog mixed to make smog,

and Ug was captured in the plume.

The flush of ducks was happy to get rid of that slob.

They celebrated and clapped when they saw him leave.

Some were so happy they went on a jog.

But Ug was quick to deceive.

He promptly returned like a leopard frog

that promptly returns, son.

But this time, he was no eskimo dog.

He was an ugly duckling packing a machine gun.

And he blasted away all those mean ducks.