Won't You Try My Jam?
“Won’t you try my jam?”
“Urp.”“Won’t you try my jam?”“
“Eeuhhhhhh.”“Won’t you try my jam?”
“Blorb.”Click image below to biggerify.
Poor Dorie Greenspan, jam and stomach ache maker.
You're On My Mind, For $1,000
It has not escaped me that I have a somewhat profuse forehead. Or rather, a fivehead. The “high forehead” was thought to be much attractive in the 15th through 16th centuries, when wealthy gentleladies plucked their way to highbrowed beauty. Admirers took note of the greater brainpan and refined intelligence. (“My, my. Look at thee fo’ead on that one. Hubba hubba.”) Alas, today we no longer live in the Middle Ages, those pox-filled days of easy beauty. Those of us left behind, showing proof of high intelligence as we do, need to make do. So.... One day, a dame with a dome has a bright idea: Advertising Revenue. Then an even better, more refined idea: But a genius idea needs geniuses to buy into it. That’s where you come in. For example, say you’re an overpaid advertising executive. You’re gearing up to promote a dentist, electronics giant, and/or hemorrhoid creme. Or household goods and Sea-Monkeys. I don’t need to explain to you the power of the visual medium. So, without further ado.
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