So there’s this clown, see. And he’s walking into the spooky woods with this little kid.

Actually, you know what? Never mind.

This is a character flaw of ours. We don’t always use good judgment about the proper time and venue for certain jokes. Once, we tried to lighten the mood at a funeral with one of our best drunken Irishmen jokes. How were we supposed to know the deceased had been killed in a shooting-under-the-influence accident at Rory O’Shanamacduggan’s skeet range?

Oh, and you know that joke about the penguin who takes his car to the shop? We told that one at a party only to find out the hostess was half penguin on her father’s side. That was bad news. Ah, regrets.

But not this time! We’re slamming the brakes on this particular joke right now. We aren’t always able to exercise that kind of restraint, but we’re almost always glad when we do.

Meet us out for drinks after work, though; we’ve got a ton of brand-new Tom Bosley material you’re going to find hilarious.

Wear this shirt: into the woods.

Don’t wear this shirt: to “Into the Woods.” It’s the legitimate theater; you should at least wear a shirt that buttons up.

This shirt tells the world: “Listen to them! Children of the night. What a freakin’ racket.”

We call this color: Black Is The Color and I Do Love a Scare

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