Deep Truths with Pascal

What’s up with crossword puzzles, maaan? Why are they so upset? Why not kindword puzzles?

Herding cats is hard. But you know what’s harder? Herding crocodiles. Maaan, they’ve got some attitude!

Ever wonder why they call it a flower bed? They always seem real awake to me.

They say you can’t compare apples to oranges, but that falls apart if you think about it for even one second.

They say light is the fastest thing there is, but where is it GOING, maaan?

Some folks will tell you not to buy a boat. Bet they’ll also tell you not to eat candy or listen to music!

Talented folks are just normal folks who practice something more than other folks, maaan.

If molecules are made of atoms, and atoms are made of even smaller things…like, how deep does this go?

How come drawers are where you keep your drawers? Pointlessly confusing, maaan. No need for it.

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I wonder what else might fit in there?

They say you should only sleep like a third of the day, but that’s just a conspiracy by Big Consciousness.

It’s more fun to ride a slow bike fast than a fast bike slow. But, like, a waterslide is more fun than ANY bike.

Maaan, if you waste your time doing something you enjoy, then you don’t waste your time.

Are fossils bones that turned to stone, or are bones just rocks in denial about their true nature?

Constellations are just a hoax cooked up by Big Space. What do I see when I look up? Pinholes, maaan.

If eyes are windows to the soul, is the mouth a garage door? Makes sense. I always forget to close mine.

Friendship isn’t a boat you crew alone. You never know when you’ll need all hands on deck for a storm.

Cheese is just milk that’s been lucky enough to age gracefully.

Sometimes I dream about throwing the best party anyone’s ever seen, maaan. Pascal’s Rager, they’d call it.

If your philosophy can’t be summed up in three words on a T-shirt, maaan, it’s just too much work.

Why are they called whiskers, maaan? Whenever I use ‘em to whisk stuff, it always ends badly.

Time is a sweetheart, always gifting you with the present. When do we give it something back, maaan?

If she’s sellin’ seashells by the seashore, is that like some dude sellin’ sticks in a forest? Whoa…

People ask, “Where does the time go?” But I know, maaan. There’s a used-time store near my place.

Wanna learn to cook? Try getting good at one recipe, then branch out. From there it’s all just spices.

What if all the planets and stars are just, like, huge atoms? And we’re all just part of a giant leg warmer?