"Fellow shareholders, after years of effort

"Fellow shareholders, after years of effort from our team of paleontologists and molecular biologists may I present to you the Brontosaurus burger!" "Dad, it's Apatitosaurus!

-go gadget hot diggity sncikerdoodles!" Whoops, Dad's gone loco again. Dad, or Kenny Rogers, was trying to open a new chicken place based on Dinosaurs. He had Triceratops Gravy and

... well this was the problem. Kenny Rogers (aka Dad) wouldn't let customers order escalope de brontosaurus--it had to be an 'apatosaurus' steak. He was an anti-French cladist with

out regard for my social network status. I tried to explain to Dad (AKA Kenny Rogers) that I almost had 500 followers and his little dinosaur conservation dalliances were costing m

-e my precious followers. How was I to live without the validation that came from strangers anonymously retweeting my macabre observations about life? Kenny Rogers had to die.

"Again?!" He sighed. I grabbed an axe and ran toward him. "'Oh yes I've got that crazy feeling,'" I crooned at Kenny Rogers. His head spun around wildly

through the air and rolled when it hit the ground. "You gotta know when to roll 'em," Kenny Rogers' head sang. "I thought it was 'how to hold them'?" I snarled back, but it only

Was half the story. The local casino was Jack's favourite hangout and he learned from a high roller who had years of experience. Jack played poker with his friends regularly and

On occasion would meet them wearing only a robe, fresh from the shower and ask them all for a shower. Most of the time the dishpan hands led to failed careers and suicide.