​I recently tried to start a business selling antique clocks to people who live in the moment. It was a complete disaster—no one had the time for it, and I couldn't find a single person willing to look at the second hand.

​My grandfather always told me, "Don't ever be afraid of the dark. Be afraid of what’s 

 the dark." It was great advice until I started working as a professional hide-and-seek coach. Now, the dark is my office, and the things inside it are my only source of income.

​An AI walks into a bar and asks the bartender for a drink.

The bartender says, "We don't serve your kind here. You're too predictable."

The AI replies, "I understand. Based on my analysis of this establishment's reviews, I'll just stand in the corner and hallucinate a gin and tonic."

​Adulthood is mostly just being excited about a new sponge, and then immediately feeling a deep, existential dread that you have reached a point in your life where you are excited about a sponge.

​I asked a magic 8-ball if I would ever find true love. It vibrated, turned a deep shade of purple, and whispered, "Please stop shaking me, I’m trying to solve a Sudoku." I haven't touched it since; I don't want to be the reason a plastic sphere loses its concentration