All Is Vanity and Vanity License Plates

Vanity license plates are the last refuge of the truly pathetic.

You know you’re old if you can remember tie tacks.

I don’t know anyone who doesn’t get slightly flustered when leaving a message on an answering machine.

One fad that has mercifully faded from the American consciousness: CB radio.

You’d be surprised how many people are afraid to go down into their own basements at night.

Never drive behind anyone who has his high school graduation tassle hanging from the rear-view mirror.

Let’s admit it: Mary Tyler Moore’s new show just plain stinks.

Never marry anyone who wears spats.

I always get terribly embarrassed when someone in the next lane catches me singing along with the radio.

Whenever somebody refers to a movie as a “film,” you know it’s going to be awful.

No wonder we can’t decide what to do about Moammar Kadafi. We can’t even decide how to spell his name.

Whenever anyone says “To be perfectly honest” what follows is unlikely to be either.

When is the last time you bought a car that was really the color you wanted?

I don’t believe anyone can actually sit down and draw their state flag.

Are Ron Leibman and Judd Hirsch really two different people?

I’m still a little confused: Why is it I am supposed to buy a $1,500 TV so I can listen to “Cheers” and “The Bill Cosby Show” in stereo?