Esquire: "What I've Learned:" The Only Good Thing about that Magazine since It Became The Maxim for the Literate, the Barely Literate

Homer Simpson: What I've Learned

Sometimes I think there's no reason to get out of bed . . . then I feel wet, and I realize there is.

The intelligent man wins his battles with pointed words. I'm sorry—I meant sticks. Pointed sticks.

If I had a dollar for every time I heard “My God! He's covered in some sort of goo,” I'd be a rich man.

If you want results, press the red button. The rest are useless.

I never ate an animal I didn't like.

Be generous in the bedroom—share your sandwich.

Give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish and he'll get a hook caught on his eyelid or something.

Never throw a butcher knife in anger.

Let me just say, Winnie the Pooh getting his head caught in a honey pot? It's not funny. It can really happen.

If a spaceship landed and aliens took me back to their planet and made me their leader, and I got to spend the rest of my life eating doughnuts and watching alien dancing girls and ruling with a swift and merciless hand? That would be sweet.

Man, would it ever.

I have a framed and mounted copy of this article on my desk at work. It sits just beneath my SECTOR 7G panel label, where I can see it and refer to it for guidance.

That's right. I'm a Homerist. You can laugh all you want to. Believe me, I'm use to it now. But I'll say this: This bible makes more sense than yours -- especially the part about pointed sticks.

Had I known that a few years ago, I would've never bothered with graduate school.