The early bird catches the worm
So, we’ve all heard the phrase “The early bird catches the worm,” right? A classic nugget of wisdom, passed down through generations, warning us that if we hit snooze one too many times, some overachieving, oat-milk-latte-drinking go-getter is gonna snatch our opportunities right out from under us. But let’s be real—what kind of lunatic bird wants a worm? That’s not a reward. That’s a punishment. Imagine rolling out of bed at the crack of dawn, racing to the front of the breakfast line, and all they’ve got is a raw, wriggling, protein-packed worm. “Oh wow, thanks, Nature. No eggs? No toast? Just a dirt-flavored noodle?”
And let’s talk about this bird. This obnoxiously disciplined, type-A nightmare of a bird. Up at dawn, chirping at ungodly hours, judging the rest of us who are still drooling on our pillows. Ever notice how the early bird is always portrayed as smug? Like it’s so much better than the night owl. Newsflash, birdbrain—while you’re flapping around eating dirt spaghetti, the night owl is over here thriving. That guy’s got night vision goggles built into his face, a 360-degree head rotation like a horror movie villain, and a personal invitation to every late-night adventure the world has to offer. But sure, you go ahead and enjoy your worm.
Speaking of worms, have we considered their side of the story? Because if we’re playing this phrase out, the real lesson here is: “Wake up too early and you die.” The worm is just minding its business, probably getting its first stretch in, thinking, “Ah, what a beautiful morning,” and BAM—murdered by some avian overachiever with a Napoleon complex. Who’s the idiot now? Not the late worm, I’ll tell you that much. The late worm gets to live. He’s still underground, sipping a tiny dirt cappuccino, reading the morning news: “Another fool taken by The System. Stay low, stay lazy, stay alive.”
And let’s address the sheer cruelty of the whole saying. Who came up with this? Probably some sadistic high school gym coach who lived for the sound of 15-year-olds gasping for air at 6 AM. “Rise and shine, kids! The early bird catches the worm!” Meanwhile, we’re all standing there wondering if projectile vomiting counts as cardio.
Hyperbole? Oh, absolutely. Because if we follow this logic to its extreme, what’s next? “The earlier bird gets a bigger worm?” or “The earliest bird wins a full Thanksgiving feast?” At some point, you gotta ask, “Who’s feeding these birds, and how do I get in on this meal plan?”
And don’t even get me started on wordplay. “The early bird gets the worm.” Sure, but the second mouse gets the cheese. So now we have conflicting proverbs. One tells me to wake up early, the other says “Nah, let someone else go first.” What am I supposed to do, set an alarm for strategic hesitance?
Listen, if waking up at the crack of dawn means I’m stuck with a dirt-flavored, wriggling breakfast and the smug self-satisfaction of a bird with zero nightlife, I think I’ll stick to my regular schedule: waking up at noon and catching a brunch reservation.
When life gives you lemons make lemonade
“When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” As if optimism alone can turn a soul-crushing catastrophe into a fun little beverage stand. Who came up with this, anyway? Probably some guy who’s never actually been handed lemons by life. Because let’s be honest, when life really gives you lemons, it doesn’t just politely place them in your hands—it hurls them at your face like an angry fruit vendor with a grudge.
And let’s examine this so-called wisdom. First of all, who’s handing out these lemons? And why? Is there some celestial grocery store up there with a bad inventory system? “Oops, looks like Steve’s out of luck today. Send him a crate of life’s worst citrus. No, no, not oranges—too much vitamin C. Give him lemons. Make him work for it.”
And sure, let’s say you do get lemons. Great. Now you have to make lemonade? Oh, perfect, because nothing soothes the sting of disappointment like unpaid manual labor. “Hey buddy, I know you just lost your job, but good news—here’s a sack of produce and a hypothetical business plan. Now get squeezing.” Oh, what’s that? You don’t have sugar? Or water? Or a lemonade stand permit? Too bad. Life just dropped off a second batch of lemons.
And let’s talk about the actual effort involved. Do you know how much squeezing it takes to make one glass of lemonade? A lot. Ever tried squeezing a lemon with your bare hands? It’s an upper-body workout. By the time you finish juicing those things, you don’t have a drink, you have arthritis.
And for what? Lemonade? That’s the best we can do? We live in an age where people turn cauliflower into pizza crust, and the best we can do with lemons is lemonade? No lemon bars? No lemon meringue pie? We’re really just settling for yellow water with sugar?
Now, let’s talk about the real world. What if life gives you rotten lemons? Huh? What’s the plan then, Socrates? “When life gives you moldy citrus, make…penicillin?” Because at some point, we have to admit that sometimes life just sucks and no amount of folksy wisdom is gonna fix it.
And what if you don’t want lemonade? What if you wanted, I don’t know, grapes? Or a raise? Or basic human dignity? Nobody ever says, “When life gives you money, make a trust fund.” No, we only get this nonsense when things go sideways.
Here’s a better philosophy: “When life gives you lemons, throw them back and demand chocolate.” Or, even better, sell the lemons at a premium, buy a bottle of tequila, and make margaritas. Because if life is gonna mess with you, you might as well have a drink in your hand while you deal with it.
You can’t teach an old dog new tricks
Who came up with this slander against elderly canines? What, just because a dog has a little gray in its muzzle, suddenly it’s incapable of learning? That’s age discrimination, and I won’t stand for it. Have you seen how motivated a dog gets when treats are involved? You could teach an ancient three-legged poodle to moonwalk if you had enough bacon.
And let’s be real. This phrase is never actually about dogs. Nobody’s out here running a retirement home for golden retrievers, sighing, “Ah, poor Buster. Guess he’ll never learn to send an email.” No, this is about people—grumpy uncles, stubborn bosses, that one guy at work who still types with just his index fingers. “Oh, don’t bother showing Bob how to use Google Docs—you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” Really? Because Bob figured out how to program his DVR and complain about WiFi speeds real fast when it affected his life.
And let’s talk about the so-called “tricks.” It’s not like we’re asking old dogs—or old humans—to perform Cirque du Soleil routines. “No, Grandpa, you don’t have to do a backflip, we just want you to stop double-spacing after every period.” But nooo, apparently that’s too much. “I’ve been doing it this way for over 40 years, and I’m not about to start changing now!” Oh, okay, well let me go fire up the typewriter and fetch you some whale blubber for your lantern, since we’re all living in the past now.
And another thing. If old dogs can’t learn new tricks, then explain life experience. Because last time I checked, everyone over 50 has at least one story that starts with, “Well, I won’t do that again.” Oh, so you can learn, but only through personal disaster? Got it. “I refuse to learn from instruction, but if I accidentally set the backyard on fire, you bet I’ll remember where the lighter fluid goes next time.”
And let’s not forget that dogs, unlike some people, actually want to learn. Ever seen a Labrador with a new toy? That thing has a manual override button for instincts. “I have no idea what this is, but I will master it.” Meanwhile, humans are out here refusing to upgrade their phones because “the buttons are different.”
Here’s the truth: You can teach an old dog new tricks. You just have to find the right incentive. For dogs, it’s treats. For humans, it’s usually money, better WiFi, or the threat of public embarrassment. Because nothing motivates a stubborn person faster than the possibility of looking like an idiot on the Internet. So, next time someone throws this phrase at you, just remind them: “If an old dog can’t learn new tricks, why did Grandma just school you on Facebook?”
Don’t count your chickens before they hatch
First of all, who’s out here doing chicken math before breakfast? What kind of high-stakes poultry industry are we running where premature fowl-accounting is a common enough problem that we need a whole proverb about it? Was there some guy in medieval times betting the farm on unborn omelets?
And let’s talk about the logistics here. If you don’t count your chickens before they hatch, when do you count them? After they hatch? That’s too late! That’s like saying, “Don’t check your parachute until you’ve already jumped.” No, thank you. I’d like to have a rough estimate of my poultry portfolio before the eggs start popping open like nature’s least festive piñatas.
And let’s address the real message behind this phrase: “Don’t assume success before it happens.” Okay, fine, but what’s the alternative? Never plan ahead? Just roll through life assuming disaster at every turn? “Well, I was going to order a cake for your wedding, but who knows if I’ll even make it to next Saturday. Better hold off.” That’s not wisdom, that’s crippling anxiety.
And let’s not pretend this phrase is practical. Because I guarantee you, the people saying it are the same ones who show up to a buffet with a plate stacked like an architectural wonder of the modern world. “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, but do absolutely pile 37 shrimp onto your plate before you even sit down.” Right. Makes perfect sense.
And what if you don’t count the chickens and then they all hatch? Congratulations, now you have way more birds than you planned for, and suddenly you’re running an unauthorized petting zoo. And have you met chickens? They’re not exactly the easiest animals to deal with. You wanted a cute little backyard farm, and now you’ve got an army of clucking velociraptors staging a coup in your front yard.
Here’s the thing: life is unpredictable. But you know what’s also unpredictable? Eggs. Ever cracked one open and gotten an unpleasant surprise? Yeah, sometimes those eggs shouldn’t have hatched. Sometimes it’s better to count them first and make an informed decision. So no, I will not apologize for checking my chicken inventory. I will count my eggs, I will plan my omelets, and if they don’t all hatch? Fine. That’s why we have backup bacon.
Don’t put all your eggs in one basket
Look, I get the basic idea—diversify, don’t gamble everything on one shot, hedge your bets. But let’s break this down. First of all, why are we dealing with so many eggs? Who is out here collecting eggs like they’re running some high-stakes omelet operation? And why are baskets the only option? Have we not invented cartons? A backpack? A pocket with strategic napkin placement?
And let’s talk about this supposed life wisdom. “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.” Okay, but what’s the alternative? Walk around juggling five baskets like some kind of unstable brunch waiter? Because if I have to split my eggs into multiple baskets, now I’ve got to keep track of where they all are. “Oh great, I left one at the farmer’s market, two at Grandma’s house, and one on top of my car. Fantastic.” Suddenly, my carefully planned risk management strategy has turned into an Easter egg hunt from hell.
And what’s the real danger here? Dropping the basket? You know what the solution is? Hold onto the basket. How butterfingered do you have to be for this to be a genuine concern? Who’s walking around swinging a basket full of eggs like a careless Victorian child on a countryside frolic? “Oopsie-daisy, my entire financial future just went splat on the cobblestones.” Maybe the lesson here isn’t about egg distribution—it’s about paying attention.
And let’s be real. Sometimes, putting all your eggs in one basket is actually smart. Ever tried carrying multiple grocery bags instead of putting them all in one sturdy tote? Now you’re wrestling plastic handles, dropping things, and suddenly, you’re standing in your driveway trying to pick up a rogue can of soup with your car keys. No, sometimes efficiency matters. Sometimes, the one basket is the right basket.
And what kind of eggs are we talking about? Because if these are golden eggs, I absolutely want them in one secure location under lock and key. What am I supposed to do, scatter them around like a careless dragon? “I’ll just leave one here in a bush, another one under this suspiciously unstable rock, and let fate decide.” No thanks.
So sure, maybe don’t invest your entire retirement fund in NFTs of cartoon pigeons. But sometimes, commitment is key. So I say, put your eggs wherever you want, just don’t be dumb about it. And if you do put them all in one basket? For the love of all things holy, hold on to the basket.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree
What a poetic little way to tell someone they’re doomed to become their parents. Because that’s really what this phrase is about, isn’t it? It’s never used when things are going well. Nobody’s out here saying, “Wow, you won a Nobel Prize? Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree!” No, no, no. This phrase is exclusively deployed when someone does something questionable—like when a kid throws a tantrum in a grocery store and everyone side-eyes the dad who just muttered a string of expletives at the self-checkout machine.
And let’s talk about this so-called wisdom. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Well, no kidding. That’s gravity. That’s physics. That’s not profound life advice. That’s just Sir Isaac Newton doing his job. But let’s challenge this for a second. What if the apple rolls? What if a squirrel picks it up and drags it off? What if a freak windstorm yeets it into the next county? Suddenly, your metaphor is very inconsistent, and your entire theory of genetic destiny is resting on whether or not a rodent had an errand to run that day.
And another thing—why apples? Are we just assuming every family tree is some dignified orchard? Because I have met plenty of families that are not growing apples. Some of them are growing lemons, some are growing cactuses, and a few are sprouting whatever that weird fruit is that smells like feet. “Oh, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Yeah, well, in this family, the fruit fell off the tree, rolled down a hill, got picked up by a raccoon, and is currently being traded on the black market.
And let’s talk about exceptions. Because we all know that one guy who’s out here proving this saying wrong. His whole family is made up of mechanics and truck drivers, and somehow he is a yoga instructor in Bali. That’s not an apple staying near the tree—that’s an apple catching a direct flight to a remote island and changing its name to Mango Moonbeam.
And what about adopted kids? Or step-kids? What about that kid who was raised by two accountants and grew up to be an underground street magician? What, is that tree just standing there going, “Well, didn’t see that coming?”
Look, sometimes the apple does stay close, sometimes it rolls, and sometimes it gets turned into a pie and nobody ever hears from it again. So next time someone tells you, “Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” just look ‘em dead in the eye and say, “Depends on the terrain.”
Don’t judge a book by its cover
What an adorable little sentiment, as if humans haven’t spent centuries doing exactly that. You ever been to a bookstore? The whole business model is based on judging covers! You think people are cracking open every single book and reading the first chapter before they decide? No, they’re looking for a slick title, a dramatic font, and maybe a moody silhouette of a man in a trench coat if it’s a thriller.
And let’s not pretend this is limited to books. We judge everything by its “cover.” Restaurants? If the sign is half burned out and the windows look like they haven’t been cleaned since the Nixon administration, I am not walking in for a surprise. Job interviews? Show up in a mustard-stained T-shirt that says “I’m With Stupid,” and let’s see how fast they call security instead of HR.
And don’t even get me started on people. Oh, sure, in an ideal world, we wouldn’t make snap judgments based on appearances, but let’s be honest. Our entire survival instinct is built on first impressions. If I see a guy walking toward me in the dark wearing a ski mask and holding a crowbar, I’m not sticking around to see if he’s just a misunderstood locksmith with bad circulation.
And can we talk about the hypocrisy of this phrase? Because the entire publishing industry is out here designing book covers specifically to be judged! You ever seen a romance novel? There’s always some shirtless guy with abs sculpted by the gods, standing in the wind like he just conquered a mountain and your heart. You telling me that cover isn’t supposed to influence my decision?
Let’s be real. Sometimes, the cover is completely accurate. If you see a book with a title like “Murder at the Manor” and a picture of a creepy mansion on the front, guess what? Someone’s getting murdered at a manor. Nobody’s cracking that open expecting a heartwarming tale about a small-town bakery.
And how far are we taking this philosophy? Should we start eating food without smelling it first? Buying cars without looking under the hood? Dating people without at least Googling them? “Oh, I don’t need to know anything about them! I don’t judge books by their covers!” Yeah, well, enjoy your surprise dinner of expired tuna, your car that only starts on Thursdays, and your new boyfriend who has three different social security numbers.
Look, I get the sentiment—we shouldn’t be superficial. But sometimes, the cover tells you exactly what you need to know. So go ahead, judge wisely. Just don’t be shocked when the book covered in flames and screaming faces turns out to be, in fact, about hell.
You can’t have your cake and eat it too
Well, excuse me, but what kind of deranged, cake-hoarding logic is this? Why would I have cake if I’m not allowed to eat it? What am I supposed to do, frame it? Put it in a display case like some kind of pastry museum curator? “Ah yes, behold my beautiful cake—no, no, don’t touch it. We just have cake in this household. Eating it? Don’t be ridiculous.”
And let’s break down this so-called wisdom. The phrase is supposed to mean you can’t keep something while also using it—but this is a bad example. Because if you eat cake, you did have it. That’s literally how eating works. The real problem isn’t having cake and eating it—it’s eating cake and then wanting more cake, which, let’s be honest, is the real human struggle.
And another thing. Why is this phrase only about cake? Why not, “You can’t have your pizza and eat it too”? Or “You can’t have your guacamole and scoop it too”? I’ll tell you why—because cake is the one thing people absolutely refuse to waste. If you give someone a slice of cake and tell them they’re not allowed to eat it, their brain short-circuits. “Wait, what? Then what’s the point? Are we running a hostage situation here? Give me a fork, or I start negotiating.”
And let’s be real. This phrase is routinely ignored. Ever seen someone at a wedding? They take a bite of cake, and they still have more cake. That’s called portion control, not a paradox. Ever ordered dessert at a restaurant? They bring you a plate with cake on it, you eat a piece, and boom—you had your cake and you ate it. The only people who truly live by this phrase are those weirdos who save the top layer of their wedding cake for a year and then try to eat it while pretending it doesn’t taste like freezer-burned regret.
And another thing. If you can’t have your cake and eat it, then what’s the alternative? Not having cake at all? That’s worse. I would much rather eat cake and deal with the consequences than live some cake-less, joyless existence where I just stare at a perfectly good slice of chocolate heaven while contemplating the universe’s cruel indifference.
So no, I reject this phrase. I will have my cake. I will eat it. And if I want more cake? Guess what? I’ll go get another slice. Because that’s how cake works.
The proof is in the pudding
Well, first of all, what kind of detective work are we doing that pudding is now a source of evidence? Are we out here solving crimes with snack foods? “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present Exhibit A: this half-eaten bowl of tapioca. As you can clearly see, the proof is in there somewhere.”
And let’s break down this phrase, because it makes zero sense. What proof are we talking about? Proof of what? That pudding exists? That someone made it? That you’ve made a terrible life choice by ordering a dessert that jiggles on its own? Because I gotta tell you, if I ever find something mysterious inside my pudding, I’m not calling it proof—I’m calling the health inspector.
And another thing. This isn’t even the original phrase! The actual saying is, “The proof of the pudding is in the eating,” which, at least, makes some kind of logical sense. It means you don’t really know how good something is until you experience it. But apparently, somewhere along the way, people got lazy and just started mumbling, “Eh, the proof’s in the pudding,” like that explains anything. That’s like shortening “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush” to “The bird’s in the bush.” No, that is not the same thing. That is bird-based misinformation.
And why pudding? Why not, “The proof is in the pizza”? Or “The proof is in the tacos”? I’ll tell you why. Because pudding is suspicious. It’s a dessert that can’t decide if it’s a solid or a liquid. It’s always served in a cup because if you put it on a plate, it just gives up and spreads out like it’s accepted its own fate. Nobody trusts pudding. So maybe this phrase is accurate—if you want proof of something, you’d have to look deep into pudding, because nothing about it is immediately obvious.
Finally, let’s say I’m ordering dessert, I’m not looking for proof of anything. I’m not Sherlock Holmes, I just want sugar. The only proof I need is that my spoon is hitting the bottom of the bowl. So no, I reject this saying. The only proof I want in my pudding is proof that it’s got extra chocolate in it.
You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink
Fantastic. Another proverb reminding us that some creatures—including humans—are just determined to ignore good advice, even when it’s practically served to them on a silver platter. Because this phrase? This isn’t about horses. No one’s out here running equine hydration seminars. This is about that one friend who refuses to take basic life advice. “Hey man, maybe don’t text your ex at 2 AM.” Three minutes later: “Bro, she’s not responding.” Yeah, well, neither is the horse.
And let’s talk about the horse for a second. Because if I’m leading a horse all the way to water, I feel like I’ve done my part. I’ve trekked across the wilderness, I’ve scouted the oasis, I’ve provided free delivery service to hydration, and now the horse is just standing there going, “Nah, I’m good.” Really? What do you want, a wine list? “Do you have anything aged in oak? I’m getting a lot of peasant vibes from this pond.”
And here’s what really gets me: this phrase acts like the horse is rational. Like it’s making a calculated decision to be stubborn. But horses? Horses are chaos gremlins. Have you met a horse? This is an animal that will spook at a plastic bag but not at the literal water that keeps it alive. “Oh no! A fluttering leaf! Time to gallop into the next dimension.” But a trough of clean drinking water? “Mm, no thanks, I’m not really in the mood.”
And this applies so well to humans. Because you can give someone the best advice, the clearest instructions, the easiest solution, and they’ll still go, “Eh, I’ll figure it out.” Oh, will you? Because right now, you’re metaphorically standing next to a lake complaining about how thirsty you are while texting some sketchy dude named Greg for life coaching advice.
And let’s talk about the flip side. What if you did make the horse drink? What if you just picked up a giant water gun and blasted hydration directly into its mouth? Would that solve anything? No! Now the horse is drenched, you’re exhausted, and everyone involved is just angry and wet. Because forcing someone to do something they don’t want to do never works. It just creates resentment and a very aggressive horse.
So yeah, I get it. You can’t force people—or horses—to make good choices. But let’s be honest, sometimes you just wanna grab ‘em by the ears and yell, “Just drink the water, Steve!”
The squeaky wheel gets the grease
What a poetic way of saying, annoying people get what they want. Because that’s really what this phrase is about. It’s not about wheels, it’s about whiners. You ever notice that? It’s never the quiet, responsible, patiently-waiting people who get rewarded. No, it’s always the loudmouth at the customer service desk demanding to speak to a manager because their coupon expired in 1997. And guess what? They get the discount. Meanwhile, the rest of us are standing in line like suckers, watching this nonsense play out and realizing that fairness is a myth.
And let’s talk about actual wheels for a second. Because if I’ve got a squeaky wheel, my first instinct isn’t to grease it. It’s to rip it off the cart and replace it with one that knows how to behave. Why are we rewarding the problem? If one wheel is making noise and the other three are just rolling along peacefully, maybe the solution isn’t to grease it. Maybe it’s to throw it in the trash and get a better wheel. But no, in the great metaphor of life, we’re out here oiling the problem child while the hardworking, non-squeaky wheels get nothing.
And let’s be honest—this phrase is just an elaborate way of saying, “Complain enough and you’ll get special treatment.” And we all know that one person who took this lesson to heart. You ever go to a restaurant with a serial complainer? They send back everything. “Excuse me, but this water is too wet.” Next thing you know, the manager is at their table offering them a free meal and a gift card. Meanwhile, the rest of us, who are just politely existing, are stuck paying full price for food we actually enjoyed.
What’s the real message here? “If you want attention, be obnoxious.” You know who really understands this? Toddlers. Ever see a kid throw a Category 5 tantrum in the middle of a grocery store? That is apex-level squeaky wheel behavior. Kid screams? Kid gets the lollipop. Congratulations, society, you just rewarded chaos.
And let’s talk about the poor, silent wheels. The wheels that don’t squeak. The employees who don’t constantly demand raises. The passengers who don’t freak out at the gate agent about their seat assignment. What do they get? Nothing. No grease, no attention, no perks. Just the quiet dignity of knowing they could raise hell but won’t. And where’s their proverb? “The well-behaved wheel gets ignored”? “The quiet professional gets asked to cover for the squeaky one who called in sick again”?
So yeah, I get it. The squeaky wheel gets the grease. But you know what happens if a wheel keeps squeaking too much? At some point, you stop greasing it and just replace the whole damn thing. I rest my case.
What goes around comes around
Ah yes, the universe’s way of saying, “Don’t worry, Karma’s got this.” This is the comforting little phrase people use when they really want revenge but are too passive-aggressive to actually do anything about it. “Oh, Cheryl stole my lunch from the office fridge? That’s fine. What goes around comes around,” or “Yeah, okay, but when, exactly? Because I’d like to schedule Cheryl’s downfall. Preferably before she gets to my leftover lasagna.”
And let’s talk about the logistics of this. Because if what goes around comes around, then technically speaking, wouldn’t everything just be a never-ending cycle of nonsense? Like, if I accidentally cut someone off in traffic, does that mean in exactly three days someone will cut me off? Is karma running on a tight itinerary or is it more of a loose, “eventually” kind of deal? Because if there’s a waitlist for cosmic justice, I’d like to check my place in line.
And why is this phrase only used for bad things? If karma’s out here keeping score, why don’t people say, “Oh, I held the door open for a stranger—guess what goes around comes around, so I’ll probably win the lottery next week.” No, no, no. It’s always about vengeance. It’s never, “Oh, I helped a friend move last weekend, so next week someone’s gonna show up and assemble my IKEA furniture for me.”
And let’s address the obvious flaw. Sometimes, what goes around doesn’t come around. We all know at least one person who has spent decades throwing bad vibes into the universe and yet they’re still living their best life. Meanwhile, you get hit with instant karma with, “Oh, you forgot to tip your barista once? Boom—parking ticket.” Meanwhile, your coworker who regularly steals office supplies is out here getting promoted.
And let’s be real. This phrase is basically the lazy man’s revenge strategy. You ever see someone get truly wronged? They say, “Oh, I don’t have to do anything. What goes around comes around.” Oh really? That’s your plan? Waiting? You’re just gonna sit back and hope that the universe is running some kind of cosmic debt collection service? Good luck with that. Meanwhile, Cheryl’s still out here stealing lunches, Greg is still lying to people, and your barista still remembers the one time you didn’t tip.
So yeah, in theory, what goes around comes around sounds great. But in practice? Sometimes, it just goes around… and never quite makes it back.
And a Few Sordid Proverbs
You’ve Never Heard Before
A nickel for your nonsense a dime if it rhymes
So now we’re paying for ridiculousness? Fantastic. Finally, an economic model I can get behind. Because if people are out here getting paid for nonsense, then half the Internet is about to be billionaires.
Now, let’s break this down. A nickel for nonsense, but a dime if it rhymes? So rhyming nonsense is twice as valuable? That explains Dr. Seuss’s entire career. “Oh, you want regular absurdity? That’s five cents. But if I throw in a cat in a hat, suddenly we’re talking big money.”
And let’s talk about the arbitrary pricing structure. Who set these rates, anyway? Is there a nonsense stock market? Do we get inflation adjustments? Like, in today’s economy, shouldn’t it be a dollar for gibberish, two bucks if it slaps? Because if I’m out here crafting high-quality absurdity, I want to know I’m getting top dollar.
And let’s address exactly how nonsense is measured. Like, are we talking mild nonsense or full-blown lunacy? Because if I say, “The mailbox is wearing pajamas,” do I get a nickel? But if I say, “The mailbox is wearing pajamas, in the Bahamas, eating llamas,” does that automatically bump me up to a dime? Or is there a judging panel? Because if we’re monetizing madness, I demand a transparent nonsense evaluation committee.
And another thing. If nonsense is valuable, why isn’t the world richer? You ever heard a toddler talk? That’s an endless revenue stream. Some kid runs up to you and shouts, “The moon is made of spaghetti and my toes are full of secrets!” BOOM—ten cents. By that logic, kindergarten teachers should be millionaires.
And let’s be real—if this phrase were actually true, politicians would be rolling in dimes. Campaign speeches would just be rhyme battles. “My fellow Americans, hear my plea, vote for me and you’ll get free tea.” Cha-ching! Ten cents. Meanwhile, actual sense? Worthless.
So yeah, I love the idea. But let’s adjust for inflation. A dollar for gibberish, five bucks if it slaps, and a hundred if you manage to work in a pun.
You can’t teach an old goldfish how to ride a bicycle
Well, no kidding. You also can’t teach a young goldfish to ride a bicycle, either. You know why? Because it’s a fish. This isn’t wisdom, it’s just anatomy. Whoever came up with this phrase wasn’t handing down valuable life lessons, they were just bad at zoology.
And let’s break this down. What exactly is the lesson here? That old creatures can’t learn new skills? That once you hit a certain age, you should just accept your limitations and float in circles until the inevitable? That’s a terrible mindset. And if we’re going with this logic, why are we picking on goldfish? Why not “You can’t teach an elderly squirrel to file taxes” or “A middle-aged penguin will never master the accordion”? Oh no, it’s always the goldfish getting dragged into our metaphors.
And another thing. Why a bicycle? If we were trying to teach a goldfish anything, wouldn’t we start with something more reasonable? Maybe some basic obstacle courses? A synchronized swimming routine? But, no. Straight to cycling. “Alright, Goldie, hop on this ten-speed and hit the road.” Are we strapping little helmets on them? Are there goldfish bike lanes we don’t know about?
And let’s be real. If a goldfish did learn how to ride a bicycle, that wouldn’t be a failure, that would be a scientific breakthrough. You know what would happen? That goldfish would get a Netflix documentary, a book deal, and probably its own line of tiny fish-sized bikes. Meanwhile, we’re out here using it as a symbol of failure? Unbelievable.
And let’s talk about the true meaning here. This is clearly another one of those “old dogs, new tricks” sayings, but with extra absurdity. But you know what? People can learn new things at any age. You think an old goldfish can’t learn? Have you met senior citizens? Some of them just figured out TikTok last week and are thriving.
So no, I reject this nonsense. If an old goldfish wants to ride a bicycle, I say let it dream. And if it pulls it off? That’s a goldfish I want to invest in.
The grass is always greener until the dog finds it
Well, finally. A proverb that understands reality. Because sure, from a distance, that grass looks lush, vibrant, paradise-like. But the second a dog gets involved? Game over.
And let’s be honest. This is the real version of “the grass is always greener on the other side.” Because that phrase? That’s just wishful thinking. It assumes the grass stays greener. But no, no, this version factors in the chaos variable: dogs. Because if there’s one universal truth, it’s that the second you find a nice patch of anything, something will come along and absolutely wreck it.
And let’s talk about what the dog is doing to this supposedly greener grass. Because if you’ve ever owned a dog, you already know. It’s not good. That lush, untouched grass? Seconds away from disaster. Maybe the dog’s going to dig a crater into it like it’s searching for buried treasure. Maybe it’s going to roll in something horrifying that only the dog understands. Or, let’s be honest, maybe it’s going to poop directly in the middle of your dream lawn. Because that’s what dogs do. The second you think you’ve found something perfect, the universe goes, “Hold on, let me send a four-legged tornado to test that theory.”
And isn’t that just life? You think a new job is going to be amazing? Surprise—here’s Kevin from accounting, who microwaves fish in the breakroom. You move into a new neighborhood? Boom—your next-door neighbor has a drum set and no sense of time. That perfect relationship? Well, turns out they collect antique clown dolls and keep them in the living room. The grass is always greener… until life’s metaphorical dog shows up and ruins everything.
And here’s the real kicker. Sometimes, the dog is you. You get to the greener grass and suddenly you’re the one trampling all over it, digging up problems, or making a mess of what you thought you wanted. “Oh, I can’t wait for this new opportunity!” Fast forward two months, and now you’re rolling around in regret wondering why you ever left your old lawn in the first place.
So yeah, the grass might look greener, but let’s be realistic—it’s only a matter of time before some dog comes along and reminds you why you can’t have nice things.
If it ain’t broke give it more time
Finally, a proverb with honesty. Because let’s be real. Nothing lasts forever. If something’s working perfectly, that just means it’s actively plotting when to betray you.
And let’s talk about the implications of this phrase. Because this isn’t just about objects breaking. It’s about life breaking. That car that’s been running fine for 15 years? Boom, check engine light. That phone that’s been reliable? Surprise, a software update that makes it slower than a dial-up modem. That relationship that seems unshakable? Uh-oh, one person just started saying, “We need to talk.” If it ain’t broke… oh, just wait.
And let’s be honest. This phrase should be printed in every product warranty. Because manufacturers know they’ve got a built-in expiration date. You think your dishwasher broke after exactly three years by accident? No, no, no. That thing had a self-destruct timer. Ever noticed how your printer works flawlessly until the one day you actually need it? That’s planned betrayal.
And let’s talk about the real-life applications. You ever have a job that’s going great? Good boss, decent pay, no complaints? Then BOOM, the company gets acquired and suddenly, your whole department is “under review.” That favorite TV show that’s consistently solid? Just give it time, because by season six, they’ll replace half the cast and introduce a talking raccoon for no reason.
And people! Oh, people. You think you’ve got a great friend group? That nobody’s going to stir up drama? Hahahaha. Give. It. Time. Because at some point, somebody’s going to start dating someone toxic, somebody’s going to get weirdly into NFTs, and suddenly, your entire group chat is a war zone.
And let’s be real. Sometimes we are the problem. That thing in your house that’s been working fine for years? The moment you touch it, it’s dead. That one drawer you’ve never had trouble opening? The handle snaps off in your hand. That laptop that’s been a champion for five years? Spontaneous combustion the night before an important deadline.
So yeah, if it ain’t broke, enjoy it while you can. Because nothing in this world stays perfect. And when it does finally break? You will not be emotionally prepared.
Honesty is the best policy but a good lie is a close second
Well, at last, a proverb that understands how the world actually works. Because sure, honesty is great—in theory. But in reality? Sometimes, you need a strategically placed excuse just to survive.
And let’s be real. If honesty were always the best policy, job interviews would be a disaster.
Interviewer: “So, why do you want this job?”
Honest You: “Oh, I don’t, but I need to afford groceries, and my landlord doesn’t take good vibes for rent.”
No, no, no. This is where a good excuse saves the day. “I’m just really passionate about leveraging synergy to maximize workplace efficiency.” Boom, hired.
And let’s talk about everyday life. Ever been late to work? Honesty says, “Yeah, I hit the snooze button fourteen times and then got caught in an existential crisis about my life choices.” But no, a good excuse says, “Traffic was unbelievable. Also, construction. Then there was a loose goose on the freeway. What a mess.” And guess what? You’re off the hook.
And let’s be honest. Society runs on excuses. Why do you think sick days exist? You ever seen someone use PTO because they just didn’t feel like working? No, it’s always, “Oh, I think I’m coming down with something.” Yeah, you’re coming down with a case of Not Today Syndrome. And honestly? Respect.
And what about relationships? Pure, unfiltered honesty would end everything. “Do these pants make me look fat?” Honest answer: “A little, yeah.” Congratulations, you are now single. A good excuse keeps things alive: “No way, those pants? Those are slimming! I think the lighting is just weird in here.” Crisis averted.
And don’t even get me started on kids. Kids learn early that honesty is not always the best policy. Ever see a five-year-old get caught coloring on the walls? They don’t say, “Yes, I did it because I have an unquenchable artistic vision that cannot be contained by mere paper.” No, they hit you with, “I think the crayons just… jumped out of my hand?” And honestly? If the delivery is strong enough you just might believe them.
So yeah, honesty is great—in small, carefully managed doses. But a solid excuse? That’s an art form. Because sometimes, the difference between success and disaster isn’t truth. It’s just how well you sell the story.
Keep your friends close and your snacks even closer
Finally, some life advice I can actually use. Because let’s be honest. Friends are great and all, but snacks? Snacks are loyal. Snacks don’t cancel plans at the last minute. Snacks don’t borrow money and “forget” to pay you back. Snacks are there for you at 2 AM when you’re questioning every life choice that led you to eating peanut butter straight from the jar with a spatula.
And let’s talk about why snacks need to be closer than friends. Because you know what friends do? They steal your snacks. Oh, they say they’re just gonna have “one fry.” Next thing you know, half your plate is gone and they’re acting like they did you a favor. “I was just helping you with portion control.” No, Karen, you were committing food theft. That fry was mine. That fry had a future.
And let’s not pretend like people respect personal snack boundaries. Ever bring a snack to work? The second someone hears a chip bag crinkle, suddenly it’s a feeding frenzy. “Ooooh, what’s that? Can I have some?” No, Chad, you cannot. You didn’t invest in this snack. You weren’t there when I carefully selected it from the grocery aisle like a prized possession. You didn’t risk everything eating it at your desk while trying to chew silently so nobody would notice.
And let’s talk about snack emergencies. Because friends will let you down, but snacks? Snacks are prepared. Ever been stuck in traffic, starving? Boom—emergency granola bar from the depths of your glove compartment. Friend forgot their wallet and now you have to cover dinner? No worries—you strategically ate a pre-snack beforehand so you wouldn’t be financially destroyed by their “accidental” filet mignon order.
And look, I love my friends. I really do. But if I had to choose between a lifelong companion and a perfectly timed, hot, crispy mozzarella stick? Well… let’s just say, one of those things never lets me down. So yeah, I’ll keep my friends close. But that bag of chips? That stays within arm’s reach at all times.
You can’t judge a sandwich by its crust
A saying that understands how betrayal works. Because let’s be honest. How many times have you picked up a sandwich thinking it was going to be amazing, only to bite in and realize the inside is pure disappointment? That beautiful, golden, artisanal sourdough exterior was hiding a crime scene of unseasoned chicken and sadness.
And let’s talk about the real meaning here. This isn’t just about sandwiches. It’s about everything in life. That fancy job that sounded amazing? Turns out, it comes with nine hours of meetings and a boss who breathes directly onto your neck like an old-timey villain. That “dream apartment” you found? Oh, surprise! The plumbing makes a noise that sounds like Godzilla gargling marbles every time you flush. That new TV show everyone’s raving about? Looks promising, but three episodes in, suddenly it’s just people staring at each other dramatically in dimly lit rooms, whispering about things that never get explained.
Now, let’s get back to sandwiches. Because this problem is real. Ever had a sandwich with perfect bread, only to bite in and realize the filling is 90% lettuce? Or worse, raisins? Like, what kind of sociopath puts raisins in a meatball sandwich? You thought you were getting a masterpiece, but no, you’ve been bamboozled by bread.
And let’s not forget the opposite scenario. The sandwich that looks terrible but turns out to be life-changing. Maybe the bread’s a little smushed, maybe it looks like it was assembled by a raccoon with questionable motor skills, but you take a bite and BOOM! Flavor explosion. Now you’re reliving every decision you’ve ever made.
And honestly? This applies to people too. You ever meet someone who looks put-together, only to realize they have the emotional stability of a pigeon in a windstorm? Meanwhile, that quiet, awkward coworker who wears socks with sandals? Secretly a member of a motorcycle gang.
So yeah, you can’t always judge a sandwich by its crust. Because sometimes, what’s inside is pure gold. Then again, sometimes it’s just mayonnaise and regret.
Good things come to those who wait but better things come to those who cut in line
Are you ready for this? Some real-world wisdom. Because let’s be honest. Patience is great in theory, but in reality? The world rewards the bold, the pushy, and the guy who somehow always manages to skip ahead in traffic like he’s running a personal FastPass system for life.
And let’s talk about the classic lie behind the original saying. “Good things come to those who wait.” Oh, do they? Because last time I checked, the people waiting are usually the ones getting screwed over. Ever waited patiently in a long customer service line while some loudmouth cut ahead and got immediate attention? Ever waited for a promotion, only to watch Chad from Marketing—who’s been here half as long as you—get bumped upstairs because he “made himself more visible?” Yeah. You waited. And what did you get? Resentment and an office donut that’s been sitting out since Tuesday.
And let’s talk about theme parks. You ever see those rich people just walk past the entire line because they paid for some hoity-toity “express” wristband? Meanwhile, the rest of us are standing there, sweating, waiting 90 minutes for a ride that lasts 45 seconds, wondering where we went wrong in life. You know who isn’t waiting? The guy who skipped the system entirely. And is it fair? No. But is he having a better time than the rest of us? Absolutely.
And let’s not pretend like this doesn’t apply to food. You ever wait in line for brunch like a civilized person, only to see some self-important influencer with his family of twelve waltz in, name-drop the owner, and get seated immediately? Oh yeah, sure, good things come to those who wait. But great things come to the people who pretend they know somebody in charge.
And let’s be real. This is exactly how jobs work. You can sit there, waiting for someone to recognize your hard work, or you can cut in line, schmooze the right people, and somehow end up running the whole department. It’s not fair. It’s not right. But it is how the game is played.
So yeah, patience is a virtue. But you know what’s better than virtue? Results. So while the rest of the world is standing in line, politely waiting their turn, someone else is cutting ahead, ordering dessert first, and living their best life.
What goes around comes back with high interest
Finally, a version of karma that understands how the universe actually works. Because let’s be real—bad decisions don’t just come back around like a polite flight attendant. No, no, no. They gain momentum. They rack up fees. They snowball into full-blown disasters that arrive with penalties, emotional damage, and possibly a collections agency.
And let’s talk about the financial accuracy of this phrase. You ever borrow twenty bucks from a loan shark and forget to pay it back? “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll pay it back.” Not as twenty bucks, but as the reason you’re now driving three Ubers and working the overnight shift at McDonald’s. And boom. The next thing you know you’ve paid him three $3,000 and given him an opportunity to adjust your kneecaps.
Let’s talk about life karma. Ever tell yourself, “I’ll do that later”? Well, later comes back like a debt collector with a bat. That one ignored email? Now it’s 27 unread messages and an emergency Zoom meeting. That tiny procrastinated task? Now it’s due tomorrow with an extra project attached because life has late fees too. That one bad decision you thought you got away with? Oh, surprise! It’s back, and now it’s pregnant with consequences.
And let’s not ignore relationship karma. You ever ghost someone? Oh, don’t worry, that’s coming back. But when it does, it’s going to be someone you actually like, and they’re going to vanish mid-conversation, right when you thought things were going well. And let’s talk about exes. Because if you’ve ever wronged someone in a relationship, oh trust me, what went around will come back—except now it’s in a better-looking, more successful version of your ex who just got a glow-up and a yacht.
Be honest. This applies to every dumb decision ever made. You ever skip the gym for one day? Well, one day turns into three months, and next thing you know, you’re winded from opening a jar of pickles. Ever put off changing your oil? Boom, now your car sounds like a dying robot and the mechanic is asking if you “believe in miracles.”
So yeah, what goes around doesn’t just come back around. It comes back bigger, badder, stronger, and ready to collect what it’s owed. Because karma? Karma charges interest. And trust me, it does not offer payment plans.
