I missed that day, for no particularly worthy reason, and I still bitterly regret it.

No offense to the one guy, but -1s make me furious. If you don't like the joke, don't click the fucking reply button. Nobody gives a shit how you fucking score it.

Oh stop it. This "I don't know what is funny!" stuff is acutely nonsensical coming from you.

[dying]

Great.

I don't think it's totally subjective. What usually divides the funny-insensitive jokes from the annoying-insensitive jokes is that the funny ones really do put the sensitive material to the purpose of actual humor - some kind of surprise or inversion or reversal or analogy or release of tension or whatever - rather…

Also, this is advice I didn't follow, but: we all ought to dismiss the "too soon" replies (as you wisely did). That shit doesn't belong here, and is ten thousand times more obnoxious than the harmless jokes they're trying to condemn. That crap creates a piling-on effect: idiots see some other idiot jump on the high…

I got nagged a bunch for this one:

That's exactly it.

Ha!

Oh, whatever. Don't believe the hype. He actually shot a 115; the 60 is just what was leftover after the goddamn government took its cut.

Oh, come on. Lay off the guy. Sure, he's done some questionable shit in his time, but think of all the entertainment he's brought us over the years! Surely we can find it in ourselves to cut him some slack.

Mine came about as the result of a collaborative process: I wanted to use the word "shart" in a handle, while my unconscious mind wanted a handle that would fit with my lifelong motif of making decisions that would later come to be defined by regret, self-recrimination, and shame.

Dickey and Burke will be taken out to a fine meal, given nice watches, and then dipped in molten bronze and mounted on the roof.

Who would win in a competition contest? Sports, or politics?

Heh.

Ha!

I'd say his father's assessment augurs poorly for Flacco's performance in Sunday's game. After all, if the events of August and September of 2005 showed us anything, it's that strong-armed dullards have a penchant for fucking things up in New Orleans.

[dying]