People who post Rumi on Facebook because it's "so romantic" make me gnash my teeth in anguish.

Windows. The secret is windows. Get a little double glazing between you and that -12 degree sunrise and you're golden.

I went to high school in the Adirondacks. We never had snow days, the plows were just too good and too practiced. Motherf****.

Like my mama always said, you can't spell artisanal without "anal."

Never go full artisanal.

White folks, y'all need to stop taking nice things like social justice and cheese and making them insufferable. Like, seriously, just stop.

Gozer, is that you?

Those are $10K pictures. Don't want someone running off with them.

Hear that? That's the sound of ten thousand dollars being flushed down the toilet.

I always forget there are ads on the pages here. (Thanks, Ad Blocker!)

You could buy a small house with that kind of money. Or a really awesome car? Or medical care for either SOME sick people, or LOTS of sick puppies, or a few of both. Or an amazing BBC documentary about snow leopards. Or enough Stouffer's frozen meals to last your whole life.

Hey! Dads are cool. At least mine is. Sorta.

One of my Muslim professors is a great believer in the "miasma" theory of disease; i.e. that bad smells will get you sick. I don't know about that, but I definitely think that God gave us a sense of smell for a reason, and one of those reasons is "holy hell, what the f*ck IS that!? DON'T TOUCH IT."

Good God, the smell. The smell must be incredible.

I don't remember where (maybe an A.V. Club interview?), but I distinctly remember reading an actor saying that when you're a guest on Sesame Street or The Muppet Show, you just end up talking to the puppets. Like, "Hey Kermit, am I in your light? Would you like me to move over a little?" And then Kermit will be all,…

If I picture them at home wearing knitted dick hats, with framed pictures of their dick where the wife and kids should be, and customized wienermobiles in the garage, it makes me 50% less likely to smash my keyboard in frustration when they start arguing.

Maybe they'll wear Guy Fawkes masks. That would be edgy.

I was going to joke that your brother must be friends with my sister-in-law, but then I realized that she doesn't have time for friends. She's busy documenting every second of her children's existence on Facebook, like some kind of BBC camera man.

And no one is ever fat and everyone drinks amazing wine all the time and never works because they're too busy painting erotic portraits of their lovers.

I think the real trick is to do a bad song that's secretly good. Fountains of Wayne's "Baby, One More Time" springs to mind. Or all those cases where the cover becomes the version everyone knows, i.e. The Beatles' "Twist and Shout," They Might Be Giants' "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)."