Hell, the thing that always stuck out in my mind from ANH wasn't the cantina arm-severing incident, it was the Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru barbecue. That shit is still haunting to this day.

I mean, the heraldry is my favorite part. That and tits. Heraldry and Tits.

Buncha hosers, eh? Like Crosby doesn't have the sickest backhand ya ever sa'n yer life. Fuckin' A rights, boys.

I feel like it's more obvious on "against" than "again". I commonly hear "a-GAINst".

Oh, and remember, next Friday is Hawaiian shirt day. So, you know, if you want to, go ahead and wear a Hawaiian shirt and jeans.

I don't think this guy likes writing. He treats it like a kid treats their chores or their homework. I guess in that sense, Winds of Winter is the most anticipated book report of all-time.

This is just what we need. Another one of these fuckin movies.

This might be worthwhile if he actually kills Jesse Eisenberg this time.

The one election in recent history in which Focus on the Family played virtually no part, and no one asked fuck face Pat Robertson what he thought about anything.

Surprised Dave Mustaine isn't clamoring for the chance.

If there's anything the homeless need more of, it's bricks. Chanice has the right idea.

So long, and thanks for all the fish.

"Kevin Spacey IS John Malkovich IN…Being Jeff Goldblum."

Faith in humanity temporarily restored.

Unite with deplorable fucktards? I don't think so, Steve.

Who else would pay good money to watch Martin Shkreli die in a nationally televised event?

Guess you'll always have to wonder….what if?

Classic case of "sounded better in his own head".

Totally.

Farley?