Thank you, ghost of Frank Zappa, for chiming in despite your being dead and all.

Fat Bottomed Girl, you make my Gawker World go round.

Too much dust in this room. Or it's the damn onions or something!

Yessss... we will know "intelligent" life by their casual disregard for their own biome's destruction.

Just like lupus and Dr. House, it's never Aliens.

Nutrient depletion from the inside out. Some key vitamin or protein that the fungus depletes from the soil and eventually runs out of in that area (killing the ring until spores are transported to a richer spot elsewhere).

Every day, in every way, Secessionist States continue to prove their point.

It's sad how a man easily identified by his very initials (NPH) seems so tragically media-underexposed that we must be subjected to his dream sequences.

I just KNEW yours was a rectal delivery.

You neglected Old Man River City designed by R. Buckminster Fuller.

Take a look at the Lawman, beating up the wrong guy.

Sultry Elfin Dream Boy (SEDB)

She's the struggling artist penguin that lives in their garage and is totally cool with her live-in super-Alpha landlord couple that just drop by whenever.

Deary me, I wish we could get a few minutes of Mr. Broadwell at the Thanksgiving table, three drinks into his fountain of truth aimed at his roundheeled missus.

Too bad your imaginary friend rules your life and you're not strong enough to face reality without psychosis.

5000% vulnerable to bobby pins. I pick those faster than typing this sentence.

BRING BACK MOCKINGBIRD LANE.

Imagine a paper map. It has symbols on it to represent the third dimension, yet is essentially a two-dimensional presentation of 3 dimensions.

It was also remarkably delicious.