As a kid, this show was the television equivalent of Christmas morning and like the gifts I received back then, the magic surrounding them eventually faded away. At least I can find solace in the fact that Teddy Ruxpin will never be revealed to me as some heartless fucking monster. Goddamnit.

I haven’t been that let down with an ending since A Walk In The Woods.

I grew out of loving baseball long ago but if I knew guys would be weeping in the dugout on a regular basis I’d watch daily.

Oh yeah?

Looks like he’s got a car cemetery in the back. Maybe he thought Stephen King was onto something and this is his idea for restoration.

More like a dutch oven.

Peter Thiel can’t wait to fund the defense.

Jesus. Whether they remember your name or not you’re getting fucked once the season starts.

If you squint real hard you can see the corner in the bathroom where Steve Bono was birthed, raised and thrived eating stray pieces of toilet paper and all the cut hair a boy could dream of.

Looking at those two, all I can think is that Mr. Clean slept with some lonely housewives.

That day on that two lane road is the day Tom Cruise stopped hearing Kenny Loggins while driving a motorcycle and began his downward spiral to Berlin.

Still GTF... AMIRITE??

This time will he be raped by a bear market?

Son, I’m so high right now.

Ah, The Virtual Boy.

I applaud the NFL for taking a proactive approach to limiting sexual harassment during live broadcasts of their games.

Like a true olympic athlete, I shit myself when I saw the poop emojis.

Don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s raining.