And very basic tort law. But *somebody orange* had to get *all* goddamned dramatic about it…

I *still* adore you, you ghastly Smucker's shirt-stain.

To prove that he is a self-important assclown, much like Oscar Wilde himself!

What, do I have to drive a fucking stake through your heart? Because I fucking will…

It's all theatre. Really fucking dire, dreadful bad dinner theatre of the obviously not true or real.

I liked the rhyme. The *myth* gets on my tits. Everyone *doesn't* know it wasn't a horse, which is why the *myth* persists.

Not in *public*.

I thought they were all in ZZ Top tribute bands?

Maybe she could shill for The Players' Club?

Soup, as a fellow Huntingtonian I hate to be the one to have to tell you this, but you're dead.

Cunning…

Joey.Blowey is an awful, awful man. I adore him.

Thank you. That was the joke, ladies and gentlemen.

And it *wasn't* a horse. She had stroke on the can, kinda like Elvis. Happy now?

Braces, amiright?

You can do better than that! Put some phlegm into it! Sound off like you're circumcised! [Reuben Lee Ermy]

I think you'll find the former Attorney General is All Woman *and* More Man Than You'll Ever Be, sir. ;-)

Assholes. The people who have those stickers, I mean.

She was waving one over her head like Slim Pickens.

Oh, Christ, that's what the woman I taught next door to last year did constantly. Through her nose. At the top of her voice. She called it speaking. I called it a war crime. Thank fuck she's transferring to a different school next year.