When everyone was talking about "Superfonzie" rating systems, I kept reading "Superfozzie". I was perplexed for quite some time.

I feel the same way. Poehler just isn't making me laugh. I thought I would give this show a (third) try and this episode was just not funny, minus Ron's speech.

I think Bob Vance questioned Phyllis about the staples.

Great Dwight episode, if you ask me. Nabin is right though, in that Dwight really has become increasingly impish (and malevolent) since the Angela thing imploded. Although it's been good for some chuckles, especially some of the more uncomfortable ones at Jim's expense during the Charles Miner phase, I still don't…

ObamaisMagic: see also the abbreviated (and attenuated) version of Sleep's "Dopesmoker" in Broken Flowers. The man has a doom yen going lately, it would seem.

Keep moving, College Boy.

Further DJ Qualls-Mark E. Smith linkage: Smith is a native of Manchester, UK, and Qualls grew up in Manchester, Tn. Coincidence?

He needed the meth to get t-t-t-totally wired!

Gentle Herpes, I'm sure you're a swell person, but that's like saying that all liberals want our daughters to get pregnant just because they love abortions and want to force us to marry members of our own sex because they're decadent elitists that want to fund blasphemous art with your and my tax money and teach our…

Mitchell is a stone classic. The whole crew singing along to the soundtrack saying nothing but "Mitchell! Mitchell!", is about as good as it gets.

Don't get me wrong, I'm sure there's something to appreciate in Morrissey's solo catalog, especially given that I like the Smiths more than I like most music, but Christ Almighty, the man doesn't speak for any reason other than to serve his limitless narcissism.

Ah, I stand corrected. I see now that only a deity can possibly be so unbearably sad that he can't abide the thought of having sex.

Strange how things happen…
I'd been bitching all week about what a whiny, miserable bastard Morrissey is and, through a willful and baffling misapplication of the transitive property, how bad his music sucks when I realized that I had heard literally none of his post-Smiths output. I think I'll shut up for the time…

CJC: Agreed. That part is just flat out hysterical. "I prise the rent out of the local Hebrews, that's what I do!"

That band fucking rules.

So no Jacques Dutronc here, I guess. What would he be considered as far as French music goes? Does he fit into a specific Gallic-tunes genre or is he just French Rock or something?

Mmm, no, it's still funny. My favorite (recent) South Park Suicide: in "Margaritaville" when during the news broadcast it cuts to the financial correspondent who, rather than addressing what the anchor had said to him, wordlessly shoots himself in the head.

"Steve Holt is a BASTARD…."

Here's the backstory I've chosen for Spooge: he was a fast-rising resident physician who was trying to get the upper hand on his colleagues. The pharmaceuticals available at the hospital just weren't enough to get him through those 48 hour shifts. In his desperation, he turned to the more potent street drugs. His…

How does a meth-addled degenerate know what a subdural hematoma is? I might have laughed, were it not for my residual distraction from the prosthetic earlier on.