For the sake of the emotional and mental health of anyone who may happen to encounter your most puzzling and disturbing comment, you really might want to explain what it means, at least enough so that when I contact the fine folks at Ripley's Believe It or Not I have something coherent and juicy to relay, because…

Cats don't take showers, but ferrets do, so I like ferrets a little better, even though the ferrets always go into my jacket and pants pockets and steal the credit cards out of my wallet and hide them under the stove, and ferrets smell funny, but that's not really a problem since they like to take showers and even…

Aha, I finally have the perfect excuse to consume a massive quantity of the Demerol I've been stockpiling, which will only enhance my enjoyment of this ostensibly sublime and worthwhile TV watching experience. I hope at some point the baby's birth mother, or the baby, or both, explodes.

That bitch? You guessed it - Francine Stallone.

Well then, my ardently righteous friend, pray we never cross paths on the ersatz battlefield that is our nation's streets, for I shall gleefully, zealously assault you with my merciless, unrelenting gimmick, which is to say I shall avoid you. That's right, I will ignore you. I'll casually dismiss your presence with…

Why, did Winona get very fat? Is she now morbidly obese, a lumbering massive behemoth whose outrageously unwieldy girth is as recklessly destructive as a startled elk in a porcelain figurine shoppe? Is that what you're saying?

I got yer force of nature right here. *grabs crotch, farts*

Nonsense! And I refer specifically to your contention that pedestrian negligence endangers other innocent bystanders. Personally, I aggressively swerve into the path of negligently crossing pedestrians, for lo, I am the instrument of God's will. Amen.

Seeing a plastic bottle out hiking is a rare treat. Usually they just lay there in the street, like cold salmon.

Well, you insist on littering the otherwise pristine interwebs with your repugnant filth, so please be kind, give a hoot, and don't pollute. Hmmph.

Fatal only for the poor twit that's too pathetic to comprehend when, where or how to safely cross a street. Excluding children or intellectually challenged adults, I have very little sympathy for people who place themselves into the paths of vehicles, seemingly devoid of the most elemental, primal instinct for self…

Say that two more times and it'll definitely happen. The supernova, I mean. You getting shoved in the locker, however, could never happen, because you'd first have to come out of the closet, and we both know that's never gonna happen, is it? No, it isn't. Hmmph.

"I'll send you a love letter straight from my heart, fucker! You know what a love letter is? It's a bullet from a fucking gun, fucker! You receive a love letter from me, you're fucked forever! You understand, fuck? I'll send you straight to hell, fucker!" - Frank Booth, or maybe Sarah Palin

Slowly?! What, are you considering the plan for yourself? Hmmph.

You, um, you really don't understand how lighthearted repartee works, do you? Hmmph.

I was thinking Kamchatka but I shouted out Crimean Peninsula. I lose. Hmmph.

I will summon all my will to prevent myself from ranting on for 10,000 words on why GoT is and has been since it's inception one of the most overrated, disappointing, and annoying TV watching experiences of my life. At best it's a mediocre dramatic stunt which all too often collapses under the weight of its own…

Aw, why you gotta drag God down into your dark, miserable Hell?

You're in Canada, right, which means that at any given moment of the day there's very likely a program on TV involving Ski-doo-ing and/or Ice Fishing. Dependable entertainment. Hmmph.

Yes, entertainment delivery systems today are impressively refined, as per the insatiable demands of the increasingly deluded, oblivious consuming public, while all about us our world burns, engulfed in the roiling flames of ignorance and indifference. Hmmph.