Right on, Leonard. I think you're definitely right that only addicts can meaningfully write about addiction (though the experience transfers across addiction, so I figure a gambling addict, for instance, could do a good job for heroin and vice versa). Fortunately, there's no shortage of addict writers out there, and…

What'll happen to the tiny juggalos that live in the TV set?

I understand that the internet is a terrible place for opinions, and I'm not like gonna marry the music industry or anything. But the stupid piracy patrol is not in any way related to assassinations. Also, government assassinations don't give you a right to download music. Idiots.

Hazelnut coffee, are you fucking kidding me?

But I'll bet she won't insist he wrap it up.

At least, not as far as YOU know.

Also, 4 million sounds like a lot to me. It is 4 million albums more than I have sold, give or take.

He banged the fridge, kicked a sandwich, and bought two tickets to Danny DeVito's "Limoncello: The Musical".

THE Calculus to you, mister.
I'd just like to point out that calculus is always, always funnier when referred to as "the calculus", Newton- and Liebniz-style.

Man, my favorite part of that immigration song was "go hiking in Iran/ you might never be heard from again."

Is that one kid gonna pee his pants, though? Not interested.

"This article is meanspirited, because it disses things that I like. Nobody should diss things. But while we're on topic, here are some things I hate."

Chasing Amy is incredibly grating and infuriating. I could conceive of circumstances where "turning" a lesbian is an acceptable story, told with insight and grace. None of those circumstances could ever include Kevin Smith, in whose hands it's a sexist adolescent fantasy dressed up as courageous filmmaking. Ugh.

Five
Adaptation.
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius.
Dave Matthews.
Blink-182.
300.

Yay, four movies I can not watch or rent and help prove the supremacy of better, more nuanced ideas in a marketplace of ideas that isn't bound by rigid adherence to a set of stupid and unsatisfying principles.

Who's going to see this movie? An entire internet full of lonely nerds still trapped in the injustices of high school, convinced that the world is full of jocky assholes who never gave them the time of day, never thinking that their isolation is as much a product of their desperate inferiority/superiority complexes…

I'm pretty sure Fred Durst isn't cool enough for drugs.

Jesse Owens interned for the KKK.

Screw you guys, I enjoyed this. The end of the series is, I think, one of the most uncomfortable and tragic moments in television, up there with when that kid pisses himself on The Wire.

If you're comparing it to Russian novel's, you're better off with Bely's "Petersburg." Like Nabokov without quite as much smug fuckery.