Wolfcop! Philistine Motherfuckers. . .

Lawyer.

For a while in my early twenties I lived in a huge house with a bunch of scumbags. The Price is Right was a morning ritual. A core group of a half dozen dudes and whatever various hangers on or women from the previous evening would gather around the television, imbued with the passion only a slow burning hangover…

Dan also proclaimed that he had a brain the size of Jupiter on a Harmontown. Seems to be a favorite phrase.

Tits?

More finale predictions: Stan takes up bowling, purchases rug, befriends John Goodman. Shot of plane taking off. Fade out. Credits.

Mad Men and Anchorman shall converge in the finale. It's bleeding obvious.

The A.V. Club: A Fucking Tornado of Sexual Disease

Finally.

Shitty pitch. You'd never make it in the big city, kid.

Legit affecting line.

I've felt it creeping for a while now. Unsettling.

The book "The Wisdom of Psychopaths" essentially proves this point. Successful business people and immorality are inextricable.

I wish. Good story. Hulks for days.

I think I first heard Dylan in a concentrated way when I was 15 or so. Saw him once, in concert with Paul Simon. Dylan opened, in a blue rhinestone suit, and left immediately. Simon was really good.

Great modern farce. Would make a fine one act play.

It seems that I'm a salty dog.

5 inches, but it's thick.

I will cry like a goddamn baby when this man dies.

Kroll could probably have managed to do another great season. The end approaches soon. Bummer.