Super Mario Super Show: on his labels at the sperm bank.

Worldwide floods are so 20th Century. BC.

I honestly thought the guy through the window would introduce himself as Mr. Garelli (or, as the satellite phone/voice box in Complaint Box spells it, "Garrelli" with two Rs).

My new workspace makes you badge into the restrooms.

The flower from Depeche Mode's Violator album cover would make a sweet tattoo.

You know, Scotland has its own martial arts. Yeah, it's called Fuk Yu. It's mostly just head butting and then kicking people when they're on the ground.

There is, in fact, freedom within.
There is also freedom without.

Mr. MacTeagle made me two David Lynch documentaries between the months of January and April of 1969.

REMAIN CALM! ALL IS WELL!

Amy Pond makes me wonder why I didn't make a nice ginger girl into Mrs. Fhtagn.

Let me explain. *headbutt*
No, that will take too long. Let me sum up. *knee to crotch*

After your fifth Oscar nom, it's easy to pick your own roles.

He was frickin' hilarious in The Hangover. It's like the fat bastard from Borat appearing in the Spartans movie - Zeitgeist.

Cameron's Plan B
Put himself into stasis until the global economy recovers. Or until the mice come for another film.

revisiting Zombie Survival Guide
The oldest Fhtagn boy (a lad of 14) is reading The Zombie Survival Guide and loving it. Which is good, since he's not the kind of kid who'll pick up a book on his own. Next: WWZ. Then we'll both dive into the comix. So keep 'em coming, Max.

Battle of Yonkers. That was a Class-A Charlie Foxtrot that SGT Fhtagn can appreciate. Too many stars, not enough brains.

I've heard of double-posting, but double-threading?

@Witty: don't forget Henry Rollins and Rob Reiner. Cast of thousands in a landmark audiobook.

The Walking CancerAIDS-ridden can be stopped by removing the head or destroying the brain.

That phallic-shaped guitar hits really hard. Heh heh, hard.