Now now, let's not bitch about white musicians ripping off blues artists. That's pretty much the story of rock and roll. Without it, us white folk would be stuck with Pat Boone and the New Christy Minstrels.

Like rain on your wedding day, yes.

I'm generally not a fan of live albums, but I must say, my favorite live album would probably be a toss-up between Hendrix's Live at Monterrey Pop and Live at Winterland.

And then they started singing about it, in warbly earnest early-60s-white-person-folk voices:

Creepy Rick's Sliver of Booty-Cane.

Why does he do that? Why doesn't he just pour the vodka directly into the tank? Is there something about urea and stomach acid that makes it work better as a fuel?

They were probably thinking "pepperoni, or supreme? I like olives and all, but what the fuck is up with them putting onions on a pizza? That's just messed up. Okay, let's play it safe, just go with the pepperoni. At least then the kids won't complain."

And in response to the auto-recycler-o-matic below, I would so totally LOVE to hang out with Neil Patrick Harris, I don't know who Jens Lekman is, and I would knock over seven anemic failing stand-up comedians to have a month of Sundays' worth of sex with Samantha Bee.

Oh my god. That "slap in the face" line he trotted out re: Oprah… that was just insane. I mean seriously, no worse choice of words could a man reasonably and realistically be expected to make.

It's true, OTP does know how you feel. He felt you when you were sleeping one time.

You said it. This is like being at the crossroads between Disgusting Street and Abhorrent Avenue. All told, I'd rather be in the bar across town.

Would Gimli fit into this, from Lord of the Rings? Admittedly he did some of the heavy lifting too during the battle scenes, but still, come on, he was total comic relief.

Did they discuss the whole "small town values are the best, big city values are shallow and meaningless" thing in the last cliche column? That one bugs me actually, so maybe it bugs the AV writers too, and that's in the other column.

I don't know what the fuck is going on here, but in the immortal words of David Cross, "I'm gonna fuck me a fish."

Hey, that's my entire life!

I don't know that I've ever seen Amelie's chest. Is it spectaculous?

Gallant would never say that.

Lunch-a-bles are an illusion.

GOD I hate rotoscoping.

I would've bought several of them. And then fashioned a three-piece suit out of them.