Scara-mucc! Scara-mucc! Can you do the fandango? The fandango, of course, meaning hustling chumps to watch this shitty psuedo-interview detailing what an everlasting gobstopper of fuckwit you are.

I mean, Outsiders was a cool movie and all…but a hymn dedicated to it? Is there a ballad dedicated to Taco Bell coming out next?

You mean to tell me they had WRITERS for this garbage?! Like, not just a bunch of rhesus monkeys afflicted by PTSD? Actual writers? Bullcrap.

They hear that so much, in every facet of their lives, that it doesn't even register any more.

There's got to be literally thousands of Sam Clovis level unqualified people (or noble wood apes) that would be perfect for this position.

Nah. It's mostly due to the festering open head wound.

I dunno about the rest of you, but I've had the biggest fear-boner of my life since late January.

I bet R. Kelly wishes he could say the same thing.

**vomits**

If it'll help, I'd be more than happy to catapult Scott Walker over there.

They're going to destroy the Unions and stick microchips in their workers?

Grey Worm would Jon Snow his way out of the grave for Missandei. We all would.

Theon's! …oh. …wait.

I dare you to get your own Lifetime mini-movie without killing your parents. I dare you!

Step 4: Get a big ass tumor pressing against the pleasure center of your brain

Yeah! I redd-it there too!

Nope! Let this be yet another reminder that reading only leads to misery.

I thought that was an unmarked Syrian grave?

The only reason he hasn't is because his staff keeps lighters out of his reach. So, no. Not a positive.

So, dying as he lived, eh?