avclub-d818f54b54bffac2ef8ab13c416959db--disqus
Scruffy. The Janitor.
avclub-d818f54b54bffac2ef8ab13c416959db--disqus

That's some bullet-proof logic, there.

Yeah. If he get mad, maybe hijab you in the face.

Excellent choice, which makes me even more interested in you.

Maybe, but I'm pretty sure that guy on the left is playing a gigantic sperm with a face. So he's got you there.

Impressive!

I'm sorry Charlie Murphy. It was an accident.
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Edit: I made my comment under firstie duress, and quickly tried to come up with the most appropriate quote I could. If I had my time machine in working order, I'd go back and type two words: Eternal Darkness.

I just assume he's been method acting for the last 30 years in preparation for this Trump role.

This theme song is just a repurposed "You Make My Dreams" by Hall and Oates, right?

Seven months of sex sounds impressive until we find out how much time is spent diddling ourselves. Eight months.

Yeah. He certainly had the scruffy, big-chinned thing going for him. And the Jesus loving thing probably helped raised his profile. But you may forget how successful Creed really was. Human Clay sold 20 million records, which—like Stapp—is just insane.

Sadly, it only took me like two seconds to figure out what song you meant, and I'm not even a STP fan in the slightest.

Deep cut? More like a third degree burn!

It will be.

Francine Smith stands with you.

To be fair, Stapp could never have ended up like Weiland.

Zoinks!

I'll abstain from contributing to any of this silliness.

At this point, all the ones I've been in recently have had bare table tops, like a diner.

Keep searching. Eventually you'll see a tale of Little Caesar's high-jinx and deception that will blow your mind.

Wow. I had no idea. I guess if they didn't even value their own cosmonauts that much, it's not entirely shocking that they'd toss a random dog into a rocket of death.