I saw a dude in a restaurant this week with a "I'm the Infidel Allah Warned You About" t-shirt. The levels of stupidity in that are stunning.

Or the golf course.
Or the Oval Office.
Or Camp David.
Or any free conference table in the White House.
Johnson was a dirty dog, is what I'm saying here.

Not generally one to make fun of typos, because I make them, too—but the concept of a "white history moth" genuinely pleases me. All banging against the window going "Hey, did you know that the Irish experienced slavery, too?" "Fuck OFF, white history moth!"

Holy hells, "Put America Back to Werk." I'm here for this.

Petition to have this oncologist start a show where he debates politics called Big Issues.

American Gods missed out by not having a hyperjudgmental Reagan-style Jesus at the Jesus colloquium.

Yeah, I was having a rough time finding health items, so I figured I'd bop over and open a major settlement and have a fast-travel locus I could use for exploration. Imagine my surprise when I had the option of buying 9 152-cap Stimpaks and not much else. So back into the wilderness it is!

95 with 85% humidity this week. You can strain the air through your teeth. Even the cockroaches are moving slowly.

Wicked Weed has gone regional (boo!) so I can get their beers in now (yay!). Had a lovely and tangy gin-barrel-aged juniper golden ale. Drank it in an inflatable pool in my backyard because I am Classy.

Congratulations to Edmund Fitzgerald and condolences to their family after their sudden death of combined dehydration and spontaneous combustion of the genitals.

Hey, I just started Fallout 4 this week! About five hours in and just got to Diamond City. I've been helping out the Brotherhood, but I hate those assholes, so I'm going to help them until I can get power armor and then murk 'em all. I always stall out on Fallout games, but I have faith in myself for this one.

I honestly don't know—something about the informality of tank tops makes me feel like the glasses thing is unacceptable (just leave 'em on your face!), but it's not like a polo shirt tends to have pockets, so sticking them in the V seems like the only solution…barring getting Croakies, which is next level.

Fair. Unless you're wearing it out of self-reflexive irony, in which case a fearless self-analysis would teach you entirely too many lessons.

Holy shit. I saw and loved the blurb for this, but reading on, this is actually a must-purchase. Makes Hatoful Boyfriend look like an unironic dating simulator.

It's kind of a toss-up: do you want to look like a jackass wearing a tanktop with a breast pocket, or be forced to hang your sunglasses from the neck of the tanktop and also look like a jackass?

For reckless children.

Truly, we all suffer from his implementation of Atheist Sharia Law.

We have the fetish market and the kook market! We're a multiquadrant company now—nice.

"Hey, men: tired of that messy ejaculate making your life hard when you're playing craps or nabbing some tasty 'phalt on your longboard? We've developed an odorless, colorless meat-stick (it is Not a Glue) to keep your essence inside your body! Simply apply a dab to the lips of your meatus, and you're ready to live…

Oh, that's fair—they both do work. Hail Vulcan!