This is the photonegative of that one time Neil Gaiman tried flirting with whomever was running the Merriam-Webster twitter account.

Would you have been all that shocked if he'd risen on the third day? Caught a little off guard, sure, but SHOCKED? I think not.

I remember seeing him say that whole "if she weren't my daughter I'd probably be dating her" thing on . . . was it The View? And the hosts being way more "Oh Donald, stooop!" rather than, you know, confused or disgusted about this guy smirkingly bringing up incest right the fuck out of nowhere.

Gotta tell ya, folks, people who tell obvious lies at no benefit to themselves kind of worry me. Not quite as much as dementia-riddled conmen with nuclear codes worry me, but I don't like 'em all the same.

For spite.

Off the top of my head, I'd say seven years and ten months more.

I've long accepted being the only person who thinks the first movie was better.

There's a bit toward the end of The War for Late Night where Conan's moving on, and people are talking about what he might do next. What would unfiltered Conan look like? Would he take to the Internet and just ditch the talk show format altogether?

Gentlemen, you can't fuck in here, this is the-

Senior year of high school, my English teacher was an older, cancer-surviving short timer who had long since exhausted his lifetime supply of fucks. It's like the dude was sent over from Central Casting. I will always remember him talking about how, within his lifetime, it was possible to trust that the men running…

"I gave you my answer and I stand by it."

"Tell 'em I'll go back WHEN I CAN PLAY THE FUCKIN' PIANO AGAIN."

"COOPER, YOU REMIND ME TODAY OF A SMALL, MEXICAN CHIHUAHUA."

I'm not sure if he would have been less, as, or more frightening if they'd gotten Lynch to do the voice.

The deer just looked so nonplussed about the whole experience. Like, not angry or terrified, just "oh".

Oi! Hands!

I've been wanting this for years.

I enjoyed several of Mr. Harris' novels and love their various adaptations. Selfishly, I wish he'd publish again, but from what little I know of the man himself (which means I've read his Wikipedia entry and anecdotes from other authors who've met him), he seems to be pretty much living the life he wants. Got to…

Yeah, the version I've always heard is that Harris was told by his publisher that he could choose to write a sequel, get paid and have some control over it, or he could let somebody else do it, but a sequel was GOING to be written either way.

I know, right? The moment I read that story I called up Lecter's first scene on YouTube and heard it perfectly.