I’d do him.

I bet Melanania gets as big as a house!

C’mon, man! I’d poke my eye out.

Come to think of it, I’m going to open a bookstore for liberals, and I am going to call it, “The Consoling Bosom”... and the attached coffee shop I will call, “The Bosom of Respite”.

I need a bosom upon which to be consoled upon. A bosom of respite, as it were.

This is all fine and good to cover, but there is a je ne sais quois - I dont know what - element to it that makes me worry that this article might serve as an inspiration to a nutcase out there.

“Those women are lying! We shall overcomb!” - Donald “Bill Cosby” Trump.

Use drugs and alcohol.

The damn cat is fine, as cats are always fine. It’s your bathroom tile that’s fucked up.

Gee, that woman has guts!

She’s adorable.

Pic, or it aint true.

The Light Between Oceans. Check that bitch out, and Join the chorus of NO.

I will give on the having a conscience issue, but she ranks high on rhe crass and shallow ladders of horribility.

Asking for a friend... does Ramona have a conscience?

I would LITERALLY rather my finger nails be ripped from their beds with a pair of pliers by a wacked-out clown than suffer through the emotional manipulation of a film like this.

That’s EXACTLY what that movie about.

I love new stories like this butt for the difficult end.

I wonder if ol‘Phyllis found that Peter opened the Pearly Gates to her only because God, as it turns out, is far more tolerant then she was.

No, I have no questions about this film. The film that bothers the heck out of me it’s the one about the mother who loses her baby at sea and then some other lady finds the baby and then years later the two ladies meet up and she finds out that she has the mourning mother’s baby. What the hell?