Do you know what I'm going to tell you? I have never seen a Michael Bay movie. I presume my major award will be delivered in a crate? I will have old bluey at the ready.

Plus it has twice the protein and only half the calories of store-bought jizz!

I remember getting a bang out of the Hatesong on Taylor Swift's "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together". I don't actually know the song, thank my lucky fuck, but Kurt Braunohler's rant was pretty damn entertaining.

I do apolojazz. *does apolojazz hands* I considered the possibility that you were kidding, which is why I seasoned the bitter roux of my vitriol with humor (or at least attempted humor).

I'm not sure what you're trying to say. It's confusing that you upvoted my comment before (or after) telling me to get it together. If your point is that I'm thinking too much, I'm way ahead of you. *slams down the hammer on some sweet, sweet morphine* But if your point is that we should stick to simple comments…

I think it's far more typical for rapists in movies to be killed without any legal representation or process, e.g. "Death Wish", "I Spit on your Grave", etc. There's a lot of societal anger about people getting off on "technicalities"—that phrase comes up frequently in movies/tv—and a lot of societal desire for old…

I imagine you could type your comment in Word and then cut and paste. There might be an easier way, but dammit I'm all out of ideas.

Bah—the devil take Mitya! I identify with Vanya.

Check it out, Marty: it's my new boat—the Live-4-Ever.

Yay! I can delete all the footnotes in my philosophy essay!

12 Monkey 2: The Imaginarium of Doctor Zaius.

I've heard that American Netflix doesn't have Community, so there's that (assuming it wasn't just a nasty playground rumour made up to scare Germans).

Fuck your ID, son. CASH MY CHECK! *pulls pulsating rubber vagina out of pocket, slides it across counter to Concrete Donkey*

Well obviously.

Yes I didn't imagine you were an actual monster. I was just offering my thoughts without judging you in the slightest, you actual monster.

I was writing more from the point of view of an employee taking orders from an actual vagina, a la O'Neal's joke at the end of the second paragraph.

I went to my performance review, and all my boss said was "Right there! Just like that! Oh yeah, just like that! Oh, shit!"

Well, if winning means having a needy boyfriend and writing poetry as a way of filling the hole that sits at your centre like the sound hole of a guitar, & the world just leaks through it as you pass by, & like a long, grey shadow you're forever unable to touch anything solid, then yes: you win.

The red-headed stranger just can't say no.

Jeff Garlin: "Have a great day. FUCK!"