I wager it's some kind of walking clock!

That's what you do after getting really ticked off.

Yeah, I guess I owe it another watch to really diagnose.

Big pluses for Oliver, though. The prestige of HBO, and only one show per week. I'm sure his agent got one hell of a gift basket.

See, I'm not certain it is the writing—I wonder if the staff is as sharp as ever, but Noah couldn't direct them to correct for his sensibilities, which are different from Stewart's.

Don't be ignorant. It's just cold in there.

Why settle for less than both?!

That's its job! Repetition is Comedy Central's job!

You kidding?! It's positively electric! A real gas, man!

I generally agree, but when John Oliver finally sunk his teeth in, I felt the mark, even if it did nothing to poke big enough holes to let any gas out of that inflatable orangutan.

Ditto. I tried hanging in there with Noah, but even though he steadily got better, I just couldn't warm to the new regime.

Look, I get that. I live paycheck to paycheck myself, but I try counting myself fortunate I have health insurance through my job. Many, many mentally unwell people don't even have that.

"Ubisoft, we've entered beige alert."

Yeah! He should just be able to walk it off! Fuck this guy for having the resources to address his debilitating medical condition!

That's not how it works.

Well, I hate playing armchair psychiatrist, but I know, personally, from where this man speaks—I can say that.

Grey's Anatomy for Gifted Youngsters

SPOOOOOOOOOOOON!

Godspeed, Cudi. It's a hell of a thing to try and live with.

That's a… very specific endorsement. I guess I have new plans this weekend!