I’ll sound like the hot mess I am: this literally brought a tear to my old cynical eyes this morning. Signed up immediately...

I feel like there was no attention paid to these two statistics in this story:

See you guys when you get sold...  I really love all your work; this is all really sad.

Love all and sundry about Jalopnik... but until you are sold, Halloween 2019 is my last day here. I’ll miss all you guys; this is a sad day for me.

You know, someone might take the way you write about Brady and draw the conclusion you think he’s a giant regressive twat...  I’m just saying.

“But I have no sympathy for the situation.”

“Oh, and RTR stands for “Ready to Rock,” apparently.”

Jesus is my offensive coordinator...

I find myself not disagreeing with your proposal...

“Jesus Christ, is that the best you can do? You know who is really fun at parties? Disgruntled nerds who get bent out of shape when anyone is insufficiently worshipful of their favorite comic book characters.”

“Describe the correct way to cut chicken with a butter knife.” is a question on the Wunderlich test.

I have thoughts and they are this: Nick Bosa is a MAGA chud and I hope he gets leprosy of the dick.

How old is your son? I’m guessing relatively young, given the reference to the diaper boxosaurus rex...

“WHEN WILL IT END”

You must be a lot of fun at parties.

Whole lot of “I’m way fucking smarter than everybody fucking else; write down my fucking brilliance” going on from the commentariat today.  So glad they’re here to enlighten us...

I love it and I want one.

What’s wrong with sexy?

Douchey receipt, douchey... whatever the hell Darren Rowell is.  Tweet flagellator, maybe?

I worked at a Baskin Robbins when I was in high school. We offered small sample spoons to people who were taking time to make a decision.