My son doesn’t know anything. He can’t poop in a toilet or open a jar or even identify shapes with 100 percent accuracy.

It’s 106 miles to Chicago, you’ve got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, a Stanley Cup, it’s dark, and you’re wearing sunglasses.

WHAT conservative town? Where did this happen? When did it happen? Yeah, I can read it at the link; however if you’re going to aggregate this story, include the basic journalistic “W’s”

Some day you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne Chevy Nova in the sky

You act like this should be so easy, but the fact remains that a guy died because the stupid door wouldn’t open because someone wanted to get fancy with the opening mechanism. It’s absurd to think about.

Duh, Bill Bilichick ain’t got time for GLORY BOYS!!!!! Unless of course they play QB, then you can be a model for uggs, marry Brazilian Super models, and deflate all the balls you want.

Of the few songs of hers that I’ve heard, I like the fact that even though she sounds very country, her messages are less typically so. This song and “Follow Your Arrow” are like “MYOB and stop judging people,” whereas sometimes I feel like country can be all about performative redneck-ism and being like “country…

“He’s been paid more than $10.5 million by the federal government to do all that.”

Our tax payer dollars at work, I suppose, and yet people get their tits in a twist about a woman in front of them at the grocery story buying Doritos with food stamps.

This seems like it would really up the possibility of your date ghosting on ya.

Can you blame him? Imagine sitting next to someone who is constantly cheering for Matthew Della-Della-Della-Dellavedova.

I work as a comedian, and there’s plenty of material still out there to work with. It does have an effect though. It makes you less willing to try material that deals with sensitive issues. Ten years ago I might approach something at a few open mics, maybe get some negative feedback and either drop it from my act or…

Draft beer, whatever the local favorite is.

C’mon, it had to have been more than just the tips.

Vermette and Teuvo as they go past Q to the locker room.

Dan Snyder seen dropping by your house.

“Empty” is not the same as “open,” Roger.

The story about the cancer-free anniversary “date” is one of the most pathetic things I’ve ever read. That’s some Ralph Wiggum/Lisa Simpson shit right there.

Oooooff... now I want some pulled pork BBQ for lunch... damn you! :)

This was my favorite from last night:

When I was 6 or 7, I ate almost an entire box of fruit roll-ups with the plastic still attached to the back of the roll-up. I’m pretty sure that was the day my parents decided to focus on retirement savings instead of a college fund.