*taps nose surreptitiously*

“Oh, no respect? You know who gives me no respect? My wife. The other night, I ask her to dress up like Black Widow; spice up our love life. All she does is taze me the minute I get my pants off! No respect.

Most superhero shows would be improved if Rodney Dangerfield were in the background, never acknowledged by the characters, but just letting out a steady stream of jokes and commenting on everyone’s foibles.

The A.V. Club

Let’s get this out of the way:

Some of them want to get used by you...

Samuel L. Jackson’s taken to pretending he’s Laurence Fishburne!

That header image makes it look like she’s in some sort of combination library-bar; that’s something I can only wish I had near me.

If you love something, let it go. And if it comes back to you with a ten-million dollar incentive, then it’s true love.

“No, no, it was my evil twin, Brian... Stinger! He’s the one who’s done it! I’m innocent! Innocent, I tells ya!”

And it’s unfortunate how they tried to stuff him in the third round of cocktails; it really took attention away from the more potentially-interesting shot of Venom and the Franco cock-ohgodno.

True, but he didn’t realize that there were any cameras rolling at the time.

The cake’s all eaten, and the bath water’s gone cold.

I hate Flint Marko. He’s coarse and rough, and he gets everywhere.

Hey, Hulu? I figured if anyone knew where to get some ‘tang, it’d be you.

“Then there’s the splatter-filled climax, where Thomas fights his way out of the cult’s secret stronghold pursued by power-mad enemies both supernatural and wholly human.”

Swaggerjack is my new word of the day!

Those weren’t puppets; those are the soulless remains of two children who were allowed out of Comet Pizza by the Democrats for the evening!

It pays to be prepared. That’s why I always carry around a horned helmet and furred boots, in case inspiration ever strikes.

A gift certificate for two? Celebrities get all the perks...