O Trumpy night, the skies are brightly burning
It is the night of his atomic fit.
Long lay the world in turmoil and yearning
Till he appeared and said "oh well, fuck it"

*big, throbbing feminist agenda

That's rebel technology.

"the Death Star plans are usually just depicted as digital data (even in 1977, which is pretty crazy)"

The pleated sleeves are a dead giveaway. Those things can't exist in real life.

My pie chart is just a yellow circle, probably because I have no friends and the only things I've liked are videos of Gary Johnson playing with action figures.

So that's why they wrote in a blushing stripper sidekick.

He lives in the abandoned hospital on Guerrero St.

I wear my keds with some JNCOs and a big flannel, just like they did in the 90s!

My days of paying 15 bucks to see Hootie & the Blowfish at the Schenectady Concert Hall are over!