Rude.

Films that depict 2017 as dystopian: Barb Wire, Cherry 2000, Fortress, The Running Man.

My favorite is when these guys cast aspersions on others' virility but don't have any sex themselves (because they're "men going their own way") but don't masturbate either (because they're "NoFap").

I disagree that the viewer is supposed to be on Ben's side—even he comes to realize the error of his ways, and the ending makes it clear that he and the grandparents have settled on a happy-medium lifestyle for the kids.

I don't get it.

K.

Read the article.

"Drownedy-mick!"

Oh, the male phallus.

I am so tired.

Quoth one of my uncles: "I went into a coffee-shop bathroom, and there was a sign on the wall reading 'Our pipes are old. Please do not put anything other than toilet paper in the toilet.' I thought, 'Okay, if you're sure. But remember, this was your idea.'"

When I was three or four and didn't want to eat my broccoli, my dad's pitch was "Think of them as little trees."

I wouldn't mind having a beer with Trump if mine were a mojito and his had been leinted.

[requisite Jost apologia]

I disagree. The Weeknd is insufferable.

Is Ignatiy to have me believe I've been doing it wrong?

"Okay, I want a platter of broken goggles, a cow eye, witch pee… and a human… foot."

Then there's this year's Christine.

This passage culminates in one of his most brutal owns:

*amused emojis