I actually have read a dictionary (the Fourth Edition of the American Heritage) cover to cover. A tidal wave of coitus is surely just around the corner.

I'ma just say it.

I went straight to the comment section just to see whether a "Motherfucker! Food eater!" reference was atop. Y'all never let me down.

Some unrated movies, e.g., Happiness and Baise-moi, are released with directives to cinemas to not admit anyone under eighteen. Such directives are not always followed, of course.

[requisite Jost apologia]

Huh. I expected the Perkins and community grades to be more like D+. Go figure.

For what it's worth, even California lets you marry your cousin.

This is why I stick with Amtrak. [Sponsored Comment]

You're just jealous.

Luckily, my teeth are terrible. #NotAllAmericans

"Joy Whack-A-Mole" is one of the greatest standup bits in the history of humans. Scrumtrilescent.

I want "Let Nothing Come Between You."

"The suit was filed electronically on Sunday, who is seeking class action status." What?

Adorable that you think there's still a smoking car.

This is why I stick to Amtrak. [Sponsored Comment]

Ah, but I hate most of those other songs too. (And I like "Talking in Your Sleep" fine—a perfectly serviceable slice of pop.) The only Prince song to do anything for me is "Bob George," which doesn't sound like Prince. I recognize the Jacksons' talent but am largely unmoved by their music. And hair metal—just no. I…

Had she been nominated for Arrival and lost, she'd be tied with Glenn Close for most nominations without a win among living actors.

Oh, you don't have to tell me. But "'80s pop" has become synonymous with "New Wave." '80s radio stations are almost exclusively New Wave, and when people say some song "sounds really '80s," they never mean that it sounds like Tracy Chapman.

True. One of the least recognized #1s of the oughts. But technically a post–"Thong Song" hit, and a higher-charting one at that.

The cold synths, chilly drum machines, and icy English and faux-English accents literally make me want to cry. Like, I don't get how anyone can hear "Don't You (Forget About Me)" and not become immediately suicidal. That song is the opposite of serotonin. The clanging in the chorus alone, my god.