My dad had a DAD joke - when the server said, “Hi! I’m Ann. I’ll be your server.” My dad would often say, “Hi! I’m Jim. I’ll be the eater.” He had a lot of those types of jokes and I didn’t think I’d miss them...but I do.

I heard he repeatedly referred to a female coworker as ‘an ignorant slut’.

Whenever I see a bunch of suits - on the train or in a men’s store or whatever - I often mutter to myself “Of course, many, many Armani.”

Ah, mais oui! I hope the Quebecois fur trappers are back, and happy one their own is now Prime Minister (but not President).

Next up? Newly-rediscovered 8mm footage of the pre-teenaged Replacements drunkenly setting fire to a sofa in a vacant field.

Please, we’ve had a Bridgerton style version of You Oughta Know since 1992.  We called it “Walking on Broken Glass.”

I freely admit that I make a point to go to a McDonald’s in every foreign city I visit, just to see how the experience differs. There’s an actual academic discussion around “The McDonaldization Theory” that posits the actual effect of the chain restaurant is to standardize the experience. How you order, the decor, the…

I’ve only been to a White Castle restaurant once in my life, and it was under basically ideal circumstances (After midnight, pretty drunk, wearing my nicest suit, and having already eaten an enormous meal maybe 4 hours earlier.) The only disappointment I had that evening was that I learned that fresh White Castle…

Speaking of Shyamalan, being a Southeast PA native, really really really fucked up with Signs. Basically the exact opposite of what Diab is talking about with Cairo. It was set in the next town over from where I grew up (and was living at the time), and he made it look like a stereotypical Midwest remote town with a…

it’s actually A&W, because they serve hotdogs(more american than hamburgers) and root beer(nothing is more american than sugary soft drinks)

I’m dating how long I’ve been reading these sites for by this, but when I went to America (NYC specifically) there was one day I ate mozzarella sticks at TGI Fridays specifically because of that piece Caity Weaver did for Gawker.

Careful now!

Down with this sort of thing!

At the risk of self-indulgence, I’m gonna pop down here for whoever is poking around in the comments section to say that this is my last A.V. Club review. (I believe that’s the case for everyone writing an A.V. Club movie review this week.) This is really more of a farewell-toned piece, ICYMI:

it’s easier to find leftover pizza than go in the forest.

I hope every episode is Sam Watterson trying to figure out which robot murdered an old person to steal their medicine, and nothing else.

The Changeling was an atypical horror film about a man dealing with loss and encountering a ghost. Because that man was George C. Scott, he wasn’t afraid of no ghost.

Sigh; it’s a press. Another inventor hung up on a concept and refusing to address its shortcomings. Some issues apply to all presses, but anyway:

There was one place that had haystacks on the menu in Fargo ages ago. It was embarrassing to order, but once it was in front of you, everyone else was envious.

Shellshock crops up QUITE A BIT in British lit from the 20s and 30s, whether it’s what we consider literary fiction now (Mrs. Dalloway) or cozy mysteries of the time (Sayers’ Peter Wimsey series).