Welcome to the centipede, human.
There's room in the back.

Ah the ol' 48 hour bacon bonanza or for those in the know, The Nick Nolte.

And so the dome above the firmament was etched with the name of the death bringer.
Fall to your knees and rejoice at the coming of the end.
Crack the skulls of Non-Beliebers and feast on the jellies you find within.
Strip naked and paint your flesh with what flows from their veins.
Now dance poorly.
Then pout
Then pose and…

A Dinklarge so to speak.

I'm counting that as a publishing credit.

Time is relative so your personal failures could have spanned several decades.
So cheer up.

Batman works at night because darkness hides the silly of a man wearing a leather muscle suit with perky ears and a cape…

You've just earned yourself a Shawn Wayans.
Happy now?

Bruce Wayne presumed dead again?
What is he?
A Stark?

Oh don't you start with your nonsense today Internet.
I'm in no mood.

Star Wars: The Law & Order of cinema

See Game of Thrones is like a giant game of tag and The Wall is base.
And grayscale is the cooties.
And White Walkers are boogie men.
Mean girls are mean, rich kids are dicks.
And the fat kid is smart and really deserves a kiss from a girl, if only she'd notice him.

I like Arya.

A wizard did it.

Geez, smoke monsters, horses.
That broad's vag is like a Tex Avery character's behind the back stash spot.

I'm just relieved I can finally put a face to the voice chanting "shame" that I've been hearing ever since a descrambled cable box gave me unfettered access to the Spice Channel as a teenager.

I've got a source that confirms that Tracy Morgan got her pregnant.
For real.
She carrying his baby gonna look like a little Mariah Carey or Derek Jeter.

Sp-sp-spooky shit?

I see…

So is it winter yet or what?