Godspeed and do do brown fair maiden.
Don't stop.
Get it, get it.

If I only knew that everything cool stopped happening in the 90's I would have never matured past 17.

I was tardy because I was in the cube again.

Spoiler Alert!
Death is inevitable for us all.

Sorry.
I read "spurting cans" I assume the worst.
Or the best.
Carry on.

Language!

Just as long as we finally learn why the Predator showed up at that house with condoms and a six pack of Mike's Hard Lemonade.

Pfft. TV news is for idiots.
If it ain't faked it's biased or both.
That's why I choose to get my news from the same place I get my porn.
From a gas station next to a bus depot.

My president is black top hatted.

I'm sure they would totally do it too, if not for their crippling meth, alcohol, and opiate addictions.

The Simpsons: The dead sherpa on peak TV.

I use the movie as a defacto cut off date.

Duff Lime comes out of the hose then skirts down the crack of a Midwestern college defensive lineman.
Post-game of course.

I knew there was a reason I've never watched a movie Seth Rogan is in.

White male lead with equal parts smarm or charm & humility (brunette for extra sameness points).
Flawed or put upon by circumstance enough to make him relatable to male viewers.
Selfless motivation.
Feasbile-ish science origin.
Fight scene, wise crack, fight scene, wise crack.
I turned it off around there.

I tried with Ant-Man, but about 30 minutes in the Subway sandwich sameness stink of the MCU brand got too strong on it and I bailed.
And I actually like the Marvel movies. And the rare Subway sandwich.
But sometimes, both can make me nauseous I guess.

If only there was a relentlessly drawn out contest you could focus on instead between two flawed and unlikable adversaries that brought out the worst in every participant and observer.

Yes, yes, the integrity of milquetoast twangy bro pop rap about beer and dull basic chick self esteem anthems must be defended against the invasion of someone accepting an invitation.

With God as my witness.
Before I alight from this plane of mortality,
and slip past the screen barring our path to understanding what follows our last breath,
I will place my junk inside a super hot lady robot and it will be good.

Wait until the National Museum of the American Wahoo joins the fray.
It's gonna get offensive.