Melt them down into toilets for gender neutral washrooms.

The singer's shirt is stupid on many levels including the fact that everybody knows that Jason Voorhees thought the life of his mommy mattered very much.

I have a copy of The Disaster Artist that is signed by Tommy W. He furiously crossed out Tom Bissell's name and wrote his above it. This is an example of perfection.

If the government sits in majority, there would be very little incentive to not just wait it out until the fixed date though. You make it appear that the Canadian system makes the government more responsive when in practice what it really does is just allow a minority government to call a mini-referendum of sorts by…

Canada actually has a fixed Federal election every four years. There's even a fixed date (third Monday of October in the fourth calendar year following the previous general election). A government doesn't call an election "whenever it believes the time to be right".

Awkwardly, most millenials only know Rush Limbaugh as a safe bet in their celebrity death pools.

Fleckner doesn't get laid. He DOINKS.

Somebody should quickly reserve "Unacceptable and Unnecessary" as a title for the short and mostly unread biography that will be written about Coulter.

He decided to play Moon Patrol. Moon Patrol was an arcade game released in 1982 by Takashi Nikiyama. In Moon Patrol, you controlled a side scrolling space buggy that could shoot enemies above and in front of it as well as jump over obstacles over a series of courses that were titled for letters in the English…

I didn't know Kellyanne was still around: I was under the impression that Dorothy's house had fallen on her.

Did you recently get a new TV and forget to turn off the motion smoothing perhaps?

Season 3 is utter garbage that relies on horrible contrivances and is highly uneven in tone. At its conclusion, I assumed it was meant to be some sort of cautionary morality tale that falls flat on its face.

Gross grandpa flirts with actually successful woman. Barfing to follow.

"C'mon Britney, if you don't let me get to second base, it might hurt your brand."

"Hello, I am a sex champion so I am here to buy a trophy for that."

After Alien:Covenant, I am no longer convinced "Ridley Scott" would pass a Voight-Kampff test.

Excuse me, but I saw MORTDECAI so I already knew Johnny Depp was sad.

I find that shouting in German and then making awkwardly long eye contact afterwards tends to get results.

Today we learn that the fine line between crass and genius is using "Solsbury Hill" as your soundtrack.

Shit sandwich.