How is it possible that this motherfucker has THE WORST possible taste with everything. Literally everything. He’s a fucking caricature.
In California, the landlord’s conduct is extortion as defined by California Penal Code 519(5). It is a felony, punishable by up to four years in prison.
She apparently lives inside Scrooge McDuck’s safe.
“They’re treated equal,” she said. “I see him in life. He treats women the same as men. he will tell you what’s in his heart, what he thinks, he will not hold it back if you’re a woman. you’re human, a woman or a man, it’s no different.”
“He didn’t do anything. If he really cared he would have created the movies himself.”
The bottom line is that George Lucas had 16 years between Jedi and Phantom Menace to complete episodes VII, VIII and IX. And then another 10 years between III and VIII. He didn’t do anything. If he really cared he would have created the movies himself.
I’m not one to defend George Lucas usually, but you have to look at one thing from his perspective. The Force Awakens is a huge hit. It’s fun and while it might be a fan service film to a large degree it also gave us some new characters that we’ve instantly fallen in love with and new worlds to explore and basically…
2015 was a stupid, garbage year. Lets just regroup and do better next year. And when I say do better, I mean if Ted Cruz or Donald Trump gets elected, I am pulling this car over and everyone has to walk home from here.
For what it is worth, this guy is a lawyer.
I went through a similar thing with my dad, only his was lung cancer and he passed away when I was ten. Watching my 6’4” beast of a dad pretty much disintegrate in front of you pretty much makes you hope every cancer faker ends up in hell.
In 1987, when I was 10 years old, my mother had stage 3 non-Hodgkins lymphoma. Legitimately. I was TEN and watched my mom go through months of chemotherapy, and then 11 rounds of radiation treatment. I watched her down dozens of pills, many of which were not covered by insurance. I watched her lose all of her hair and…
I have to say, BCO has spurred two important changes in the way I act in restaurants.
It’s fucking Southerners, and it is the goddamn worst. “Pop” is annoyingly twee, but on balance, I’d much rather deal with that than fucking “Coke.” Seriously, if you are reading this and you call all soda “Coke,” you are terrible and you should feel bad about the fact that you are terrible. Never, ever trust a person…
Your wedding sounds goddamned delightful. I want to start a service where, if you know you have to invite someone awful, you invite me and I glare at them and eat the food and gush about how good it is to you. Like a designated mourner, but for weddings.
The Reuben one reminded me of a story Terry Pratchett told. He said that one jet-lagged evening he accidently asked for Three Mile Island dressing for his salad. The waitress didn’t say a word, just brought him Thousand Island dressing and a bottle of hot sauce.
My reaction to Paleo is “Slaughter a mammoth with a stone spear tied to a stick or GTFO.” WE DO NOT LIVE IN PREHISTORIC TIMES, PEOPLE. WE HAVE CONQUERED FIRE AND HAVE AIR CONDITIONING NOW.
My guess is he hip-checked him with his gargantuan bulk. Or, perhaps he trapped Cruz’s arms and legs in his own ridiculously oversized David Byrne cosplay get-ups. Or maybe just made like he was going to punch him, and by the time Cruz un-flinched, everybody was gone.
Look, let’s face it. Men are far too emotional to be trusted with the power of governing things.