Every day I find another reason to think I’m in the wrong business.

I sold one of these (with a roof) for a thousand bucks when I went to college in 2001.

“You can’t have her!” -- Those of us in MA.

A Wendell Berry for our stupid, stupid times.

Original Wicker Man.

My grandfather was going in blind to a double date. Neither couple worked out, but my grandfather asked his buddy if he could take a shot with the other woman. So they go out dancing, he makes sure they dance past a mirror so he can check out her ass. That week he asked her to marry him.

What kind of Superman comics are we talking? Curt Swan? John Byrne? Marv Wolfman? Subpoena his ass.

Oh shit, he believes himself.

Is this pestle all the way, or am I switching to whisk around the ‘add a full half cup of oil’ point?

Regardless of whether he attempted to rape a woman, or lied to congress about it, I just don’t want the man who organized his life like this to be on the Supreme Court. And kept it? Something’s not right.

Neither a culinary term, of a biological one? (Love what you do but wish they’d hire more editors!)

This bothered me.

Ooh, link? No snark, I want to be able to quote that Nazi the next time this comes up.

Who?

Doc Oc: “Limbs, perform the Blood Eagle”

Jefferson Beuregaurd has never been happier about recusing himself.

Chill out, Francis.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if there actually was a political party that cared about limited, local governments, and fiscal responsibility? I have a college friend who is working his way up the ranks at Westminster and I think is being groomed to be an MP someday, and he’s absolutely brilliant, and honorable, and…

Space is the Place!

Really strong performances, kinda weak story-board?