When I use my ride on lawn-mower, have the two of us become a single cyborg, part human, part machine?

Telegram?

PIZZA-MECHA vs. MOTHRA!

I really thought about getting a Red Sox Cespedes jersey. I didn’t.

That was not in the refresher. I read this article figuring the cycle was near the end, and I could get the recap and know what everyone’s talking about. Being a teenager is kinda a big thing to leave out.

See now Max, that was so much more useful than your initially comment about Democrats and slavery. Congratulations, you managed to do something good!

Did the National Review make marked and historic shift to become the opposite of what it once stood for? Or do they continue to be a regressive voice in our political conversation, and pointing out how often they’ve been on the wrong side of history is, in fact, quite relevant?

Yes, the Democratic Party of the nineteenth century is extremely relevant to what we’re discussing here.

I use ricotta salata.

Way to ruin a haircut, shitheads.

My sixth grade reading teacher made everyone spend three weeks creating a TripTik by hand. Minimum two thousand miles. Things were weirder before every state had to subject kids to subject specific tests. He did give me some good tips on speed reading.

Wait, you weren’t joking?

Team Blooper.

No can do. I’m a loose cannon, who does play by anybody’s rules.

If I can’t marry my daughter/niece to an immortal horse, I am out.

As an educator, I feel like there could be right way to do.... (reads article).... nope, that was the wrong way to do this.

So you critique Munn, for using her platform to critique anything less than murder, as though our only pronouncements should be on whatever topic is of the utmost importance to society at this minute. Then you write a couple paragraphs on the importance of the trivial. Then I critique you. Next, Olivia Munn critiques…

Does anyone know why I’ve been boycotting Taco Bell since the nineties? I’ve forgotten. Can I stop now? Lettuce grown by slave labor, maybe? Also, Nestle?

A while ago, I was interviewing possible craigslist weirdos to replace the fourth roommate in our apartment. He started by bragging what a wild party dude he was. Why once, he filled a bottle of Smirnoff with ghost peppers for a week, until it was all infused. Then he fished the peppers out, and anonymously placed the…

Oh no, Seth. This is not your lane. I’m sorry, but it’s not your turn.