The problem with karaoke in the West is that we just don't take it seriously enough. If anyone who can't sing steps up to the mic, we should beat the living hell out of them, like in the Philippines. It's a guaranteed success model for weeding out the untalented.

…Because he's directly responsible for the creation of a nuclear-powered Plexiglass robot that vomits poison? I'm just spit-balling here.

At last, Permanently-Grimacing Thing Puppet can traumatize yet another generation of children!

Do you realize this is the second time we've talked about entitled fat people on Twitter underneath a Newswire article with this picture? Fuckin' cosmic, man.

Patton Oswalt once said, "There's nothing safer than someone who tells you he's dangerous."

The weekend was spent productively, and with a saucy Mediterranean flair, as I browsed through my library of 70's Italian exploitation cinema. Some were slightly laudable efforts, containing just enough artistry to be considered "respectable" by the general critical population (Suspiria, Fellini's Satyricon, Addio zio…

But who will play the lead heroin?

Ben Stein truly is a self-righteous dude.

So far, my only exposure to the works of Mapplethorpe has been masturbating to that one topless portrait of Patti Smith as a teenager. I am a classy fellow.

Neil Peart is the drummer, John Bonham's femurs are the drumsticks, and Keith Moon's skull is affixed to the bass pedal. That's some quality sound.

I would venture to say that literate frat boys who habitually drop quotes from Nabokov's Lolita into conversation are probably a worse threat.

Given that the chaos snake-goddess Tiamat was born in the roiling waters of primeval creation, I doubt her avatar would have any vulnerability to the idols of the lesser, infant deities. If we can manage to cast her blood to the North winds, however, we'll be sitting pretty.

Work It is about as funny as forcing your wife into cowed, dominant submission through beatings and humiliation. Which is actually the plot of a classic Shakespeare farce, so there you go.

Can't you let me have anything?

No Reed Gunther? I call bullshit.

There's nothing more attractive to the ladies than a villainous guffaw straight out of a Chick Tract.

She'd look better in the dress I picked out for her. And maybe if she changed her hair…

I'm pretty sure Maxie Zeus already has a summer home there - you might try asking him. (Fair warning, though: he may demand you swear a oath of fealty by drinking a bucket of his own shit and piss. If that happens, run for it.)

Really? What about that one time you went through full-blown demonic possession? I mean, you almost choked a baby with a ping-pong ball! Even I've never had the guts to kill a baby before! Kudos, Ed!

Herv Hickman treats objects like women, man.