Unfortunately, that type of thinking is why broadcast flags were invented.

My only pop culture-related story this weekend was finding out that a seasonally-motivated cancellation of the WWE Network was uncancelled without my authorization. So I sent them an angry note to just burn my fucking account to the ground, but after I sent it, a friend reminded me that the Royal Rumble was coming up…

It’s Christmas—no series is foolish enough to air a normal episode.

A radish with a fist on its tongue. I’d like to see the seed catalog that came out of.

After this episode, I’m waiting for Peri’s room in the Temple almost as much as I’m waiting for her to get her star.

They don’t spell it out in the show, but I can’t shake the feeling that the whole “we were going to do it together” had something to do with the bit in “Mindful Education” where Steven had a breakdown while he and Connie were falling from the Sky Arena, and she was the one who talked him through it to save their…

Yes, he straight up offered himself as a sacrificial lamb to the aliens who want to destroy the Earth, and that’s actually kind of the point, because Connie was one of the ones watching helplessly as her best friend (her first friend) acted on a death wish. It was probably the most traumatic experience in her life.…

Seven words?

A good sign for the immediate future is that CN’s still hiring new boarders for the show, but 2017 has been an incredibly weird year in the scheduling department, so I don’t blame anybody for getting paranoid.

The parallels between the mayoral race, where a competent woman loses to a buffoonish man, are unfortunate.

And Japan and the British Empire.

We used to say that about AOL, too, y’know.

Doug dropped a hint that it’s coming soon. Rebel Taxi gave an impressively thorough overview, though.

We need to cast this properly. Which Senator’s hobbies are strangling animals, golf, and masturbation? And if you were going to answer Ted Cruz anyway, at least pretend to think about it for a few seconds.

Those pages look so much like Marcel Proust galley drafts that I’m wondering if Mitch McConnell’s recipe for madeleines is in there somewhere.

Welcome to day two of “GODDAMMIT CHARLIE!”

Public television does that to ya.

At 75? Almost guaranteed.

Oh come on, just give me something to believe in...

Rest in piss, Charles Manson.