Nobody smokes it, as far as I know, but there is no mention of it being smoked by Mr. Nelly, either. But, yes, “Molly,” or drugs purporting to be such, is sometimes sold as “moon rocks,” somewhat opaque, opalescent crystals, in my (limited) experience.

Think “Molly cut with speed,” and you’re likely on the right track.

It was almost definitely “Molly” cut with speed.

Everyone’s Nelly headline is so misleading. First, the “meth” was almost definitely “Molly,” cut with speed. It “tested positive for amphetamine” because that’s likely all they tested it for. Second, this is what Tennessee cops do. See, in Tennessee, almost anything found near drugs can be seized by the cops, with…

My bad. I actually almost deleted my reply because I thought that might be the case, but the “telling when to be outraged” bit seemed...I dunno. Carry on.

Bruh. I’m talking about the fucking school poster, not the article.

1. Don’t play kindly slavemaster and pretend you know what’s best for black and brown people.
   

It’s sad to me that Ariana Grande will forever be stuck in an existential loop of the Mean Girls Halloween scene. Nobody seems to want to talk about this disturbing spatiotemporal singularity in which she lives.

Nothing D'Souza actually says matters. In fact, the more batshit, the better, maybe, because it cements him as a definite conservative, definitely-not-a-RINO, and he's Indian-American. The batshit right needs proud, brown faces willing to shuck and jive, the message is secondary, at best.

I just have to hope (hopehopehope) - against all the lessons of personal experience - that your brother just isn't as flat-out fucking stupid, senseless, and quick to lethal violence as you are.

What is wrong with his thumbs? Why do they point out to the side? It’s not human.

A better way to go about this is to put your sugar cube and bitters into your tin, first, by themselves. Use your muddler to make into a bit of a paste, then add your fruit and muddle.

There are two very well-accepted versions of the Old Fashioned. One is the Chicago Prohibition version, which has no muddled fruit, just rye, sugar, bitters, and a twist of usually lemon. There is the modern Old Fashioned, which is rye (or sometimes bourbon), sugar, bitters, muddled orange and cherry. Both are…

As soon as the game was postponed I said this has nothing to do with the weather.

Eh. The misuse is so pervasive it's hard to believe it's "just a typo" anymore. I see the correct usage less than 10% of the time, it feels like. Interesting to know though, that pieces are published before editing, now.

At least, since his marriage is over, he knows how to masturbate for elongated periods of time.

That's much more like it.

I hate the feeling this thought leaves in that “inevitable horror” section of my chest.

Mr. Gordon's word choice was *corrected, a while ago, but after my comment.

This is like the 5th iteration of the "Will. You. Go. To. Prom. With. Me.?." story that I've heard, now. But I'm almost willing to believe in the sheer idiocy of humans everywhere that maybe they all really did have the same brilliant idea, and same horrified reaction.