No Michael McKean. I love Jonathan Banks, and he deserves it no less, but still..

yes yes yes. But who is driving? So many options.

With the ICBMs and Super Gonorrhea, the planet dying, all that stuff, fuck it. Why not? Let's drive this bad mother straight over the edge and never look back. I'm ready!

I'm not saying I miss Cheney, but…I'd take his calculated, silent, creeping evil over the buffoonery of the Trump team any day of the week. He was an absolute bastard, but he didn't deny it, and he could speak in complete sentences.

We already lived through this, three iterations. Keaton, Kilmer, Klooney. More cereal boxes, toys, and Happy Meals than you could ever imagine.

Play it cool, and Instagram while you can.

He wishes it was still the 20th Century, man.

Will our robot overlords of the future look back upon this as slavery?

Ignatius Riley or Morrissey? I couldn't tell the difference.

Burning to death. Sounds pretty goddamn funny to me.

I wanted to show her daddy's Thing.

Cherry cola slam outta nowhere. I know that it wouldn't be tasty..but it's not even on the same level of gross as kettle corn and avocado Oreos..

"Do you know how offensive that is? It's like calling a Chinese person Asia Face!"

..make sense of it..

"You mean the afterlife and all that kind of stuff?"

*laughter, drum machine crash, synthesizers chirp, spiral, beep, and Tom Breihan gives the salesman a B, telling him he's too derivative of Kraftwerk.*

Jonny Greenwood had a shitty part-time job back then.

Pathetic humans and their inferior transaction skills.

And taking the cap off for Lloyd Christmas was perfect.

But what about Meemo? Will he ever dance again?