Your cat’s fine. So’s his evil twin.

Calling him an ass-cyst demeans all ass-cysts. Can we call him a Fraudulent Fistula instead?

Yeezus!

Not a tax lawyer or accountant here — but surely the purpose of the law that allows writing off losses against taxes is to protect failed businesses till they get back to profitability? But people like Trump use it as a way of a.) pretending they never make any money so that b.) they never have to pay income tax.…

Love the reference to Anthony Trollope! He wrote about frauds of one sort and another, and about the human damage those frauds left behind — exploitation, shame, poverty. Read the Palliser novels everybody!

Gee whiz, are you preparing for surgery? Do you work in an abbattoir?

I think Dusty Rose is the shade Angelina’s wearing in that photo. Brad’s wearing more of a Frosty Pink. I think NARS makes both, but the Frosty Pink is only available as a gloss.

I think I’ve read that yards of wrinkled fabric that looks as though it’s just been unfolded from a bolt of cloth was a sign of wealth. In my case, it just looks like I didn’t do a very good job of straightening my skirt after going to the bathroom.

She’s married to Justin Theroux, not Justin Bieber-- so, sadly, the chances of pugilism are limited.

As a politically correct Mexican-American feminist registered Democrat, I approve all your party choices, Uncanny. The Trump pinata is genius.

One of the very few bright spots of this whole election is that Catholics — regular churchgoers and fallen away Catholics (like me!) alike — are supporting Clinton, not Trump. The FiveThirtyEight explains: http://fivethirtyeight.com/features/trump…

Just adding hugs and to say I deal with bouts of depression regularly. What works for me: avoiding stress, getting lots of sunlight, naps, keeping to a routine, reading, binge-watching funny movies and tv shows, meds, therapy, pilates, knitting. And not too much alcohol (it’s a depressant). Flu shots (so I don’t get…

It’s her schtick and she’s schticking to it.

Why not both?

The horor!

Okay, so here I am, age 60, well past menopause and poster child for this. My limit is usually one stiff drink or two glasses of wine. Tonight I went on an online date. Sweet, nice guy, my age. I had two Manhattans — because you said it would be all right! — and ended up clinging to him befote collapsing onto the lawn…

I do all these things, plus I floss at least quarterly. But I draw the line at fresh blueberries everyday. I’ve got a life, ya know.

Do they still do those do’s and don’ts columns? Cause I’ve never seen a stronger candidate, on so many levels.