EVERY time I hear Montauk, I think of this!

Jesus. For a split second there I thought that was Sonja Morgan, lol.

And why they are doing it in 1997?

The cycle of history repeating itself speeds up.

In this case, it would be too much to ask the general American public to know where Thicke was born- hell, I’m Canadian and I had to look it up. But it’s definitely not too much to ask a writer reporting his death to look it up and include it in the piece.

I want Kirk Cameron to go the same way Antonin Scalia did: misadventure involving auto-erotic asphyxiation.

As for Trump, I lean towards classic Roman deaths: struck by lightning or strangled by the Praetorian Guard.

Like, this high, right?

Brad Pitt was on twice, playing two different characters! The first time, he played a new student that Carol falls for. The next season he played Ben’s favorite rock star who ends up not being a good role model.

I’m casting a musical in Hell (Bowie is the composer, Prince is singing lead vocals, slew of actors, Alan Thicke is the narrator, I have Betty White and Dick Van Dyke on the schedule for later this month). I was actually trying to take out Thomas Keller, wanted to jazz up the concessions menu, but the birds missed.

He already picked his black friend... one ethnic person is more than enough.

Now, come on, as Germans we can still fuck up royally in 2017. I’ve read Putin has his eyes on us next. So, yay.

I’m meh about this one, too. Maybe because the only show I saw him on was a holiday special with Lamb Chop and Sherri Lewis.

I read this as “keep your loved ones close and your liquor closet full.”

You should have told him “It was a bitter winter that year and we had work hard and strugggle if we were to survive.”

*Sighs*

Brace yourselves, people: 2016 has 18 more days and nothing better to do. Keep your loved ones close, and your liquor closer.

I worked at Borders right before karma orchestrated its collapse, and it had the worst corporate structure ever. The managers lived like gods while the plebes on the floor scratched by on $6.80 an hour (plus tips in the cafe) and a 30 hour work schedule to keep you from qualifying for benefits.

You’ve got your known knowns (that you farted), then you’ve got your known unknowns (whether or not there is shit in your pants) etc.

The only way this could’ve possibly been a better story is if Walton had been humming the NBA on NBC theme song.

When I was a younger man, I lived in Charlotte. On occasion I’d do as some 23 year olds do and go to a gentleman’s club. One particular establishment was called the Diamond Club. On the evening in question, my friends and I were enjoying our time there and lo and behold, we find out from the dancers that Jon Bon…