Yet Abe Vigoda lives on.

For some reason I thought there’d be pictures of twelve different types of rainbows in this article about twelve different types of rainbows.

These descriptors have filled me with indescribable joy. Mostly because you’re better than me at describing things.

Ugh this is fucking asinine. They should fire the asshat who thought of it.

That’s not a big ass moth. This is a big ass moth.

Oh, Kara! With all the changes around here lately, this rings familiar and funny and good.

Thank you so much for this. I’m heading in to work, to scrub in to the O.R. Whatever this day may hold in store for me, now I can face it.

Good thing he ate all that Subway, now he’ll fit right in to that jumpsuit.

“Decomposing pumpkin pie inhabited by vicious albino squirrels.”

Yours is better.

Weird.

I get pissed off when people expect me to give away perfectly good candy just because it’s Halloween.

It would be so awesome if, at the end of all of this, you compiled all of gawker’s collective Trump insults into one, long, glorious orange tinted article.

Clitoris Jackson.

If you’re particularly gassy, shoving some tissue between your cheeks will keep you from making a sound.

I feel like this is something that would make me stop eating there, if I ate there.

People, though often terrible, are sometimes my favorite things.

Annalee! (I almost misspelled it Analee, which would have been... Topical, anyway) I loved this article! Entertaining, informative, funny and engaging the whole way through. Well done! I shared this with everyone I know. And I’m buying my copy of ST:TNP right now.

Vanessa, this is a fantastic article.

“Paulette Richardson told authorities her son’s biological father was an alcoholic, and that she didn’t want him to turn out the same way.”