Here is a song about an anglerfish to chase some of those nightmares away!

This is it. This is the whitest thing I’ve ever heard of. They did it.

Gentleness is lovely and you sound lovely, too. I was never tough, either – just mouthy. It’d be a better world if we could teach kids of all genders to be more gentle.

Just do what the writers ask. If they try to make How to Get Away With Murder sans writers, I will be DEEPLY DISPLEASED.

RIGHT? I still mourn that adorable little show.

It’s almost like there’s literally nothing a girl or woman can wear without getting grief ... no, that can’t be it.

Completely aside from the movie itself, I’m reeling at Robert Carlyle having grey hair and a moustache. When I think of him, I still see this:

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a writer in possession of a blank headline must be in want of a dead celebrity.

House of the Scorpion?

Did someone sacrifice a goat to the Headline Gods so this would happen?

I figured it out when I was... like... 12? 13? I was kind of an oblivious kid. And I only thought about it because one of my friends was saying to another of my friends how “rich” my family was, which puzzled me, because we aren’t really. Upper middle class, maybe? To me, growing up, we were about normal. Suburbs,…

I never really bought the Stockholm Syndrome argument; isn’t it to do with a prisoner being treated (relatively) better than other prisoners and feeling “special” because of it?

Let it be known: do not piss off Shia Leboeuf, unless you can do ju-jitsu.

Thanks, Obama.

Oh god, my heart. I shouldn’t feel weepy and yet I do.

Welllll, if we accept that popular horror tropes are usually based on some sort of cultural anxiety (aliens in the 50s = communists, vampires in the 80s/90s = AIDS, etc.) then maybe zombies are more analogous to our enormously divided political spectrum? Because the scary thing about them is it’s people you KNOW…

Your headlines are showering us in puns.

I live for his performance as Benedick in Much Ado. DEAR GOD THE FEELS.

Christ, ok, try to keep the stupid t-shirts out of their reach, I’m on my way. In my minivan. That should hold like 7, 8 if we get Michelle to sit on the floor.