NASA, TexMex, Gene Roddenberry, Buddy Holly, Cyd Charisse, Carol Burnett, etc? This shit pisses me off tremendously, but don’t cast such a wide net of hate or else you come off sounding like the evil fucks who are trying to shove their noses in everyone’s reproduction.

Other noteworthy (Four-star ranked on charitynavigator, meaning your funds are guaranteed to go far and towards the actual cause) LGBTQ+ organizations you should consider donating to, as well:

I was very disappointed that the article wasn’t just the word “Don’t.” But then I’m a cynical asshole, so.

Would you prefer hatorade? My regular drink of choice for coping is a mojito, but sometimes you just want your lips to pucker while you get wasted, just to really hammer in how sour this whole human experience thing is.

And what about those of us who have physical disabilities that make sitting in an upright position for long stretches debilitatingly painful? Is that okay, or are those of us not fully able-bodied not considered people anyway?

There’s not enough appletini mix in the world to ever get me used to this shit.

You missed the opportunity to pun.

Everyone is dunking on the Republican candidates (and very rightly so!), but everyone seems to have forgotten that Jim Webb stood on a stage and bragged about killing a guy. I literally did a spit-take of my iced tea and had to run and grab a towel to scrub the carpet.

Good article, Nathan. My best friend’s brother-in-law is part of the team that developed Owlboy, and I know they’re definitely appreciative (if overwhelmed) by the reception.

I’m still kind of scratching my head at why the West went with “Blue” as a naming convention when his name is Green. And he dresses in green. And then we named Blue, the female trainer, Green. That fucked with my younger self’s brain something fierce.

Want to spice up your three-minute homemade chicken quesadilla? Throw in some scrambled eggs. Your tastebuds will ejaculate happiness all over your tongue.

I’ll always favor a mechanical movement—be it hand-wound, key-wound, or automatic—over a quartz movement. Accuracy be damned. I never get tired of staring at the intricate play of micro-gears or listening to the ticking of the movement. It’s worth the couple of seconds of inaccuracy a week.

I’ll always favor a mechanical movement—be it hand-wound, key-wound, or automatic—over a quartz movement. Accuracy…

I’m not necessarily afraid of dying. Looking at it coldly and rationally, you either fade into nonexistence and won’t have the consciousness for regret, or you face some kind of other state which we have no evidence for but which we cannot refute. That’s fine, because no matter which is the reality, I won’t be able to…