THE CARS ON FIRE & THERES NO DRIVER AT THE WHEEL & THE SEWERS ARE ALL MUDDLED WITH A THOUSAND LONELY SUICIDES & THE DARK WIND BLOWS. THE GOVERNMENT IS CORRUPT & WE’RE ON SO MANY DRUGS WITH THE RADIO & THE CURTAINS DRAWN. WE’RE TRAPPED IN THE BELLY OF THIS HORRIBLE MACHINE…

The ‘AR’ in ‘AR-15’ doesn’t stand for ‘assault rifle’, it stands for ‘ARe you sure you need a fucking gun like this?! It’s made for death’.

I heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord, but David played it on a Melodica, so, ultimately the Lord could not take David seriously ever again.

Everything had finally settled down, then Jon Batiste, once again, pulled out his Piano Horn.

A Mischief of Rats with ears on their backs become tangled, forming a Rat King. The Rat King, at night, moans, in chorus, “WE ARE ALL EARS”.

Is the new American Dream to die in an industrial accident and have your family covered for life by a beefy settlement?

Remember when Pizza Hut used to look like this and your dad used to be alive?

Me, when I make it through the day without staring into the middle distance for an extended period of time.

Because she's brought a ludicrously capacious bag. What's even in there? Huh? Flat shoes for the subway? Her lunch pail? I mean, Greg, it's monstrous. It's gargantuan. You could take it camping. You could slide it across the floor after a bank job.

He died doing what he loved: Eating 320 Filet-O-Sandwiches to atone for his sins.

Did you hear the news?! IT’S BACK!

I assumed that ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ was meant to be weighted equally, but I’ll be damned if “Live” is not 97% of that equation and, friends, living is exhausting.

If ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ were a store bought fruit salad ‘laugh’ would be pineapple, ‘love’ would be the single grape, and ‘live’ would all the fucking cantaloupe and honeydew melon.

I somehow understand how this donkey feels on a molecular level.

Big flex, Garbage Can.