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Is this yet another quarrel with your wife about your infidelity? Or an ass-backwards attempt to punish a blasphemous hero?
Our rubber chickens—and indeed our entire portfolio of goofs and gags—have lost their context. Dare I say, they are no longer funny.
Take some deep breaths and be mindful that there are several levels to the destruction you have wrought upon the one livable place we humans are aware of.
Cancel culture is holding back the next Great American Novel, groundbreaking works of political theory, and my Wednesday afternoon lunch.
So wait, I can’t meet with you/speak to you/copulate with you without a loyalty card? Unfortunately not!
It's time to recognize my artistry, distinguished contributions to world cinema, and unparalleled ability to blow shit up without dismembering anyone.
Being stuck in character as STREET PUNK #5 for almost forty years has caused me more than a bit of grief.
You only made $200 this week, yet you STILL let your friends drag you here?
I need your support to create an America where I, as President, never have to make direct eye-contact with any of you
During my second dinner, Francis told me that we needed to “ration our food better.” I was so taken aback by this.
For starters, you named your dog Sausage. If your dog was a dachshund, this moniker might make sense.
Changing what you look like on the outside won’t change how you feel on the inside, but it’s still a ton of fun to adjust your avatar’s clothes.