I prefer to think of us as being in the year 12,024.

Raising Cane’s or nothing.

This is gonna be the longest fucking four years of my life. And I live near a coastal river. I don’t know whether I’ll end up in the gay camps, the ADHD camps, or drowned due to climate change.

Fascism sucks donkey nuggets.

Elonia Trump.

Where does instant coffee fall in this paradigm?

The whole point of marriage used to be ownership, not anymore. Things change. Divorce is better than the alternatives. Cold bitter resentment that lasts until one of you dies and then just the feelings of what might have been. Or murder.

It’s ok to change your mind. To grow apart. To recognize that and to act on it is a blessing.

Eh, just rip it all out when the lease is up. /s

Every year from now until the end of time.

Knowing this country, the pile is next to a school and in danger of collapsing like coal ash.

No, no, not like that.

The room is in shambles.

11 minutes. So it can be made into two story episodes.

Sounds more like stirring macaroni.

This strikes me with a “They’re made of meat?!” vibe.

I live here. I agree.

“I wish for what I should wish for.”

There you go. Now your wish contains all of your morality and cannot be turned against you.

Oh fuck I forg-

Statistical analysis says gods do not use condoms.

Is… Is that something people want?

Sure! Just let it connect to the Internet! It’s what worked for me!