His wife Dorothy (1919-2005) had about 200 pet peeves (having a fat sausage roll of a dog at the table was not one of them), but the greatest of all was referring to her as Grandma instead of Grandmother.

The one thing that pissed Wilbur (1913-2001) off more than anything was loitering in his narrow 1950s Levittown style kitchen while he was trying to prepare food or clean up. GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN, POTATO-HEAD.

There has to be some diminishing marginal utlity and perhaps marginal negative utility in showing every trolling thing they want broadcast

I'm old enough to remember Jonestown, continued Paul, I'd drink that almond-scented Kool-Aid in a second if Reverend Jones told me to, he's dresed so fine in the safari shirt and big sunglasses, seems to me that if so many people hate him he must be doing something right.

Imagining the kazoo symphony from the dweeb bus ride scene in Sixteen Candles playing.

You don't know what was in those crunch patties

"On this mission, you'll be fighting ghosts" (biggest gulp in cinema history)

In a just world he would be in his third term as Vice President

The more immediate problem is the stick of cartoon dynamite that blew up in his face

Plus he's a repugnant, decomposing draft dodger who hates veterans to boot

I do love that the superstar commercials for a gambling service prove that they are flush with your money and therefore you're an absolute dipshit if you bet there.

I put all my money on "Alice, you're the greatest" for tonight's Honeymooners episode.

Thinking of re-naming Maggie to "If Bea Arthur Was a Cat"

I kept looking for Trump's inclusion of his adopted son in Pyongyang and felt sad for the non-inclusion of North Korea (all they could pony up was a small basket of turnips).

Look, I'm not into kink-shaming, but I do object to excessive public displays of humiliation.