In which your humble Juggalo blogger opens a Detroit-sized can of Whoop Whoop-Ass on a stale-ass Atlantic article disrespecting my family.
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I’ve seen the future, baby, and it is a pistol-packing, Q-believing Congresswoman with a relentless hunger for the spotlight.
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It’s great that we, as a culture, are finally telling Donald Trump to go fuck himself, but it’d be even sweeter if we did it much earlier and for better reasons.
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The groaning portentousness of U2: Rattle and Hum made me appreciate what “Weird Al” Yankovic brings to the pop music world in a whole new way.
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Goodbye, Capitol Steps, and thank you for the laughter.
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I worry that the backlash to Trump’s ongoing public humiliation and de-platforming could be fierce, swift and deadly.
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The long overdue death of Donald Trump’s Twitter account has me feeling all the feels!
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Conservatives love to rail against the character-destroying evil of participation trophies, yet nevertheless feel that Donald Trump deserves all of the participation trophies in the world for getting a lot of votes in the 2020 presidential election, if not quite enough to actually, you know, WIN.
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A famous image from Con Air has been crassly appropriated by the anti-mask brigade in ways that are absurd, insulting and completely contradict everything that makes Cameron Poe so iconic and amazing.
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What will late night be like after Conan? What will Conan be like after late night?
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