Honestly, writers, how's about we put on our big boy (and girl) pants and dream up some season/series endings where everyone doesn't die. It's worse than weaksauce, it's predictable.

You don't fix this by avoiding the pursuit of accountability, Tim Alberta, you fix it by severing the connection. This camel's back is unbreakable. It'll bear all the straws, even the crazy ones.

Y'all Left out the one thing that might save y'all's asses this November, the overturning of Roe v Wade.

Bee tee dubs, gimmick naming like "Inflation Reduction Act" tells me y'all still politics-as-usualling this sh$t.

As soon as the word "technically" leaves your mouth, you've lost the heart of the argument.

You're asking the wrong person this morning, @AliVelshi, about what's happening and what can be done.

Better the devil you don't know. He might surprise you.

So, @Crunchyroll, give me an autoplay next that blows by closing and opening credits (and their ridiculously lengthy musical accompaniment) and I'll double what I'm giving ya.

Reminder: bubble one Republicans shall remain without representation until the collapse of bubble two. Start your own f$&king party. The GQP is a tear down anyway and doing so would actually speed this sh&t up.

My god, life is a lot.

Apparently I'm starting a little biographical tripe essay. I was gonna just spit out what I was thinking; but, I always have fun with the CS leaning metaphors.

When the feeling of not wanting to be there drives you to destroy three full five-exercise circuits in 20 minutes (or thereabouts).

So, poetic farts is a background process launched by my brain upon startup. For weeks it's been stuck in Weird Al mode. Here's what it just farted: "a voice is a choice … of course … of course" as if I were Wilbur chatting up the famous Mr. Ed about enfranchisement.

Internal dialogue is exhausting.

How much easier must writing be today than when I was a kid? Be all, "gotta weigh things … wait … which Egyptian god was it weighed sh$t?". Switch over to mobile Safari. Type a f$&king query. "Boom … Anubis."

When you're driving it 230+ yards during your 16th golf lesson.

Properly storing your tools and materials: intended versus actual (#ADHD edition)

Why they can't divorce from Trump, Kurt, their propaganda machine ascended.

It's not all the same color going in. So, why's it all the same color coming out? Which bits are the brown bits?

Collectively, we overuse and/or misapply the word "just" obscenely frequently. Just sayin'.

My best guess as to the context of the one I just dug up is that I was watching #MSNBC and some a$$hat had no grasp of the obstructionist agenda.

I mean, I guess I'm done with Gluon ¯_(ツ)_/¯

#6DegreesOfKawinkidink

I'm fussing with converting this bag to hold my new golf clubs. I decide to give it a bit of shape with some 9 gauge steel wire. I'm taking the cores out of paracord and sliding in the wire as a replacement so as not to trash up the bag's appearance.

The paracord is being a bit of a beoch about sliding over the nontrivially thick wire. I think, "I wonder if it's worth heading to the garage and trying to figure out WTF ever happened to the grease I had (presumably intended for the chains of bicycles long since taken away by thine kings of junk)?" (yes, I do, in fact, embed parenthesized inline footnotes within my internal dialogue). While weighing the pros and cons of performing such a search (pros: it'd probably work; cons: f$&k that sh$t), the nice lady that lives in the back of my picture box informs me that we've lost our beloved Olivia.

#RestInPeacePinkLady

This one fails to impress, perhaps because it contains biographical references that require knowing me fairly well (and I'm the only person that could possibly get them all (since Jenn didn't know me in high school)), but I still f$&kin' dig it.

Okay, why do we call wrist and pocket clocks watches? If it was over an obsession for watching the time, English speaking humanity disappoints.