april 8 in idea barrages

Ankles? More like ACHE-les, amiright? (Please, weather, make up your mind so my legs and back stop hurting.)

Top Chef assumes the existence of Bottom Chef and that’d probably be a more interesting show or, at least, an interesting competition of Ru Paul’s Drag Race.

No matter what happens, you’ll eventually die, somehow , some way, the question before you is how will you spend today?

Elon Musk is the Big Bang Theory of wanna-be futurists. The shallow dumb trust-fund brat shambling simulation of something he thinks will make him popular but does not care to properly understand.

Then there was Krypton’s most accomplished pimp, Broth-El.

Mourn not the “integrity” of the Oscars. It was always just people who never outgrew needing to be the popular kid patting each other on the backs. Did the chase for TV ratings in a streaming world rip the veneer of respectability off? Sure but it was always just that, a veneer.

A Neil Young parody, eulogizing the decline of the arcade: “hey hey, my my, wack-a-mole will never die”.

The military centaur went to the base’s medic station, complaining of an upper G.I. problem.