The Super Bowl of world domination — a.k.a. who gets to be the next leader of the once-great and again-great and still-wanting-to-be-great-again-again(?) United States of America — is just over a month away, and the first presidential debate is really going to kick this election season into overdrive.
The Brawl In The Fall. The Rumble As We Crumble. The Thrilla Of Vanilla. Joseph Robinette Biden, Jr. vs. Donald J. Jonah Jameson Trump.
Winner gets bragging rights. Loser… also gets bragging rights? But, like, only with their base. But, then again, so does the winner. …
Anderson Cooper: Welcome to the first presidential debate of this election season. I’m Anderson Cooper, and I’ll be moderating tonight. The three candidates, from left to right on stage, are Democrat and former Vice President Joe Biden, Republican incumbent President Donald Trump, and, uh, Kanye West? Kanye, didn’t you drop out? What are you doing — you know what? Whatever. We’re going to start today by giving you each 45 seconds to deliver opening remarks. Mr. West, you can go first.
Kanye West: We need life in this country. I got life. We need liberty and the pursuit — to…
If the purpose of one’s life is to find meaning, you might call my life meaningless. There is nothing to be found. I know what I am. More importantly, I know what I am not: valuable.
A number, only to serve as part of a greater number — part of a greater number that individually grows more insignificant the greater the number grows. Within the confines of everything we are worth, I can’t help but see a vast ocean of nothingness. Blank faces of naive men who sold themselves on the American Dream before ever selling it to anyone else…
Nevada is hot and there’s not much coverage from the sun. If the thousands of rounds of ammunition don’t get you, melanoma will be the real killer. If it’s anything under 30 SPF, it might as well be cooking oil.
Hundreds of thousands of people will be attending. I’m sure somebody else is going to make a dank ass playlist for your enjoyment. We want the aliens to have the best first impression of us, and I just don’t think “Old Town Road” playing 100,000 times with a half-second delay is the way to do that.
I stress the word…
Out of the 96 Democratic candidates for President of the United States, you only know like six of their names, and can probably only pick four of them out of a lineup.
That’s why I’m here to help. What follows is a comprehensive breakdown of each candidate’s strengths, weaknesses, and how my 56-year-old Aunt Birdie — a divorced teacher with four cats and an alcohol dependency — thinks about the field.
It’s that time of year again. This season of True Detective flew by, and there are a lot of contestants worthy of winning the final prize.
However, this isn’t a participation trophy we’re talking about. It’s the flippin’ honor of being known as the True Detective. Out of the nine contestants, there can only be one.
Warning: Spoilers ahead.
The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is fucking up. First, they gave up finding a host for the biggest night of awards season — WAS BILLY EICHNER NOT AVAILS? — and then they considered cutting technical categories to shorten the ceremony, which caused an uproar. And then they recruited a bunch of A-listers in an attempt to convince viewers to still watch the trainwreck of a ceremony take place.
Needless to say, you have better things to do than watch the dumpsterfire that is the Oscars on February 24th. May I suggest the season finale of True Detective…
Let me start off just by saying I’m no Hitch. I don’t look like Will Smith. I’m nowhere near as charming. And I’m reluctant to admit that — even with no empirical data to back this claim — my Hancock pales in comparison.
But I do have something Will Smith doesn’t have: a faithful relationship.
I’ve been dating the same woman for nine years, and through that time I’ve gained tremendous insight into relationships and the complex infrastructure known as the female mind.
What follows is a comprehensive list of advice for ways to end up — and stay —…
I take the bus to work. Every single day. I go to my stop in New Jersey, hop on the bus, ride up the Turnpike, through the Lincoln Tunnel, and into New York City.
That part is usually fine.
New York City is the greatest city in the world. I have no doubts about that. There’s something charming about the weird mixed scent of halal and urine. Seeing tourists gaze from atop a Megabus in amazement at the Wine & Spirits shop owner opening up a half-hour late, while a line forms down the sidewalk. Those tourists are paying a…
You only see him on important holidays, maybe sometimes at weddings and funerals. But most of your family is either lonely or already dead, so you don’t have many of those.
Whenever he is around, it’s usually a shitshow. You never really know what you’re going to get with this guy. If your family operated like a business, HR would have a massive file on Uncle Craig. Sexism. Racism. Pure ignorance. There’s that one joke he loves to tell… “I like my women like I like my guns. Locked in my closet and full of bullets.”
Yeah, you know. …