Brad Pike

*Based on real emails

Last week in Dallas, Texas, nearly 40 armed men, women, and children (!) waited outside a restaurant where a group of moms were eating tacos.

One thing you notice is how skilled Woody Allen is at hosting, deploying a consistently funny response to each question, with playful digs at Buckley like, “Mr. Buckley can’t do any dance invented after 1860.”

Their first violation of the social contract was in emerging from the womb, thereby increasing cumulative global repulsiveness, a new wart on the face of humanity, one more unwanted animal. How dare they inflict this aesthetic discomfort on fellow citizens?

1. He Has Fat Little Hands Whenever you try to hold his hand, he instead wraps his chubby fingers around one index finger. And that’s only if he exerts effort.

Everyone gets lonely sometimes, even the popular people who seem glutted with interpersonal relationships and regular human contact. It’s perfectly natural to feel alone, though not at all enjoyable.

The mind reels, unable to comprehend such an obvious void in the vast directory of images on the internet has gone unfilled until now, but here it is at last–Benedict Cumberbatch as a dapper cat.

There is a conception of childhood floating in the cultural stew that those first years are the best period of your life. I mean, how could they not be?

Your role as the primary affection receptacle remains unaffected, has only grown in fact, particularly after Human Jennifer left to “find a boyfriend with a real job.” More to love, more to squeeze, that’s what I say.

The primary reason I think Rick should be dispatched is because he’s basically dead already.

But while eliminating high school bullying entirely is tricky as children will always be psychopathic little goblins to some extent, this one’s easy: cancel football.

I know our relationship has been steadily escalating in intensity.