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| 1 Shot each time an actor slips out of his American accent. | |
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| I came whenever you spoke: Every time, every place Each will of mine you do provoke; they cart me away without a face.
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| The way Mary Lynn Rajskub embraced Conan and Andy as if it would be the last time (for a while, at least). | |
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| I sat next to Carla for Thanksgiving dinner. I passed her the salt, I stabbed her some dark meat.
27 November, 2008
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| Attention Ayn Rand and her followers: Life is not a game of "Fuck Your Buddy".
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| Can I hold you closer to me And not feel you going through me?
Edit: And here it is
- Tags:ew!, impossible
- Music:Bobby (Boris) Pickett and the Crypt-Kickers - Monster Mash
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| Paul Haggis: The Scientologists didn't want this one.
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| NBC is showing Hallowe'en themed figure skating which is creepier than Hallowe'en themed ANYTHING ELSE.
Because I'm mean:
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| If you'll be Emma, I'll be Leon Raise my ire, raise your fist Oh! Strike me down; I'll be on that like a hankie round a pistol.
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| The only library in Northern Michigan that has Mackenzie Phillips' book is Manton's and there is no joke there.
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| [placeholder for a piece about Dave Levey, the winner of the latest season of Hell's Kitchen, and his broken wrist as a metaphor for the inspired, willful direction our country ought to be taking]
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| In the poetry workshop classes I've taken, there was a common expression used whenever a poem expressed its mechanics too fully, or any other vague offense it had committed. The offended would claim that he or she had been taken out of the (reality? of the) poem. No further explanation needed, no further help provided. Poetry is not creative non-fiction, it is free to expose how it works (in fact, this should be encouraged), poetry is allowed to implode on its own irony. Poetry is not Show Choir. It is rather jejune of anyone to think otherwise. One moment of hypocrisy: I honestly believe that only left-aligned poetry is capable of having pleasing qualities.
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| Ken Burns' The National Parks: America's Best Idea probably condemns capitalism more deeply than Michael Moore's new movie. You must watch it.
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| Kirk Cameron wants to molest your children intellectually spiritually.
Please review Matthew 6:5.
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| Perhaps the people who desire to find a comparison between President Barack Obama and Adolph Hitler are less upset by the mass murder he committed and more upset by the meticulous records he kept of it, (or they just have no idea what either fascism or socialism are).
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| If you dropped your hankie, I'll wrap it round my pistol Like myself around your pinky Or my lips upon your fist, oh.
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| The "wrap-it-up" signal he gave to the health care professional who was trying to relate the rigamarole involved in supplying teenagers with mental health aid, including several disheartening phone calls to Florida, while standing next to the "Obamacare flowchart".
The look on Danielle's face when the woman asked about health care for illegals as she waited for an opportunity to take the microphone away.
The derisive "That fag" laugh from the audience at the mention of Representative Barney Frank.
The "you-got-me...CASH?!?" look on my face when Pete was describing how privatized health care can be subsidized by revenue obtained by lowering taxes...?
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| Perhaps to satisfy the (so-called modern day) Libertarians, a "chump don't want the help, chump don't get the help" clause should be added to the Health Care Reform Plan with a subclause "jive ass dude ain't got no brains anyhow."
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| She glides in just astride the ledge and he talks her down; he frowns, "Gee, my life's a runny thing, are we still too young?"
He wished her then and there took her sting, took her rabies, Took her minutes, took him nowhere Leaven rows when she spake and everything but
Chorus: All night she haunts the young American Young American, young American, she haunts the young American All right she gaunts the young American
Spamming strife through the lecher windows she binds a thinking vagabond, Appalled as she gasses her Ford Mustang Heaven for bid, and she'll take anything
"He's a freak and his type: all for something." He misses a step and shows his hand Cutting bluffing we whoop with a song She cries, "Where have all Poppa's heroes gone?"
Chorus
All the way from Washington Our bread-winner begs on the Town Hall floor "We give for just these fifty years Do we have to lie for twenty more?"
Chorus
Do you remember you President mixin'? Do you remember the pills you have to tray Or even yesterday?
Have we all been un-American? Just you as you're idle singing falsetto 'bout Whether, ever, anywhere or every myth cleft of a ghetto.
Well, hell, well would you carry a taser You know in case, just in case of suppression Get up your hands with a bus of purveyors gushing at all the appro-seaters.
Ain't too close to shove. Ain't that poseur love? It ain't that harpie-doll. Her art's been stokin' just like you have.
Chorus
You got a limp but you got a Chysler You ain't a lady but sure are a hustler Lacks got respect and blights got bellow taint Obama's got hamps but look at your tan saint
I heard the news today, oh boy You got defeat and you got a suite Ain't there a plan that can do some more? Ain't there a woman I won't sock on the jaw?
Ain't there a child who can scold without judging? Ain't there a pen that will write before we die? We ain't proud even when we have faces Ain't there one damn song that will help me take down the lie?
Chorus
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| Ann Curry doing her white-lady-slow-jam to Kings of Leon
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