They were so consumed by emptiness they felt they had to have sex in the Plaza fountain, with other men, while high, in order to approximate the feeling of being alive.

A chill needle ran up my neck.  The fucking dog talked.  The fucking dog talked.  I couldn’t move.

The Wind in the Willows was never one of my favorites.  How can you have a hero who is a greasy little frog?

So Mrs. Lee had been a blob of human clay that he had sculpted into the Queen of Oil.

Although I am pretty sure at 7 I would have known Boaty McBoatface was not a normal name for a boat.

Eldredge possesses a chart of the historical development of cornets (the musical instruments), which he uses as a comparison with that of the development of trilobites.

If a lion were laughing, how could we tell? Or is the very idea nonsense?

An American man marries a Serbian immigrant who fears that she will turn into the cat person of her homeland’s fables if they are intimate together.

Speaking as a man, and on behalf of the spear side of the race, let me tell any ladies reading these words that men are jerks.