Last year a boy with blue hair and matching fingernails spent a whole semester on a novel entitled King Crap.

Slouched over, or sliding under, the seminar table, the students gaze at Swenson, their eyes as opaque and lidded as the eyes of the chicken whose plucked head the hero turns to face him during their late-night kitchen romance.

It’s one thing for your husband to leave you for another woman, but how is a person supposed to feel when the man of her dreams abandons her for the stars themselves?

One paradigm shift came from John Locke’s Some Thoughts Concerning Education, which was published in 1693 and quickly went viral.

Although there are many virtues that one would like to find in any candidate for matrimony, there is one that we must look for seriously; if it is absent, turn away from an alliance that is almost certain to fail. That is pluck.

A sneakerhead may also be highly experienced in distinguishing between real and fake replica sneakers.

I don’t know what happens in Wales, but I can tell you in London no one shoots metal balls out of their cock when they ejaculate.

By day, beneath the dark lawyerly suits that strain to contain him, he likes to wear Batman socks; by night, he wears Batman T-shirts.

Be it Michelangelo or Henry Schliemann, be it a chisel or a pick, there’s always a lot of wood to chop in one of Irving Stone’s factually fortified biographies of great men of obdurate vigor.

Then more about alcohol.  He rejected it.  He hated it.  It gives you pseudo insights such as how absolutely astonishing it is that creatures who have to go so frequently to the toilet to void their wastes have managed to create such complex civilizations as we have, he said.