If you make noise during intercourse it is pennetration, if you are silent it is telleration.

That bee spent the last moments of its life inside the mouth of a dying billionaire. How many of us are going to end up being that bee until meaningful change happens.

Trump's Iran/Israel ceasefire is the equivilant of Kirk/Spock slash fiction. You can talk about it all you want but no matter how much you want them to kiss, your mouth isn't the important one.

What if the car is the clowns' mother and when too many of them crawl out of it we are witnessing the birth of a whimsically massive litter?

SILVER LINING: hopefully all this deregulation and science denial means that I can finally open my dream restaurant "Mama B's" a chain of diners where the servers chew your food for you and spit it in your mouth.

You might not be a bad person if you don't wait for people to get out of the lightrail car before trying to get on but you are probably not a good one.

What if instead of a show with people who are really good at something (baking, art,etc.) fight for life changing money, we just given the money and watch them do the beautiful thing they love? Give me ten episodes of folks making cool puppets and paying bills.

They should release Corey Booker's speech as a multi episode podcast with a fun theme song and thoughtful intros for those of us who couldn't catch the whole thing.

Imagine having enough money to be the coolest guy on the planet by doing stuff like eliminating houslessness or building a theme park full of animatronic dragons or funding an orangutan sanctuary or setting up international food banks but instead decide gut civilization in the name of "efficiency."

Time is broken and I don't know who to trust. Should I trust the oven (an old friend who helps feed me) or the internet (a chaotic void that makes me sad?)

Wouldn't be surprised if Doge takes two hours tonight for "efficiency."

Gentle warning: If you ask me how I am doing today, instead of the standard "I have been waking up screaming and passing out from panic attacks" my response will be "I am kneedeep in feelings about the John Cena heel turn" and if you ask me what that means, we will be spending the day together.

I made a promise to avoid meta products and stay off the big streamers this weekend as an attempt to dodge participating in generating ad revenue and to give myself breathe to assess my dependence on those corperations and I am horrified that I keep opening them out of muscle memory.

There is a perfect moment that happens between you and a dog you are getting to know when they realize that you are safe to sleep on. I have been furniture for a lot of chihuahuas but today was a head rest for a forty pound bulldog and it will probably be the most important thing I do today.

I speak with experience that snow in Seattle can be rough on folks without a regular address and there are not enough warm and dry places for people in this city, so maybe today should not be the day for "fare ambassadors" to be out on the lightrail checking tickets.

If the big talking M&Ms in the commercials are what happens if you fertilize regular M&Ms, are there other species that eat their potential young so enthusiastically?

Unpopular opinion: The Christmas ghosts were wasted on Ebenezer Scrooge. All of us deserve a chance to be walked through time and space by supernatural forces andhave a chance to bend our possible futures, not just the one percent.

hey guys death is just your skeleton hatching.

My ideal season of the Bachelorette is a double bill starring Ilona Maher and Amelia Dimoldenberg.

If you cut the roof off of Baba Yaga’s hut it can still run around for several minutes, but this is only a reflex action of the house’s nerves, not magic (as previously believed)

My ideal season of the Bachelorette is a double bill starring Ilona Maher and Amelia Dimoldenberg.

It feels like I am stuck in the post credits scene of a save the rec-center movie where the kids didn’t win the dance contest.

Open to joining a compounds looking for a broke, chubby exmormon with a bad back who doesn't drive and skillset includes: making puppets, weird Christmas stuff, telling sad stories and beautiful fart jokes that are often both those things, having a cool wife and being furniture for tiny dogs.

One of the reasons we let the wolves hang out with us and turn into dogs is that we needed something adorable to blame our farts on.

Arachnophobia is the dumbest fear. Who cares if 2 spiders get married it doesn’t affect you

It is neat seeing all the photos of the aurora borealis that everyone took last night but what will be even neater is seeing all the suckers who stared at the space radiation transform into weird ass mutants that crave the flesh of those with reasonable bedtimes.

Inside you are two wolves. Inside me is a duck and a chicken. The townsfolk call me a humucken. It stings, but I hold my head high

Annual reminder that comedy doesn't have to come from a cruel place and that the greatest pranks are acts of kindness.

Sorry I am late, I just heard Olivia Rodrigo's " Driver's License" for the first time and while most of me is a forty five year old man who doesn't drive the part of me that is a suburban teen who has had her heart broken needed to take a moment.

I illustrated a verse from a favorite nursery rhymes from my childhood.

St. Patrick's can be alienating and complicated for sober boring people like myself. I will not be wearing green or drinking beer today but in honor of the snakes I will be staying in and dislocating my jaw so that I can swallow a whole pizza for dinner.

If the Puppy Bowl is the Super Bowl for dogs, then we are owed six more this year.