On Man Hates Self, Twitter
And let's not forget that his article has a paragraph that starts off with "One of my most ingenious ideas was..."
Matt Lewis is upset because Twitter is now full of people and he's not special anymore.
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On You're Welcome, Benoit Denizet-Lewis
That must be the best conclusion of any article, ever.
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On Guy Who Runs This Canada Place Sounds Like A Dick
Stephen Harper will have you believing in the reptile agenda. Mostly it's the way that his face and hair look hastily stapled over a not quite mammalian skull. But then there's the fact that flowers droop in his shadow and touching his naked skin will impart a strange circular rash at the site of contact. Seven days later you die.
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On Anthony Lane at Eurovision
Don't residents of Park Slope get a free subscription to the New Yorker with purchase of property?
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On Novels Lousy With Barking Dogs
From the conclusion of At Swim-Two-Birds: "When a dog barks late at night and then retires again to bed, he punctuates and gives majesty to the serial enigma of the dark, laying it more evenly and heavily upon the fabric of the mind. Sweeny in the trees hears the sad baying as he sits listening on the branch, a huddle between the earth and heaven; and he hears also the answering mastiff that is counting the watches in the next parish".
Even in 1939, Flann O'Brien knew the score.
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On Real Nerd Talk: 'Doctor Who' Goes Psycho Off the Rails
I believe that The Doctor allowed van Gogh into the future because he knew perfectly well that it wouldn't alter history one bit. He was giving Amy a gift, perhaps in part to relieve his own guilt, while demonstrating that you can't change a suicidally depressed Dutchman.
If anything, this episode was kind of like the butterfly effect in reverse: bend the laws of the continuum and the only lasting change is a dedication on a painting.
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On Further Notes on Machines, Rise Thereof
I think the terrorists and insurgents will be alerted by the sad farting sound of one of those things propelling itself through a window.
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On Terrifying Black Chunnel Migrants Gang-Board Student Coaches--And Get Glassed!
"The migrants, wielding a knife, a wooden club and a fire extinguisher"
Clearly, Old Europe has descended into mid-'70s dystopian science fiction. Soon the alien ships will arrive to harvest their youth.
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On A Poem By David Groff
"You were a living cigarette."
That's one of those lines you scratch down in some notebook and husband for years, just because it's going to come in really useful one day.
Or maybe you just make it up on the spot. I don't know, I never went to Poem College.