Twit to the twat. Tweeter to the twoot.

All I remember about Who’s the Boss is that it is a thing that existed.

And the rich kids are always trying to ruin our fun.

Is this funny? I don’t understand religion.

I’m always full of cold cuts, in any case.

The only instrument that I know how to play is the clarinet… badly.

MR. MIME

Next, I’m going to learn the mouth trumpet.

I need a bacon infusion.

Well. You do.

Do they have pancakes in space?

GRAGH! ARGH! GRRRRRRR!

I don’t really know why I feel the need to back my tweets up here. Would Twitter ever just eat all my tweets one day? It’s probably more likely that my website would die.

And I never have anything important to say there, anyway.

I’m awful serious about the sammiches.

Carmen Miranda-ing would be way more fun to do to your enemies than glitter bombing.

It should really only be used on the armpits of teenage boys.

The Net has it forever and ever and ever.

This is one of the reasons that I don’t wear socks, unless it’s really, really cold.

We need to break the cycle and achieve cinematic nirvana!

Really. Think about it.

Well, that’s all for today.

Go do something useful.

Yay! Stupid Twitter now doesn’t show all tweets when you d an advance search. Gee, I really love it when algorithms decide what I want to see for me.

Bleh. Back to the “scroll down for forever” method of finding old tweets, then.

See, this joke works on two levels: mana is your magical energy in a video game and it’s also the name of the special food that God gave the Israelites to sustain them on their journey.

It’s the only place he hasn’t escaped from yet.

Things need to stop invading my orifices.

Remember when twerking was a thing?

Nautical jokes. You inlanders just wouldn’t understand…

Ha! Take that, you stupid jocks!

The Devil worships me.

Mark Twain is now rolling in his grave.

I’m always trying to collapse the universe.

In care you youngins don’t know, this is referring to The Three Stooges.

Well, that’s does it for today. Follow my Twitter, or don’t. Whatever.

It’s some old tweets with a new attitude.

Actually, maybe don’t wear numbers on your face at all, jackass.

They should also comb their hair and stop sitting forlornly on the stairs with their hand on their forehead.

I always told little kids that there were the skeletons of children who got trapped in the ball pit at the bottom of the pit.

Seriously, my dream house is one that I can just take a high-pressure steam cleaner to when I want to clean it.

It would certainly make the House of Commons much more fun to watch.

I shouldn’t try to be philosophical.

It’s The Lord of the Rings joke.

I shouldn’t try to make jokes about The Talking Heads when I’m hungry.

Don’t eat Twizzlers. They’re full of crap.

Well, anybody with a fauxhawk, really. It’s just unprofessional not to shave the sides.

That was fun. I don’t remember writing any of these.

Hey! Who wants to read some of my favourite tweets from the ancient days of yore? Nobody? Well, too bad!

It’s artificial pumpkinesque flavouring and cinnamon.

Yeah… So this one time, I bummed out Eric Idle over Twitter and then I felt really, really bad about it.

Try surviving with only off-brand tampons and hot lemon drink. See how long you live.

Yeah, hipsters, how do you respond to that?

William Shatner better never die…

Seriously, American snacky cakes are the worst. How can they even eat that crap. Give me a Jos. Louis any day, though.

Get me a Jewels in the Attic game with all the cards and in good condition, and I will be your friend for life.

I still don’t know who Johnny Mathis is.

If you sit on my lap today…

Think about it: the Home Alone series and the Saw series have a lot in common. The kid from Home Alone was obviously a sociopath, in any case.

Thanks for wasting time with me. Follow my Twitter for more stupidity, or don’t. Whatever.

I watched Paint Your Wagon. It was a long, arduous process, that I would have never gotten through, if I hadn’t been playing around with my phone during it.

In case you don’t know, Paint Your Wagon is a musical about cowboys, starring Lee Marvin, Clint Eastwood and Jean Seberg and it is awful.

I always thought this was just a joke, because it just seems like a really, really bad idea for a film.

Don’t play this drinking game. You will die.

Clint Eastwood acts all gentle and cute in this film. It’s really disconcerting.

Seriously, it’s too cute.

Nothing like a bunch of grizzled, gruff cowboys tenderly slow-dancing together.

Someone has actually told me that I look like a mountain man in real life.

This was really, really icky.

And the, 5 months later…

…I decided to continue with this awful movie for some reason.

This was really, really icky  as well.

Though, I suppose in frontier times, a cabin was a pretty big deal.

Just ickiness all around.

First, you get the women, then you get the money, then you get the power.

Clint Eastwood’s singing hurts my brains.

Anything goes in the wild Old West.

I believe this is the first time I’ve ever seen an intermission on a DVD. I went and got a snack.

It was the style of the time.

I think this was probably a joke, or it was a magic beaded curtain.

There was a thing about a bear fighting a bull. Maybe something about bear markets and bull markets?

Symbolism! It’s amazing!

Seriously, I watched all 900 hours of this waiting for the part where they paint the wagon and it never happened.

Well, that was pretty disappointing.

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