We detached the sternocleidomastoid and infrahyoid muscles from their sternal and clavicular insertions. Then, I took a manual bonesaw and cut through the clavicles at their midlengths…
There is a show called “Sex Box.” Now you know.
We need to talk about Neil Patrick Harris
“I’m not even supposed to be here today.”
Russell laments the demise of The New Republic.
Tod and Russell’s nominees for the best food movies.
According to Slate, doctors everywhere use slang to dehumanize their most difficult patients. Russell begs to differ.
The New York Times has a new report: the Affordable Care Act seems to be making steady progress against the problem of uninsured Americans. This is despite Republican obstructionism of Medicaid expansion.
by Christopher Carr
In which Russell wearily defends Rob Schneider’s right to say stupid things and still remain a working actor.
by Christopher Carr, the second part of a series on the dissection of human cadavers
by Christopher Carr, the first part of a series on the dissection of human cadavers
Acting awards shows + opportunity for ranting = Cloud Nine for Russell Saunders
It’s not that Rose and Russell are at a loss for words. Rather the opposite, really.
by Christopher Carr
Rose and Russell on receiving the adulation of others.
Russell and Kazzy descend to a new level of hell with an ESPYs viewing party.
In which I discuss one of the very few topics about which my best friend and I disagree.
“You’re given the form, but you have to write the sonnet yourself. What you say is completely up to you.”
“This is the kind of arrant pedantry up with which I will not put,” said Winston Churchill. Except he probably never said it.
At long last, have you left no sense of decency, Mr. Wurzelbacher?
Her name was Lola. She was a showgirl.
I get a little bit meta this week. Also, cannibalism.
I think I may be a little bit in love with Emma Stone.
For crying out loud, Ace of Base had how many hits? Where is the justice, universe?!?
No, no. Please, alter this beloved foodstuff beyond recognition. I was only eating it for the flavor, after all.
Thank you, random stranger, for giving me something to ponder as I count down the miles on my way back home.
“Are you sure you don’t want to check it? Here, I’ve taken it out of my wallet already. Why don’t you just glance at it?”
“The Simple Life”? Nay, loving her was far too complicated.
Zesty lemon cookie buttons.
So it turns out that I have a perfectly good reason that I won’t be able to make Leaguefest this year. Or, more accurately, I have two of them.
Fred Phelps is dead.
Her name was “L’Wren Scott,” not “Mick Jagger’s girlfriend.”
Why show up at a party when everyone knows you weren’t invited?
You’re welcome to all the peaches you can eat, man. But please shut up about it.
More than a week in the woods.
Another year, another Oscars. Discuss.