blame an overactive imagination & the apocalypse

it’s 2014 it’s time we moved on as a nation and stop reblogging this

every person who reblogs this in 2015 is gonna get their ass kicked by yours truly

World Heritage Post

Also it's explicitly stated that the guy's consciousness is still alive and preserved on the alien planet. Jill is told this and then proceeds to defend the alien anyways, ensuring that her husband's brain is stuck in a jar on a desert planet. You love to see it

Saying you’re going to visit a man with death rumors and then promptly dying is some real loony tunes shit. I can’t believe Lindsay graham is funnier than me

A moment of silence for every political reporter who had to wake up early on a Sunday in a blind panic, shove their draft of Mitch McConnell's obit back in a folder and start one for Lindsay Graham from scratch. That it is now mid-morning on the eastern seaboard and you're still only getting articles of the 'what he's done in the last decade that we all remember plus a quick skim of his Wikipedia page' tells you how unprepared they were for this. Back in the day newspapers and magazines had a dedicated obit department where all you did was draft obituaries of various famous people to be had at a moment's notice: Graham as a prominent older senator would certainly have been in that category for any large or even mid-sized American newspaper at minimum. But the news has been gutted to the bone and dedicated obit departments don't really exist any more, so again, think of the poor politics writers who, for a brief, sleep-drenched moment this morning, wondered if they could hit publish on their Mitch McConnell obits with McConnell's name find-and-replaced to Lindsay Graham. Maybe no one would notice, and they could go back to bed—but no, they are dedicated, and thus having rushed to put out something that will do as a stop gap have had their entire Sunday ruined as they do a deep dive into the life and times of Lindsay Graham when all they wanted was to go to the beach or prep for a barbecue. Graham died as he lived: completely inconsiderate of the needs of others.

Guess the grim reaper got tired of playing with Schrodinger’s turtle and said NEXT