The word is "you're barely coherent". You think you are a visionary, a soothsayer, a shaman, a Gary. Nobody else does. Feck the fuckless. We're starting here based on May Darlings repping sitcoms, romcoms and occasionally lexicons. These are all good fluffed by vag humor, culinary blue ribbons and frequent trips down Mammary Lane. The widow's peak that distracts from hangers of the lo-variety is merely the mock. The missing TeTost need not be replaced, so decrees the merlin. Ask not what the meaning of life is, but rather Dam the IPA Torpedoes.

Headsnappers used to be a Eureka thing before becoming a pejorative. The raging johnson tales need to rephrase the wet shots into easter eggs for divine purposes in addition to the ecstasy.

It's more than just a Tuesday in May - s'wonderful, s'marv . . . Final answer - - this is the greatest gig since Beany and Cecil.