Each week, our commenters blab and blab and blab. We used to reward them arbitrarily with a night in our Gold Star Motel. But that was just to get them to shut up. Who will listen to them? Who will care? Not us! But we know who cares: Crazed uber-commenter LolCait cares!
"Why God, why???" you may ask as you sit on your kitchen floor, weeping hysterically, wondering if there is method to my sadness. Well here, served up fresh, are my choices for the best comments of this week with a handy explanation of why. (Because, um, that's never been done before.)
- From DEBUSSY FIELDS in the most important movie ever shot in new york
"Maybe Oscar winners get ponies."
Because that would mean that Meryl Streep is corralling two fully grown Clydesdales right now while Peter O'Toole stares glumly at his honorary pony, which is just an old headshot of Sarah Jessica Parker.
- From MINDBLING in Is Being An Alpha Kitty About "Being A Better Wife And Cook For My Husband"?
"Toos' arm hair grew EYES!"
Because HA! That's why.
- From COLLEGECALLGIRL in George Clooney's Fear of Commitment Clearly Caused His Motorcycle Accident
"She should have known it was coming though. I'm sure he sat her down when they first started dating and said 'Look, I get into motorcycle accidents. That's the kind of guy I am. No matter how much I like you, I'm never going to be interested in not getting into motorcycle accidents. I'm just letting you know up front.' I've heard he's very straightforward like that."
Because George Clooney is so bizarrely perfect that he must have some secret Cronenbergian perversity lurking within.
- From SHE_OF_THE_SOCKS in Bushwick Hipsters Fight Against NYPD Persecution
"A few nights ago. NEVER FORGET!"
Because we all must collectively remember and mourn the day when hiptards were told they couldn't do something.
- From STEVERINO in Internet Fame Explained By Expert
"Snippets from a conversation if Julia Allison were born in the 17th Century:
'I do declare I am quite bored with that Julia Allison riverbank knifer.'
'Indeed. Her shenanigans are becoming quite trite—beheading the victim, posing indelicately with the victim's head along the riverbank for passersby, and lipsynching some nonsense about her Lovely Lady Lumps.'
'Tis a tacky display. And must th'lady wear a court jester's outfit every time? Furthermore, must the street artists continue to display her portrait on every corner?
'Tis an appeal to those with smaller mental facilities, no doubt.'
'Tis truly an abomination—though I confess I wouldn't hesitate to 'hit that.'
'I would 'hit that' indeed, my lord.'
Because imagining a corseted Julia Allison standing by a riverbank, drenched in blood and trying to show people that is so cannily similar to her current self that it's a bit astounding.
Okay, enough of this. Get back to that kitchen floor. We all know that answers to major existential questions can only be found by sobbing and tearing at one's clothing and/or hair. Oh, and gin. Lots and lots of gin.