E-mails are the new herpes: You never get rid of them.
Christopher Hitchens is the greatest living essayist in the English language.
Oil they would buy from anyone. From Satan.
The vice-president's tongue is several time zones ahead of his brain.
One realization does dawn upon the death of the second parent, namely that you've now moved into the green room to the River Styx. You're next.
How many times had those awful words - "I know what I'm doing" - been uttered throughout history as prelude to disaster?