And then, about every 5 minutes, this happens. Wouldn't you love to have one of those second floor apartments? The peace. The tranquility. That you know exist somewhere, but not where you live.

On the, "You gotta laugh, 'cause otherwise you'd just have to drink yourself into a coma" front, this just in from the forefront of Republican "intellectual" debate. Hark! I do believe I hear the hum of Chuck spinning in his grave.