This just in:

Death Cab for Cutie makes me want to smoke crack and I have a pimple on my neck. Coffee cups run for president in nations of speakerphones and windshields. Don’t cry for me, Argentina. The vestibules are ruining their dresses with ketchup and punch bowls filled with the bile of the innocent bystanders to the death of the American Dream. Cannonball, bitches.

That is all.