…I don’t know who Kristin Cavallari is either, and I probably care about equally as much.
Author: Russell Saunders
On one level, I’ve already grown accustomed to Donald Trump saying things that threatened the safety and health of my patients. I just never expected it to get this bad.
Donald Trump’s friends in the media claim allegations of spousal rape aren’t relevant. That’s baloney.
There is a show called “Sex Box.” Now you know.
We need to talk about Neil Patrick Harris
Russell laments the demise of The New Republic.
According to Slate, doctors everywhere use slang to dehumanize their most difficult patients. Russell begs to differ.
In which Russell wearily defends Rob Schneider’s right to say stupid things and still remain a working actor.
Acting awards shows + opportunity for ranting = Cloud Nine for Russell Saunders
It’s not that Rose and Russell are at a loss for words. Rather the opposite, really.
In which I discuss one of the very few topics about which my best friend and I disagree.
“You’re given the form, but you have to write the sonnet yourself. What you say is completely up to you.”
“This is the kind of arrant pedantry up with which I will not put,” said Winston Churchill. Except he probably never said it.
At long last, have you left no sense of decency, Mr. Wurzelbacher?
Her name was Lola. She was a showgirl.
I get a little bit meta this week. Also, cannibalism.
I think I may be a little bit in love with Emma Stone.
For crying out loud, Ace of Base had how many hits? Where is the justice, universe?!?
No, no. Please, alter this beloved foodstuff beyond recognition. I was only eating it for the flavor, after all.
Thank you, random stranger, for giving me something to ponder as I count down the miles on my way back home.