WORDS.
Slant Staff
Trump suggests repurposing an old, long-broken up folk-punk band or using an embarrassingly unknown one to honor Tubman.
Following Prince’s death, God rethinks his creative prowess.
Tampons. Tampons. Tampons. Tampons. Tampons. Tampons. Tampons. Tampons. Tampons. Tampons. Tampons. Tampons. Tampons. Tampons. Tampons. Tampons. Tampons.
“You were the dude I threw up on at the frat party last weekend. I was the blonde wearing green, and my red Solo cup bounced off your dadbod when I fell off the stage.”
