All things considered, especially in this rough economy, they were all very lucky they even had jobs.
Well… That is definitely not the direction I thought this was going to take.
His voice has the sound of angels, and his righteous solos give strength to the downtrodden man. But, some people, cynical people who chose not to see the light, they persecute and revile him! They call his lyrics hackneyed and trite, his populist working-man ethos too derivative of Bruce Springsteen! And yet, Jon Bon Jovi so loves rock and roll, that he still rocks to this day!
—I’m a creature of the night, one of the undead, nosferatu. Cursed by the light, I dwell in the shadows and subsist only on human blood, for all eternity. —You’re drinking coffee, Gordon. —And, erm… and coffee, sometimes.
I think my neighborhood is being pillaged by the Vikings.
That's not fair. That's not fair at all.
Maybe we should just wait out this story a little longer. It might get better, and if not it’ll probably end soon.
—Hey Frank, wouldn't it be great if there was a machine that could predict someone's death? Where you would give the machine a sample of your blood and it would spit out a paper that would accurately reveal the cause of your own death on a little sheet of paper? But it wouldn't tell you when or where it happens, so people spend their whole lives worrying about it? And this machine would delight in ironically vague deaths, so you could never really know exactly how you would die? Like if your prediction said “natural causes,” you could still die from like a wild koala bear attack or something like that? Wouldn't that really be something? —I guess so, Gordon. But why are we wearing these dinosaur costumes?
—Did you know, Jeremiah wondered out loud, that people actually collect butterflies? —It’s easy to see why, replied Toby. They’re delicate, fascinating creatures, each one different in some way. Like snowflakes. —Yeah, and fingerprints. —Or people! —Right, people in general are all different from each other too.