In honor of Chris coming out as a celebrity truther, I present to you a list of reasons why singer Chris Brown is worse than Ebola.

Many have wondered if pop music is now experiencing a colossal pooter renaissance of sorts.

Nowadays, fall has a distinctive scent, something the kids call "pumpkin spice," and something I like to call "what the hell is this fucking cinnamon smell?"

Picture this. Are you a girl? If not, picture being one now, and imagine then that you've picked up a really hot guy in the EDM or BDSM or ROTFL club you went to on a Saturday night.

I’ve often jokingly told friends, “If you can be happy in Louisiana, you can be happy anywhere.”

Garth Brooks emerged from the safe house he entered nearly a decade and a half ago in anticipation of the technology Armageddon of Y2K.

If it has keyboardist Ray Manzarek playing the god-awful Holy Church of Satan organ in it, I hate it.

I hope the people with song credits to this terrible piece of musical drivel contract scurvy. I fart in their general direction.