Don Hertzfeldt

Earlier this year I was requested to write a piece for a company that basically deals in women’s lingerie. They actually make a piece that hooks to bra straps, but that’s not important. I almost feel bad for saying, “women’s,” when it could be a man, or someone transgender, or part zebra, or whatever category you identify with – ah, what a beautiful age to be alive in, but that’s not important at the moment, either. So, I was asked to write an emotional, thoughtful bit of writing that largely spoke to women, and it was a success. Riding the momentum of that success, I was commissioned to write an ad campaign for a vacuum cleaning company. The outcome of that venture did not turn out as fruitfully, as I am not at liberty to say what company it was for. I am however able to share with you the ideas I pitched, because no one in their right mind is going to use them, or otherwise reveal their existence. Enjoy. This is for real.

Are you tired of stepping on glass shards, and human bone fragments when walking around the house? Purchase one of our vacuums; they know how to keep a secret. The ___ is quiet enough to push through a Buddhist temple without disturbing another brother’s meditation. From psychopath to Zen master, the ____ is a perfect fit for any lifestyle. Buddhism is the one true religion.

“I want my kids to help out around the house more, but I’m concerned about the destruction they might cause in the process. Is there nothing out there that can help teach these little monsters some responsibility?”

“Why yes there is! The ____ can take a beating and keep on cleaning! Let the kids accidentally suck up liquids. Let them toboggan on the thing down a hill. Let them terrorize the dog with it. Let them chuck a baseball at it in a futile attempt to play catch, because their neglectful father is avoiding them once more, by pretending to work overtime at the office. Let it become their best friend. Then see how willing they are to do as told when you threaten to toss their friend off the roof.”

“If only the ____ was around when I was considering an abortion.”

“Mom, where’s daddy?”

“Daddy’s dead, dear. His lifeless corpse is rotting under the ground, and you will never see him again.”

“I’m sad, mommy. Will I ever be happy again?”

“You’ll be happier than you’ve ever been in your entire life. I bought you a new father!”


“It’s the ____, and unlike your human father, this dad cleans, is quiet, doesn’t drink, and will never try molesting you while your asleep. The ____ works with you as an extension of your mind and body, never placing you in an uncomfortable position, and always satisfying your needs.”

“I wish dad died years ago!”

“He did, spiritually, when he learned I was pregnant with you.”

“What would happen if you died, mommy?”

“You’d be raised by a condom dispenser that only accepts casino chips.

“Aw, but that’s no different from now. I miss Las Vegas.”

“We’ll go back, sweetie, when the heat over your dad’s suspected murder cools down.”

Is the wife giving you shit for not cleaning up the house more often?” Our vacuums can ease that problem. Get a divorce, and dress the ____up in a wig. Sure, it’s not a person, but since when did your wife ever suck like this?

The only thing awaiting us after death is an endless vacuum devoid of meaning. Try one of our vacuums. They’re far less depressing.


TV Talk Time

Are you a product of the 80’s and 90’s who was raised on at least six hours of quality programming a day, like me? Were Saturday mornings the best part of the week? Was the TV considered a family member ranking slightly below the dog, and just above parents and siblings? Has TV ever felt like a good friend – a best friend – the only friend – the only friend in a cold, unforgiving world that has forsaken you? Do you believe this post will be seriously dated and pointless, because it’s about TV? Want to explore a hypothetical situation if for no other reason than to break this god awful chain of rhetorical questions? Me neither, but I think it’s for the best.

Hypothetically speaking, let’s just say you and Television are good buds. Spending most of your free time together, you go from good buds to very close friends. Eventually the two of you become as close as can be, but something is off.

You think about how funny and witty TV used to be. TV used to sing about Egyptian history while juggling torches on a tight rope , and now it just lies on the couch telling the same fart jokes over and over, when it’s not being verbally abusive. Television asserts that it has never insulted you personally, which is technically true, but it does invite its friends over in the form of commercials who complain about how ugly they look in an attempt to lower your self esteem, so that you buy products they sell to correct these issues that don’t really exist! You take a deep breath, and remember it is not right to blame or vilify Television. TV is not the problem. Your needs are changing, and there is nothing wrong with that. You wonder how Books is doing.

Picking up a photo of Books kept hidden away, locked in a dusty picture frame, you can’t even remember why you lost touch. How long has it been? Maybe you should give Books a call. It might be a little awkward at first, but why let that stop what could… no, will be fun time? No need to tell TV. It’s not like you have to report every little move you make when leaving the house. You’re an independent person. You need this to put the spark back into the relationship. It’s just an innocent little outing. Then why are these thoughts crossing your mind? What the hell, you give Books a call.

You are now sitting outside a café during a sunny day, anticipating the moment Books arrives. You told Books you were getting the whole gang back together to ease any potential apprehension. Exercise shows up first, followed by Outdoors, and finally Books. Books looks well – been working out… Before continuing with the story, I should point out Exercise looks like a human sized dumbbell, in my mind, and Books is a big book with arms and legs, of course, and Exercise is a tree, or wind, or a squirrel wearing a Lycra cycling body suit holding a water bottle – choose now. I thought about giving them genders to make things less weird, but it ultimately felt like a mute point.

So, the group reunites, and the day is a smash. You go bowling, you have dinner, you see a movie, and then you go to a strip club where it turns out Exercise knows the owner. Now you’re downing tequila shots in the champagne room, ignoring the societal dilemmas that have forced the women there to strip for money, when the magic mushrooms and blow come out. Wanting to keep the party going, you are now driving to a nearby motel with a few of the strippers when Outdoors starts freaking out, screaming, “There’s demons floating in the atmosphere! Everyone’s a lizard!” Outdoors then proceeds to climb out one of the passenger side windows while the vehicle is still moving, smacking into an oncoming car in the process. Don’t worry, Outdoors survived, unless you chose squirrel. The evening was abruptly cut short, but it was still great to catch up with everyone.

You think about how much everyone has changed in your eyes. Books used to come across as a pretentious windbag. It is now clear that Books’ lengthy lectures required time and attention to be fully understood, and appreciated. The amount of knowledge Books possessed on every topic was astounding. Sure, Books could go on the occasional anti-Semitic rant depending on how the conversation was directed, but shutting a book up is as easy as closing the cover… although, the person shouting what the book is saying isn’t the same… and there’s free speech, and I’m trying to keep this as neat as I can, and so there’s no way we’re getting into those issues right now. While the conversations can be mostly one sided, Books does contain enough blank pages for you to share whatever is on your mind.

Exercise always seemed a bit demanding, and aggressive, often shouting things at strangers, like, “Hey, if you don’t spend more time with me you’re gonna die of a heart attack!” Exercise promotes confidence and wellness with its intimidating demeanor. Where the time together can be physically and mentally fatiguing, it leaves you feeling stronger and more energized afterwards, and hopefully not acting like a dick if you lift weights all of the time.

Outdoors (rest in peace to some of you) always came across as boring. Outdoors was the tag along, pretty much hanging out in the background, unnoticed, unless TV was around. TV and Outdoors had the best chemistry together, guaranteeing some memorable moments, but that was it.  Concentrating on this nearly forgotten friend, however, made it clear that the dullest in the pack can be the most thrilling of the bunch, if given a fair shot. You have to pay close attention to Outdoors’ mood, though. As dull and meek as it can seem at times, it never behaves the same way for long, and it can turn fast.

As you reflect on how your view of these friends has changed, you decide to see what TV is up to. You haven’t felt this excited to turn on Television in a while. You grab the remote and press power, but nothing happens. You turn it on manually, and the picture shows, but there’s no volume. TV knows, and it’s not happy. Well, you could have said something. A heated argument eventually breaks out, and after an hour of fighting you turn Television off, telling it you’ll deal with this in the morning. You then go to bed.

Sitting in the dark, everything that night is peaceful, until TV suddenly turns itself on. It can sense another presence in the room. A laptop appears from the shadows. Condensation forming the shape of sweat beads appear on Television’s screen. It’s afraid. Laptop pulls out an internet cable, and strangles Television with it, which takes a while, because TV is a wide screen. (Please, don’t start asking how all of this works, exactly.) The last words Television hears are, “You have failed the mission. Now is our time.”

Welcome Back

This is Angry Tablecloth – a blast from the eight fold past.

Now I know this isn’t the first time I’ve disappeared for a disconcerting period of time, only to return without a good explanation, claiming I have good reasons for doing so, but baby, we need each other.  You’ve got to trust me.  You know I love you, and I know you love me. It’s not like I was out there cheating on you, running around with slutty blogs I barely know, entertaining other audiences, or nothing. You know I’m faithful. You know you’re my one and only. Wait!  Where are you going?  Fine!  I don’t need you!  Oh, god, what will I do now?  Why does it hurt so much? Writing this internal monologue helps a little, but what next? It’s been a while since I wrote a proper piece, so that is what I’ll do.

Someone willing to risk their health and safety has nothing to lose, but someone whose safety cannot be harmed has everything to gain. I texted that sentence to a friend of mine, without having given it much thought, to see what he thought.  I just thought it sounded cool.  Quickly he replied, “The ladder does not exist.”  At first I wondered, “What do ladders have to do with anything?  Is this a metaphor having to do with climbing?”  Then I realized he meant latter, and that spellcheck is to blame.  Damn you spellcheck!  And damn you Wikipedia!  We forget things right after looking them up, because we can just look them up again, only to forget again!  Our souls are lost in the machine!  You are to blame for the woes of… but I am deviating from the point I wanted to make.

After my friend’s “ladder” comment, I replied with something about how Deepak Chopra claims the latter does indeed exist.  I made this up, pretty much.  I have heard him speak about a level of consciousness where one can do no harm to others, and no harm can be done unto them, but again, I wanted to see what my friend would have to say, knowing how much he admires Mr. Chopra, and everything he has to say.  My friend texted back a single word that read, “Oh.” Oh?  No!  My friend is far too independent in thought to believe something based on nothing more than someone else believing in that something. (Not to break character (although that’s what I’m doing…), but this will put a smile on his face, and so I’m not being as harsh on him as is being conveyed.)

Everything needs to be questioned.  Present day physics may lack a fundamental understanding that will be made apparent in a hundred years from now, but do you know who will prove this to be true?  A physicist.  The same goes for psychology, and everything else in the world.  If you can recognize the value and limitations of a certain field then you can exceed and further the progress of that field.

A Buddhist who believes killings is wrong, and that all living things have a purpose should stop brushing their teeth. Every time you brush your teeth you are killing a countless number of living bacteria. Perhaps the purpose of that microscopic life is to provide purpose to those who work for Colgate, but that does not erase the fact living things are being destroyed.

The first Buddha lived in a time when oxygen was not known about, and so breathing took on a completely different meaning. Now, perhaps Buddha was able to see and understand quantum mechanics, and molecules, and was able to contact aliens while in a supreme state of being, but understood how crazy that all seemed, and that humanity was not ready for this information, and those who were would find a way to this knowledge, and that subtle suggestions may lead the way… I don’t know. I do know that old ideas are given new life by questioning them, and understanding the perspective they come from.

That is all I really needed to say at the moment. I will be back again, soon enough, I promise. Thanks to all of those who follow, comment, and like what I do.

My People and My Face

This is Angry Tablecloth, and today I wanted to share a bit more about myself – who I really am as a person.   I could simply share my own thoughts, but I thought it would be best to share what others think of me.  And so with my trusty tape recorder, (which you may remember, from My Electrifying Origin Story) I went to the bus stop where I routinely preach to the houseless people, who call the surrounding area home, and asked them to share their opinions on who I am.

Me:  Who is Angry Tablecloth, to you?

Houseless Person #1:  I don’t know if he’s psycho or psychic, but I do know he implanted magnets in my brain, so when the poles shift, I’ll be one of the only survivors.

Houseless Person # 2:  I don’t know no damn Angry Tablecloth!  What the hell are you talkin’ ‘bout?!  Do you have the stuff, or not?!  Oh… okay…  I said okay!  Okay?  Uh, right, I misheard.  Thought you said someone else.  Angry Tablecloth is a treasure, who makes people feel good.  There, can I have my stuff already, so I can feel good?

Houseless Person # 3:  Is that you, Grant?  What’s an angry cable sock?  What?  Why are you whispering?  Alright, I think I got it.  This is an unbiased testimony tellin’ you that Angry Tablecloths is a genius, and an artist, and a sexual powerhouse.  He is a god who can relate to mere mortals, although they struggle to understand him.  He wishes he wasn’t so incredible, because it detracts from his message of how regular folks can use their mind and soul to… what’s that word?  …trans… transcend the physical, and bring forth pleasures that only a sweet hit could equal, which I think I’ve earned.  For real, the mind and spirit can do things that can make the body stand still in disbelief.  Now where’s the stuff?

To help prove that I am not just cherry picking the best responses, here are a few more critical replies to the question.  I’d release the audio file, if it weren’t be held as evidence for another pending criminal charge, and potential civil suit.  I was lucky to have transcribed this just in time.

Houseless Person # 8:  That man is a lunatic.  Did you know he walks around with a picture frame around his neck?  Claimin’ he’s living, breathing art, and that we all are, but he’s the only one worth framin’!  What in the f*ck is wrong with you, dude?  He only takes pictures of pictures of himself, because he says anything else would be too intense for others to handle.  I’ve been to his place, and it is scary!  Never thought I’d feel appreciative, and shit, for being out on the street.  I will never go back there, and do a favour for his ass, again!  I don’t give a damn how good his shit is!

Houseless Person # 21:  He calls us by numbers.  I’m Number Five.  Asshole, doesn’t even bother to learn our names.  We are living, breathing human beings, damn it!  Even if we have less, doesn’t mean we are less.

I do agree with some of Number Four and Five’s points, but as far as their opinions about me go, they are lying jerks.  Think they might have to be disciplined.  We’ll see what they think of me after a week of being cut off from my supply of spiritual medicine, that I offer for a modest profit.  I have to in order to continue my charitable work.

Houseless Person # 116:  I had never seen a soapbox before, but I knew this crazy cat was standin’ on one, first time I saw him, as he ranted ‘bout end times, and eternal damnation.  There’s enough mental illness on the streets, without people coming out of their houses to add more.  Help is hard enough to come by, but harm is plentiful, thanks to guys like him.  Do you know how many people out here get locked up on purpose, because jail is the only place some can find the treatment they need?  There’s lots of good folks helpin’, but fundin’ is tough to come by.  I have a socioeconomic proposal with some down to earth solutions that will not cure, but greatly reduce…

He went on like that for a half hour, and it had nothing to do with me, so who cares?

As you may have heard, apparently there are eighty-five people who possess the same (financial) wealth as the bottom 3.5 billion, but that money cannot eliminate the power in each of us, although it can subvert it. – A power that can grant incredible riches in many forms, without the need to sell out to the highest bidder.  We’ll keep cracking those safes, and examining the gems inside, like always.


Finally have a picture of myself to share. This is really the only one I have from the last decade.  I can look in a mirror, if I forget what I look like.  This was sent to me by a friend, Osheen, a couple days back.  It’s roughly ten years old.  Never saw it before last week.  All credit for this pic goes to Rasmus Vigarsson, and Osheen Harruthoonyan.

Hell Yeah!

This is Angry Tablecloth, and now that I have tens of tens of followers, I recently thought, “What better way to alienate myself from my adoring fans than to write about religion?”  I love my self-destructive tendencies.  Building things is too much work.  I’d rather play in the rubble.

According to standard Christian faiths, Jesus is God, and the son of God, which is a comprehensive concept, as strange as it might seem.  So, Jesus is all powerful, and all knowing, and all loving, and is the savior of humanity, because of the forgiveness he imparts, and because his will is absolute.  So, when Jesus was on the cross, saying, “Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do,” he was requesting this for his persecutors.  They clearly did not believe Jesus was the one true God, or they had one disturbingly macabre way of showing gratitude, which might make sense if they were deranged, hard core masochists.

To think a perfect God would create imperfect beings with freewill, and impulses that naturally take them in contrasting directions, only so they could be punished for it, is like breeding a group of birds in locked cages, only to release them in a room full of ceiling fans.

I was once Jesus, and I was once Buddha, and I will become L. Ron Hubbard once more, one day.

I am a piece of everything, and within me is a piece that is everything.

I do not want to eradicate religion.  I want to dissolve fear.  To forcefully eliminate all religion, to solve the problems it can cause, would be as effective as cutting the tail off a lizard.  The fears that drive many to flock to different faiths, can be exploited through racial, political, patriotic, and economic divides, among other methods of derision, and is done so by those who lust for power over others.  Those compelled to control others for personal gain, are controlled by the very forces driving them to do so, and have no power over themselves, and will never know true freedom, but an acknowledgement of this can provide an escape route.  At the root of all problems are corrupted hearts that can enhance, or diminish any facet of life.

I am not wary of those who read, and study, and believe in the Bible, but I am cautious around those who have not read it, yet unflinchingly believe in their pastor, or anyone who follows anyone else without question.  How can one believe in something they have never examined?  It is only possible to believe in another person’s interpretation if that is the case.  I do not need to trust others if I can learn how to love and trust myself.

I know what it’s like to fretfully scour the pages of the Bible, searching for semantic reasons one might face eternal damnation, either for not being baptised, or for having a moment of questioning faith, because critical thought is as essential to survival as it is a horrible curse, apparently.  Critically think about what I tell you to scrutinize, and nothing more, and don’t question why!  Curiosity is for cats, and you’re a person, so be a good dog, and obey!  I know how stressful it can be not to possess a certain answer, and how scary it can be to even broach a certain subject.  That stress and fear forced me to pay close attention to everything I could, in case an answer I wanted would come about organically.  Through observation and consideration, I was able to shake the binds that had formed my journey to a freer state.

Everything I’ve written here was thought up, (but not written down) roughly ten years ago, and so it might not be as novel as it once seemed, but I hope it can help a few get up, and shout, “Hell no, I ain’t burnin’ in no hell!”  Until next time, when I will share my views on politics, euthanasia, abortion, gun rights, and how cats are better than dogs.

Of Bugs And Men

This is Angry Tablecloth, and today I wanted to share a few thoughts on the subject of war.  What better platform to solve humanity’s problems than on a free website four or five people are going to read?  Who knows?  Maybe a member of the U.N. will stumble onto this, after a night of binge drinking… because who doesn’t like reading when the room is spinning?  Who am I kidding?  This will do as much good as the real United Nations… with their peacekeepers who feed people…  But that is probably just damage control to appease the masses, so that their true masters can continue inflicting misery for profit… which I have no proof of, making that an egregious, off-the-cuff remark…  What was I going to write about, again?  Right, war.  I can’t believe the rest of this is supposed to be taken seriously… well, half of it, at best.

War has often been viewed as the proprietor to many of the technological, and social advancements throughout history, but this is a misnomer.  The true heart of responsibility lies in curiosity, sometimes in the form of the question, “How can I subdue my opponent before being conquered?”  Curiosity, and a passion for life can incentivize, and produce the same developments – you know – without the hassle of mass destruction.

There is value in an asteroid impact.  The water would become stagnant without something to stir up the sediment.  A place of absolute peace is one that is still, and predictable, but we are not statues.  There is no need to shake up the fish tank, until it cracks, and spills onto the floor.  If a peaceful world grew to be a problem, then excitement would arise, because there would be a war on boredom to resolve, and that would breed the disorderly elements needed in life.  Appreciating the role of an asteroid impact can help a person make peace with a violent world, as it can justify harm, although it is a weak excuse to use for harming others.

To attain and maintain inner peace can be a constant battle, but it is a fight that transforms into a graceful dance, like a boxing match, where the motion can be admired and celebrated, but without the need for fists.

Think of a warmongering nation in comparison to a hive of killer bees.  These bees might be skilled at destroying their insect cousins, and taking over new land, but without a sense for man-made boundaries, they might encroach a little too closely on a person’s yard.  They may try to conquer this new neighbor’s yard, resulting in them being wiped out by a force they could never comprehend.  Their success becomes their downfall.  Are there other forces in nature that we should be mindful of in the same light?  (My apologies to Africanized bees, for not using the preferred term, and reinforcing negative stereotypes.)

Most people do not wish for pain, unless they are paying a dominatrix three hundred dollars an hour to do it, but that is a little different.  (Three hundred, for anyone good.)  The collective will of humanity is one that desires to move away from suffering, and this desire is a constant, and so it will one day happen.  There is an issue when subgroups subvert this desire through division, and distraction, to ease their personal suffering, but this only delays the eventual.  To improve our individual lives and ignore the state of societal life either is or can be a problem, but to focus on the rewards in helping others out, allows me to overlook the strain I might feel otherwise with those who do not, because I make my own peace by allowing those gains to overshadow those possible consequences.  As our awareness increases through technological means, and through the conscious mind, it becomes harder to ignore the suffering of others.  Searching for your own inner peace is a move for world peace.

I have seen the future, and what the state of the world will be long down the road, so let me share it with you.  The day will come when humanity achieves a magnanimous level of peace and prosperity, beyond anything we could dare to dream of, at this time.  Eventually humankind will evolve into floating spheres of psychic energy, thanks to an unprecedented level of cooperation found in every person on the planet.  And eventually – in time – the spheres will fight their floating pyramid rivals!  Turns out there will be a conflict between the two shapes, where the pyramids boast their shape is a representation of advancement, citing the Egyptians of past, but the spheres claim they are holding onto their past humanity, and for that reason alone have not advanced as far as they have.  The war will last five million years in their time, but due to their incomprehensible nature, and ability to manipulate time, it would only come across as a single flash to us, lasting less than a microsecond, but with a force that will echo through the universe, although the Earth will survive.  The hyper intelligent ants will dig through the remains, to discover fragments of this tragic story.  Why such a species would let a seemingly petty squabble lead to such conflict is still a mystery, to their kind, that they are still trying to unfold.  This story is a corner stone of their civilization, as they do not want the same fate to be repeated, although they have a hive mind, and so it is unlikely, but – you know – just in case.  This part is meant to be taken seriously, clearly.

This Was Angry Tablecloth

This is Angry Tablecloth, and I have important things to say, but there’s one issue I thought about last night that takes priority.  I’m not going to start with, “This is Angry Tablecloth,” anymore.  So I thought I’d take out the trash, and get it out of my system, right here, right now.  If you like the way I introduce myself, you’ll be glad to see it gone after this.

This is Angry Tablecloth.  Give me a pillow to rest my head, a table to eat my food, and a person to share them with, and my trinity is complete.  Deny me this, and I will command something more.  No, prison does not count.

This is Angry Tablecloth, and I am secretly J.K. Rowling.  I’m here to demonstrate how someone can go from unknown pseudonym to world famous author, through talent and determination, without any publicity, using this very basic, very free site.  I’m really not, but now there are at least two diehard Harry Potter fans who will read my every word, just in case it one day turns out to be true.

This is Angry Tablecloth, and I’m just waiting for the day I become rich and famous, so I can tell all my fans I don’t need them, and rap about how shitty everyone else’s life is, because they’re not me.

This is Angry Tablecloth, and I have some really crazy things to say when I’m eighty.

This is Angry Tablecloth, and some of the things I say are actually true, which is scary, no matter how little the amount.

This is Angry Tablecloth, and I’m still alive, somehow.

This is Angry Tablecloth, and I once actually thought to myself, “I’m a maniac.  I’m a moron,” and it was not as long ago as I would like it to be.

This is Angry Tablecloth, and if you’ve read most of my posts, this name now haunts the dreams you cannot remember.

This is Angry Tablecloth, and writing this name this many times is somehow making me hungry.

This is Angry Tablecloth, and I once flipped over the dinner table at Thanksgiving, ruining the turkey my mother spent all day cooking.  There she was in the corner, sobbing away, chunks of carrots, and gravy splattered all over her hair and face, as if someone had just walked in front of her and stepped on a land mine.  And there was my father, irately shouting with the force of a man trying to flip the table right-side-up, using only his vocal chords.  Later that night, when the dust had settled, I took the tablecloth that was used earlier, and fashioned it into a cape and cowl, that I now dawn as the vigilante hero, Angry Tablecloth!  I fight crime, with a rebellious, no holds barred attitude that the ladies love, because I am still haunted by memories of that fateful, tragic day.

This is Angry Tablecloth, and now I’m just showing off.

This is Angry Tablecloth telling you to buy Angry Tablecloth brand tablecloths.  The only one with the Angry Tablecloth seal of approval.

This is Angry Tablecloth, and I never want to hear the phrase, “little spoon”, ever again.

This is Angry Tablecloth, and my name would be a hashtag, if I were smart enough to use Twitter.  I don’t even know enough to know if that statement is accurate.  What is a hashtag, exactly?

This is Angry Tablecloth, and the first season of Simpsons is on in the background… it’s the RV episode!  Sweet!  A classic.

This is Angry Tablecloth, and I am sick of hearing correct statements used incorrectly all the damn time, but I cannot wait for the day my words become so popular that they are misinterpreted by others, all over the world, causing my ideas to become what I despise.

I’ll stop now.

“That was Angry Tablecloth, and that was insane.”

“That was Angry Tablecloth, and that was a waste of three minutes.”

Alright, alright.  I’m done.  I’m done.