Aside from his reputation for flip-flopping on issues and tailoring every speech to suit the crowd he’s speaking to, until this week Mitt Romney has run an almost flawless campaign if such a word can be used, basically making fewer mistakes than his rivals.

Until this week, when he said he “enjoys firing people.” Now in fairness, Mitt meant that you should get good service from service providers and you should replace them if they don’t provide good service.

Mitt, until he used the word “fire,” had unlike his opponents, admirably, marvelously, common-sense-ically and to a large degree, avoided using flashpoint, controversial, lightening rod words. Until this week. Mitt! Don’t use the word fire. Instead, you say, “we have to let you go.”

That’s the modern, intelligent, politically correct way to say “fire,” although that opens you up to the possibility the person being fired could say, “That’s a lie, you don’t have to let me go. You are not required to let me go. That’s a choice you made.”

Using the word “fire” establishes you as a heartless corporate bastard, which perhaps in reality you really are.

Read more: Mitt's Benign Double Speak

It's that time of year again where we gather family close, rip open a fresh carton of egg nog and huddle around the cool LED glow of our boob-tubes to watch some classic holiday entertainment.  It's the one time where you know, absolutely, that good, wholesome, worthwhile sentiments will rule over crass cynicism and self-interested greed, at least until the first commercial break.

Or do you?  Do you even KNOW what's in that egg nog?  Yeah, so what exactly is a "nog" anyway, hmm?  See, once you get beyond the surface, do the same values hold true?  Or could those very same holiday classics hide a deeper, darker, secret message that you never realized was there all the time?  Strap on your mulled-wine goggles, take a look at these holiday classics and then decide for yourself.

Read more: 4 Hidden, Terrible Lessons in Classic Christmas Films

"What the fuck?" my boyfriend shouts. "Fuck you!" His fist comes down hard on a carton of eggs. Yellow yolk and flints of shell splatter the kitchen, barely missing my dress. I feel sliminess ooze between my sandaled toes and wonder if egg yolk ruins pedicures.

He throws the egg carton onto the floor. Although my toes are now fully slimed, I barely flinch. After all, he is not angry with me, he is angry at the egg. Perhaps it did not crack right. Maybe there is a stray shell in the bowl, or maybe the whole batch is rancid. It does not matter; I’ve grown accustomed to his habit of cursing at inanimate objects. I find it oddly adorable, and so I egg him on…

Read more: What the Fu*k?

All your life have you been burdened with an overwhelming sexual desire? That means you want to be doing it twenty-four hours a day. Why? Why were you cursed with this? You’re not happy. Who would be. Since you can't get enough (sex), there's never enough.

This has interfered with your job and career and has caused you to perhaps shun church where you might have eventually (through pleading and sobbing) gained entrance into the Kingdom of Heaven.

Sex! Sex! Sex!

What is it, but a lot of grunting and sweating on other people and writhing around like a couple of worms, you on top, me on top, both of us on top. Me out the window. Running naked through the yard in front of the neighbors.

Read more: Floot My Nooter