This Week In Weird Twitter, Volume 32

This Week In Weird Twitter, Volume 32

Little Red Corvette. Baby you’re much too fast. Little Red Corvette. You need a love that’s gonna last.
Rich Cromwell

Hello and welcome to 2016! The last time we were together, it was 2015, if my math is correct. I was also only 39 the last time we met, whereas now I am 40.

Thus far, 40 has been very similar to my thirties, except for the fact that I’m feeling oddly compelled to get a convertible. At first I thought I should also get a girlfriend, per the rules of the game, but a friend told me to save something for 50. In any case, I do find myself yelling at youngsters much more than I used to and also having much stronger feelings about landscaping.

There are worse fates than worrying about teaching respect for one’s elders.

Another idea that’s worse than garden gnomes.

It is time to start making plans. I got more life insurance. I also need to consider my final words.

Or maybe I can just steal someone else’s final words? No, there are a few problems here. I guess I’ll put forth effort then.

Not even turning 40 compares.

There are many upsides to aging.

New year, new age, new goals.

Speaking of goals.

Maybe he’s just forlorn about aging and trying to relive his youth. Nah, just kidding.

“Hi ‘I’m getting stabbed,’ I’m Dad.”

Never give up on your dreams.

Just call it urban development or say you identify as a dragon and you’re good either way.

He agrees that’s the wiser choice.

It would’ve been cooler if this happened for 2016.

Fireworks come in many forms. Mostly overpriced ones that don’t last long enough, but enough about those who were stuck going out on New Years Eve.

Maybe combine them with fireworks and let’s talk.

Every family is different in its own wonderful way.

The main question being, “Why didn’t you use adamantium, idiot?”

There’s still time to die by trying to become a wolverine.

Speaking of dying, it’s probably time for me to sign up for Old Glory Insurance.

She’s not joking. It’s surprisingly effective.

Shortly after they return from angrily riding the ladybug.

Much like was said of Olaf and summer, nobody tell him.

Did I already mention goals for the new year? I can’t remember. Magic is probably good for keeping kids off your lawn.

Speaking of the new year.



He could be wearing his funeral best, so there’s that.

Isn’t that the premise of “Downton Abbey?”

Leave no trace.

“That wasn’t me!”

True story.

Sesame Street: Origins.

A Christmas Story.

If you forgot to get anyone presents, you might consider this store.

Or go to Radio Shack.

There’s some doubt still. Unless he goes with a double man-bun, then the odds are 100%.

Like. A. Boss. But maybe try this routine while holding a katana?


2015 was a year of learning new lessons.

Pretty much every gift you give your kids is a waste, to be honest.

Y’all try this and lemme know how it goes.

I wouldn’t try this.

No comment.

She won’t be selling him any ice at the end of the call.

I don’t understand what the confusion is.

Seriously. Stop doing that, people!

Maybe 2015 didn’t shape up how you wanted. But if you’re still searching for fulfillment, there are options.


And upward.

Until you achieve all your goals and make everything blindingly awesome. It’s the only way.

Happy 2016, friends. Should you find yourself in my neck of the woods, I will take you for a spin in my convertible, though you might want to watch out for the various organic detritus my kids have deposited in it. Unless…

Richard Cromwell is a senior contributor to The Federalist. Follow him on Twitter, @rcromwell4.
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