100/100 24

The podcaster glowered at his guest from across the table. The comedian nervously adjusted his tie, the white fabric with pink polka dots a reminder of better times.

"I never understood you as an act. I could never figure out if you were playing it straight with the jokes, or that this was some sort of Andy Kaufman homage where the audience was supposed to hate you. I just look into those eyes and feel like i'm not talking to the real you. Comedians are supposed to be truth-tellers, and you're so artificial. "

Fozzie waggled his ears in desperation.

100/100 23

We all sat together, inebriated on cheese and cheap wine, flipping through the DVDs trying to find something that would signify the closing of the year. We gave up and selected the one that all of us had memorized, providing a soundtrack to our final celebration. All of us, actors, painters, producers, and writers, watched the minutes go by, bracing ourselves for the tomorrow that held our hopes and fears. Each of us at that moment wanted this year to be -the- year, and the television uttered a single line as the clock struck midnight.

"The hammer is my penis."