Bonjour Paris, mon seul amour.

Date in Paris. With myself.

Happy birthday Paul Donnelly. Thank you for taking care of my I-can't-stop-and-relax-for-a-minute brother. I owe you.

Yeah... Not gonna happen. You can keep that picture, though. Just don't frame it or I'm not coming back to the Meadows' jungle ever again.

No, but thanks for the offer. I guess.

A very fucking rare video of Charlie Cobalt smiling for a camera 😱 You’re all fucking welcome!

My "it's too early to endure people's bullshit" face.

I've never asked.

Apparently, Twitter has deleted my old tweets for no reason. I guess they couldn't handle my excellence.

#GoVote, you idiots.

Many of you asked about tonight's episode. I can't spoil anything but let's say it took all of Jack's patience until I agreed to record this. And don't tell him, but here is a sneak peek. I'm not fun.

You can celebrate Christmas or you can celebrate @xandersummer's birthday. I celebrate both.

Someone talked me into escaping the family for a bit to go snowboarding 🏂🏂 He’s very convincing!

I know you didn't want a tweet for your birthday but fuck me if I ever follow your rules. Happy birthday Dad, Connor Cobalt. I love you, even if you're getting slower on chess. Old age things, I suppose.

Eliot has decided to throw a party for Edgar Allan Poe's birthday. Per his request, only family that knows the best three works of Poe (according to Eliot's subjective point of view) will be allowed at the party.

Happy birthday Minnie Mouse. Saw your best picture in a trashy magazine this morning Sullivan Meadows.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind... Damn Shakespeare, you clever bastard.

Cersei Lannister could probably be my second mother.

Of course I support people's rights. People's rights to shut the fuck up.

Either pain or love.