New Yorker Captions

Creative, imaginative, and fierce—these are just a few of the words I’m reading off the teleprompter.

Have you given any thought to what you’re going to do with your life after the Super Bowl?

I feel like my best passwords are already behind me.

As far as I'm concerned, they can do what they want with the minimum wage, just as long as they keep their hands off the maximum wage.

Forgive me, Doris, but some computer hacker from Rosyln, Long Island has just gained access to my feelings.

Don’t these fools realize they’re violating every principle of feng-shui?

Your skin is enlarged.

His coffee’s always crap for about a week after the MacArthur genius-grant winners are announced.

I’ll be in, honey, as soon as I rake the leaf.

Globally warm enough for you, buddy?

Remember, son, these are your tax-free years. Make the most of them.

You’re a disgrace to your tax bracket.

Rain, Your Holiness—may I suggest the plastic papal vestments?

Ah, spring—when a young skinhead’s fancy turns to kicking ass.

I’d like to believe we’re redefining the way future generations will waste their time.

You may rush in.

It's just that I would be more thankful if we had roast beef.

You had me at goodbye.

Susan, this might be just the wine talking, but - I think I want to order more wine.

The playoffs are over. The Superbowl is over. Gone. Gone. Gone.