Oh yay, it's Gavin McInnes, the white nationalist dude that got booted from the company he founded for being even worse than the rest of Vice...

" McInnes has referred to Asian-Americans as "slopes" and "riceballs," suggested Muslims are "stupider" and "more violent" due to inbreeding, defended blackface because some minstrel shows were "just mimicking black people" and "fun," backed the racist comments of Duck Dynasty's Phil Robertson, and argued that to yell the n-word at someone is "not racist" but "just very rude."

http://mediamatters.org/blog/2014/06/05/meet-the-hipster-racist-fox-news-guest-attackin/199617

I love how Norton gets all his guests completely blitzed beforehand. Really lends itself to the comedy.

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Uh no, anime characters are not "drawn to look more like westerners"

I think this article explains it well:
http://thesocietypages.org/socimages/2010/08/30/guest-post-why-do-the-japanese-draw-themselves-as-white/

*related=http://videosift.com/video/Jon-Snow-Is-the-Most-Depressing-Dinner-Party-Guest

You know nothing about dinner party etiquette, Jon Snow has been added as a related post - related requested by ChaosEngine.

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The music and visuals reminds me of the game The 7th Guest.

I'm sure she has some valid points but the fact-checker in me has to ask about the sources of the statistics for "100k to 140k males raped in prison" and "almost half the domestic abuse victims are men". Something more than "studies have shown". Doesn't take away from her speech so much as it makes me tune that part out the same way I would when Bill O'Reilly is shouting big numbers at his guests. Especially when she rounds it up to the higher estimate of 140k towards the end.

My opinion is hardly based off of simply just this interaction. It's years worth observation of how he interacts with guests on his show and seeing him live on stage.
He is not appear to be a very pleasant person to interact with. Don't let the subject matter of this clip get in the way of a pretty nasty personality. Many others would have answered Colbert with way more grace and tactfulness is all I'm trying to say.

And if they run out of hookers then they stack dead actors, stacked to the rafters line up the bastards all I want is the truth. And a perfect segue into tonight's musical guest, the Foo Fighters.

So...I go to John Lewis if I'm an old man who wants to look at little girls through a telescope?


The Man in the Moon had silver shoon
And his beard was of silver thread;
He was girt with pure gold and inaureoled
With gold about his head.
Clad in silken robe in his great white globe
He opened an ivory door
With a crystal key, and in secrecy
He stole o'er a shadowy floor;

Down a filigree stair of spidery hair
He slipped in gleaming haste,
And laughing with glee to be merry and free
He swiftly earthward raced.
He was tired of his pearls and diamond twirls;
Of his pallid minaret
Dizzy and white at its lunar height
In a world of silver set;

And adventured this peril for ruby and beryl
And emerald and sapphire,
And all lustrous gems for new diadems,
Or to blazon his pale attire.
He was lonely too with nothing to do
But to stare at the golden world,
Or to strain at the hum that would distantly come
As it gaily past him whirled;

And at plenilune in his argent moon
He had wearily longed for Fire-
Not the limpid lights of wan selenites,
But a red terrestrial pyre
With impurpurate glows of crimson and rose
And leaping orange tongue;
For great seas of blues and the passionate hues
When a dancing dawn is young;

For the meadowy ways like chrysophrase
By winding Yare and Nen.
How he longed for the mirth of the populous Earth
And the sanguine blood of men;
And coveted song and laughter long
And viands hot and wine,
Eating pearly cakes of light snowflakes
And drinking thin moonshine.

He twinkled his feet as he thought of the meat,
Of the punch and the peppery brew,
Till he tripped unaware on his slanting stair,
And fell like meteors do;
As the whickering sparks in splashing arcs
Of stars blown down like rain
From his laddery path took a foaming bath
In the ocean of Almain;

And began to think, lest he melt and stink,
What in the moon to do,
When a Yarmouth boat found him far afloat,
To the mazement of the crew
Caught in their net all shimmering wet
In a phosphorescent sheen
Of bluey whites and opal lights
And delicate liquid green

With the morning fish — 'twas his regal wish —
They packed him to Norwich town,
To get warm on gin in a Norfolk inn,
And dry his watery gown.
Though St. Peter's knell waked many a bell
In the city's ringing towers
To shout the news of his lunatic cruise
In the early morning hours,

No hearths were laid, not a breakfast made,
And no one would sell him gems;
He found ashes for fire, and his gay desire
For choruses and brave anthems
Met snores instead with all Norfolk abed,
And his round heart nearly broke,
More empty and cold than above of old,
Till he bartered his fairy cloak

With a half waked cook for a kitchen nook,
And his belt of gold for a smile,
And a priceless jewel for a bowl of gruel,
A sample cold and vile
Of the proud plum porridge of Anglian Norwich —
He arrived much too soon
For unusual guests on adventurous quests
From the Mountains of the Moon.