Here's a little more than two years' worth (March 2008-April 2010) of shameless filler gathered from you-know-where. Be advised that prescription drugs and various types of vanity, some of which can be alleviated through the use of said drugs, are recurring themes/punchlines.
Robert Cass is bragging about himself silently.
Robert Cass is drinking wine out of a sippy cup. To life!
Robert Cass is eating his words. They're SCRUMDILLYUMPTIOUS.
Robert Cass is asking you how you're doing just so you'll ask him in return how he's doing just so he can tell you how great he's doing!
Robert Cass thinks Australia needs to make up its mind—country or continent? You can't have it both ways, Oz.
Robert Cass wishes he lived in Darfur so he could meet the stars of the Ocean's Eleven
Robert Cass should probably finish cleaning up all that blood.
Robert Cass is thrilled to be expressing dull private thoughts in such an exciting public fashion!
Robert Cass has been stretching the "three-second rule" of food handling to seven seconds or more for quite some time now.
Robert Cass has started throwing his Twix wrappers in his coworker's trash can so the janitor won't think he's the one with all the cavities.
Robert Cass have a dream that one day nouns and verbs will no longer disagree with each other.
Robert Cass is overrated as an underdog.
Robert is happy because he just learned how to scan a photo-booth picture from almost two years ago! (Yes, two years ago he was smiling in anticipation of this very moment. Do not question Robert's logic or his smiles.)
Robert is smug because the knowledge of scanning pictures has made him feel powerful. Like a fool, he doesn't realize he's at the mercy of technology, which holds the true power. Also, he's a robot who's been programmed to think he's human. (Didn't see that plot twist coming, did you?)
Robert Cass has enough unearned confidence to power a small country.
Robert Cass is spinning in his grave!
Robert Cass thinks his girlfriend's suicide note would've benefited from a second draft, which he plans to tell her once she comes out of the coma.
Robert Cass is feelin' alright alright alright now that Matthew McConaughey Jr. has been born.
Robert Cass lights up your life.
Robert Cass has read the writing on the wall and wonders if 12 different variations on "penis" were really necessary.
Robert Cass is painfully aware that his best days as a drug mule are behind him.
Robert Cass is learning the hard way that not every woman he kidnaps will automatically fall in love with him.
Robert Cass can't believe you're wearing that but is too good a friend to tell you.
Robert Cass has banged a gong but has yet to get it on.
Robert Cass regrets sacrificing his one phone call at the county lock-up for this status update.
Robert Cass thinks "gunplay" is a funny little oxymoron.
Robert Cass enjoys the bingeing much more than the purging.
Robert Cass smells pretty.
Robert Cass knows he'd make a great deadbeat dad if some single mom with low self-esteem would just give him a chance.
Robert Cass wants Michael Phelps to thank him for not watching the Olympics and therefore not jinxing him. You too, Chicago Cubs.
Robert Cass was hoping Swing Vote
would be more like CBS's Swingtown
. Aside from Kevin Costner and Kelsey Grammer's steamy love scene, it was not.
Robert Cass had condor
for dinner three days last week. It was his own special way of paying tribute to movie-star environmentalist Robert Redford.
Robert Cass is more Robert Carradine than Robert Redford. Life is an endless series of trade-offs.
Robert Cass loves black people, but he expresses it in ways that make every race uncomfortable.
Robert Cass doesn't need your pity. But he doesn't want to see it go to waste, either, so hand it over.
Robert Cass wishes he had the power to disable all cell phones just so he could watch everyone under 35 completely lose their shit.
Robert Cass has never been one of those "reluctant" sex symbols.
Robert Cass has been informed by the FAA that the bags under his eyes are now heavy enough to qualify as carry-ons.
Robert Cass likes when people celebrate his birthday early. It makes him feel even more like Jesus.
Robert Cass became a fan of himself the day he was born. Alright alright alright ...
Robert Cass is on a subliminable trip to nowhere!
Robert Cass wonders if the H in "Jesus H. Christ" is short for "Hussein." See you at the polls, evangelical swing voters!
Robert Cass has nothing to hide from media jackals and ill-informed bloggers like ... well, like himself.
Robert Cass is shaving with one hand and typing with the— OH MY GOD, MY BEAUTIFUL FACE!!!!
Robert Cass hopes you enjoy his impression of every single stockbroker photo from the past two weeks.
Robert Cass don't want to end up a cartoon in a cartoon graveyard.
Robert Cass tunes in to The Hills
for the ennui, but he stays for the malaise.
Robert Cass just realized that describing himself as "the quiet loner type" in personal ads may be scaring off potential customers.
Robert Cass doesn't drown his sorrows, he waterboards them.
Robert Cass calls himself a "game changer" whenever he flips over a Scrabble board in disgust, while his opponents call him a 12-letter synonym for "incest participant."
Robert Cass is not the man who will fight for your honor.
Robert Cass thinks that if everyone votes for Obama and listens to TV on the Radio, racism will end. (Robert's recent lobotomy was a success.)
Robert Cass didn't realize why everyone was so excited this morning until he opened the newspaper and saw that it's Matthew McConaughey's birthday!
Robert Cass did it! He helped elect America's first black president. In his own small way, Robert is a hero. America loves Robert!
Robert Cass was so happy when ACORN registered his precious cat to vote, only to be disappointed when that vote was wasted on Bob Barr. No, Mr. Snickerbottoms! Bad kitty!
Robert Cass is alone with his thoughts. Quick, somebody call or text him so he can end this existential nightmare!
Robert Cass is Employee of the Millennium! The mug he stole from work says so.
Robert Cass is surprised how many black people are avoiding his spontaneous hugs on the street. It's almost as if November 4 never happened, and that's just sad.
Robert Cass enjoys long walks on the beach, especially if Jesus is there to do the heavy lifting.
Robert Cass thinks Eraserhead might not be the best choice for treasury secretary. America can't just erase its financial problems. What if there's a pencil shortage?
Robert Cass runs a think tank inside the 42nd Precinct drunk tank every Friday night.
Robert Cass is a bottomless refill of nonjudgmental love.
Robert Cass is celebrating his legal victory over corporate fat cats: the judge ruled that sex with a Coca-Cola vending machine is not
Robert Cass loves Johnny Hates Jazz. But they've never acknowledged his love. Does that mean they hate him?
Robert Cass should've known better than to trust a governor with that much hair.
Robert Cass is ashamed of Rod Blagojevich, another in a long line of corrupt Republicans. So what if he's a Democrat? Robert is sticking to his talking points.
Robert Cass loves the fact that Facebook status updates are a voluntary invasion of privacy. You're always one step ahead, Department of Homeland Security.
Robert Cass is celebrating America's rich heritage this Christmas by becoming an Indian giver.
Robert Cass is the most critically acclaimed critic of himself.
Robert Cass is doing something incredibly mundane. Before Facebook there was no way to mass-distribute that kind of information. Thank you, technology.
Robert Cass loves telling fans of The Wire
that T.J. Hooker
covered the exact same ground 25 years ago.
Robert Cass is going to search far and wide for gainful employment. In particular, he's going to keep an open mind about Pacific Rim jobs.
Robert Cass was in a dark place the last few weeks, but now that his electric bill's been paid, he's feeling much better. He thanks you for your concern and your Paxil.
Robert Cass has cut himself shaving so many times in the past month that he's developed a reputation as a shark tease.
Robert Cass can't wait for Inauguration Day, when he gets another chance to pat himself on the back. You're still welcome, America!
Robert Cass wishes the reverse psychology he used in yesterday's impromptu hostage negotiation hadn't backfired so tragically, but as they say, live and learn.
Robert Cass was hoping the kids he's sponsored through Christian Children's Fund would be rich soccer stars by now. Ersatz absentee papa needs a loan.
Robert Cass is seeing Frost/Nixon
today. He has $1,000 riding on Nixon winning at the buzzer. Robert hopes God and Ron Howard are listening right now.
Robert Cass is bold. And when he's angry, he's downright italicized.
Robert Cass is licking his wounds, despite his doctor's recommendation that he actually bandage them.
Robert Cass couldn't have picked a worse time
to debut his new Death by Peanut Butter
Robert Cass is a grown-ass man. But by identifying himself as such, he loses respect from all the grown-ass men who know that actions speak louder than status updates.
Robert Cass doesn't like private jokes. Except for that one Spencer told about you last week. That was hilarious, Spence! High five!
Robert Cass has been told he's the new Hemingway, "minus the talent and any trace of masculinity."
Robert Cass is more than just a gorgeous head of hair.
Robert Cass is a tall drink of water served in a Dixie cup.
Robert Cass has hit a snag. Now he's backing up over it. Now he's hitting it again. Now he's speeding away before anybody sees him.
Robert Cass pretends he's somewhere else when stuck in one-sided conversations with self-absorbed thespians. Acting really is all about make-believe.
Robert Cass has lost his looks! Oh, wait, there they are—it was hard to see them at first under all that back hair.
Robert Cass was crying on the inside until he noticed that crying on the outside gets a more immediate response.
Robert Cass believes that at the end of the day people will still be using that worn-out phrase.
Robert Cass has got to be somebody's baby, he's so fine.
Robert Cass thinks intelligence is sexy, especially when it has nice legs.
Robert Cass has the vapors!
Robert Cass makes sure his presence is always felt, like a pimple inside your nose.
Robert Cass was unable to convince the jury that he ran that international prostitution ring for charity.
Robert Cass is requesting that everyone limit their status updates to five words or less in accordance with the new global attitude toward reading.
Robert Cass is congratulating himself on yet another insignificant accomplishment!
Robert Cass wonders if Zoloft can be prescribed to an economy.
Robert Cass should probably be paying attention to his lawyer, who's giving some sort of speech to the people sitting in the box-shaped thing.
Robert Cass thought your kid would be cuter.
Robert Cass is overrated as an underdog. (In honor of Earth Day, Robert is recycling an old status update.)
Robert Cass is confronted with the limits of his intelligence every time he tries to put the toaster "trap door" back on its hinges.
Robert Cass was surprised when he found out his date for 17 Again
isn't 17. If that movie was rated R, he would've been her "adult guardian," and Robert just isn't ready for that kind of commitment yet.
Robert Cass insists that recipients of his mixes listen to them from start to finish, not in "a la carte" fashion on a "shuffle" setting. Robert is apparently unaware that it's no longer 1996.
Robert Cass is afraid his 22-month-old niece's attention span is longer than his own.
Robert Cass wants you to give him cash for ABBA Gold
. (Thanks to a typing error while using Amazon.com, Robert now owns 1,111 copies of this album.)
Robert Cass is a man of mystery meat.
Robert Cass wishes he had a job, because then he'd have plenty of time to take important Facebook quizzes just like all of his working friends.
Robert Cass is turning a phrase (into a verbal catastrophe).
Robert Cass is a tastemaker. A badtastemaker, but everybody has to start somewhere.
Robert Cass is taking the rest of the decade off.
Robert Cass just found a missing tortilla chip in his chest hair. Robert is having a great day!
Robert Cass forgives you for not forgiving him, but the odds of him blowing up your pool again are, like, ten to one, so ease up already.
Robert Cass is going to crash a bunch of gay and interracial weddings this summer just to prove how sensitive he is.
Robert Cass isn't crazy about his close resemblance to a spider monkey after he gets out of the shower.
Robert Cass is tired of not being treated like a sex object.
Robert Cass wants to pinpoint the moment when "How are you?" became "I'm just saying hello. Please do not answer as if you were asked a question."
Robert Cass feels much more "mama say mama-sah muh-mah-koo-sah" than "de do do do, de da da da" right now, but that could change.
Robert Cass is taking an ego trip from the safety of his own home.
Robert Cass needs a laugh track that can produce at least five seconds of thunderous applause whenever he enters a room. Maybe Norman Lear has one he can borrow.
Robert Cass would love to be a private investigator as long as he could solve every crime in 60 minutes and only be shot in the shoulder once per season.
Robert Cass was unsure about President Obama's birthplace until he hired a Hawaiian P.I. to investigate. But now he has a nagging suspicion that the P.I. himself wasn't born in Hawaii. Anti-birthers, a new conspiracy is afoot ...
Robert Cass wonders how many anti-birthers are also pro-lifers.
Robert Cass probably wouldn't mind living next to a serial killer since they're generally known to be quiet tenants.
Robert Cass is an old-fashioned guy who prefers face-to-face narcissism over all other kinds.
Robert Cass is not a better man for having stolen the identity and wardrobe of a woman, but it's too late to return all these great pantsuits now.
Robert Cass is watching 1995's Last of the Dogmen
on AMC, a modern-day Western starring Tom Berenger and narrated by Wilford Brimley. Robert's testosterone levels are dangerously high, and his mustache is growing at a freakishly rapid rate. Someone call for help!
Robert Cass is going out of his way to get out of his way.
Robert Cass thinks no one should die if they don't feel like it, and no one should go broke as long as Scientologists are willing to pay top dollar to harvest their eggs inside our brains. If you agree, send Robert a blank check.
Robert Cass defends Rep. Joe Wilson
's right to express simple noun-verb agreement in response to complex issues.
Robert Cass is just a man with a tear-duct infection and a fetish for greasepaint.
Robert Cass wishes Kanye West would devote more time to noteworthy causes, like interrupting the Nobel Peace Prize ceremony next month. ("Mahatma Gandhi made some of the best peace of all time!")
Robert Cass is turning a blind eye to blind guys who say his hygiene makes them wish their sense of smell wasn't so heightened.
Robert Cass listed his birthday on Facebook as September 25, but it's actually September 35. He apologizes for the error and hopes you'll return with brand-new birthday wishes in ten days.
Robert Cass woke up on the wrong side of the bed on the wrong side of the tracks. But he was in the right time zone for once, so things are lookin' up!
Robert Cass is so excited that Chicago's been selected to host the 2016 Summer Olympic Games! (Robert is from the future. Did he fail to mention that?)
Robert Cass is confused. If Chicago wasn't selected to host the 2016 Summer Olympics, does that mean he's a time traveler from ... an alternate reality?! Or does it mean he should cut back on the Ambien? (Robert would prefer the former, not the latter.)
Robert Cass wonders if David Letterman presented a "Top Ten Employees I've Slept With" list at Thursday's grand-jury hearing.
Robert Cass is high on you! So if he eats all your Doritos or passes out in your bathtub or steals one of your credit cards, please take it as a compliment.
Robert Cass congratulates President Obama on winning Rookie of the Year in both the National and American leagues. That must've been one heck of a first pitch at the All-Star Game!
Robert Cass has trouble taking compliments from himself. (They always sound so insincere.)
Robert Cass is I was not a English major.
Robert Cass has miles to go before he sleeps. Robert is pretentious in a high school poetry kind of way.
Robert Cass has turned a corner in his life, wiping out seven innocent bystanders in the process.
Robert Cass is America's (self-proclaimed) sweetheart!
Robert Cass is fuhgeddinaboutit.
Robert Cass misses certain things from his childhood, including summer vacation, trips to his grandparents' house, and drivers using their turn signals.
Robert Cass dreamed he had a ménage à trois with Bruce Springsteen and The Wire: The Complete Series
box set. He wasn't impressed, but he knows plenty of white male liberals who would be.
Robert Cass feels bad for all those gorillas that are exploited year in and year out as car-wash mascots.
Robert Cass is happy that Rush Limbaugh received such good treatment from those secretly Kenyan doctors in Hawaii.
Robert Cass just wants to be stalked with the same amount of enthusiasm, showmanship, and (of course) ALL-ENCOMPASSING OBSESSION that he selflessly puts forth EVERY SECOND OF EVERY DAY when he's stalking you. Is that too much to ask? You get what you give, people.
Robert Cass saw Avatar
and learned that we should take care of the environment ... on other planets. But Robert lives on this planet, and it's not his fault the ground isn't a "designated" trash receptacle.
Robert Cass comes with cleaning instructions identical to those of his sneakers: "Just brush dirt off and treat surface with leather impregnation spray."
Robert Cass disappoints himself so you
don't have to!
Robert Cass is tradin' in his Chevy for a Cadillac-ac-ac-ac-ac-ac.
Robert Cass can't stop asking "Who dat?" Specifically, "Who dat revivin' dat minstrel-show slang for the sake of a sports chant?" By the way, Robert has finally made some headway on his dissertation, which is now titled "Jar Jar Binks, Intergalactic Civil Rights Pioneer."
Robert Cass is like a greeting card covered in glitter: charming on the surface, but ultimately a huge mess.
Robert Cass has finally completed his exhaustive photo retrospective, "Bobby and His Middle Finger: Same Pose, Different Party, 1995-2009." Look for it soon at the Art Institute of Chicago. (Did you know that in some languages "at" means "on the sidewalk in front of"? It's a fact!)
Robert Cass takes comfort in knowing that he's still half a foot taller than Chuck Norris.
Robert Cass asks that you keep him in your thoughts and prayers, not the trunk of your car.
Robert Cass thinks those hatemongers in D.C. last weekend should be thrilled—insurance companies can no longer deny coverage because of the pre-existing condition known as "asshole."
Robert Cass is annoyed by loud, public cell-phone arguments, particularly the ones that aren't in English and therefore make it impossible for him to eavesdrop.
Robert Cass believes the size of a store is inversely proportional to the amount of guilt one feels for wasting hours inside said store without ever buying anything.