There’s a guest in my hotel by the name of Jonathan Kent. All week long I’ve had to call restaurants and say, “I’m calling to make a reservation for Jonathan Kent.”
I hate my life so much when this happens.

Jonathan Kent beats his wife Martha. He drinks beers and plows fields and he’s impotent and he smacks her around the farm, I just know it. Watch Smallville and tell me she’s not being controlled. I don’t care what anybody says. Her everyday struggle is a Lifetime TV movie waiting to air.