Did any of that mean anything at all? Was Dave on medication? Was this code to let us know he was being held against his will, and we all failed him so he's actually been dead since 2010? We'll probably never know. Or maybe this will clue us in:

Dave Matthews/Twitter
Thirty-one people saw Dave Matthews saying, "Hello," and thought,
"Oh, hahaha, that is priceless. Oh my God. Gotta let the world know."

That was definitely code for something, but more than likely it was a message to the guy who supplies Dave with mescaline and canned air, rather than for fans or authorities. His final posting in 2010 was just a link to this video that depicts what happens when animation software falls into the hands of people who know what gasoline tastes like.

That was the last we heard of ol' Dave. We'll probably never hear from him again. Oh well, next.

Sammy J. shares a hell of a lot of selfies to let his fans know where he is and what he's doing, but the thing is, he's either the worst selfie taker in the history of that stupid word or the absolute best in a sort of subversively meta awesome way that our 3D brains can't comprehend. If it was one or two pics, you could chalk it up to hasty photography or a mistake, but he's got dozens and dozens of images that are all the same:

Samuel Jackson/Instagram
Thank you, sir! My friends would never believe I met ... a forehead. f**k."

Notice a pattern here? Jackson is like Waldo in every one of his photos, just peeking out from the side or the corner. It doesn't seem to matter where he is, when it's taken, or what he's doing. It's like even cameras are afraid of him. We would pin this on Instagram's software not knowing what to do with pictures that don't depict overpriced food, but it also happens on Twitter:

Samuel Jackson/Twitter
Answer: photographers.

It's entirely possible Jackson and his phone just met and neither understands the other at all. Either that or this is the single greatest joke Jackson has ever conceived, and he laughs each and every time he posts it the way your dad used to laugh when he farted in the car on a hot day.

... he posts them damn near every other Tweet. There comes a time when the hilarious one-sentence observations of the people of Reddit slapped onto a picture of Gary Coleman or a cat are just not that funny anymore. And, for the record, this is the real Chris Rock, not the inexplicably popular fake Australian one that posts self-help bullshit and blatant plagiarism (whom we're not linking to, because f**k that guy).

Chris Rock/Twitter
Something tells us that last one wasn't written by one of the most recognizable people on the planet.

Even more bizarre than Rock's love of memes is his hatred for people who produce memes. For unknown and legally questionable reasons, every meme gets posted with a little "copyright Chris Rock" at the bottom, which is kind of like taking someone else's dinner and telling them it's yours because you have it now. Someone took the time to slap that little notice on every single one, which means Rock never even posts these memes on a whim -- he's not just seeing them and thinking, "Ha!" and then tweeting; he's probably having some PR person make it unofficially official and then posting it in complete disregard for how copyright (and, curiously, humor) works. He'll even post it right next to copyrights from the sites he got the pictures from, a gutsy move in the world of meme thievery.

Chris Rock/Twitter
Some people are just shameless.

Next on the menu is a wedge of iceberg with Russian dressing and not, as you'd assume, what was left of that red-haired dude who smashed into the vat of toxic waste in RoboCop:

Martha Stewart/Twitter
Those little lumps are his teeth.

Martha labeled this "Hotate uni miso at En brasserie," so you just learned how to describe the flattened, empty egg pod of an alien facehugger in another language; isn't that cool?

Martha Stewart/Twitter
Incidentally, if you p***k it with a fork, it wheezes out, "Kill me."

And why not celebrate the next installment of the epic Fallout game series with this mildly irradiated mutant stew served in a delicate broth of cream and bile:

Martha Stewart/Twitter
This is what she says to haters instead of "f**k you."

For the more adventurous, what we have here is a sampler of different kinds of s**t. Runny s**t, lumpy s**t, discolored s**t, pebble shits, and s**t spaetzle. That one's special -- try it with the s**t sauce. Shitastic!

Martha Stewart/Twitter
What part of the home, though?

This reads like the stream-of-consciousness poem from the world's first sentient poli-sci bot shortly before it shot itself. What do these words have in common, and what is Chuck trying to tell us? It's as though he were making his own National Treasure and you need to decipher these clues to find Washington's secret stash of dusty, colonial porno mags.

Chuck Grassley/Twitter
What the f- oh, we thought he said, "Iran Welfare Energy Buns." Now it makes sense.

This one follows the same pattern with the addition of a hashtag, so we can confirm he actually knows he's on Twitter; he just doesn't know why. Is he simply listing all the words he's read in the paper today? Things he likes? Double Word scores from Scrabble?

Chuck Grassley/Twitter, 2, 3, 4
Someone had to say it.

This is where s**t gets deep for Grassley. No longer can he communicate in merely incomplete thoughts; dude needs incomplete words. Assemble them all to get a secret message from Little Orphan Annie! And finally, here he is being assimilated by the Borg mid-sentence:

Chuck Grassley/Twitter
We're having Superman III ending flashbacks.

That's a Jewish fella and a Muslim fella about to get all up in each others' grills and suck some mortal-enemy tongues. She posted it with the caption "This image is 100 #rebelhearts," which essentially means nothing. In and of itself, advertising your new album with an image that comes from the ad campaign for Tel Aviv-based gay parties (seriously) is perfectly fine, if you're Madonna. It does evoke some rebellious imagery, so maybe she was onto something. And whatever that was, she fell right off with her follow-up Instagram video featuring her and her "sock b***h" in bed:

Madonna/YouTube
This looks like a real-life version of when they add MS Paint drawings over porn.

For those who aren't sure what a sock b***h is, it seems to be a sock puppet used in and around the word "b***h." Madonna, all dressed up to eat cookies in bed, is accosted by the sock, and they have a little meet-and-greet before the sock lists off the cities it wants to see Madonna perform. Madonna assures it, b***h, that she'll be everywhere, because it's a world tour. So it's a tour about controversial imagery and Middle East peace, but also sock puppets with foul mouths. But all of this is perfectly rational compared to ...

If you're under 20, you may have no idea what or who a Cher is. If you're over 20, you at least know what Cher used to be before she was eaten sometime in the '90s by an enraged autotune machine and forced to merge with it to create the world's most final touringest cyborg-singer of all time.

These days, Cher spends her time on Twitter, trying to see how many ways she can arrange letters generally recognized by English-speaking peoples into shartzophrenic hyper-babble. Some of the Tweets seem like they means things, but probably only in the context of whatever is likely happening in Cher's underground bunker.

Cher/Twitter
Cher was quickly fired as the writer of CNN's news crawl.

Part of Cher's problem is that she seems to be addressing real-time issues, but in the most emojified fashion imaginable. Like her penchant for using chicken emojis to represent her followers. At other times she busts out cartoon emojis for totally inappropriate messages, like this one from after the Charleston church shooting:

Cher/Twitter
If Cher can't understand, what hope does humanity have?

Are cartoon guns and Wile E. Coyote-style explosions really the best way to address a mass murder? And then there's just the myriad questionable posts that make no sense whatsoever, like this:

Cher/Twitter
Experts recommend that you limit teabagging sessions to under four hours.

Or this:

Cher/Twitter
We're more concerned about what the doctors didn't give you.

Some Tweets make more sense if you discover the correct sequence:

Cher/Twitter, 2, 3
No caption we write could make a funnier punchline than the increasing retweet numbers.

Basically, Cher just got switched on one day in the 1960s and has been unable to stop since, the result of which is that her logic and coherence tanks are running empty and she's coasting entirely on the fumes of madness.

ENGAGE AT YOUR OWN RISK.

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