I’m slippery, I’m slimy, I can make things less difficult, after all it’s in my name. Oh yeah, I’m also a musical.

I judge your wallet and your art; I ticket sins then say I’m smart. What am I?

Canned chaos on a plate, adored by some, scorned by others, a word that floods without end, filling inboxes with empty chatter.

I resemble a bracket, but I do not hold things up. You can make a Sasquatch forest disappear with me.

I go in hard, I come out soft, you may choose to blow me.