Opinions are like collectible Nascar plates: they depreciate quickly when taken out of the box.
Opinions are like beef tartar: best served raw by old Russian women.
Opinions are like Ethan Hawke's books: there's a certain awkward charm, but no one is going to be flinging their undies over it.
Opinions are like fire ants: I have to be rubbed down with calamine once I'm exposed to them.
Opinions are like armadillos: they can carry leprosy.
Opinions are like the state of pop music: dead since Tears for Fears disbanded.
Opinions are like the Panama Canal: I've never really understood the significance, although I'm sure it's there somewhere.
Opinions are like Segways: owned by crazy billionaires for the purpose of running over your kitty.
Opinions are like marijuana plants: when the RA finds out, you are so busted.
Opinions are like those frozen fish patties you bought a while back: they lurk in the back of the refrigerator, and when you finally try one, you puke your butt off.
Opinions are like Gerard Depardieu: a little too European for most people.
Opinions are like the bus station: the last refuge for lost souls and people in search of low-grade goofballs.
Opinions are like baby corn: only there so old ladies can have something to talk about while eating brunch.
Opinions are like conjoined twins: I have nightmares that they're chasing after me with a big harpoon.
Opinions are like Colin Farrell: Destined to die a long, painful death, probably at the hands of a Laotian hooker.