I feel like ‘The Office’ could very well be the impetus for our Nation’s next great ‘right to die’ debate. It’s suffering, obviously in pain, and watching it endlessly shit itself season by unholy season is tarnishing the legacy of what few can now remember was once a quality piece of work
If your drink of choice has a “Notable Deaths from Use” subsection on it’s Wikipedia page, it’s probably high time to be in the market for a different drink of choice
The Broncos don’t win ugly, they win Holy God were you in a chemical fire?
For those who would thrill at the suspense of two chimpanzees with relatively comparable, yet nonetheless considerable levels of cerebellar ataxia competing to engage a greased-up football in carnal relations, tonight’s Chargers-Chiefs game must have been a delight
It’s been a solid ten years since the Atlanta Braves last interfered with my wishes in any meaningful way yet I’m still giddy at the prospects of them somehow missing the playoffs. Someday when I have a son, and he begins to express an interest in sports, I plan to sit him down and say: “Son, do you feel capable of irrational disdain? For if you don’t feel like you could maintain a decades long smoldering enmity for a nebulous collection of strangers unified by temporary employment, then you shouldn’t even waste a second of your time.”
Every new season in the NFL comes with a few certainties, none more assured than defensive ends being both bigger and faster than either their counterparts from the year before or their incarnation from that previous season. Perhaps a step quicker, maybe a pound or two heavier, barely perceptible improvements upon a super human baseline that are only relevant against the stagnation of quarterback protective equipment and quarterback skeletal anatomy. Put simply the inflexible physics of force as it pertains to this matter essentially guarantees that assuming continued linear progression, a quarterback will suffer an injury during the course of play that is beyond the scope of anything yet seen in American sports. I hope that quarterback is Ben Roethlisberger.
Anybody watch Whitney? I would really love to be privy to the line of thinking that results in: ‘Hey it’s 2011, a gratuitous laugh track isn’t an absolutely terrible idea.’
Outliers precede trends, and as such I can confidently predict that within 5 years every NFL outfit will be starting a quarterback who scored a minimum of 1520 on their SAT, couldn’t throw a 15 yard out to save their life, and have an informed opinion on the refusal to accept traditional Spanish culture by the Basques.
In about 5 years, when you could back a truck over Peyton Manning’s femur without getting a single neuronal axon to fire, I’m sure he’ll look back without regret at his decision to push the boundaries of reasonable medicine in order to return to lead the Colts to a 9-7 season capped by a first round playoff loss
When I say I hate Modest Mouse, I want you to know that I mean it in the truest sense of the word. It isn’t a sitting in traffic strain of distaste, it’s the visceral sort of enmity usually reserved for oppressive, genocidal dictators and players on the Yankees
