…parallel park. Rub his stomach and pat his head simultaneously. I bet he can riffle shuffle like a croupier, and cut the cards one-handed. I bet he sinks the eight without scratching. Probably can go fly fishing without filling his waders with water. He can shoot thirty percent from the three-point line. I imagine he hits the waste basket with his wadded-up first-draft love letters every time. He can chip from the trap and get down in two. Betcha he plays on the All Madden setting. Betcha he doesn’t have to pay for drinks, but does anyway.

I bet that fire is shaking in its boots, right now.

(Thanks to Charles Schneider for sending that one along)