The Borderline Boy Occasionally Gets Kinda Ripe, And Needs A Good Rinsing Off

The Borderline Boy Occasionally Gets Kinda Ripe, And Needs A Good Rinsing Off


Coasties have to practice dragging your sorry ass out of the ocean, you know. I was sorta hoping they were going to go way out to sea, and throw the Black Eyed Peas overboard, but they threw the Crash Test Dummies overboard instead. To each his own.

[Thanks to Gerard at American Digest for bobbing on over and leaving that in our inbox]

I Once Owned A ’66 Dodge Dart That Leaked Oil Something Awful, And I Dreamed Of Doing This To It

I Once Owned A ’66 Dodge Dart That Leaked Oil Something Awful, And I Dreamed Of Doing This To It


Except without a parachute, natch.

Do we have some sort of official tiered system of diplomatic threats in case of international shenanigans?  First comes the strongly worded letter from the UN, which the fellow in Trashcanistan with a hook for a hand and an eyepatch doesn’t bother reading. Then comes John Kerry, who threatens to visit your benighted hellhole of a country and eat all the foie gras. Somewhere halfway between that and Hiroshima there must be an entry for: We’ll drop an entire used car lot on you.

Excuse Me, Do You Speak Bro?

Excuse Me, Do You Speak Bro?

The Bro accent was very strong there, and my Bro is a little rusty, so I’m not exactly sure how Travis Pastrami, or whatever his name was, fits in there, but he’s Eiffel-Towering someone named Ethan, only spelled wrong, and his brother is named Josh, which is a very Bro name indeed, and Josh says he can’t perform star-spangled loopty-loops on a bicycle as well as Ethan with the orthographically-challenged parents. Got it.

Never mind all that. The fascinating part is that somewhere, someone wondered aloud: What if we had a polygamous marriage between pro wrestling, tractor pulls, and a paper route, and sold tickets?

I’d call it genius, but genius would be a step back for such a mind.

[Thanks to Gerard at American Digest for sending that one along. Calling him a genius wouldn’t be a step back for him. More like a sideways move]

What It Was, Was Football

What It Was, Was Football

It wasn’t “Fantasy Football.” It wasn’t a concussion lawsuit. It wasn’t unsportsmanlike conduct after making a routine play. It wasn’t a holdout. It wasn’t a fine for the color of your socks. It wasn’t a seven dollar light beer in a dixie cup. It wasn’t a ten minute stoppage in play so the same official that got a call wrong could watch himself getting it wrong again on his own TV and then get it wronger.

What it was, was football.