I have no choice but to believe that one of two things is happening here. Either Chandler Parsons is doing a bad job of jokingly playing into the whole virgin label that was undeservedly slapped upon him by Joel Embiid, or Joel Embiid knows a lot more about Chandler Parsons love life than he probably should. Asking a social media model to show you her tits on a live feed with hundreds of other people is a move reserved for those that claim ownership of the most inexperienced of dicks. That's just a fact. So if an NBA player whose contract is worth so much that most Instagram models couldn't even correctly calculate the number of zeros completely ignores the existence of DM's and goes the "horny commenter" route then he's either pretending he has no game or he's simply never scored. I don't know how someone that played basketball for four years at the University of Florida could possibly have an unchristened penis, but I also don't know why he would think that this is all that funny. I would never hate on a man for shooting his shot with someone who looks like Felicia Sanders, but the selection could use some work because something tells me this one doesn't stand a very good chance of coming up wet. In fact, I would argue that making your elementary, perverted demands public has about the same rate of success as Chandler Parsons knees.
0 Comments
NYPost- Jerry Henderson of Burleson, Texas says he and his wife have visited Six Flags Over Texas almost every weekend for three years to walk the park for exercise. Henderson, who sports a long white beard, and small, rimless-glasses says park officials never had a problem with his appearance—until Saturday.
“This ain’t a costume,” Henderson told CBS Dallas-Fort-Worth of his signature, Santa-like look which he says he’s maintained for almost two decades. During the holiday season, he wears a red vest and Santa hat, too. “I go to Walmart like this. This is me,” he said. “I enjoy making kids smile.” While visiting Six Flags Saturday, Henderson says another park visitor approached him to pose for a picture with her children. That’s when the trouble started. “[I] knelt down, put my arms around them, and afterward I reached in my wife’s walker, pulled out two candy canes, handed it to them,” Henderson said of the encounter. A park security staffer soon approached and immediately told the Kris Kringle lookalike that he was no longer welcome. “’We’re gonna have to ask you to leave’,” Henderson says the guard told him. “I said, ‘For what reason?’ He said, ‘You look too much like Santa Claus.’ And I’m like, ‘Are you kidding me?’ I do not approach kids. The parents come to me.” Henderson claims he then offered to take off his hat and promised to stop handing out any treats but says the park manager told him that wouldn’t be enough—he’d have to get rid of the beard, too. You just know the world is an unbearably fucked up place when I agree with 'Six Flags' for taking action against a man who plays up the fact that he looks like Santa Claus around the holidays. I really want to say it's ridiculous that the assumption is that Jerry Henderson is some kind of creepy predator, but to do so I would have to also make the claim that there isn't a single bearded man lurking around an amusement park with sweets hoping to reel in stray, vulnerable kids. I know were all supposed to see the best in people around the holidays, but it would take a Christmas miracle for everyone that looks like Jerry Henderson year round to have good intentions. Simply put, it's better safe than sorry. Can you imagine if Kris Kringle was just trying to sucker some unsupervised children back to his non-descript Astro van in the parking lot with a couple of candy canes? You don't have to answer that, because I know you can imagine that. Hell, without Googling it I would say I'm half certain that headline has been printed before. The world - as a whole - is a shitty place where bad things happen. Theme parks aren't exempt from that idea, so the people that run those theme parks have to do everything in their power to make sure they don't find themselves culpable in kidnappings. That's a insanely cynical way to look at a friendly old man giving a couple children a photo-op with Saint Nick. However, if Jerry Henderson randomly showed up to a public park hugging kids and handing out candy corn a month ago then there would be no shortage of parents begging for him to be represented by a red dot on an online map, and that's not just because candy corn fucking sucks. I'll agree that Six Flags didn't have to kick out a loyal customer and a simple warning would have sufficed, but I don't agree that they should take every non-contracted Santa that claims they aren't a sexual deviant at their word. FTW- “If money is the motivation, then f— that,” she says. “All these Money people… Money [Floyd] Mayweather, Money [Conor] McGregor. I see they’re trying to do an angle or whatever. People buy it.
The worship of money in our society is so deep. But just because that’s the easiest way to keep people’s attention or entertain them doesn’t mean that’s the right way.” “That loss saved me from becoming what I hate. One of those people who live their lives to impress everyone else. Who put up a front for the world to admire. Who make sure every charitable act is posted and shared for their own image gain. Who posture and pose for people they care nothing about except for the opinion they have of them.” “I was just trying to make too many people happy. But when I try and do favors and make everybody else happy, at the end of the day, they walk away happy and I’m the one who has to deal with the depression. All the pay-per-views in the world, all the money in the world, it means f—ing nothing to me because I lost.” Yeah, take those hundreds of millions of dollars and use them to wipe your tears Floyd, because everyone knows that money can't buy happiness! Why do you think Conor McGregor is so goddamn agitated all the time? It's because not even those never-before-seen UFC paydays can turn that frown upside down! Take it from Ronda Rousey, the path to true prosperity is through the ever-wavering admiration of strangers. That is, until you get your head kicked across the globe, your aura of invincibility gets forever tainted, people move on to the next big story, and your self of esteem can no longer be kept afloat by your universal likability. Let's just put the cards on the table here. Ronda Rousey's embarrassing loss to Holly Holm didn't save her from shit. If "what she hates" is someone whose sense of self is tied directly to what other people think about them then her self loathing must have been off the fucking richter, because she was the prototype for people that don't identify themselves by anything but their celebrity. In fact, she would still be that prototype if she didn't get pushed from her pedestal by a roundhouse kick that damn near detached her jaw from her face. Ronda Rousey only had a come-to-Jesus moment in the sense that she probably thought she was ascending to heaven for a few seconds after she got knocked out. She didn't "see the light" unless you're talking about the hundreds of cameras flashing in her face as she lay mildly conscious. Her confidence was so fragile because she had made a career out of being just as superficial as the people she's currently criticizing. I agree with her in the sense that the fulfillment one gets from the neverending search for more money is fleeting at best. However, this self righteous bullshit that is characteristic of a recovering drug addict who preaches the word of the Lord ad nauseam to help themselves forget how much they really, really want to get high is just as much of a front as the one that got shattered into millions of pieces by the foot of Holly Holm. Mayweather and McGregor seem perfectly content using their increasing networth as their motivation, and it's not her place to tell them they can't seeing as one of them was able to absord an excruciating loss without running to cash paychecks for playing the poorly acted subplot in shitty movies.
I'm not here to judge what an outspoken, undersized center that has easily outperformed his draft slot uses as motivation. If Draymond Green needs to take it personal when one of the most young, exciting players in the entire NBA calls him "one of the best defenders in the league" then that's what he has to do. His self-inspirational tactics have worked pretty well for him thus far so who am I to question his nonsensical use of praise as bulletin board material? If having the respect of his less-accomplished peers is what makes the fire burn brighter in his belly then he should respond to compliments with rage - no matter how ridiculously ass-backwards that seems. What I can't let slide is him telling literally anyone to "keep it to yourself" when he's never once thought about doing the same. I didn't even want to write this because I have already grown tired of talking about Draymond Green this season, and that's solely because he can't keep anything to himself. His opinions, his bitching, his motherfucking feet - I can't name a single goddamn thing that he has kept to himself, and that includes his thoughts on the completely harmless comments made by a competitor while answering someone else's question about him. It took everything in my power for this blog not to ever-so-eloquently read "SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!" in size 98 font, because the guy whining about someone fulfilling their media obligation has become too insufferable for articulate discourse. Draymond Green actively seeks things to get mad about more diligently than a PMSing high school girlfriend whose favorite perfume was recently discontinued. That wouldn't be nearly as annoying if he internalized that anger, or - ya know - kept it to his fucking self.
First and foremost, I want to be the first to say that I hope Jon Ryan woke up this morning with nothing more than a massive headache. As we have all blissfully ignored until about 5 years ago, concussions are a very real concern. The Seahawks punter - that didn't have enough clout to respond to his coach's fake punt call when up 21 with 5 minutes left against a hapless opponent by telling him to blow it out his ass - never deserved to be put at risk of that danger. Not just because it was a clear violation of sportsmanship, but because that big of a violation of sportsmanship was bound to tempt the universe into action. I don't even think Jon Ryan fumbled that ball because he has limited athleticism and was likely too worried about the urine running down his leg as he took off down the middle of a field surrounded by a bunch of dudes that could bench press him with one hand without a sideline to serve as his guardian angel. I think he fumbled that ball because the football gods swooped down and peanut punched it out from under his arm simply to send a very distinct message to Pete Carroll. Pretty certain that message read "hey, could you maybe stop being a dickhead now?". I usually don't have a problem with burying a division rival in salt as they are bleeding out all over the field, but picking on the Los Angeles Rams is straight up bullying at this point. I mean, that team couldn't come back from down three touchdowns if they were spotted two touchdowns, two field goals, Mike Martz, and Isaac Bruce. I am definitely not saying I'm glad that Jon Ryan's tip drill resulted in him getting clocked into another time zone, but I am saying that it was basically karma once he obliged to his coach's wishes by taking a leak on a corpse. P.S. Top 5 picture of the year.... This Fake Video Of A Young Cowboys Fan Crying After A Loss Makes Me Want To Get a Vasectomy12/15/2016 Fuck this kid. Fuck him for whining after his first loss in exactly three months. Fuck him for being a shitty actor when seeing that his mother was taping him and - in doing so - not letting me suspend disbelief to hate him even more. Fuck his stupid hair cut. Fuck his bitchy voice. Fuck his entire world. I hope Dez Bryant shows up at his house on Christmas morning and smacks him upside the head with a sock full of coal. Honestly, I was beginning to think that the Cowboys being good again wasn't the worst thing in the world. Dak comes off as a likeable dude. Zeke is too much of a beast not to respect. Romo is a loveable loser lurking on the sidelines looking like his dog died. Jerry is Jerry. Sure, their fans are all a bunch of front-running dickbags, but most of them have actually handled success pretty humbly so far this year. All in all, there were teams I would rather see fail....until now. Now there's nothing I want more than that kid's sadness. I will refuse to admit that the playoffs are over until his pillow case needs to be replaced with a garbage bag due to all his tears. Little shit hasn't felt the agony of defeat since fucking September and he's banging on the ball bitching about the Giants like we all haven't had to watch Eli go through an economy size box of diapers en route to multiple Super Bowls. I know kids are insufferable shitheads, but if my future, hypothetical one pops out and starts crying over 11-2 I'm sticking one mothball in his mouth for each and every time the Saints have left me depressed and ducting taping it shut until they win another Super Bowl. I Don't Know Why, But Hearing That Craig Sager Passed Away Just Surprised The Hell Out Of Me12/15/2016
— TurnerSportsPR (@TurnerSportsPR) December 15, 2016
I'm going to keep this relatively short because as good as I think I am with words, I simply don't have enough of a command of them to accurately describe what Craig Sager meant to sports, broadcasting, or the combination of the two. The man is a legend. He was - to this very day - one of the best in his craft, and - if we are being honest - I can't even begin to process that I just had to use the past tense there. It sounds insane to say about someone that was diagnosed with one of most deadly diseases on the planet two years ago and was given 3-6 months to live NINE months ago, but I kind of just thought that Craig Sager was going to live forever. Obviously the toll that cancer was taking on him physically was visible to the naked eye, but it's a credit to how much of a fighter he was that it never felt like the last time I saw him would truly be the last time I saw him. There's a part of me that still believes that I'll tune into the NBA Playoffs and the loudly dressed sideline reporter that somehow had a rapport with each and every player and coach he encountered will be eagerly waiting to go blow for blow with Gregg Popovich in a sarcasm-laced halftime interview. In my heart of hearts I know that he's gone, but the positivity he instilled in anyone that has ever listened to him speak for more than a few seconds will live on forever. Rest In Peace Craig. Thanks more making basketball that much more entertaining without even having to dribble one.
Live look at everyone not named Lisa Edelstein.... Here's the thing, I have little to no doubt that if you asked Alan Thicke before his passing if you could use his death to poke fun at a complete jackass of an American leader then he would kindly approve. If there's anyone who can give you a definitive glimspe into a deceased man's sense of humor it's the person that spent the better part of his childhood enamored by the fictional father that was played by said deceased man on television. Therefore, I am going to step up and declare that Alan Thicke wouldn't have been offended by this tweet. His family and friends were probably a bit taken aback, but I'm not going to sour the good name of Lisa Edelstein because - in theory - what she tried to do probably wouldn't have been received all that poorly by the person whose memory she did it at the expense of. I am, however, going to sour the good name of Lisa Edelstein because - in execution - her attempt was hot garbage. Seriously, if you weren't familiar enough with Alan Thicke to know that he was from Canada (and thus never in danger of being stuck under the appallingly stumpy iron thumb of one Donald J. Trump) then you don't get to attempt to use his eternal departure for laughs. I really don't think that's too much to ask. We are talking about a guy whose heart gave out on him while he was playing fucking hockey. Maybe engage in enough due diligence to know that the man died in the most Canadian way possible before using his demise to continue bitching about the results of an election that ended over a month ago? There's about a billion ways to mock a buffoon's impending presidency without using the tragic, unexpected death of a fellow celebrity that you're somehow only vaguely familiar with to make a joke that landed an entire CFL field short of funny.
Wait, what!?! A professional sports league was proactive about avoiding a work stoppage by coming to a mutually beneficial, long-term agreement before the absence of one became a story? Why didn't the NFL or NHL think of that? What a concept! Nothing to dislike about the continued operation of an association that seems to be getting more and more profitable by the day, right? WRONG.
Look, I am not going to pretend to know every stipulation that was written into the new deal made between the old, rich, stubborn, white owners and the NBAPA. I am also most certainly not going to do the research or reading necessary to educate myself. Literally every other player that has spoken on the subject has given the new state of affairs in which run-of-the-mill role players are worth over 8 figures a year and stars can net as much as $36 million a season rave reviews. With that in mind, I would have assumed that things were going pretty damn well for the athletes in the fasting growing sports league on American soil. That is, until I saw Draymond Green incessantly bitching about being on the short end of the stick on social media. That changed things for me. I now have no choice but to believe that every non-woke basketball player (yes, CP3 included) has been swindled by the league that continues to guarantee their contracts and lets them embrace their personalities on a nightly basis. I don't know what Draymond Green's major gripe is, but he's never had a completely baseless complaint before so I refuse to believe that he's starting now. The guy said it himself and I think we need to take him at his word. He doesn't argue calls, so why would he choose to argue about the infrastructure of the organization that employs him before it was even officially set in stone unless he was 100% certain he was in the right? Everyone is pumping their fist and acting like the quick, orderly negotiations that are sure to keep the NBA continuing on it's sky-high upward trajectory were a good thing? HA! Kick rocks. Draymond is going to stick to kicking literally any and all of his opponents' extremities when they come within sniffing distance of him - while he still can without repercussion, anyway. LBS- Former Atlanta Falcons running back Jamal Anderson reportedly had a, um, troubling incident at a gas station in Georgia this week. According to a police report obtained by TMZ, Anderson walked into a QuikTrip convenience store at a gas station and was slurring his words as he paid the cashier. He then allegedly started walking around the store, eventually returning to the counter and exposing himself. The clerk told police that Anderson took out his genitals and began masturbating. Somehow, Anderson was not arrested. Police say he appeared intoxicated and claimed he was dropped off at the store by friends, but the clerk declined to press charges over the indecent act. Anderson was issued a ticket for criminal trespass and banned from the QuikTrip for life. Police even arranged an Uber ride home for him. Out with the old... In with the new...which is apparently going dicks out for convenience store clerks. It's far less GIFable so we'll have to leave that one up to the imagination, but this new iteration of 'The Dirty Bird' sounds like it's much more accurate semantically. That may not be enough to pay for whatever munchies Jamal Anderson's hallucinating ass was beating off to in the middle of a rural Georgia 'QuikTrip', but it's got to be worth something. I guess I don't have too much to say here since I tend to be rendered speechless by former NFL stars tugging on their penis in public places, but it would be nice to find out what he was on so I never fucking take it. Something tells me that pleasuring yourself amongst rows of expired snacks isn't just some drunk shit. I've been inebriated beyond belief in public, and the thought that giving an underpaid gas station employee a free show could remedy the situation never once crossed my mind. Oh well. Hopefully he left with something sweet because he almost certainly met his daily fix of sodium with the bath salts. Pretty impressive he managed to walk away without arrest, but I guess that's just a product of the benefit of the doubt we give retired running backs now that we know concussions have long term ramifications - like the inability to decipher between appropriate and inappropriate places to give your beef a jerky.
Before we start, let's just get this out of the way....I left a caption. Shit, of course I left a caption. I could use an extra 10K in my bank account and if you are reading this then you probably could too. So roll your judgemental eyes back into place, because I'm not the type to be copy and pasting viral scams with the slim hope that Mark Zuckerberg will send me a $1,000,000 check in the mail. This is different. This isn't Facebook. This is Floyd Mayweather. If there is a single person in the world that can be trusted to follow through on a five figure frivolous display of wealth it is Money May. Now, do I think he is literate enough to recognize the genious behind "giving new meaning to the term Irish Goodbye"?. No, unfortunately I do not. In fact, I'd bet dollars to donuts that the victor will win on the back of some dumbass comment like "lolz, mcgregor sux dik". Whatever. It might get kicked to the side by a boxer that wouldn't know a euphemism if it caught him clean across the jaw but my hat is in the ring, and if you would accept a free lottery ticket than yours should be too. Whether you like Floyd or not is irrelevant, because none of us should mind caking off his dime. Also, I think even the most loyal of mick would have to recognize this as a knockout punch from one obnoxiously cocky, outspoken fighter to another. Despite our wishes, two of the brashest motherfuckers on Earth are never going to face each other. That means all we really have to judge off of when comparing the two is record and net worth, and the moron that makes the fat kid from 'Billy Madison' seem well read somehow expertly highlighted his dominance in both those arenas. Conor McGregor is constantly (Also see: Rightfully) ranting about his value to the UFC. Meanwhile, his black, boxing counterpart is dropping thousands for the sake of dropping thousands on a 'Caption Contest' of him have the life choked out of his lungs. I'm sure that there is a lot that McGregor can do athletically that Floyd can't, but McGregor can't go around wasting money in an effort to remind people of Floyd's most embarrassing loss. That's just an absolute fact. For someone as arrogant as Conor, it's likely one that ruffles his feathers. ::shameless placement of a top 5 viral video of all time:: Happy Holidays From This Couple At The Rockets Game That Did NOT Want To Be Seen Together12/15/2016 — patrick d. starr (@PatDStat) December 15, 2016 Alright, I'm just going to come out and say it...I think that could have been handled better. This may be an unpopular opinion, but something tells me there was a more subtle way to go about getting caught creeping than going full Mr. Krabs meme in front of a live, locally broadcasted television feed. Considering both of them seemed equally as anxious to loosen the grip on that hand hold and disassociate with each other I am guessing we are dealing with multiple cheaters or a "my BEST friend, REALLY?!?" situation. Assuming that's the case, you would think that two promiscuous minds would have considered the concept of being seen together at a wildly attended public event and created an exit strategy that didn't resemble a kid getting caught masterbating by his mother. Oh well, the fact that this is going to go viral and ultimately end two relationships that it likely wouldn't have if they just picked up the pace - instead of making a deer in highlights look cool under pressure by comparison - is probably a good thing. Simply put, this sidepiece situation wasn't staying under wraps for very long with how indiscrete the participants were. Hell, if this camera man didn't step in and put the infedelity of these love birds on blast then there's little to no doubt that our boy would have gotten caught smooching the wrong girl as the ball dropped or some shit. I've heard that mid-December is a pretty popular time of the year to end things - for obvious reasons - so good on the Rockets for expedititing a couple of tough conversations that these two undoubtedly kept pushing back. Let's hope they live happily ever after...until they meet someone they like a wee bit more and start engaging in PDA's with them all across the city of Houston during upcoming holiday seasons. P.S. I suppose it's very possible - even likely - that this kid has strict Indian parents whose heads would explode if they found out he was dating some thicky-thick-thick basic ass becky, but that's more depressing than funny so we'll pretend that's not the case. P.P.S. Seriously though, spot on.... Drew Brees Was Limited In Practice For "Rest", And I Think It Was Probably Of The Mental Variety12/14/2016
I suppose it's entirely possible that a 37 year old quarterback that's been throwing the ball upwards of 40 times a game for the last decade just needed to dial back his mid-week workload in an effort to make sure his money maker is fresher come Sundays. If we are being honest, that scenario probably makes the most sense. That said, as a Saints fan I could absolutely empathize if their All-World signal caller was limited in practice to ease the stress on his mind just as much as the stress on his arm. Hell, it takes me until approximately Wednesday to accept the mind blowing ways in which the Saints manage to lose. I can't even wrap my brain around the strength of mind it undoubtedly takes for the most important player on the team to put it behind him within 24 hours in preparation for the next game. There are no shortage of media types predicting a Peyton Manning-esque implosion of Drew Brees talents, but I'm truly more concerned him having a mental breakdown than a physical breakdown. I don't even blame his back-to-back zero touchdown, three interception games on poor reads or bad throws. I blame them on the anxiety that a man who has been held personally responsible for covering up a leaky defense and a piss poor special teams unit for the better part of his tenure in New Orleans has to be feeling. Now granted, the defense has actually been rather impressive as of late and the kicking team has managed to hold it instead of wetting themselves at the worst possible time. Still, is it that crazy to think that carrying an entire team on your back since 2012 can result in some cerebral exhaustion? If Sean Payton came forward and said that Drew Brees wasn't practicing until 2017 then I wouldn't even question it. If he's not taking meaningful snaps then I would rather have him taking Ambien and soul cleansing naps in hopes that he can fend off a panic attack until retirement. P.S. I see through it...
BSO-Lamar Odom is making a return to the TV screen.
The former NBA star and soon-to-be ex-husband of Khloé Kardashian has a deal to star in a new reality series — which has not yet filmed — set for airing sometime in 2017, a source tells PEOPLE. “The show will be about his life, recovery — all about him,” the source says about the new series. And fans and supporters of Odom may soon be able to learn more about his recovery from his point of view. “He’s actually writing while he’s away, he’s doing a lot of writing in there. There’s a book offer on the table,” another insider told PEOPLE. “But part of the deal was that he’s going to get in good shape. Everyone’s been so supportive.” Reality television! How come we didn't think of this earlier? Just when you thought Lamar Odom was a lost cause and we had exhausted all options in an attempt to wean him off his life threatening narcotics addiction some extremely concerned vultures...I mean...enablers...I mean executives come to the rescue and propose what is certain to be a surefire elixir. I know the rehab route has failed him before, but I have reason to believe there was one distinct reason for that. The entire process wasn't broadcast to millions upon millions of people. If there is an ultimate failsafe to a relapse it's having a loving support system of producers whose jobs aren't at all dependent on ratings and viewers who just want to see a happy ending that is completely void of any drama whatsoever. I guess you could argue that reality television is what turned Lamar Odom from a highly accomplished NBA Champion to a drug-ridden subplot, but that's all the more reason to see if it can turn him back! It's like the kid in 'Rookie Of The Year' that just needed to slip on another camouflaged baseball to go back to living a normal childhood without carrying the burden of a Major League contract and the ability to throw 107 MPH. Don't tell me that reality TV doesn't have the ability to give as well as take when the preferred method of saving someone from a venomous snakebite is to inject more venom into their system in hopes that it will counteract the original poison. Who knows if exploiting Lamar Odom's illness for our own entertainment has what it takes to cure him, but it's certainly the less traveled road to recovery so I tend to think that Robert Frost would approve... A NJ State Trooper Is In A Wee Bit Of Trouble For Repeatedly Pulling Women Over To Ask Them Out12/14/2016
NJ.com- A New Jersey state trooper has been suspended without pay after an internal investigation found he was pulling over women to ask them out on dates and falsifying police records to cover it up, authorities said.
Marquice Prather, 37, was arrested Friday on records tampering charges and released without bail, according to the state Division of Criminal Justice, which brought the charges. Officials say the State Police Office of Professional Standards began investigating the trooper after several woman lodged complaints about his behavior on the road. The investigation found "a pattern of pulling over young women between the ages of 20 and 35 and soliciting them to go on a date with him or give him their phone numbers," authorities said in a statement announcing his arrest. Prather is accused of turning off his wireless microphone during his encounters with the women and falsely reporting that it had malfunctioned. He is also accused of lying about the gender of motorists he pulled over in State Police computer logs to hide the fact he was targeting young women. In fairness to Marquice Prather, the key to making headway with a woman is to appear non-threatening. No better way to do that than to approach her when she knows you are occupationally sworn to serve and protect. Let's face it, dating is a cruel, cruel endeavor that has men busting out every tool (badges apparently included) at their disposal in order to make their way into the pants of strange women. Unfortunately, a vast majority of the time those strange women are keenly aware or their intentions. There's simply no bigger road block to a wet dick than a clear motive. Pulling chicks over to ask for their digits may be morally reprehensible, but - considering he got away with it long enough for it to become a pattern - it probably had a higher success rate than offering to buy them a drink while wedged between 85 assholes who have no respect for personal space. I would imagine that most females don't appreciate getting propositioned via roadside stop, but they might even tack on an emoji when putting their name in your phone if you imply the alternative is a court appearance. I'm definitely not endorsing this behavior, but the fact that women are always looking for men to surprise them certainly enables it. What's more surprising than going from the brink of receiving a ticket to having plans on Friday night? In all seriousness, every police officer in the country should be sending this guy hate mail. Nothing exacerbates the narrative that all cops were losers in high school quite like one using his authority to strong arm women into extracurriculars. I'm required - by way of a douchey, overused adage - to hate the game more than the player, but the player in question doesn't seem like someone that fielded too many invitations to graduation parties. P.S. Still less intrusive than this guy...
(kick at :20 seconds) Draymond Green, eat your goddamn heart out. You want to talk about instinctually kicking your opponent? This was a demonstration of instinctually kicking your opponent.... Screw being a professional athlete that can't stop, won't stop flailing your limbs around like you're trying to hopelessly regain your balance while on ice skates, because this soccer player just that type of podiatric abuse to shame with a spur-of-the-moment flying front kick for the ages. Guess the benefit of playing a sport that requires it's participants to be proficient in controlling their lower limbs is that they look much more fluid when impulsively using them as weapons. That dude just stole a fucking finishing move out of 'Street Fighter' and if you blinked at the wrong time you might have missed it. I'm not saying that's the true sign of it being more of a "tick" than anything else, but it's a hell of a lot closer than Draymond Green trying to drop kick anything or anyone that accidentally brushes up against him.
I'll be the first to say that Richard Sherman and I don't agree on everything. Hell, if we did then I would have weekly heart palpitations from all the beer, wings, and bitching every single time a pass is completed or a flag is thrown against the Seattle secondary. If we were always on the same page then I would have to convert to being a Seahawks fan because it takes a level of bias that can only be displayed by the 12's to empathize with all of Richard Sherman's incessant whining on the field. We do, however, happen to have something in common and that is a very clear understanding of the NFL's undying hypocrisy off the field. Granted, it's gotten a little stale listening to a loudest man in football find new ways to repeat the same rants, but if there is one thing that never gets old then it's bathroom humor. I suppose the criticism for 'Thursday Night Football' is a little overblown considering the fact that enough people hate-watch it to keep it on the air, but it's tough to argue that there is a better way to describe the general level of play than "poopfest". I'll admit that I lack a familiarity with poopfests, but I would imagine that they aren't all that asthetically pleasing. In fact, I would go out on a limb and guess that if I had to pick one poopfest to tune into it would be a late-week NFL game, but that doesn't mean that late-week NFL game is anything more than the least poopy of fests. Football is football, but if we are speaking in the interest of full disclosure then I think we can all agree that the football we watch on Thursdays can most accurately be described as the PG equivalent of a shit-show. Well, well, well. Looks like someone's letting those bi-weekly triple-doubles halfway through the third quarter go to his head. I know it sounds silly to say that Russell Westbrook is asserting his dominance on his opponents after a night where he put up an absolute stinker of a stat line by his standards (20/6/6) and his team lost by 20 points, but that "oh, you want this ball? Fetch!" routine was straight off the playground. You can call it a spontaneous act of immaturity and you'd be exactly right, but it's a spontaneous act of immaturity that is bred from feeling like he's better than literally everyone else. Waiting until one of the best players in the NBA bends down to pick up a basketball before you casually boot off into the corner is not only the athletic equivalent of pulling the chair out from underneath someone, but it's proof positive that Russell Westbrook is taking that "now I do what I want" mantra to heart. You know who else does whatever they want without worrying about consequences? Bullies. There has never been a more fun bully to watch in action than the scorned Thunder star who has become the closest thing to a true one man show in professional sports. YahooSports- Alan Thicke, Canadian actor and dedicated NHL fan, died playing hockey with his son on Tuesday. He was 69 years old. According to TMZ, Thicke was playing hockey with his 19-year-old son, Carter, when he suffered a heart attack. He was transported to Providence St. Joseph’s Medical Center in Burbank around noon local time and pronounced dead soon after. Thicke is survived by his wife, Tanya, and three sons: Robin, Brennan and Carter. With a career that spanned back to the 1960s, he was best known for his role as Dr. Jason Seaver on the ABC sitcom “Growing Pains” from 1985-92. But Thicke crafted a career that included a slew of appearances as an actor and as himself, hosting a late night talk show (“Thick Of The Night,” 1983-84) and serving as a panelist on game shows like “Match Game.” He also wrote the theme songs for shows like “Diff’rent Strokes” and “The Facts of Life.” Thicke was a lifelong NHL fan, and had a rather surreal relationship with the sport and its personalities. ^ Play while reading
I'm not much of a "ugggggh 2016" guy, but I swear to God if we were two and a half measly weeks away from avoiding this then I'll never forgive the year that brought us so many celebrity deaths that it's starting to feels like the Grim Reaper grew up without a TV in his house and just recently found out what he missed out on. Before last night I would have told you I'm not effected by the passing of famous people. In fact, I think I was one of the few to grow tired of Paul Walker tributes before I grew tired of 'Fast and Furious' movies. As it turns out, the famous person just has to be a sitcom father figure from my childhood and the tears just start instictively rolling faster than the loop I have kept the 'Growing Pains' theme song on since last night. Maybe that's because Alan Thicke had a hand in raising me by keeping my dumb ass glued to the couch and out of trouble. Maybe it's because he was a hockey enthusiast and they aren't nearly enough of those in the public eye. Maybe it's because I literally just listened to him on 'The Dan Le Batard Show' no more than a week ago. Maybe it's because the second I accepted the news - that felt far too stereotypically Canadian to be real - I instantly starting listening to a theme song that plays much more emotionally when serving as a tribute to the memory of a man while a montage of his pictures from his youth flash on the screen. Seriously though, I'm supposed to hear that Alan Thicke is never going to "show me that smile agaaaain" and not waste anotttther minute on my crying? I know I don't show it much, but there is a heart in there somewhere. Why God, WHY?!? If someone from 'Growing Pains' had to die to provide us with a haunting reminder of the pain of growing then couldn't you just take Carol's self important ass to the afterlife? Wake Forest's Football Announcer Was A Mole For Opposing Teams. Yes, That's A Real Headline.12/13/2016
Part Of University Press Release- Tommy Elrod is an alumnus of Wake Forest and was a member of the football team from 1993-1997. He later was hired as a graduate assistant under Jim Grobe and held multiple positions for 11 seasons. He was not retained by Dave Clawson and joined the Wake Forest IMG Radio Network in 2014 as a football analyst covering Wake Forest football. Elrod has been terminated immediately from his position at IMG and will no longer broadcast Wake Forest football games. He has been banned from Wake Forest athletics and its facilities This fucking story prompts so many who's, how's, what's, where's, and why's that acknowledging even half of them in this blog would have the most curious of two year olds yelling "JUST BECAUSE, ALRIGHT!?". That said, there is one interrogative I need answered and that is "when?" - as in when is last time you have heard of a real life mole, and reality television does not count as real life. I didn't even know things like this still took place, because I swear I thought that with the turn of the century came the death of the term "mole" and the exponential rise of a little thing we call insider trading. More importantly, I don't think people are giving enough attention to how dangerous this Tom Elrod character is. Seriously, if he had one single homicidal fiber in his being then he could have very easily given Wake Forest a whole new meaning. I know that reads as a school shooting joke and that's because it kinda is, but there's also a hell of a lot of truth to it. This motherfucker was a Demon Deacon lifer. He went to school there. He played football there. He decided to explore any and all pre-and-post graduation career opportunities there. You mean to tell me there wasn't the potential for something a little more tragic than the exchange of some playbooks when this self loathing son of a bitch spent his entire adulthood getting behind Wake Forest solely so he wouldn't be a suspect when he stabbed them directly in the back? This was an act of sabotage so elaborate and maniacal that even ACC basketball rivals are slack-jawed. You know you've really outdone yourself when Coach K. and Roy Williams would surely be standing arm-in-arm atop the moral high ground shaking their heads in disapproval. Honestly though, the type of person who puts that much time and effort into chopping the legs out from underneath their own ACC football program has some shit on their chest that can only be removed by hundreds and hundreds of billable hours spent laying on a leather couch. I need a thorough investigation into the hazing rituals that took place in the locker room when Tom Elrod was enrolled in school and the conversation that took place when he was sent from the practice field to the broadcast booth, because if the question is "who hurt him?" then there is one very clear and very concise answer - his alma mater. |
Categories
All
Archives
January 2020
|