And, he was named after HOFer Harry Hooper.

Dean Wormer? Dead man! Dean Pelton! Dead man! Dean Martin? Dead, man.

Huh. I thought they dropped the name in fear, after the French black ops forces blew up the Greenpeace vessel "Rainbow Warrior." Thought it was a weird move, since Hawaii could own France in a fair fight. They have their own killer special forces: The Surfer Territorial Dudes. (Nothing can stop the STDs).

Like every other spectator, he was just curious to see where the ball landed.

Seems like everyone is sporting the baby bump this spring.

Darwin's Law weeds out another one. Playing kick ball on an interstate puts this guy in the pantheon of Daniel Pearl, Steve Irwin, Bo Diaz, Vic Morrow, Tennessee Williams, Harry Houdini and other folks who were really, really bad at doing good.

Nice. +1.

"Things were different back in 2011. It was just a different culture and....I no longer exist in this current timestream."

I was surprised they played this game. A Deadspin story the other day had the Spurs preemptively eliminated.

Who says soccer can't be a hit in the US?

Good for you, kid. Happiness trumps every other aspect of success. I bet he realizes his dream.

When I am driving, please DO NOT pass me the joint while I'm drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette and shifting while filtering through traffic on the Ambassador Bridge heading into Canada.

"Cock Brothers, Rush Limbaugh and Fox News and wild horses ridden by Lisa Myers prove my ubertolerant points for while I quietly sit here in my bunker near the Krazytown Trailer Park checking out NBC's of nuclear, biological and chemical weapons with American-owned Budweiser Heavy."

She reported it to the cops—a criminal complaint—and filed a civil suit. The cops make a case, he could go to jail. He loses a civil suit and doesn't pay the damages, he could go to jail. He lands on the wrong Monopoly square, he could go DIRECTLY TO JAIL.

Agreed, and should have made clear Far Eastern rather than South Asian. What my friend said it was some sort of anime-inspired fetish of sorts, combined with old stereotypes of servile submissiveness.

Ah, sweet. He finally found his six special masseuses. This story had a happy ending I didn't see coming.

Did a Dinosaur with an agent ever write a book "How Dinosaurs Will Survive Extinction." And did their editor point out that "surviving extinction" is a contradiction of terms?

Thinking the same thing. They look like cheap polymer and the plastic red caps on the muzzles are conveniently out of frame. Those things cost, like, $35. But they can put your eye out.

When he gets out of jail, pretty sure he'll finally be able to out-sprint Vick after all that running away in the exercise yard.

Pretty sure the EZ-Pass trumps a Jersey arrest warrant. Scariest part of this story were the words "back to Philadelphia."