Sam is playing you, and you are expertly being played. Dick Nenton ought to pay the guy at least $13 a post for capturing the subsversely sublime spirit of what was once Deadspin.

Vent, sonny. Vent! And realize, Yoko, that nobody is following you. Unless they want to fuck you up for personifying stupidity.

In other news, New Jersey launches a massive campaign to wake Sean Newell the fuck up. Night-shift, dude: Use it or lose it.

Yoko: Trilogy "is." Must be tough to speak English when it's not only your first language, but your only language.

Yoko: Before you name-check ancient cities, learn how to fucking spell them.

Wait: Important question about your blow-up doll wife and your self-consciously badass avatar: Are you the twat with the tats, the tank-top, or the breasts?

Sean

A Prayer for Owen Meany: Jalopnik is about vehicles, right? But you're contributing to the blurring of lines between cars, gaming, tech, sports, science and Uranus. That must hurt.

Thank you for your continued support of Deadspin.

Gibson, pinned down by expert journalists about his decision, said: "Ya know, Tom Ley has been my guiding star for since forever. And I was always a fan of Tony Llama boots. It, finally, came all together. Me Spurs are finally getting too old for this shit."

A Prayer for Owen Meany: Jalopnik is about vehicles, right? But you're contributing to the blurring of lines between cars, gaming, tech, sports, science and Uranus. That must hurt.

Scene: Film room, Pop presiding.

Nah. Craggs' sadness comes from Nicky's decision to abandon the art of subversive journalism and re-assess what he pays people like Tommy.

Huh. I thought the headline was about somebody's favorite facial.

Yeah, I guess we can all agree that Bill Simmons is a plucked and played-out pencil neck who looks like a genetic splice between man and chicken. The real question is: Is Deadspin the Bill Simmons of Bleacher Report?

In other news, John Koblin's sort-of-story took 12 seconds to, um, er, write? Post?

Pop: "How tall are you, really?"

Not only did this emo ponce give a blow-job to a tennis player who gets whipped regularly, but he couldn't get his facts straight.

Another thing about the emo, privileged ponce of modern sprawling literature: He was a professional student. He went to school for a living and was an effete example of everything self-pitying. Irks me when this well-hanged wanker is compared with Heller (bombardier during WWII) or Pynchon (Navy vet who worked as a…

Seriously? I don't know anybody who took pride in claiming to have read "Gravity's Rainbow," but more than a few who bragged about tossing it into a corner before finishing it. Those who did read it read it again, and appreciated it on a personal level, particularly since it dealt so deeply with the surrealism of…