You know the other “three cases” were 1) a woman who said he inappropriately kissed her at a party (university found him ‘not responsible’), 2) a woman who said he ‘inappropriately followed her upstairs at a party’ (university found him ‘not responsible’), and 3) a gay man who said he sexually assaulted him after this…

Every time Gawker fails to warn me that a link leads to Jezebel, I end up wondering what fucking insane universe I've fallen into in the comments. And then I look at the link and see "Jezebel.com" and realize what happened.

I was nerding out about everything, then it hit Han and Chewie and... I felt Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. I know that this won’t be anything like that train wreck, but it stunted my fan meltdown. Still excited, but I need to get over that Indy 4 hurdle to truly be the 7 year old who was waiting for this movie to come…

Yeah, I know a lot of people are giddy over that, but that was the weakest part of the trailer for me. It looked like the open to a Conan O’Brien skit about an old Han Solo in Star Wars more than an actual view of an old Han Solo in Star wars. I’d have preferred to see a shot of him moving instead of standing…

That doesn’t even look like Han Solo, it’s just Harrison Ford in a leather jacket.

Stopped reading here:

I got one word for you, Linux.

"There are reasons why white gun's rights activists can walk into a Chipotle restaurant with assault rifles and be seen as gauche nuisances while unarmed black men are killed for reaching for their wallets or cell phones, or carrying children's toys."

This is like the time I was supposed to meet this hot girl under the bleachers back in high school. I got there at 10PM as planned. She never showed, and I kept waiting for half an hour. Then I was met by the laughter of a bunch of jocks who then punched me in the face.

So the author was basically put off by the weirdly controlling/protecting layer of PR and "brand" people around Lebron, and consciously or unconsciously decided to make the piece about that rather than asking Lebron the same predictable and boring questions.

So you spent your time with James in this story alternately comparing yourself to Norman Mailer (quite literally, as a matter of fact), and exploring your own core of novelistic self-flagellation. Then you conclude with the statement that James has brought his high school troupe with him, and is in fact not a…