"Mary-Ann-O! Mary-Ann-O!"

Jeffrey Loria taught Yoko Ono everything she knows about fracturing an organization.

We are the Relish Green Preservation Society,

Clear birch beer. Clear birch beer. Clear birch beer.

The Five Grumpy Old People You Meet in Heaven

I would pay $1.99 for a plug-in to UrbanSpoon that told me whether a restaurant's Caesar salad A) contained anchovies, or, better yet, B was made tableside, in the old style—yes, dammit, with a raw egg. I have been burned FAR too many times by "Caesar" salads that CLEARLY did not contain even the vaguest whiff of the…

Interesting article. The self-flagellatory/self-congratulatory "come on!" is HUGE in golf, too, it's worth noting.

For what it's worth, I'm a born Yank who now lives in the South and think some of the area's Tea Evangelists might take umbrage with the last four letters in "Sweetened." Though, to be fair, to spell it how it's most commonly said 'round these sweaty, sweaty parts, you'd type something like "Swuuuhhaayyeeet…

I have to respectfully disagree because along the way, someone thought it might be nice to add "SO GOOD, SO GOOD, SO GOOD" into the refrain, where it doesn't belong. Whoever started the "SO GOOD, SO GOOD, SO GOOD" thing deserves to be thrown into a woodchipper.

[cums]

PICTURED: Sale, fire.

The San Antonio Spurs' Tim Duncan picked future-ex-wife Amy in 2001, the same year Bill Simmons got a job at ESPN. Both the marriages have generated so few classic moments over the years, they practically blend into each other now.

Oddibe McDowellversuscountywater

For what it's worth, professional golf's Lovable Redneck-in-Chief has an orangutan-fighting story.

Shoah(gh)

Remember when A-Rod banged Madonna? Well she was standing next to Pam Anderson at a cocktail party when A-Rod waved and shouted in their general direction, "Eh, Looser!" Guess she was the last person to give A-Rod the benefit of the doubt.

Is this a test post for the new Deadspin series, Denturespin?

UNFUNNY PERSON: "More like DROLL TIDE amirite?!?!"

Trying to craft a definitive—hell, or even ballpark—ranking of the best fast food joint strikes me as akin to trying to rank the best all-time songs. There are so many genres that there's really no choice but to stick to them or, hell, even individual menu items when trying to graft a ranking.