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True. Very true. But let’s not pretend Sarah Silverman and a whole lot of us on the left didn’t do the same shit (on a much, much, MUCH smaller scale); the only difference is that she was celebrated for it. A lot of Demorats (hi, me!) were horrified at the notion of Hillary becoming president and worked really hard to

I don’t like Donald Trump. In fact, I might actually hate him. And this guys seems like a douche, and I sure hope the Mets beat the Cubs in the NLDS. But I am not sure it follows that someone who tried to get a different Republican elected cannot now support the Republican nominee without being labeled a hypocrite.

Schilling threatened to tell ‘the whole story’ to Rhode Island taxpayers.

Players win this one hands down, even if they were being a little bitchy. If I got to hang around Citi Field and just write shit about the Mets all day, you would not have to give me a scheduled day off - I would take those, you know, from OCTOBER THROUGH MARCH - and you would not have to tell me to show up and own

I’m Sidebar and I approved this Kinja

Seriously, Tom, can you guys please fucking focus on what really matters: did he stand respectfully during the pledge of allegiance or not?

In response, Odor taped a basketball to the side of head.

. . . and if my kid gets caught speeding or jumping the turnstile, he will be disciplined for that, too.

Callghazi

If the ads that are perpetually atop and astride my screen are any indication, Norman better fucking watch it: Beckham is boys with Sasquatch and Clay Matthews.

If I had a massive disciple [sic], I would unleash that shit every chance I got. ;)

Brilliant. Those girls are really earning their $0.74 to the dollar.

Intrepid reporting by this news affiliate; who can say whether the runners themselves would ever have mentioned it to anyone ever again.

This is spectacular. And, with all sincerity, this could truly be the straw for me with the NFL.

I am gonna expose myself to the ridicule and scorn of the Internet on this one, but come the fuck on, Dad. Your kid jumped onto the field at a professional sporting event, subjecting himself to injury, arrest, or worse. I know you want to be his friend, but you aren’t. You are his dad. He wrote his phone number on his

Amen. In the immortal words of Don Draper to a feeling-under-appreciated Peggy, “that’s what the money’s for!”

Gotta tip your cap to a guy with the ball to keep going out there every night despite his struggles at the plate.

Nah. As you said, a 62-yard kick from there is hardly guaranteed. And watch the video again: if he goes for the sideline, there’s a good chance DRC wraps him up before he can get out.