The number 1 refers to the mezszámomra.

Shit, dude, you’ve convinced me. Thanks for coming hard with a GIF and misspelling Leinart’s name.

They just got Hinkie out of the way so they can continue with “Most Satisfying Shitcanning”, which is different.

I will just nod, sagely, and go Mmmm and gaze out at the waves lapping at the shoreline, because that is a perfectly fine choice and also we are at the beach in this hypothetical, where all such concerns are as nothing next to the steady pulse of wild nature.

There are 12 numbers on a broken clock face, so let’s give him six more tries.

I cut the cord a decade ago, so I get whatever NBC throws up on the over-the-air broadcast.

No.

You know, I appreciate the athleticism of swimming and the grace and strength of gymnastics, but do we really need what seems like two straight weeks of uninterrupted coverage of those events?

Yeah. All that. As a kid, I played a lot of sports and watched a lot of sports. Then I had a few surgeries that didn’t go quite right, and quit everything because nothing felt right. So once I quit playing, from 19 to about 26, I watched almost nothing. A lot of those years, I had to work weekends, as well, so that…

It’s those shortened strides LeBron starts taking at the three point line that just kill me. He stretches long coming across half court, and then he realizes he has the block at the three point line, and starts taking those choppier little steps so he doesn’t run through Iguodala. Just kills me. It’s as badass as Babe…

Glad you like the comment. I’d like to revise it, though, to: “Until then, heroin. And baseball. I guess.”

Easy, Will Ferrell. (Step Brothers was an underappreciated masterpiece, btw.)

Ah, good work. You’ve arrived independently at the Andre Ware Paradox.

Dante devotes circle eight, bolgia ten of Inferno to the falsifiers.

Maybe he’s just going to stay on as a tenured law professor?

I starred this for the joke, but in reality, I like the thought of Leinart being forced to look at that thing everyday for the rest of his life.

Never would have guessed that Pat Haden is a relentless control freak who acts in his own self-interest at all times.

Now what? Counting down the 48 days until the NFL HOF game and the sweet release of occupying my mind with the ultimate inconsequence of my favorite sport.

Apparently you guys aren’t using PricewaterhouseCoopers.

I think around 1970, Bernie knew a whole lot about herb.