Is this where I post my fantasy team? The other page didn’t work, and it sounded like Deadspin really wanted to know about my fantasy team.

Barstool is that way. ——->

[redacted: someone beat me to this joke]

To quote Bomani Jones:

Now Trump can finally try an authentic taco bowl11!1

I find it weird when white people are open enough in their racism to hate on Beyoncé. I mean, as far as public figures go, she’s pretty wholesome as well as being obviously talented as all hell, and everyone’s suburban mom loves her music. But, like, even she’s still all terrifyingly BLACK to a fair percentage of the…

It’s a good version but the whole Bible seems a bit much for the average person’s head.

Running is a sport. Ergo, so is running tabloid shit. Plus, ‘dongs’are the pinnacle of baseball. Just ask tabloid legend Babe Ruth.

The day Deadspin doesn’t run tabloid shit is the day we all quit and get jobs as brand consultants or baristas or whatever.

You sure can, but only one of you is doing it wrong.

So you can’t criticize unless you are actively being oppressed at the moment, can’t look out for others if you have succeeded and if you are being “oppressed” then shouldn’t you be looking for a job instead of whining. It is almost as if...

Wish I had something more clever to say, but a simple “Man, fuck this guy” will have to suffice.

Man. Fuck this guy.

She just shitposted all over the Trump campaign and is getting ready to cuck Trump in November. Alt-right-delete.

So don’t call people on their bullshit and evil because if you do they’ll be bullshitty and evil?

This is excellent Kinja. It’s a blend of aromatic bullshit, with a dash of homerism, and a souson of ignorant subjectivity.

“reached 19.8 MPH on his way to the wall.”

From your tone, I'm guessing your parents didn't do a lot of actual parenting (or at least any that took). Raising children so that they don't become assholes is hard work.

I'm sure they loved having their Sanctimonious Little Angel at home each grueling hour of the day.

Nice grammar there, teacher.

Then, when you were out of earshot, celebrations.