A headline called “McDonalds Cups look like people having sex” linking to an article that is nothing but pictures of McDonalds Cups that look like people having sex is the literal opposite of what the word “clickbait” means.

There I was, behind center for the Buffalo Bills. What madness led to this I had no time to ponder. As the supple leather of the ball slid into my hand, I took one step back, then two, then three. As I surveyed the field for potential recipients, I saw an outside linebacker charging like an angry rhino directly at my…

Wrong. See a nazi, punch a nazi.

+8 days

A-Rod just wanted someone else to eat the outside of the cake first, since he only prefers the centaur pieces.

This whole situation is a mess of “he said, he said, they said, these other guys said, video cut #1 said, video cut #2 said”.

Me reading this.

So there’s a big festival in Poland that, y’know, actually embodies the spirit of Woodstock called “Przystanek Woodstock” (Destination Woodstock). There’s an insane amount of people every year, there’s mud, drugs, community/arts/culture tents next to all the gigs and it’s completely, 100% free. It’s perhaps not as…

Severino: [puts down #1 sign]

“After the O’s used nine actual, professional pitchers”

Oh man, I’ve been laughing uncontrollably while reading the youtube comments on that video.

HERE I AM!

The runner-up headline for this blog was Bison Yeets Child Into Oblivion

Man It’s a Hot One . . .

I guess you two can’t play anymore, but that’s a really sad thing to plan for. Man. Great, now I am thinking about my kids.

Seriously though, great question! Paul managed to keep up with me as we played, so he never died. Will let you know as soon as I can get an online session going and someone dies. 

FUCK YOU, JEFF. MY NAME WAS WRITTEN ON THE YOGURT.

Dolan is like that guy Gary at work. You fart in his office and steal his yogurt and then all of a sudden it’s litigation and death threats. Chill Gary 

>Any morbid Mountain Goats fan (and there are a lot of us) will tell you
>there’s no greater pleasure than to belt out the band’s apocalyptic
>“No Children”—“I hope you die! I hope we both die!”—at one of
>their live shows.

Quietly accepting the unwritten rules of baseball is against the unwritten rules of baseball.