I’ve met so many guys in their thirties who were in a frat ten+ years ago who don’t have any friends today, and who have never had a friendship with a woman or someone who wasn’t their age. They’re depressed because of it.

Racist.

So you think there is some kind of accurate accounting of each side’s uncivil actions. And that this “data” justifies and validates shitty behavior. Maybe you would like to examine these ideas a little more carefully, because frankly, it sounds to me like you might find little to support either conclusion.

No one has the right to know what messages you have or have not read, any more than they have the right to know if you are ignoring their phone calls. There is no “social contract” that mandates a “right” to someone else’s attention. 

Everyone knows if you go down a club you’ll hit it straight. These golf pros are really dumb.

A very few things here are somewhat true, many are untrue, and most reveal the author’s remarkable ignorance. This sin’t worth a blow-by-blow rebuttal, but here’s a few of the author’s more glaring fumbles:

If only you or colleagues at Deadspin knew any journalists you could ask to ask Belichick for you.

That’s “altogether.” But we know what you mean, for all intensive purposes.

And while you’re at it, remember to celebrate Fete du Canada on July 1, in order to distribute equally and fairly your respect for important national holidays to both our southern and northern neighbors. Learn the words to “O Canada.” It won’t take long, and it will come in handy if you ever happen to go to an NHL…

I see. So climate change is like a car. Now I know why the science is settled and the models must “undeniably” be right..

First, see if you can find your ass. You can use both hands. If at first you don’t succeed, blame someone else.

That’s the whole thing in a nutshell. right there.

Go back to that school, wherever it is, and ask them if you are an “alumni.”

Has-been hack fired by Murdoch finally “finds his freedom” and writes tell-all expose about — nothing. And, of course, it runs on Deadspin, where all the suddenly-liberated champions of the truth can finally find their tongues, although they seem to be somewhat thickened by bile. Rant on.

I’m willing to bet serious money that most of your pants and shorts have stretch waistbands.

Maybe you overthought this.

You take joy in taunting this great champion, who has encountered physical disabilities. You may as well jeer at someone in a wheelchair.

Relax. No one gives a shit what you think. Sorry to be the one to pop your balloon.

Relax. No one gives a shit what you think. Sorry to be the one to pop your balloon.

You go, Gronk. This will have the lace jockstrap folks here whinging at hyperspeed.