I’m not sure people here are aware of his existence. I actually googled “tomato troll” to make sure that was an actual thing before I commented.

What’s that? Some sort electric powered sheep killing machine? I’ll have to look into that.

What’s that? Some sort electric powered sheep killing machine? I’ll have to look into that.

Hot take! Like a really hot tomato sauce.

Don’t be fooled. This Laminator is not the ultimate weapon for disposing of sheep you were expecting. It broke on the first one, and left me naked and staring down an angry ewe with a bump on it’s head. Total waste of 16 bucks. 1 Star.

Don’t be fooled. This Laminator is not the ultimate weapon for disposing of sheep you were expecting. It broke on…

My body was not designed in a way that I ever experienced anything resembling a symphony running the 400. Maybe a guy falling off a cliff making noises with his hand in his armpit landing in a pit of razor wire Tabasco sauce, and accordions. I never though “Why the fuck am I doing this?” I did think “I am going to…

He had the colorful, flamboyant style, but sadly no bird. He was possibly the coolest electrician on the planet.

Sorry. No actual wrestler run ins for me. Although when I was a kid, someone thought my grandfather was Koko B. Ware, which was pretty cool.

I’m right handed, but I wear my watch glued to face like a beard. This look is gonna be huge.

Yeah, and when he stepped away in the middle of the interview he wasn’t overcome by emotion, he was overcome with disgust at what a pussy John McCain is.

We also saw a guy who looked like Alexander Siddig, but it wasn’t him.

You spend 12 hours a day, playing that violin till your fingers bleed, hoping to somehow prove to Dad that you’re not a failure by earning a seat with the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra, and this is what life gives you.

Oh god, I don’t have a clue. My wrestling knowledge begins and ends with being forced to do it in middle school, where I was a not to shabby 3-0. I’d go into more detail, but I’m afraid I’d over impress you and your head might explode. I mostly wanted to say “fuck that shit” and express my admiration for the middle…

I said something like this elsewhere, but the 400m isn’t a sprint. The 100 and 200 meter races are sprints. The 400 should get a new name. Something like the “300 meter + Oh my God, I would murder a puppy with an anvil to make this end”.

The penalty was correctly assessed. However, if you look, with about 2 seconds left, the Mongolian wrestler tries to reengage with the Uzbeki wrestler, who is busy with his hands in the air saying “What the fuck is this shit”, and the Uzbeki wrestler should therefore have been given his own failure to engage penalty,…

Yes. As I was taught, the first rule of boxing is to maintain proper form. The second rule is “Aim right for the nose of that dirty Irishman!”. At least, that’s how I was taught.

As I told those stupid Macedonians: Shields Defend. Hoplites FTW.

I just read Richard Kiel’s Wiki page, and it lists one of his occupations as “cemetery plot salesman”. First of all, I didn’t know this was a job, otherwise I might have gone down a different career path. Second, I don’t think it’s a good strategy to get people to die of fright before they put money down on the plot.…

Or they could focus on the “dead” part. Zombies are big right now. Imagine an Olympic stadium full of the walking dead. It turns boring events like the pole vault into the exciting “reach that platform or get your brains eaten” event.

Before Happy Gilmore, I thought I was destined to be a silver grilled Bond villain named after some lame ass shark. After, I realized what my true strengths were, and was better able To Serve Man.

I’m well aware of Poe’s Law, but I’m also aware if Godwin’s law, which makes me confident enough to say: GO AWAY, ACOLYTE OF HITLER! You have no power here! Save your wordplay for other degenerates like Tony from accounting, or Timothy Burke from the Alcoholic Gnome Rehabilitation Quorum. But I’m not buying it. I know…