The absolute biggest barrier for me getting on a bike is the matter of safety. My girlfriend says no way, my parents say no way, and everyone I know who rides says “Well, it’s a matter of when, not if” — they’ve all gotten into at least minor accidents (some major, too).

No, it’s not. The reason why they’re able to invest into this kind of time-consuming, unprofitable journalism is because they have so much revenue from the stupid shit.

“Every man who has rotted here over the centuries has looked up to the light and imagined climbing to freedom. So easy... So simple... And like shipwrecked men turning to sea water from uncontrollable thirst, many have died trying. I learned here that there can be no true despair without hope.” — Bane, watching a…

I don’t want to see Peyton suffering like, say, Ali. I can’t help but cringe every time he gets hit.

We’ll have to lock Tom Brady and Aaron Rodgers in a room and force them to mate if we have any hopes of propagating the species.

I think you meant “stupid Focking sequels.”

They do, however, have rich white buddies who hate the thought of a flashy Middle Easterner putting their kids in danger and being a prick, so... close enough?

What could possibly have spoiled the movie for you? That Blunt and Co. are shooting Mexican cartel guys? That there’s a dead body in a wall somewhere? You’re confusing “random plot details” with “spoiler.”

Doesn’t it matter that the video focuses on the filming of a glamorous movie in Africa during the classic Hollywood era? Or is that irrelevant?

Honestly, the text highlighted here doesn’t seem awful — definitely soft at times, but that’s nothing new for textbooks.

To be fair, he can’t bend forward anymore. That golf swing really wrecked shit up.

All the “what the fuck is EDM” people are the same as what the “what the fuck is jazz” people were. Time is a flat circle.

Honolulu, where I grew up, has a ton of these old Asian men and women who look like they’ve been blue collar their whole life but actually have tons and tons of money. I saw an old-timer, wearing only a ratty t-shirt and cargo shorts and some worn-out flip-flops, looking at a Ferrari 458 at an exotic dealership once.

I agree, with one exception:

This charger is a perfect visual metaphor for the first time a guy tries to have sex

You’re practically begging for a grease fire with those fried chicken skins (or maybe the drunks I know are just far less competent than you at 3 a.m.). Just lay them in a non-stick pan with a sprinkle of salt and put it over medium heat. The fat in the skins render out and you’re left with crisp pieces of fried…

I’ve found that having a few favorite “simple” drinks to order at different types of bars is best. Context matters.

Counterpoint: You can use skin-on chicken thighs (I prefer them bone-in) and render the fat out of the skin by starting them over medium-low heat, skin-side down. As you see the fat running, slowly crank up the heat until you get a nice sear. Voila — a puddle of “schmaltz.” Then proceed as instructed...

Considering Los Angeles is roughly 47% Latino, I’m going to guess that this dealership is just fine with the “backlash.”

At the very least, you will end up immortalized in her next hit, “I Fucked You and Now I Regret It.”