Man, winning the World Cup in a country that gives a damn looks fun.
All hail the mighty Elvis, a 52-year-old crocodile in the Australian Reptile Park of Somersby, Australia, and my new God.
This golf ball’s trajectory will make your emotions soar, only to very quickly leave them afloat in mid-air, wondering where and how to land.
In the grand metaphor of life, where the ocean is the world and we are the surfer getting battered against some rocks, it’s comforting to know that there are people like Australian Ross Clarke-Jones.
About a mile south from U.S. Bank Stadium, in a midtown Minneapolis building-turned-market called Mercado Central, the only visible reminder that a big sports game is happening in the city this weekend is a sign of protest. On a message board dressed with community announcements and plumber suggestions, a pink sheet…
“Oooh. Ooaaaagh. Aaaaoowwgh Ho Ho.”
MONTERREY, Mexico — When I left Monterrey in 2004, I didn’t know that I wouldn’t be back for 13 years. I knew we were moving to San Antonio, Texas. I knew that the Harry Potter movie that had just come out, the one directed by a Mexican, was the best one yet. But I could not have known the turn of events that would…