Yeah, but that last time he did it with Tomlin’s team. (snicker)

Listening to Tomlin in his press conference, which I always try to do, I pointed out his reply to questions about the “fake punt” to my wife. What he said was some variation of “That was my call. Jordan didn’t have authority to change it. Its all on me. End of story.” Now THAT is a man—isn’t that right, Freddie…

Is this humor? It can’t be, because humor implies that something is funny, and this crap isn’t even droll. So Ms. Fishbein can’t drink milk—boo freaking hoo—and wants all of the world who can to suffer along with her. And milk drinkers are sociopathic? Pot, meet kettle.

There is no place for these things on sidewalks or bicycle/pedestrian paths. Stand your ground; do not yield, shoulder the rider into a ditch if they engage. That said, the joys of protest notwithstanding, simply refusing to use these wasteful, throw-away blights will eliminate them far more quickly than purposefully…

Who the hell writes an article inditing a player’s performance in a game--at half-time? The dude throws for 411 yards and 3 TDs, runs for another 27 yards, and pretty much carries his team to a come-from-behind win and you’re complaining? Sure, he got credit for 3 INTs in the, but if you’d been watching the game you…

Maybe I’m chiming in here inappropriately, as a working class rural white guy who never quite understands the boundaries imposed by contemporary sensitivities, but while I genuinely enjoyed this piece, from my perspective this review seems remarkably, almost resentfully, cynical. I’m a country rube to be sure, but I…

As normal, regular, average white guy I think that I speak for a lot of people when I say “(Fornicate) you, Roseanne.” It bears mentioning that for all her shrill absurdist pseudo-populism, she is a savvy player. She sees the press that idiots get when they stir up the righteous, well-earned, indignation of average…

As normal, regular, average white guy I think that I speak for a lot of people when I say “(Fornicate) you, Roseanne.” It bears mentioning that for all her shrill absurdist pseudo-populism, she is a savvy player. She sees the press that idiots get when they stir up the righteous, well-earned, indignation of…

I drove my mom-in-law’s hand me down ‘98 LeSabre for 5 years. Leather seats, sport mode, and that fabulous Buick 3800 6 that moved the beast of a car surprisingly well—was it a German luxocruiser? Nope. Were there Cheerios and crayons ground into the back seat? You betcha. But that car would haul (butt) on the…

If Buick can’t sell the Shiite out of this car, they need to fire their entire marketing team, and let the designers cane them as they crawl out of the office on their hands and knees.

I’m from outside Pittsburgh, so lathing Ovechkin is sort of a requirement, but even I’ve got to smile. “We’re from Russia...” That’s cool. Watching DC deal (or not deal) with winter must bemuse the hell out of him.

Two words: snow chains. Also, it wouldn’t hurt if some of these sketchy southern locales (anyplace, except West Virginia, south of the Mason-Dixon line) maybe invested in a second snow plow, and someone trained to use it.

Holy shit! Talk about first world problems! Is this all we have to bitch about, some writer I never heard of making a buck by signing a deal with a restaurant? I’m put my name on urinals and feminine hygiene products if it sold a few books.

But...but...it's BOOBS!

Possibly. On the other hand, we can spell.

Just the essay I needed after a community government meeting throughout which I wanted to curse like...um...uh...YOU! Thanks, Lindy.