Maybe it’s because Conor doesn’t beat women’s asses habitually. Plus his fights are actually fun. After paying to see Mayweather-Pacquiao I was left with a deep sense of existential ennui. Fuck that guy.

I’ve been trying to explain Trump to my five year old nephew all week. He was sitting on my knee as I frantically scrawled electoral college votes and percentage of precincts reported at 10pm this past Tuesday. He thought it was a game and kept shrieking for me to let him do the numbers too. I’m afraid I lost my shit.…

*Eyes widen in shocked recognition of a kindred masturbator*

Michael Pemulis ftw

And here I was about to respond ‘yo mammy’ until I read your final paragraph. I salute you.

I think I’m going to start claiming that Greg Popovich is my biological father. Coolest old white guy ever, hands goddamn down.

Have that fucking terrifying 8 foot tall baby mascot start at the 5. Bet he can guard the rim like no other. Plus, those eyes. *Shudder*

Has there been a single surprise on the map so far? Sure Trumplenuts is ahead, but that’s because all those shitty states in the Midwest and South that you could pretty much safely call for Trump five minutes after the polls opened. I’ll start worrying if he takes Florida and some combination of North…

Mrs. Pink Skull is a treasure. I’m sometimes convinced that Kelly Ann Conway has experienced multiple strokes attempting to explain away the Trumple’s latest act of astounding douchebaggery. And the poor woman has to go on live TV and do it four, five times a week. I would’ve gnawed my own fingers off by mid-August.

Indeed. Indeed their is.

I am so open to this.

At age 15ish I bought a copy of Smash Mouth’s Fush Yu Mang because I thought the song “Walking On the Sun” had a kick-ass fuzz box guitar riff. I was a stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid fucking teenager. Also, I may be repressing the memory, but I believe I owned multiple Limp Bizkit albums at some point. I hate myself…

Are you kidding me? Trump, this sport allegedly called football, the rise of the Alt-Right? I love it, it’s like living in a Mel Brooks movie. Then again I did start experimenting with mescaline this year so my usually fine sense of the pulse of America might be just a bit off of late.

I don’t fuckin’ roll on Shabbos.

Oh, and nice marmot.

You’re out of your fucking depth Donny.

Judging by the public flaying of Isaiah Thomas after the ‘88 WCF, taking Larry Bird’s name in vain has to be up there.

*Pictured* John Goodman mentally preparing for his role as Willie Loman in the Broadway revival of Death of a Salesman.

As someone who hit puberty in the mid 90's, I’ve had good cyber and I’ve had bad cyber. This is bad cyber.

Liberal elitist.