I’m imagining Terence Malick filming this script, stretching it out to 85 minutes - no added dialogue, just long gorgeously framed shots of open countryside, teeming crowds on sidewalks, people jostling through the gates of a ballpark, players going through their pregame rituals, etc., all set to a score somewhere…

(earlier in the day)

You understand that Tonga is a very poor country, right? Jesus.

Rose rivals Trump in terms of giving coherent answers to questions.

“You look at endorsements”, there’s the Rose we have all come to know, the one concerned about cash, meetings and graduations.

They’ve got a death lineup. Possession dies with Melo. Possession dies with Rose. Noah’s knee dies. Porzingis’ career dies. Fans are dead inside. Lot of death all around.

He’s made bolder claims:

I could read this, but I’d rather masturbate then read about someone else’s attempt to get themselves off.

Proving why he’s a legend in the game.

This rambling, bewildering post is easily my favorite piece about the 2016 playoffs. Please keep in mind that my favorite book is Mason&Dixon, and my favorite movie is the director’s cut of Nightbreed and last night I ran several miles on the treadmill listening to Red Krayola’s first album so uh, you may not exactly…

Food for thought. If the boyfriend would have interpreted it as cheating that's a toxic relationship that's doomed at that point.

That sounds like a solid plan. Also, I'm sure the Fall football team will be hailed as heroes, playing through the adversity and distractions of these unfortunate incidents.

My guess is the NCAA comes in with a tough penalty that is legally flawed and based on a completely incorrect set of facts. Baylor appeals and the NCAA drops the penalty down to something minor. Baylor gets its program back, the NCAA claims it tried, and then this is repeated for the next schools that get caught.

You spelled June wrong.

Joe Thornton vs Phill Kessel for the Stanley Cup

Rocket, Wood, Unit, and now Scherzer.

Atlanta Braves closer has to be pretty high on the list.

Just another bullet-ridden day in the good ole US of A.

8:30 starts are horseshit. I don’t know who they think is staying up until 1am to watch hockey on a work night, but it sure as hell isn’t me. The transition from drinking on weeknights in my mid 20s and going to bed at 1030 every night happened out of no where. I want my youth back, I want to live.