Anytime Stephen A. or any other talking head jumps on Marvin Lewis about his failures, I always think of their owner, and vote Lewis as coach of the year.

Calipari currently has a job with no salary cap. He will never work under restraints like those again.

Funny, your comment reminded me of driving by a massive graveyard of Pontiac Fiero’s in northern Alabama. Never saw anything like it before or since- imagine 5 acres of that cherry of an auto parked bumper to bumper. My wife and I were driving in separate cars and we called each other simultaneously somewhat…

No, I’m afraid that victory pre-dated 1925. Death, taxes, and illiteracy, still undefeated in Alabama. Row Tide.

I’m betting that Ms. Turner makes that address “known” to someone PDQ

Yes, but when his chest was fully puffed out, he was pushing a c-note easy.

Damn. That was strong generational sitcom humor.

Trump is turrible. Just turrible.

Back in the late 80’s, unfettered access to porn was still a gold mine and we had one of those big ass satellite dishes that you now only see in the back country of states in the South. Any way, I let it be known at school, that, “oh yeah, I have all the extreme porn channels you could want to see.”

It didn’t sound like being there was too funny either.

They just traded those for a sure-fire, can’t miss sperm bank donation they just heard about. Kid’s going to be dynamite!

The Fighting Frackers.

To stay in the Christmas season, Bradford must be Italian, because he’s fragile. Take that JJ Watt.

Smooth indeed, but I was considering a little plagiarism along the lines of, here come the new dance revue, “The Black Dancing Assets”.

With all the players in the country that would show up at the Saints facility this afternoon for a tryout, why do they keep that waste of space Browner? Fire Ryan and Browner and you probably shave 10 points off per week. Who could possibly stand to play beside Browner and be motivated?

if you dismiss it as the province of tight pants and backwards ballcaps and ill-advised forays into rapping and “let’s drive out to the middle of nowhere in my truck so I can fuck you in a cornfield” love songs that sound suspiciously like abduction scenarios,

Careful, Urban will start having chest pains again. Oh wait, the talent cupboard isn’t bare yet, recovery imminent.

I think Belichick would just use his Vader-like mental chokehold until Hardy dropped at his feet. Then two underlings would scurry in and drag him off.

the selfie: because I’m so damn wonderful, why not take repeated pictures of myself?!?!?

“Again, I didn’t recall us being a hundred percent naked.”