NOOOOOOOOOPE. Nope. Nope.

“I didn’t watch my buddies die face down in Iraq to come home and have you tell me I got a fake baby.”

Jezspin forever

Honestly, surprised it wasn’t a vape.

This is more embarrassing than my unintentional smear campaign against Sports Illustrated when Kathy Ireland was on the cover.

Do they scurry when something bigger comes their way? Pack themselves together and drive as one? How about defecating where they’re not supposed to? Or taking what’s not theirs?

Tough but fair. 

It could be worse. The full version was, “What, you’re no longer down with this dominant, prominent, malcontent, nonevent, rubber cement, breach of trust with fraudulent intent pussy?” 

Ah, yes, Picasso, who is most famous for strictly adhering to the standards of conventional beauty, a very good artist to be nicknamed after when you are in the business of splicing bits of face together for purely aesthetic purposes! Sign me up!

This chart looks like an aquarium with a dead fish on the bottom left.

Looks like Peterson finally learned not to go for the switch.

“He has a routine where he shuffles around the box and adjusts his cup or whatnot, and I was just having fun out there, just kind of giving it back to him in a good-natured, ribbing kind of way,”

Beetlejuice. *honk honk*

Whole new meaning to going for the head.

Players break for the field between innings.

Did his dad abandon them in October? That would explain a lot.

Weight is a street term referring to selling drugs in large quantities. In other words, he wasn't selling dime bags or zips (ounces), he was selling by the pound. 

Now the only engorged organ Jets fans need to worry about are Adam Gase's eyeballs.

“Horton, Here’s a Poo!”