president-camacho-old
President Camacho
president-camacho-old

I have to side with cupcake. I love me some Good 'n Plenty, although I'm not so fond of his bastard sibling Good 'n Fruity.

We're not all mysoginistic jerks :)

Eh, I'm starred on Deadspin, but I spend more time reading/commenting on Gawker and Jez. And while many of my Deadspin bretheren are hilarious, I have no idea where they fall on the political spectrum, so who knows whether they could add anything to a conversation about women's reproductive rights.

I'm pro choice because, essentially, I don't feel that (as a man) I have any right to tell a woman what to do with her body. The conservative obsession with eliminating a woman's right to choose is just such busy-body nonsense. Same with gay marriage, really. They don't like it because they think it's icky. That's it.

I would promote this if I could, because you articulated a lot of the rage I feel about this issue.

If I had the No. 1 pick, I'd have taken that Turkey.

That's sneaky good.

I'm in complete agreement with you. A few years ago I wouldn't have bought a Hyundai because of quality concerns, and then when their quality began to improve I didn't like the styling. But I just bought a 2011 Sonata. I love the styling, and I got more for the money than if I'd purchased an Altima/Camry/Accord. I've

Nice.

Congratulations to the youngsters, but sadly the U-42 team continues to sink.

Which grip—the delicate penhold or the ain't-it-just-a-li'l-wooden-tennis-racket shakehand—is superior?

Well, we can eliminate "tribute to my miles per gallon" as one of the reasons Harper chose to wear number 34.

Imitates a lot of Kobe [Bryant's] mannerisms.

That made me laugh.

Jimmer Fredette, Brigham Young "This guy's pretty out there. I mean, he's Mormon, right? And they believe in aliens and shit. He needs to get his head right. There's some freak bitches on the road, but there ain't no robot ninjas or nothin'." — Ron Artest

Jonas Valanciunas, Lithuania "Best young player in Europe"

Ha!

+1

Pictured: Jack McKeon's memories of the 1980's slowly leak out and disappear into the ether.

That's great.