I eagerly await Sally Jenkins’ next column in The Washington Post, which will most likely be about this. She has helped to keep attention focused on this horror show.

I assume, then, that we will never see Mexican gymnasts perform in luchador masks. This saddens me.

I need to get several cans of cream of mushroom soup. And pour one out for her.

No, we’re not. My palate goes all over the place, and there should be a place at the table for all kinds of things.

This transplanted Midwesterner could actually go for one of those this fall.  Thanks, Ms. Reilly.

Police departments really need to improve their recruitment and figure out how to train people better in anger management. This may also include testing for steroids, as much explosive police behavior is at least not inconsistent with ‘roid rage.

And a corollary.

“¿Quién es más macho?” 

In honor of this occasion we should . . . just dance.

This might be a good time to reread Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address.

Why is he engaging in furniture cosplay?

“And we’re rolling. Rolling. Rolling down the river.”

My application must have gotten lost in the mail. Dang.

I wonder how this would have gone over with Samuel L. Jackson.

Any word on whether he’s more of a Casey’s or a Kum and Go guy?

Now there are going to be a lot of Iran-based image searches for Aly Raisman.

Avis kavanaughensis

Time for Intervention 2.0.

Someone at ICE is enjoying the cruel irony that Tornillo means “screw”.

Whatever the kayaker thought, I doubt the octopus was too damn happy about it either.