And the pot calls the kettle . . . something or other.

As a DC resident I am reminded of the comic strip Watch Your Head.

The only van reference the world needs belongs to Sammy John’s greatest hit, which was probably reflected at some point in Bill’s behavior.

Mongers of cheese and iron are pretty okay. Those of fear rather less so.

Footnote on size: If you have time and inclination, a capon of the flavorfowl species has a lot going for it. Eating a capon means not allowing hastily sexed male chicks to be killed shortly after hatching.

Depends on how loosely you define "education".

When is the last time a presumptive first pick was under such a cloud (presumably of his own making)?

I've never envied a stuffed turtle before . . .

As for Syracuse, I would direct your attention to (if you haven't seen it already), national treasure Sally Jenkins' column today.

If not a jamoke, at least a wrong gee. He's far from jake.

John James Audobon

SI trolls for money once a year. This is the once.

The respective Coke and Pepsi gangs run the jails.

A few days have passed, so I can ask this. What about the (predominantly white) French?

It's a relief to know my brother doesn't drive that route any more.

I used to commute from that platform, which means this alien dimension-bending stuff will come to DC and start to dissolve my - AAAAAAAAAAAAH.

A distant mirror of this?

Hubris fucked right in the [appropriate orifice].

Justice delayed is . . . something or other, I guess.

Sometimes a man has two out of three from the very beginning.