I picked a hell of a week to debate Hillary Clinton.

I loved watching Trump tie himself into a Gordian knot trying to explain his stances on his tax returns, support for the Iraq war, and birtherism.

I love* how Hillary being cheated on is a mark against her.

It’s hilarious that Trump accused Hillary for ‘not having stamina’, while he couldn’t stand for 60 minutes of a debate without panting, sweating, and sniffling, while she stood there smiling, fresh as a daisy.

I wish mine would stop doing that.

Jim Caldwell, after the birth of his latest grandchild:

Jim Caldwell, thinking his team was just screwed out of 37 yards:

“Touchdown!”

It would stand to reason that a Bill’s euphemistic cock is represented by something greyish-beige and ugly.

Somewhere Bill Belichick just became urgently aroused, and he doesn’t know why.

That’s unacceptable. I prefer football players who never targeted anyone; for example, Mark Sanchez.

That’s just wrong. Ejection isn’t enough. Kick him out for the season. Suspend the whole team for a season. Heck, reinstate their death penalty.

Omaha!!!

I use a white bath towel and it has never once come away dirty from my legs.

He’s basically Greg Popovich without all the charm.

The thing with Belichick is that he hates 99% of the stupid questions that reporters ask (and I don’t blame him). But every once in a while he’ll get asked an actual football question and suddenly he’ll give you a 10 minute strategy dissertation off the cuff.

Nearly perfection. One suggestion: rinse out the conditioner after you shave so that it is sitting in your hair longer.

It’s ridiculous but she looks so good.

She tried so hard to make cutting off the tops of your jeans happen.