A deeply cynical friend of mine in college would look over someone who pushed the elevator button for a one floor lift, then look to me and say: “Legs don’t look broke to me.” Cringe inducing to this day.

The Secret Service has always been a fascist organization. Pairing them with Trump just brings their thinly veiled brutality to the surface to be captured on film.

Actually, this is his meal schedule:

Counterpoint: NFL players, and to some extant, college football players are systematically doing away with padding with each successive year. When I played college football some 25 years ago you couldn’t step on the field without hip pads, a tail pad, knee pads, thigh pads that were several inches thick, and a…

I don't know, he's got those little piggy eyes that are unsettling in oh so many occasions of human expressions of emotion. When he's dead inside, it's cool though.

Coercion, in my mind, involves aggression, of some sort, whereas I think these people are just by products of successful group indoctrination within a closed social environment.

At least I’ll have names to attach to my futile complaints to nobody in particular about the incessant Manning hagiography that is about to be flooding the airwaves through the Super Bowl.

A lot of this was in the marketing: they relied on the Paleolithic-style of a chorus of talking heads blathering on about arcane facets of the games that, while familiar and comforting to sports nuts, had zero appeal to the causal fans. Furthermore, the confusing “start a new tradition” commercials that looked like…

No offense, but in today’s football marketplace, OK is in the absolute tail-end of the digestive tract of the belly of the beast of fly-over country awareness by 99.99% of Americans: “Oh yeah, they’re a state, huh, forgot about them...”

I’m not sure this is all about the date as much as it is about the teams: none of them garner national passions like a Notre Dame would or have the traditional allure of a USC. These are schools that are good antagonists for another team but not “headliners” to generate classic good vs evil, easy marketing narratives.

Indeed it is my friend, indeed it is. Why, every once in a blue moon we have to pay something called “taxes” to support the U.S. Treasury. It would be nice to know when that sort of thing was about to happen before such an unfortunate measure interrupts my considerations about fine, imported Italian marble floors.…

Wonder if he gets down on his knees every night praying that this is all just a set up for a sappy Christmas tale full of slapstick humor, madcap hijinks and a last minute reprieve where a mean old banker realizes the error of his ways and wipes out the family’s debt.

Not a lawyer but have read many legal documents for work; lawyers tend to write excessively to trample any ambiguity in the opposition’s assertions.

In such unimportant aspects of life like sports, we all don’t need to get along, and most assuredly we don’t need a fairy tale ending.

It would be wonderful if every day of his incarceration he was met with a mail call filled with postcards from supporters of his victims reminding him of what a piece of shit he is.

So, I’m your typical apathetic American non-voter whose political enthusiam ranges from meh to huh. Can some give me the exact moment when the Right went compleltly off the rails and lodged itself inextricably in the midst of crazy town?

Yup, takes some real chutzpah to inadvertently draw attention to the net proceeds of the rape, plunder and wholesale destruction of a civilization to cash in now that your country’s economy is in the crapper.

At the end of the day, this conflict is akin to the one in Vietnam given the strategy and tactics available, and thus will play out as that conflict did. Sooner or later winning the hearts and minds will be trotted out as a part of the path forward.

A non-touching method that grabs the attention of an infant is making a clucking sound that apparently triggers breastfeeding instincts.

Hate is a pretty strong word: I’m merely wretching vehemently every time I see the red, swollen faced, swaying jowled, and twice-around-the-Matterhorn comb-over reprise his cica-1980 stitch for the 20 millionth time in a shameless manner that would embarrass even a Vaudeville hack. The tedious and invariable insertion…