First off, let's tackle the Giants Midseason review:
The Giants are dead. There is nothing to review. All that is left is to pay respects
Christ, I made that whole video and forgot to include Snacks Harrison being traded. His getting traded was the thing that made me think to create
Hello My Honey, Hello My Baby, Hello My Ragtime Gal
Of course. Of fucking course they did. I had just gotten done talking my ass off about how the Nets weren't that bad. I swore they were legit. The trash Knicks fans at my office would have to watch them for
Maybe I can keep this up for 82 games.
We're six games in the books for the Brooklyn Nets season, and I'm going strong in the 2-4 campaign. I should explain something, way back when I came up with the idea for this column, I was going to game by game,
Mmmm. That's what I came here for.
It'd be a waste of a column if they were good. Well, that's not fair. The Nets were good tonight. For almost the whole game, even. I wasn't sold what was advertised in my mind when I dreamed up the idea of following Brooklyn.
Four games in, and I'm crazed as a shithouse rat.
I'm back home, in the chaos and anxiety of the metro area, where everything makes so much more sense. I've had four days to think about the team since their loss in Indiana. For whatever reason, I am comfortable with the
Set the hills on fire.
I'm back home in the hell hole town that I grew up in that I'll never name in print. I like to say I've gotten over it all, but to tell you the truth, I don't know if you ever totally get over it. I don't
The Nets are home and I am on the road and half in the bag. I'm stationed in the milds of New Jersey. Far enough away from the city to be considered a suburb, far enough away from the beach to be considered fun, and yet far enough away from
Let's do this at the height of our intelligence.
I don't come here to drag the Brooklyn Nets. I come in the name of creating content, and to do so I require a gimmick. For too long have I been freelancing without my very own safety net, so in this home
[Slams forehead into desk at office, arousing the suspicion of my coworkers from behind my cubicle walls]
[Takes long drag of a cigarette not caring that I don't smoke, that I'm violating company policy, that I'm still drunk from the night before and have lit the filter end like an
Dearest brother, and venerated golden boy,
As I write this correspondence to you, I can hear the dogs howling in the distance, my time of unchecked power nearing it's end. While the leaves have not yet begun to blush with their autumnal splendor, I truly have entered the winter of my
There are whispers in the NBA. Not the sort of hot air that leads to Woj bombs on twitter, or preface league wide action. The rumor isn’t conspicuous enough for the Worldwide Wes types, but merely exist as vibrations in the ether, imperceptible to anybody who doesn't know to listen.
Good afternoon everybody and welcome to New York City...adjacent East Rutherford, New Jersey, for my Hacky Ass™ Roast of the New York Giants. That’s right, we’re doing a roast. Why? Because almost all team previews on comedy sites are roasts at heart, I’m going to cut the bullshit and just start