It's 4 pm on an offseason Tuesday. Do you know where your tangentially-NFL-related crime stories are? THEY ARE RIGHT FUCKING HERE! LET YOUR CELEBRATIONS AND MERRY-MAKING COMMENCE! Once again, I find myself compelled to apologize to you, gentle reader, because you come to this site for The Funny, or at least the
Tag: CrimeBeat!
CrimeBeat!: Lead-Based Hangover Edition
CrymBeet?: At My Most Beautiful
CrimeBeat!: Second Thoughts Edition
CrimeBeat!: Now With Extra Preservatives!
CrimeBeat!: The One With The Bourble
CrimeBeat!: Drafticipation Edition
OYEZ, OYEZ, OYEZ! The Honorable, the Right Reverend Electric Mayhem. All persons having business before this poorly-written, barely coherent pseudo-tabloid-news-show internet column are admonished to draw near and give their attention, for the Chief Asshat is now sitting. God save the Commentariat and this Sport we love and revile. We have
CrimeBeat!: Celebratory Edition
Alright kids- turns out I am doing this week's CrimeBeat!, because my Dad ended up defying expectations and not dying on the operating table. Go modern medicine! I am exhausted and jubilant and incredibly pissed off that clients don't seem to understand the term "family medical emergency" when they really need
CrimeBeat!: Lesser Sports Week
CrimeBeat!: Thirty Days Has Smarch
Oh god. The nightmares. The craving. The soul-crushing emptiness for those of us who do not Sully Ourselves with thoughts of Lesser Sports. The Bleakness walks among us, fellow pilgrims. It's another month until the draft. Another goddamned month. There is precious little relief in sight. Unless Will Fuller does the





