NEW YORK, 4:30 a.m.: A bus rolls up to NFL Headquarters. The brakes hiss as the front door opens. A smoky fog rolls along the early morning street as a stumbling figure falls onto the curb. WHOO! HOT DAMN! That Snyder guy knows how to party! No, no guys I'm good, JJ
NEW YORK Umm Shari, I think I'm going to take the afternoon off. You can too if you want, just make sure to send James Harrison another $50,000 fine. Call it "detrimental to the shield, he's a poopyhead." You know how to make it do. Ahh...another season in the books, quite a
When we last left our dismal duo, Joe was lamenting the entirety of the state of Wisconsin. Troy was Eggman. Standard Operating Procedure in other words. As it turns out FOX gets the Superb Owl this year, so once again unto the breach go our beloved broadcasting team. Let's see
Species Name: GMesis Shivathal (rhymes with Nemesis AND Genesis). However NONE EVER LOOK LIKE HER. But we view them as so due to their magical powers. Individual Names: Balkeballtarkomous (extinct), Joneszilla (unkillable owner hybrid), Slingbladeus (um...incriminating evidence?), Grigsonelle (extinct) From: Boardroom Scarface binges, Dartboard throws, "Hey he knows the owner!" Descended from/Spawned by: Unclear. Nepotism helps
(Based on somewhat accurate reports.) America's Game of the Weak! Welcome to this sea of unwashed, drunken hobbits. I am here, despite my pleas, alongside this braindead troll. So Troy where do you think you are this time? I MUST KILL BATMAN! I'm sorry folks it seems Troy thinks he's still King Tut.
We speak openly of Bleergh in this house. He doth rule our being. Believing in his ways is immaterial, as we have all exclaimed faint promise of hope that he will guide our chosen toward salvation. He cares not. His way is law, and we are all victim to it.
I’ve told you the tale of Father Shogun, which in itself is unique. But it pales quite honestly to the tale of Mama Shogun. No, honestly. As I even begin to try I know I’m leaving out many things that in themselves are standalone chapters. I’m just going to give
1/9/2017 I don't say much about me or mine. It's not interesting to me, until I talk about it, at which point everyone says "YOU SHOULD SAY SOMETHING!" ok...fine. Here goes. My dad was born 1/9, back in 1948. That makes him 69. So what. Except from the number and all that
Did I do the clickbait right? You're here so I'm guessing the answer is yes. Good on ya, I knew I liked you. By the time you see this, I will likely be somewhere in the process of digging out from a storm. About a foot, no biggie as long as
I think it's safe to say 2016 has been one epic whadafuq no matter who you are or your views toward life in general. It seems no one is going to make it to the end without at least one death, seismic shift to how they view their nation, or
"Hey Shogun Marcus, what's with the Captain BlueBunny?" First of all, who are you, who sent you, and how do you know my name? Actually I don't care. Sit down and tell me if this rag smells like ether. All good? Ok. Captain BlueBunny is my name for Mike McCarthy. Blue Bunny