• Photobombers are people who ruin seemingly nice pictures. Here are some of the best Photobombers from Facebook.
• Sportsmanship is alive and well in female athletics. If it were dudes playing in that game the scenario would have played out something like this: Guy hits a jack. While rounding first base he blows out his knee. After making fun of the guy for blowing out his knee while rounding the bases on a home run, the opposing team feigns fake concern until trainers haul him off the field whereupon the umpire makes the proper ruling of a two-run single. The opposing team will later tell their grandchildren about some moron that shredded his ACL after going yard in a bourbon-soaked haze forty years later.
  
• Peanut butter and jelly. Milk and cookies. College fraternities and cocaine rings.
  

Labels: drugs, link goodness, sports, tomfoolery

• Another reason besides gambling payouts to enjoy college athletics. Note to YouTube video collage guy: Have enough respect for your craft to at least have the images of your obsession sync with the music. And Jimi Hendrix's "Foxy Lady"? Come on. Think it through.
• Jackie Warner, attractive lesbian fitness trainer, is apparently the apple of every straight girl's eye.
• Sleeve tattoos are officially played out. Ho do I know? Because of this.

Labels: chicks, health, lesbians, link goodness, pop culture, sports, tattoos

• Alamosa, Colorado. Home of the Great Sand Dunes, a college where slightly above average suburban high school athletes go to die and now, free salmonella!
  
• McDonalds sack 1, Brandon Marshall 0. Brandon Marshall joins the esteemed list of other Denver professional athletes who obtained an injury under strange circumstances (read: getting caught in a lie). Congratulations Brandon! You will now be held in the same esteem as Clint Barmes breaking his collarbone while carrying deer meat (read: being flipped off of a four wheeler) and Brian Griese tripping over his dog, falling down the stairs and spraining his ankle (read: taking a tumble while sloppy drunk). Look on the bright side: almost losing an arm is a better thing to be remembered for than talking about practice.
  
• Mirror gets thrown from Colorado University dorm room window. Hijinks ensue.

Labels: colorado, link goodness, sports, stupidity

• Click here to see the reason why I am hooked on A&E's Intervention (pun intended). Naked meth whore's journals are eerily reminiscent of a former coworker of mine who was rumored to be on the pipe. She used to sketch magical spirals and write "NO" repeatedly in her notebooks during board meetings.
• Michael Jackson may be losing the Happy Pedophile Ranch due to some back taxes.
• The Colorado Avalanche made some big moves before the trading deadline netting them Peter Forsberg, Adam Foote and Ruslan Salei. In other 1999 news, American Beauty wins the Oscar for Best Picture and folks are starting to get serious about this Y2K thing.

Labels: colorado, drugs, hockey, link goodness, pop culture, sports

• Tips on managing Millennials (or as I like to call them "The Participation Ribbon Generation"). Not willing to make routine sacrifices, cannot handle criticism well and take things too seriously, you say? I am guessing it had something to do with an entire generation being raised with a sense of entitlement, hyper-sensitivity and not being allowed to fail. Guess we should have kept score at their Little League games after all.
• The perfect Valentine's Day gift: Afghani War Rugs! Now available in the new, delicious 9/11 Flavor!
• Roger Clemens throws his wife under the bus to protect what is left of his sterling professional baseball reputation. Well played, Mr. I Did Not Use HGH But My Bitch Wife Did.
  

Labels: 9/11, age, link goodness, sports, valentines day, war

• The New York Jet's D Concourse becomes Mardi Gras at halftime. I am actually surprised this does not happen during the entire game being as New Jersey tunnel trash lifting up their shirts seems far more interesting than watching Kellen Clemens play quarterback. It is sad when the best thing that happened to your professional sports franchise in the past decade was this.
• Vintage photography of a 60s era sex party (NSFW).
• Obesity trends in the USA from 1985-2006. Good to see Colorado representing the low end of the scale along with Massachusetts and Connecticut. Do us all a favor West Virginia and Mississippi; put down the cupcakes and go for a bike ride or something.

Labels: link goodness, sex, sports, tomfoolery

In just a few short hours World Series tickets will be going on sale. I will be attempting to score seats for games three, four and/or five. Being as tickets are only being sold online, season ticket holders get first dibs and only 18,000 seats will be available to the general public per game, chances are slim that I will be drunkenly heckling Coco Crisp for being benched from the nosebleeds. I claim partial responsibility for the Rox incredible run, so I think the baby Jesus owes me the blessing of tickets to one game (at least). If no tickets are procured, I will officially renounce the Christian messiah and go the god-hating way of Perez.

Update: The risen infant Christ has forsaken me. Ticket purchasing attempts were made on a Mac via Firefox, Safari and Netscape while simultaneously rolling the office PC test computer on IE, Firefox and Netscape. All to no avail. (Shaking fist at sky and screaming, "Evolution rules!")

Labels: colorado, rox revolution, sports

I understand life on the streets is daunting. I am not judging you for climbing on the hood of a car and offering to perform oral sex on an undercover cop. I am even willing to overlook the fact that you have AIDS yet still sell your diseased ass to be violated by anyone with a twenty dollar bill. It is unforgivable, however, to be wearing a Colorado Avalanche sweater in your booking photo. Were they all out of Kenyon Martin jerseys when you stole that from Sports Authority or something? Your only saving grace would be if you lifted a Brad May or Temu Selanne sweater off the clearance rack.

Labels: open letter, sports, whores

Yesterday the wife and I took in a Father's Day barbeque and a 100-degree scorcher at my sister's house out on the plains. I stayed inside with the air conditioning most of the day and had a glorious nap as the final round of the US Open played out before me. The male contingent of the barbeque were emotionally invested in the tournament, getting excited at good shots, sizing up the leader board and making the standard comments that professional golf fans make ("He can hit a (insert club here) that far?" or "They all make it look so effortless.") Although I play golf a handful of times each year, I have no desire to watch it played professionally nor do I care if a nobody from Argentina wins the thing. I did discover that professional golf woos me to sleep as if I were an infant wrapped tightly to her warm, bare bosom. Sit me in your rocking chair and sing me a lullaby, professional golf. Your sweet baby boy has a stomach full of bratwurst and needs the sleepy.

Labels: sleep, sports, wife

Last night I watched the Avs home opener from a luxury suite at the Pepsi Center (the boys lost to the Stars 2-3 in OT). The old man, Jake, Nels and Aaron were also in attendance. My pops was responsible for the hook up as he procured the tickets through assorted work connections. The suite came equipped with a private bathroom, assorted domestic beers, food platters, period-by-period stat sheets and a computer with internet connection. Our luxurious time was surrounded by famous radio personalities with fake cans (Clear Channel suite next door), one drunk fan trying to start an "AVS RULE!" cheer (seats below us) and the now infamous silver bucket of happiness. The life of an unemployed artist is glamorous and fulfilling.

Labels: colorado, jake, sports, unemployment

• Future Garfield strips if Garfield aged at the normal feline rate.
• Bo Jackson runs wild in a game of Super Tecmo Bowl. My Dad would say that Bo did this in real life every time he played against the Denver Broncos and then he would call Bo a "bag of shit."
• Watch this video and then ask how far you would go for some free porn.

Labels: link goodness, perversion, sports

• Google Maps illustrates what happens to coastal areas when the ocean levels rise.
• A suit of plastic babies.
• Regarding this link; I think my Dad said it best after I burned my hand on the stove: "You have no one to blame but yourself."

Labels: link goodness, science, sports

• Take that, you cocksucking creationists.
  
• The reason the Duke Lacrosse season was suspended indefinitely. It is one thing to call strippers bitches and threaten to skin them; but if you do these things while "cumming in your Duke issue spandex" then you have crossed the line.
  
• Seven famous songs with factual or logical mistakes in the lyrics.

Labels: link goodness, music, science, sports

It is official; I have won the March Madness office pool for the second time in five years. Special thanks to the Wichita State Shockers, the Georgetown Hoyas and Glen "Big Baby" Davis. I plan on buying the future wife a pretty little dress and a steak with all the extra cabbage.

Labels: gambling, sports, wife

The future wife and I got the hell out of town for an alpine sports adventure weekend in Summit County (click here for some hot Flickr action). After a six mile snowshoe hike on Friday, we celebrated St. Patrick's Day like an old-married couple; drinking two Kiltlifters and inhaling bacon-wrapped filet mignon at Pug Ryans then falling asleep before ten thirty watching reruns of Murder She Wrote. On Saturday we skied Breckenridge expecting spring break and weekend crowds only to be surprised by a dead resort due to local weather professionals prematurely calling for an immense spring storm. It is back to work in a few hours unless the city shuts down due to a blizzard (it could happen again, you know).

Labels: activity, bacon, colorado, snow, sports, wife

• This is what happens when atypical fat Goth chicks have no talent for writing poetry in a cemetery.
• A burglar avoids a prison term until he can regain control of his manhood. (The condition known as Priapism (or "the perpetual erection") was named for the Greek god Priapus, who was the protector of livestock, fruit plants, gardens and male genitalia and subsequently hung like a moose).
• Well done, ladies; but no matter how high you jump and how far you can pull and spread those young, taut bodies, my bracket tells me that you are getting smoked like a Parliament in the second round by Wichita State.

Labels: link goodness, perversion, sports

John Buccigross on why March is the greatest time of the year for hockey. I enjoy the tale of his six year old son getting his first goal and a humorous anecdote regarding one of my favorite hockey personality's Shjon Podein. Excerpt:

So, I'm in my rookie year in Edmonton and it's my birthday. We had just come home from one of our infamous 15 to 20 day road trips and my family is there to celebrate. So, the family and I go out to have dinner and drinks. We're just relaxing when one of my brothers gives me a four foot high inflatable Tyrannosaurus rex for a birthday present. My other brother gives me a sombrero. We get back to the hotel and get Mom back in her room. As we're leaving Mom's room, my brothers jump me and rip my suit off in the hotel hallway, leaving me with just my boxers, a sombrero and my four foot high inflatable Tyrannosaurus Rex. So I'm wandering the hallways of the hotel trying to find my room. We'd been on the road for 15 to 20 days, it's late, and I can't remember my room number. I stick my room key in a number of doors, hoping to find the right one. All of a sudden, I look up and there is one of Canada's finest security guards.

I go, "Hey, what's going on!"

The security guard says, "We've had a complaint that some guy is walking down the hall in his boxers, wearing a sombrero, with a bottle of Bud in one hand and an inflatable dinosaur in the other making too much noise."

I looked at him and said, "You've got the wrong guy, brutha."

Labels: hockey, sports

• The rise and fall of an Indian reservation drug dealer. Jake digs the bear claw tattoos prominently displayed on homegirl's sweater puppies. He would. The guy does shit like this on the weekends.
• A dissertation on the NBA logo. The article argues whether the logo should be redesigned to reflect the current culture of the league or remain the way it is. I say redesign the logo to something that is indicative of the modern NBA; a tattooed kid with cornrows that cannot play defense and has no outside shot but can dunk like a hungry police officer at a coffee shop.
• Good to hear that Hank has not lost his edge.
• Tanith Belbin has made me a fan of Olympic ice dancing. There. I said it.

Labels: drugs, jake, link goodness, music, sports

Watching the Winter Olympics for the past week has lead me to one undeniable truth: there is nothing more gay than single male figure skating. I do not deny the skill and hard work it must take to do all those tricks on ice, but an extravagant swan outfit? All I ask is that our diminutive homosexuals dressed as princess fairies are better at silly little ice spins than other country's diminutive homosexuals dressed as princess fairies. Way to fuck that up, Johnny Weir.

Labels: sports, tomfoolery

• A minor league hockey promotion that is much better than mixed gender, on-ice dodge ball: the man with the hairiest back.
  
• Wikipedia for the St. Valentine's Day Massacre.
  
• Tom's unholy seed no longer needs its host body upon entering the world, therefore, the host's usefulness is no more.

Labels: link goodness, pop culture, sports, tomfoolery, valentines day

• Quote of the day: "You ain't the only one with a Glock."
  
• Aw, Scotty. You are making it too easy for me, man.
  
• Weather conditions from the Axis of Evil.

Labels: link goodness, politics, pop culture, sports

Me: I bought some new skis last night.
Monica: Oh, nice.
Me: Notice the urban graphics that will illustrate how much of a non-conformist I am while skiing. Because that is important.
Monica: Keeping it street on the slopes?
Me: Right. Represent.
Monica: Represent Arvada?
Me: "I am riding for the water tower today, bitches."
Monica: "This is for all the homeys that are working at the gas stations, getting their weed delivered to them that cannot enjoy the mountain today."
Me: "This bump run is for my boys that drink too much beer, still live at home with their parents and work at Randy's Pizza; sorry you did not make it, playas."

Labels: colorado, im convos, mons, sports

The Avs are playing with verve and poetry and there can be only one explanation; the magic Christmas sweatshirt. Since the future wife gave it to me for Jesus's birthday, the Avs have gone 8-2 and are now in first place in the Northwest division.

You also may have heard about the other Denver professional sports franchise. If they beat the Steelers this Sunday, they head to Detroit for their seventh Super Bowl bid in franchise history. Take care of business, DBroncs. Daddy wants to see another Lombardi trophy in case at Invesco Field At Mile High.

An Open Letter to the NFL: Who's idea was it to have Detroit host the Super Bowl? Whoever it was, you should fire them. Was Miami or San Diego closed that weekend? If I am going to risk getting shot outside a stadium during the big game, I expect to feel a warm ocean breeze on my face as I hold my intestines in my hands and writhe in agony while waiting for an ambulance to arrive. Also, as you are probably aware, the Roman Empire collapsed almost two thousand years ago. We use these things called numbers now. Look into it.

Labels: hockey, sports, wife

Being as its Martin Luther King, Jr. Day and I am white, it seems only fitting and respectful to Dr. King to bash white celebrities that I despise. I am sure Dr. King would agree that all that brotherhood and hand-holding business would be out the window if these jag offs were standing next to him:

Scott Stapp. Can someone please grab this guy with their arms wide open and squeeze him until his eyeballs pop out of their sockets? If not, we will have to keep getting updates like this. I checked out his bitch's website and noticed that she bears an uncanny resemblance to the brunette Carolina Panther cheerleader that got arrested for trading fur and slap boxing in a public restroom.

Peyton Manning. The most entertaining part of the NFL playoffs for me is watching Peyton Manning fail. Take a seat next to Dan Marino, Peyton. You have a long career of post-season disappointments and bad commercials ahead of you.

Tara Reid. Please bury your face in a mountain of cocaine and breathe deep ala Tony Montana, Tara. How Taradise has not been canceled yet reinforces why the plug needs to be pulled on the E! Network.

Labels: pop culture, sports, tomfoolery

• Stress balls keep you out of trouble. Condoms stuffed with flour do not.
• A little league soccer team and partner-swapping swingers share a hotel. Hijinks ensue.
• This brand of intimidation only works if you can take a punch.

Labels: link goodness, sports, tomfoolery

I was pulling for the Indianapolis Colts to go undefeated this season. Not because I like them, mind you, but because I am sick of the 1972 Miami Dolphin alumni celebrating like the worthless, glory deprived, ex-jocks that they are. Their lives are so empty that they follow undefeated NFL teams around the country with a bottle of champagne to open when said undefeated teams lose. In that fabled 1972 season, the Miami Dolphins played only two teams with a winning record. They are proud of this accomplishment? That is like being proud of the valedictorian honor at summer school. I equate their "record" to that of a runt bastard I attended high school with who bragged about going undefeated in NHL '95 on Sega (he failed to mention that he turned offsides and icing off, played against the computer on easy mode and forced unfair trades through the league that netted him Wayne Gretzky, Mats Sundin, Mario Lemieux, Jeremy Roenick, Ray Bourque, Al Iafrate and Patrick Roy). I can do without Bob Griese telling me how magical the '72 season was on Sports Center every time the "record" remains unbroken, too. You know what would have been magical, Bob? Teaching your son how to throw a goddamn football and how to handle his liquor. Were you not on the bench nursing sore fallopian tubes most of that 1972 season anyway? So just shut the fuck up. That goes for all of you.

Sidenote: Dig this video on fainting goats.

Labels: sports, tomfoolery

• "The Taser is relatively accurate, but when someone is moving like that, it does not matter if you have a Taser or a pistol."
• Doll houses plus glued vacuum cleaner lint equals art.
• The Black Cocks (that is the New Zealand National Badminton Team to you) is considering changing their name to something less strong. Pussies.

Labels: art, link goodness, sports, tomfoolery

NC State runs a classy program. All I know is that if that Mexi-Cam business were pulled at Invesco Field At Mile High during a Denver Broncos home game, the stadium would probably be burnt to the ground.

A funny anecdote regarding the kissing cam: A few years ago I was in attendance at the Pepsi Center when the Colorado Avalanche took on the St. Louis Blues. In the second period, Joe Sakic fires a slap-shot that shatters the non-shatterproof glass behind the goalie. This causes a long delay in the game as the Pepsi Center crews work on cleaning the glass off the ice and installing a new panel. The Jumbo Tron begins entertaining the crowd with video clips, hockey highlights and the kissing cam. The segment drags on longer than normal due to the delay, and finally, it casts a parting shot of the St. Louis Blues bench; more specifically Keith Tkachuk and Barret Jackman. The players, engaged in a conversation, look up to see themselves on the Jumbo Tron kissing cam, smile and then lean into each other and kiss. For that brief moment in time, I actually liked Keith Tkachuk.

Labels: colorado, denver, hate, hockey, sports, tomfoolery

• David Copperfield is going to impregnate a girl with magic. "Presto! You are knocked up! Now you will have wait nine months and see if the trick worked." This does not sound like a magic tick to me. It sounds like the modus operandi of a guy I went to high school with.
• The Jenga Sears Tower.
• A little league hockey coach implements the ring of death. Hijinks ensue.

Labels: hockey, pop culture, sports, tomfoolery

• Doctor Doom for homecoming king.
• This poor girl has a doppelganger starring in porn movies that even made her parents question her social habits. Luckily, my online dopplegaenger only plays the drums in a hardcore metal band and I do not ever get mistaken for him.
• Bill Romanowski protects his mythical fortress of solitude from a black stallion with a magical orange maine.
• Model railroading based in reality.

Labels: comics, dopplegaenger, link goodness, matt brozovich, sports

• The Philadelphia Flyers Have a Time Machine: Installment Five. I would also like to add the obligatory "Fuck the Flyers" for any hockey fans (Jake, Gary) who may harbor the delusion that I cheer for that asshole organization that took Foppa away.
• Pierce Brosnan requests that James Bond sex scenes be more explicit. I think he sums it up best: "What Bond needs is a good, palpable killing sequence and a good sex scene." I can get behind that, Mr. Brosnan.
• Jason Sehorn should be beaten with a sock full of quarters. Seriously. Marc Bulger over Tom Brady? The only thing that guy ever did right was landing this.

Labels: hockey, jake, link goodness, perez, pop culture, sports

• A recipe for backcountry disaster: sleep deprivation, painkillers, alcohol, an abscessed tooth and moonlight four-wheeling.
• This weekend there was a brawl at the Olive Garden that is within walking distance from of house.
• The Denver Broncos were the only NFL team to go undefeated in the 2005 Pre-Season which led to fans throwing around terms like "Solid all around" and "Championship contenders" before the season started. Enter this past Sunday. Now fans are throwing around terms like "It was too hot" and "It is just one game." Getting beat by the Kicking Mule and last year's NFL doormat is no way to start the season.

Labels: colorado, fighting, link goodness, sports

• Nothing good comes from patronizing a strip club in the middle of the day (except maybe $60 dollar hand release from a broke single mom who sees your cock as a means to an end). If you do not believe me in this matter click here.
• This is why I taught my sisters how to spit out the window of a moving car.
• I get crazy competitive on the putt-putt course. I will talk tremendous amounts of smack, gloat over good shots and try to humiliate my opponent with superior putting. Thankfully, I draw the line at body-slamming children.

Labels: link goodness, sports, strippers

The NHL unveiled a new logo for the upcoming season. Notice how the text direction was merely flipped from the old logo and the orange was replaced with cool, metallic and unnecessary grayish-blue gradients. I could not be happier that professional hockey is back (the future wife is even more ecstatic as she will not have to endure any more NHL Classic games on Altitude) but I have only two words for the new logo: very pussy.

Labels: hockey, sports

• To say the Japanese are not fanatical about young girls underwear would be like saying the Nazis did not hate the Jews. Case and point: intricate fiberglass carved panties.
• Bolivian wrestling. Or Lucha Libre if you prefer.
• Ben Saunders: Athlete, adventurer, motivational speaker and attempting to make an 1800 mile trek across Antarctica with no dogs, vehicles, kites or re-suppling. There is a reason that man-hauling across the Antarctic continent has only been tried once in 93 years, it is called Robert Scott.

Labels: history, link goodness, panties, sports

• Red Scare comic book propaganda from the 1960s. Especially enjoyable is the letter from J. Edgar Hoover to the kids.
• A man sues for the right to be drunk on private property.
• Pro Skateboarder Danny Way jumps across the Great Wall Of China becoming the first person to clear the wall without motorized aid.

Labels: comics, drinking, link goodness, sports

Wife Carrying; the only sport in the world when having an amputee for a partner is an unfair advantage.

Labels: sports, tomfoolery

A great story about Dock Ellis, the Major League pitcher who threw a no-hitter on acid. I miss the good old days of professional baseball when hurlers high on amphetamines would put one in your earhole just for stepping into the batters box.

It's such an important aspect of the game [hitting a batsmen]. All hitters know they're gonna get hit. They just don't know when. The kicker for the truly good hitters is, you cannot hit me as many times as I'm gonna hit you. They take that hit to get six hits. But you gotta pop their ass so you can get an 0 for 4 on them one day. Don't get cocky now, motherfucker. The challenge is on. So let's get it on. Other guys might explain it differently, have different reasons, but that was mine. Right about the time I left, it changed. You can't throw at anyone without getting thrown out of the game. The announcers today say it ruins the game. They never talk about the fights that Cincinnati and St. Louis got into 30 years ago. Barry Bonds? I'd hit him at least once a game. 'Cause he's got all that shit on. Yeah, let's see that shit stop the ball from hurting him if I hit him on the motherfucking elbow or something. I'd hit him just to see, does it work?

Labels: drugs, sports

Highlights from my past two weeks of travel (click here and here some hot Flickr action):

• At the HOW Design Conference, I learned some new tricks, saw some awesome design work and ate deep-dish pizza and drank numerous beers with friend/former coworker Michael. I cannot wait to get back to work with renewed creative enthusiasm only to have it crushed in a matter of seconds when I am given four pages of copy and told to "make it work" on a one-sided direct mail postcard.
  
• Caught a Cubs game at Wrigley Field. The future wife and I soon discovered that our alcohol tolerance is much higher in the Midwest than at altitude. I spent the entire game covered in sweat due to high humidity and a broken air conditioner on the El-Train ride out to the game that was packed butts to nuts.
  
• Visited the Art institute of Chicago and saw some amazing work (Picasso, an orgy of impressionism) and some atrocious work (minimalism and American Gothic). Best quote while looking at the Georgia O'Keeffe collection: "She is very vaginal."
• The future wife and I took a beautiful sunset architectural tour of Chicago.
• Visited future in-laws in Eugene, Oregon. I found out that Eugene is almost identical to Boulder, minus the sex assaults, random rioting and the Flat Irons.
• Animal House was filmed at the University of Oregon so the future wife's cousin took us on the Animal House tour at U of O, showing us the infamous frat house (currently vacant) and the cafeteria where the food fight scene took place.
• Drove up the Oregon coast on Highway 101 that is incredible for scenery, shitty for traffic and great for fried seafood joints.
• Spent three days in Long Beach, Washington in the heart of Lewis and Clark Country. We did the tours of various Lewis and Clark outposts, forts and landings, learned that the proper pronunciation of Sacagawea is Sa-caca-we-ah and ate a cut of fresh fish the size of our heads in Oysterville, Washington.
• The closest I got to the ocean was dipping my feet in the 42-degree water. The oceans surrounding the Columbia River are some of the roughest and most treacherous in the world. Mix that in with the fact they are as cold as an Eskimo's vagina so swimming is not ideal (unless you are white trash parents laying out on towels "watching the kids play in the water" while smoking cigarettes).

Sidenote: After months of procrastination and toil, I finally got Broz Design up.

Labels: art, how design, pop culture, sports, travels, wife

• All you ever wanted to know about Trucker Bombs (with helpful imagery of assorted gallon containers brimming with piss).
• A high school baseball coach resigns after whipping out his cock and asking his players if they had one. I side with the coach on this one as his lesson would have been far less memorable without the visual aid.
• Woodward's story on how Mark Felt became Deep Throat and the reactions of various figures of Nixon's White House.

Labels: link goodness, politics, sports, tomfoolery

Off color racial jokes, lesbians, a spoof on gay marriage and topless blondes; now that is what I call a training video.

Labels: lesbians, sports

Children cannot hit slowly thrown balls because their brains are not wired to handle slow motion. From this day forth, whenever I play soft toss with a kid, I am throwing heat. I will even brush them off the plate so they know I am boss. "How does that chin music sound, Timmy? How does it sound?! You are in Daddy's world now, bitch!"

Labels: sports, tomfoolery

• A slide show on two penguins that had to pass through airport security.
• A case study on what happens when one has too much disposable income.
• John Daly at the practice range enjoying a non-filtered Camel mid-swing.

Labels: link goodness, sports, tomfoolery

• Architectural projects for the Soviet Union (circa 1930-1950) that were never realized. My personal favorites: The Palace of Soviets and The Aeroflot Building.
• Carmen Electra's Advanced Aerobic Striptease.
  
• The ten biggest threats to Earth and life as we know it. I am hoping humanity does not get wiped out by a viral pandemic (too boring) or terrorists (too cliche). If anything, I am pulling for a super volcano to rain down ash and fire on us or for hyper-intelligent robots to turn our planet into a goddamn apocalyptic nuclear wasteland like in The Terminator.
• The Philadelphia Flyers Have a Time Machine: Installment Four.

Labels: death, link goodness, pop culture, science, sex, sports

I like the way Michael Vick plays NFL football with the running and the throwing and the eluding of pass rushers the size of Mack trucks. I also like the way Michael Vick, er, Ron Mexico, gives the ladies herpes.

Labels: pop culture, sex, sports

My boss just gave me a bottle of Greg Norman Estates Shiraz 2002 for the holidays. I am assuming the Shark makes a pretty mean wine despite his colossal chokes in major tournaments. When it comes to wine I honestly do not know what is good and what is not (my experiences are limited to thumb hole jugs of Riunite and the assorted boxed blends of Franzia). It is time to break out the good glasses, honey. Daddy is bringing home some Christmas wine.

Labels: data slaughterhouse, drinking, sports, wife, xmas

Me: I am going to post this.
Monica: Yikes. Anna Nicole is a train wreck. That is almost too bad to post. The Joe Namath fall from grace, now that was funny. Posting this would be like kicking a three-legged dog or getting footage of Courtney Love stoned and flashing her junk. Been there, done that.
Me: Good point. But the posting well is dry. I would apply this same logic if I ever needed a slump buster and was forced to pick up trash like her at a strip club. Inner monologue would go something like this: "Sure, she is a disaster. I mean she works at a titty bar, a place where drug addicts, perverts and sex abuse victims work and hang out. But damn, I am in a serious dry spell here. I will just give her a handful of painkillers. Maybe then she will not cry after sex. Much."
Monica: Fair enough. I just do not understand the allure is all. Of course, I do not have a penis either.
Me: Sometimes it is just as simple as "Hey, look at those fun bags!"

Labels: drugs, im convos, mons,