Eric Barr used to get much guff from his Connecticut warehouse pals who just couldn't grasp his amour for the Cleveland Browns. So he left his job — with full benefits — and moved closer to an 11-year-old franchise.


Now sleeping on the floor of his basement apartment in Berea, Barr has none of that: no job, no family, no furniture. His health insurance runs out at the end of the month.

Yes, ladies, he's single. ...

"I don't think I'm on drugs," says Barr, who does resemble a young Cheech Marin with less 'stache, more jowls and eyes that twinkle with mischief. "You can do a psychological evaluation on me. But I'm sure I'll pass." [Plain-Dealer]

This is what's called a teachable moment, Baltimore.


(H/T Rosina C.)