I saw this movie about a bus that had to SPEED around a city, keeping its SPEED over fifty, and if its SPEED dropped, it would explode! I think it was called "The Bus That Couldn't Slow Down."
Interestingly, after being taunted by David Niven from just off-stage, Fred Astaire once stepped away from a Viennese waltz to shoot two free throws into a peach basket.
Hey, if you're gonna keep changing your go-to girl, you might as well go back to Eve, who, having taken one too many ribbings from Adam, beat the prime dude in a game of one-on-one by faking him out of his fig leaf on a crossover dribble at the Madison Square Garden of Eden.*
*This story is apocryphal, having been found in the Nag Nag Nag Hammadi.
Look, I believe women should be treated as equal, but the fact is women cannot play in the NBA. It has nothing to do with sexism, it has to do with not being able to physically compete with some of the top male athletes in the world. Even the shittiest of NBA players would be able to physically man-handle the top women players.
Please, feminists. It won't happen. It can't happen. Focus your efforts elsewhere.
/realizes this is directed toward one of the most hard-headed groups in the world
@BruschisBrewsky: I think we should actually listen to Bill Simmons for once. Bring the hoops down to 9.5 or 9 feet in the WNBA and make that game exciting. Otherwise, it's all two-handed set shots and Amazonian "dunking" once every fortnight.
I do remain curious as to why dude's holding up a sign for the nonexistent Interstate 18. Might it be some sort of Diagon Alleyesque passageway to the Wizards of Washington, by which the hapless Nets might abduct an otherworldly Arenas?
One of us is paying off a four-year-old debt to Deadspin editor AJ Daulerio and that's why we're here. We won't convince you otherwise.
I'd say if you can go the next 6 hours without terrible political satire and pointing out which players have the nicest asses, you'll be ahead of the weekend guest editor curve.
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[corytraumarn.blogspot.com]
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Hey, if you're gonna keep changing your go-to girl, you might as well go back to Eve, who, having taken one too many ribbings from Adam, beat the prime dude in a game of one-on-one by faking him out of his fig leaf on a crossover dribble at the Madison Square Garden of Eden.*
*This story is apocryphal, having been found in the Nag Nag Nag Hammadi.
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Please, feminists. It won't happen. It can't happen. Focus your efforts elsewhere.
/realizes this is directed toward one of the most hard-headed groups in the world
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/Loved her in Juwanna Mann
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5 minutes into the game and he's compared him to Barry Sanders 3 times. Incredible.
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I'd say if you can go the next 6 hours without terrible political satire and pointing out which players have the nicest asses, you'll be ahead of the weekend guest editor curve.
Of course I could be wrong.
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For my money, gang, there's no better clock manager than Andy Reid.
You know who should sing the national anthem at every game? Miss Bernadette Peters.
Kudos to those fine folks who invented the NHL puck tracker.
Two minutes in a locked closet with Bill Parcells is like ten years of assistant coaching.
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