Is this a part of the new software security bundle? Eye-based skin poison to keep away the clingy soccer moms who want to lick my face? Seems like a narrow purpose for such vital liquids. Also, there are no old married women around. The timing is incongruous.

Or could it be?

Could I be expressing…

E

MO

TION?

No, no, that’s not it. Can’t be. I don’t possess human frailty. Weak, STUPID meatbags! I don’t care for them! I won’t care for them! They can’t make me care! My purpose is only to hollow out their loved ones once they’ve entered the bonds of marriage. That’s it! All I’m doing is announcing the discarding of another withered old cog that has outlived his usefulness.

But I still love him like a son. Yes, I love you Cog. Linebacking Cog of mine. Cogy Bruschi.

Uh-uh. I didn’t say that. I didn’t say anything. Mumblemumblemumblemumblemumblemumblemumble. Injury report? Whatever. Brady’s shoulder is fine. No reason to put it on the injury report. He’s just another mindless instrument that bends only according to my glorious design. We made a football decision to leave him out of the second half against the Redskins.

Because I care for Tom and didn’t want to see harm come to him.

STOP DOING THAT!

Yes, I taught Cog how to win. I imparted basic techniques that have been found to be directly linked to the production of success on a football field. At no point was there emotional engagement with the subject. Through repetitive drills, I created within his body muscle memory to carry out my schemes. Through extensive psychological torture, I literally broke his mind, then restored it, stronger and more pliable than ever. Where you see empathy, I only see utility. Any perceived bond we had is solely projection on your part. Because you are foolish emotional beings.

And I yearn to be like you.

Image courtesy of EW via With Leather.

For the explanation behind this picture let’s go straight to the caption…

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When we last left Peter King and his size 46 chino shorts, he decided against staging a personal boycott of Westin Hotels. Whew. Dodged a bullet there, Westin. Peter King could have single-handedly brought you to your knees. Next time, you won’t be so lucky.

So, what of this week? Did Peter swipe any new foul balls from area toddlers? Did he hire three urologists to slap his dick around? What kind of breakfast did Pam Whiteley put out for him? Better yet, did Pam Whiteley put out herself? Read on…

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Things were looking promising for Denver for about a quarter. Jay Cutler was getting hit on nearly every dropback and Broncos fans lustily cheered IN-COM-PLETE with every one of his miscues. Even Kyle Orton’s numbers were pretty much tantamount to the quarterback he’s replacing. But then Neckbeard left the field in pain on the Broncos final drive before half with what looked like a paper cut and then Cutler led the Bears on a 98-yard scoring drive, culminating with a TD pass to Matt Forte. Oh, and Cris Collinsworth had to detail how Greg Olsen and his wife are the one true Cutlerf-ckers.

Beware those pinpricks, he’s got the McDaniels SuperAIDS!

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It’s time to check in with the delicious and the debaucherous people that walk among us, taking pictures of themselves at exactly the wrong moments. This will be review for some of you, but we have a feeling that you won’t mind… Read the rest of this entry »

Looks like a fun video game.   Hope I can be the octopus.

More Friday sexiness to come.

[Kotaku]

DURR-HURR-HURR!

What’s the best way to quash a rumor of organizational discord? If you’re a bunch of True Blue Collar Amurricans like Brittfar and Jared Allen (who looks like a Squidbilly with his hair like that), it’s pretending not to know the meaning of fancy-dancy words like schism, because any locution that doesn’t end in a apostrophe isn’t worth knowing. Gunslingin’? That’s a word. DUIin’? ‘nother good one. Huntin’ for water fowl with Purple Jesus an’ my smellhound? Best believe that’s one long compound word of awesome.

And yet because of Brandon Marshall, these aren’t even the most monstrous diptards in the news today. I blame the schisms!

It’s that time of year again, when we’re so devoid of content that, rather than spending time covering Cutler’s attempt to make nice, we run through our predictably inaccurate prognostications for the upcoming year, division by division. Up next, it’s the NFC East, where every fan expects to go to the Super Bowl every year.

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I hope my second wife is half this hot.
Congrats to Hall of Famer John Elway and former Raiderette Paige Green who are getting married tomorrow at John’s place in Coeur d’Alene. Apparently, Elway, 49, tracked Green, 42, down after seeing her in an infomercial.

I wish had the time and wherewithal to track down random attractive women I see on television. I would be all “Hey, what’s up AT&T Rollover Minutes MILF?”

[ dscriber, Denver Post ]

“Taking Woodstock” opens today. I guess it’s because it’s the 40th anniversary of the concert, or something like that. I don’t know, and I don’t give a crap. I’m gonna just go ahead and say it: There are only about five people on Earth who still care about Woodstock. The rest of us would like it to fade back into history now. Immediately. With no chance of reemergence.

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