This one is somewhat less baffling.
Here's one for the ladies: Buck Martinez, with moustache buddy.
No doubt you palookas have been wondering how a 21st-century gazookus like myself speaks such perfect 1930s slang. You didn't dass ask for fear of being biffed and buffed. Well, here's your answer. Honestly, I can't think of a more educational two minutes and fourteen seconds anywhere.
A skillful writer could probably craft a pretty compelling metaphor out of this.
Discussion Question: What's your favorite song about Jimmy Carter? Mine is "Jimmy Carter Says Yes." Can our government be competent? Listen to find out what Jimmy Carter's answer is! More here.
Rickey caught a foul ball!
Rickey caught a foul ball!
So let’s get some things straight. First of all, of course Rickey’s going to catch the ball instead of the kid. Rickey’s taller than the kid, by at least two feet. Scientists call that Natural Selection. And even if that wasn’t the case, Rickey’s got great ups. That ball was Rickey’s the minute it left the bat, and everyone knew it.
3 comments:
I'm not sure whether this is Teh Bestest Post in the history of Teh Internets or of it's the worst.
It's like those mango pickles you get at an Indian restaurant. No matter how many times I order them and eat them, I scrunch up my nose, furrow my brow, and try to think whether I like them. I can't figure it out. I don't like them, but I don't hate them. So I eat them.
Where was I?
I'm so glad Distinguished Senators is back. It's like having our very own Hunter S. Thompson. Or something.
Popeye really could have revolutionized the fish-hook, clock and clothespin industry. No wonder there was a depression in the 30s.
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