The National Association for Sport and Physical Education says that teaching team sports in P.E. class, especially dodgeball, is tantamount to baby murder. Cheryl Richardson, the head of the organization, says, “Dodgeball should not be part of any curriculum, ever.” God forbid our fat pre-type 2 diabetes bundles of joy break a sweat. And even worse, somebody has to lose the game! This is precisely why we’re turning into a bunch of pussies.
Team sports teach discipline and the ability to work with others. This doesn’t come naturally especially to men. Sports build character. In life it’s as important to learn how to lose gracefully as it is to win, because most of the time we don’t win. Also, a red rubber ball to the face is a good thing. It wakes you up to the fact that you are alive. Fear is good and overcoming that fear is what makes us strong. So, by all means ban team sports. America will become France and get invaded by our enemies. If we can’t stand like a man in the crossfire of some rubber balls then how are we going to stand up to Chinese bullets. No offense China, but let’s face it, you’re eventually coming for us.
In an annual tradition just about this time each year, Hugh Hefner’s body is lifted from its cryogenic lube tank and he’s outfitted and propped up to shake the hand of the newly named Playmate of the Year. This tradition has been going on for decades, though as a younger man Hugh would bang the snot out of the winning Playmate while thinking about Ernie Banks’ cock. Yeah, I know.
This year’s winner is Raquel Pomplun. She likes long walks on the beach and trying not to get casual infections. All the Playmates and their psychotically over-protective boyfriends showed up for the big bunny shindig.
Retired basketball player and all around toolbag Dennis Rodman has decided it’s time for him to do what no other American diplomat could do: arrange the release of American Kenneth Bae from North Korea. You’ll recall that Rodman visited North Korea recently and became BFFs with its insane leader Kim-Jong Un. Rodman is sure that he can do a better job than the president in freeing Bae.
“I’m gonna try and get the guy out, It’s gonna be difficult. We got a black president who can’t even go talk to [Jong-un …Obama can’t do shit, I don’t know why he won’t go talk to him.”
I’m not sure what Obama being Black has to do with anything. Does Rodman think that he can fool Un into thinking that he’s the president? North Korea is nuclear powder keg ruled by a family of lunatics. They violently oppress their people and starve them while living it up like emperors with stupid hair cuts. But Rodman defends Un and says he’s not such a bad guy. If there’s any justice, they’ll let Bae go and imprison Rodman or let the starving masses eat him and one of his stupid hats for dessert.
Kate Upton is going to break many hearts and cause a lot of fist fights before she ultimately ends up the fourth and likely favorite wife of a Middle Eastern prince. That’s the jackpot for a girl like Kate who will get tired of starving for jobs at the point when she finds a guy with oil money who likes his ladies blonde and big and covered in Thousand Island dressing. What I’m saying is you don’t have a lot of time left to pretend she’s your girlfriend.
Although radical Salafi Muslim groups have called for a ban on skimpy swimwear and alcoholic beverages, Hisham Zaazou is hoping that people will return to the region for a vacation in the near future.
“Bikinis are welcome in Egypt and booze is still being served,” the tourism minister explained at the United Arab Emirates.
That’s right. Just when you thought Egypt couldn’t rank any higher on your vacation bucket list, the whack-jobs running the asylum have bowed to the pleas of the tourism industry and bikinis will be allowed at hotel pools. And, as a kicker, it’s your choice of the alcohol you’d like to be doused with at your public square burning for wearing your Allah-offensive skin exposing swimwear. Book now before the high season when hotel rates in Cairo can go up as much as thirty-seven cents.
Kesha took to some corn rows in her new music video in an attempt to seem relevant, or maybe kitschy, or possibly, self-effacing. In any case, don’t look directly into her eyes if you ever want blood to flow to the tip of your penis again.
There are a couple phrases to listen for when you want to be sure somebody in Hollywood has absolutely nothing going on. The first is, ‘I’m currently in the studio’. ‘Currently in the studio’ is akin to ‘I’m about to be hired’. It doesn’t really mean much. Might as well say ‘I’m running for President’. Oh, shit, Bobby’s running for President. He’s got shit going on. The second is, ‘I have a reality show I’m not allowed to talk about’. Why aren’t you allowed to talk about it? Because E! and Bravo! despise free publicity and promotion from the gorgons on their shows? A legal gag order lest you get people excited and build buzz, sort of a reverse P.T. Barnum? If you’re willing to watch Courtney Stodden being interviewed by somebody even more annoying than she is (above), you will hear both.
Here’s Courtney at the same fashion event practicing for her real future career — fag hag.
Everybody acts surprised to see how good looking Ireland Baldwin has become. But the question never was would she be hot, of course she would. The question is when will she go batshit bonkers like her parents. Not the kind of crazy where you mumble to yourself in the drug park about your St. Gabriel’s murder list. More like where your good looks draw people into your sphere and then you make their life a living hell. At some point, the rants and tirades will begin. Overpriced kitchen accents from Williams-Sonoma will be flying by your head and you’re going to find a perfectly placed vegan turd on the driver’s seat of your car. Even knowing that, I’d still let her be my girlfriend. You would too. That right there is how the adventure begins.