Yes, it is the holiday (fill in the celebratory term you desire), but that doesn’t mean you can’t wallow in the misery of the season.
In other words, I’m just the person to bring the turnips for dessert.
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Starting with Journalism Today. Odell Beckham The Younger is punished for his turns of frontier justice. Then Michael Irvin said he hears gay slurs an awful lot. Then Ron Jaworski said he is free on appeal. Then he is corrected and says he withdraws from the reporter game. Then the National Football League says, “Like hell he is.” Then he gives us the cool new thing in sporting attire, the second apology.
Next to this, Louis Van Gaal demanding apologies from the media after a prank Twitter account declared he’d been fired by Manchester United and replaced by Jose Mourinho seem downright tepid. I mean, he did stalk off in anger and all, but experts called it a 4 out of 10 on the Alex Ferguson scale (he famously boycotted the BBC for seven years).
In short, this is harder than it looks. Well, reporting is harder than it looks. This, whatever it is, is just as simplistic and noxiously silly as it looks.
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As to the second apology phenomenon, I now refer you to The Buzzcocks, who said in their transcendent prayer “Sixteen Again,” “If you can’t think once, then don’t think twice.” It is the most important bit of wisdom imparted since General Foch said after the first day of the First Battle of Ypres, “I can tell this is going to totally blow.”
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The Philadelphia 76ers are way worse than the Warriors are good, and I put it to you that it is harder to play .032 ball than .968 ball. If this creates an issue between us, just know that I regard human being as strategically shaved cocker spaniels, and have no great problem with giving those who cross me what we in the medical community call the burlap-and-bridge surprise.
Merry Christmas, Baby Jesus.
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Stephon Marbury has a museum in China devoted to Stephon Marbury. Let me repeat that: Stephon Marbury has a museum in China devoted to Stephon Marbury.
By that standard, Stephen Curry will get his own wing at Angkor Wat. Let me repeat that: Andrew Bogut will receive the Federal Coffee Palace in Melbourne, and Draymond Green’s mom Mary will win every casino in Detroit.
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I don’t care what crappy technological marvel you give your child this holiday –- you do not love him or her the way Goran Grujic loves his. You just don’t, and shut your countervailing argument.
His son Marko, a top-flight Serbian under-20 star, has been repeatedly linked to a move to Liverpool and the tender mercies of Jurgen (The Living Grimace) Klopp, and pops is having none of it, so he’s done what any devoted parent would do.
He’s hidden the boy’s passport, and told Serbian media he won’t let Red Star Belgrade sell him to keep their club from turning into a hobo encampment.
“I will not let them ruin my child!” he said gently. “The people who run (Red Star) have all turned their backs, others are penniless and there’s been a downturn in club sales. That is why we are being pressured. After calling ten times a day they convinced Marko to sign a contract. For him there is also pressure in the locker room, because some players are convinced that their payments depend exclusively from club sales.
“His passport is with me, and I pronounce that Marko is not going anywhere. He became champion of the world (in the world Under-20s tournament), is on track to win the title with Red Star, and it is logical that his price per year will get even bigger year on year.”
So the argument here isn’t about familial love, but about price. If that isn’t first-quality parenting in the 21st century, I am Brandon Stalin, the great-grandson nobody mentions.
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And finally, in the very mortal words of Odell Beckham, I need to apologize to some people, but I’m damned if I know who they are, let alone why I’d bother. So in keeping with the spirit of the season, I give you the immortal words of David Mitchell: “If you bare your arse to a vengeful unicorn, the number of possible outcomes dwindles to one.”
The context doesn’t matter, happy revelers. It’s just an indisputable fact.