Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Mad about . . . you know

I'm mad as hell, and I'm not gonna take it anymore.

I can't say the people's names. I don't want to give them the satisfaction of the publicity. I don't even want to discuss the stupid topics they've decided to raise. You know who they are. You know what they're talking about. We all know how stupid it all is.

And yet, there it is, all over the news. All over the sports section. All along the interwebs. Saturating sports talk radio. Taking over Twitter.

So this is me not talking about it. This is me not reading it. This is me not touching the accused publications with a ten foot pole. I don't own a ten foot pole. But if I did, I wouldn't use it to touch those people. Actually, maybe I would. Never mind. I'm not talking about it.


  1. You would clobber "it" with the ten foot pole. If you had the pole, and "it" actually existed.

  2. If by "it" you mean "Pepin le Bref," yes, yes I would.


Spill it.

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