The “Official Hangout of March Madness” boasts more than 20 sauces and seasonings for fans to dip, dunk, and devour to ease the pain of watching their brackets disintegrate. But fans should be aware that the chicken they’re eating may have also been dunked in feces.
Why did David Rappoccio decide to do Britishized versions of all 32 NFL logos? It's a good question, but perhaps the more important one is how it took so long for someone to undertake this important work.
It might not be the best idea to ask horny, spammy internet robots for romantic advice on Valentine's Day. But they're going to offer that advice anyway, because that is what they do.
The latest in our occasional series of poems inspired by and consisting entirely of the more evocative spam comments on this site. Concerning, in this case, the cashmere shoes of King Ken Griffey, Jr.
Jason Whitlock doesn't deserve a Pulitzer, of course. And precisely because there's a modicum of hard truth under all that Whitlockian vanity, goofiness and grandiosity, we all deserve a lot better than Whitlock.
San Francisco 49ers defensive back Chris Culliver has a bigger platform than most goons from which to broadcast off-the-rack no-homo idiocy. Quite aside from the comments he made to Artie Lange on Super Bowl Media Day, there are Culliver's one million Twitter followers. Wait, what?
It's tough to say why the Catfish-ian hoaxers and retweet-trolls who swarm athletes on Twitter do what they do. But even a brief look at how they do it can tell you what works.
In which robo-hucksters offer some constructive criticism and sage advice about improving the site, and also discuss problems at home, and finally offer an amazing deal on "sex tubes."
Sportsflicks is an occasional series that examines justly or unjustly forgotten sports movies. What better place to start than a William Peter Blatty-penned film featuring Arab stereotypes, the Notre Dame Fighting Irish, and Shirley MacLaine?
