Balls, Pucks, and Cups

The funny thing about sports.

Not to Mention, Superman Can Go Five Minutes Without Knocking His Wife Up

Have you recovered from all the crap that happened in January yet? No? Then kill yourself, because you’re worthless. Get over it. The only reason a 21-year-old black guy should have you this bent out of shape is if he robs you or talks too much in the theater while you and your wife are trying to watch Joyful Noise. (I know, I know “” Contraband was sold out.) Somewhere in the Tigerland apartments on a Sunday in late January, three guys named Corey grappled with whether to watch the Pro Bowl or the Royal Rumble, and they ultimately decided on the latter because they decided that it was more real. There’s a lesson to learn from these three probably extant douche bags, and it’s that none of it is real. You know that friend of yours who’s really into comic books? You know, the one you’ve called a queer …

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No Need to Watch the NFL Playoffs “” There’ll Be No Surprises

These are not “” I repeat, NOT “” NFL playoff predictions. They are inevitabilities. If you read this article then watch the games, you’ll think you’re watching ESPN Classic. Spoiler alert, bro. We’ll ring in Millard Fillmore’s 212th birthday with an afternoon treat of Cincinnati at Houston. This is by far the most underwhelming playoff matchup of any sport, ever, and that’s saying something since I went to elementary school with Bengals tackle Andrew Whitworth. (Note: This will be the only gratuitous name-drop I’ll poop this month. I’ll leave gratuitous name-dropping to this magazine’s publisher. He can drop a name like a champ.) Count on the Bengals winning this one easily. Why? Because when tens of thousands of Yats evacuated to Houston over six years ago, they took every imaginable football curse with them, turning the Texans into, basically, your dead, alcoholic great-uncle’s Saints. (He really shouldn’t have driven that …

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