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Seriously, I love the people who narrate these videos. Their insights are so...insightful.
The blog feature that needs no explanation.

Make hay when the sun shines. That's David Beresford-Redman's motto. After ignoring the media since his son, Bruce, who is a former producer of Survivor, was accused of murdering his wife in Mexico, David decided he'd make the media work for him. To sell cars. He handed out fliers to reporters the other day, promising an on-camera interview to the organization that found buyers for the three vehicles. The '03 Porsche Targa was described as a "gorgeous, fast, clean car". I've got no reason not to believe him, and I don't want to risk pissing his son off by bad-mouthing his car. Of course, the most interesting aspect of this story is that DBR is one of those guys who wears brown-tinted sunglasses, which I thought only existed in pictures of my Dad and uncles from the seventies. The Beresford-Redmans are no relation to rapper Redman.

Christmas. Yeah, we're going there. I never said this would be a smooth ride. Christmas is of course the celebration of the day Jesus was born and placed in a manger because there was "no room at the inn". Seriously? Who was running this inn? Messianic prophecy or not, it's a couple who had a baby 5 minutes ago, you can't make some space? Hell wouldn't even pull that shit, and we're talking about a place that dedicates an entire high-rise to gleefully forcing glass shards under the eyelids of false witnesses.
Christmas is also the beginning of Christmastide, the so-called 12 days of Christmas, made famous in the song of the same name. Allow me to take a breath before going into this one. Let's think about this. The first 4 days, the singer's "true love" - and I put that in quotations because I'm not sure I buy that designation for reasons I'll explain - gives her (Yeah, her. I've lived so long I stopped counting my age when we went from Roman to Arabic numerals, and I can tell you this: chicks don't buy guys multiple swans. Sorry boys, ain't gonna happen.) a partridge (with tree), 2 turtle doves, 3 french hens, and 4 colly birds. The song seems to suggest that these things are stacked every day, so on the first day it's a partridge in a pear tree, and on the second day it's 2 turtle doves and a second partridge in a pear tree, and so on. I'm going to assume that's not the case, and that each subsequent mentioning of a gift is a reference to the original, and not a duplicate gift. If I'm wrong, then what I took to be merely absurd is actually whatever is above absurd. Preposterous?
The road to professional sports is one of the most effective sociopath assembly lines in the world. Separated from their peers by talent as kids, pandered to as teenagers, and idolized as adults, today's college and professional athletes know that forgiveness is only one contrite press conference away. We keep track of their antisocial behavior and marvel at their sociopathleticism in the Sociopathlete Round-Up.

Sociopathlete: Lawrence Taylor, former Linebacker, New York Giants
The real LT appeared in court the other day to claim that police violated his rights when they entered a hotel room he was sleeping in to seize evidence that he had paid a sixteen-year-old runaway $300 for sex. Court papers in a related but separate case say he admitted to sex acts with the girl. What they don't say is that LT didn't even practice soliciting prostitutes during the week, he just showed up on soliciting-prostitutes-day and made it happen. But at least he's taking it seriously.
Sociopathlete: Albert Haynesworth, Defensive Lineman, Washington Redskins
Brett Favre made the list last time for doing his job. Haynesworth makes it for refusing to do his. Coach Mike Shanahan suspended him for the final four games of the season without pay. Haynesworth didn't want to play nose tackle in the team's 3-4 defense. But he also didn't want to find a new team and give up his 21 million dollar contract bonus. So he just stayed on, but also didn't do his job - the best of both worlds. He also needed 10 days to pass a conditioning test at the start of training camp, showing that you don't need athleticism to have sociopathleticism.
I guess certain people just cannot drive in snow?!!?
Next time I even consider deep-frying a turkey, I'm just going to watch these (far more qualified/competent) people fail in their attempt.
Next time I even consider deep-frying a turkey, I'm just going to watch these (far more qualified/competent) people fail in their attempt.
Some people say the most hilarious racist things.
The people filming this, are absolutely no help...to the driver.

Well, it's happened again. You've blasted through another year and suddenly it's Thanksgiving again. We do a big Thanksgiving down here. It's a good holiday for a diverse crowd, since it's secular and you don't really need to explain much, even to people who have never heard of it. Have a big feast, open a few bottles of wine. Everybody "gets it". And holidays that center around cooking are big in Hell, since heat is easy to come by in a lake of fire that burns hotter than the hottest earthly flame.
I'm hosting this year like I always do. It used to be a real treat for everyone to come to my place, since I lived in the most exclusive neighborhood in all of Hell. Guests would make jokes like "What's the cover charge going to be?" But while my neighborhood was nice when I moved in, it's pretty shitty now. One of the hazards of eternity, I guess, unless you want to move every hundred years. Now the place is really run down and all the businesses have left. I knew we'd hit the skids when I drove by a Souplantation with my neighbor Ron and he said, without irony, "It would be really cool if we could get one of those". It's come to that. Now people make jokes like "Yeah, we'll be there, just let me get my flak jacket out of the attic".
The road to professional sports is one of the most effective sociopath assembly lines in the world. Separated from their peers by talent as kids, pandered to as teenagers, and idolized as adults, today's college and professional athletes know that forgiveness is only one contrite press conference away. We keep track of their antisocial behavior and marvel at their sociopathleticism in the Sociopathlete Round-Up.

Sociopathlete: Brett Favre, Quarterback, Minnesota Vikings
Brett Favre has the distinction of making the sociopathlete round-up merely by playing his sport. His massive ego demands that he keep the spotlight on himself for as long as the media will indulge him. His head coach was just beheaded. His team is 3 and 7 after losing to division rival Green Bay by a score of 31 to 3. At home. He's owed a minimum of 17 million dollars for this effort. And in case you didn't hear, he texted a picture of his penis to a woman who isn't his wife. And it was flaccid.
Sociopathlete: Tony Parker, Guard, San Antonio Spurs
In the "shockingly sociopathletic" category, a Frenchman turned out to be a lecherous cad. Tony Parker didn't cheat on his wife with Erin Barry, wife of former teammate Brent Barry, according to Parker and his people. They were just sexting. Thanks, Tony. For a second we though you were a complete fucking asshole.
Of 185 people, groups and things.

I'm always telling myself I'm going to take up yoga, since there's a yoga studio across the street from my place and I have knee pain that I'm nearly positive is the result of poor flexibility. Unfortunately, whenever I google "yoga" it degenerates into an image search. The result is the Hot Yoga Pose Of The Week segment. Here's the Bow Pose.