Without front landing gear.

It's really hard for them to unlearn it.

Especially if there is a fountain in front of you.

As some of you may have guessed, my thoughts on Christmas are a little conflicted. It's not like I have a vendetta against it like some people think. I mean, good for them. They managed to co-opt the solstice celebration. I'm not crazy about it, but it's not like I don't put up a tree and a few wreaths.

The thing that drives me nuts is the Santa Claus thing. Namely the notion that I invented Santa Claus to take the spotlight off Jesus during his birthday. Some say his name is "Santa" because it's just "Satan" with the "N" placed in front of the "T". I feel slightly insulted by the notion that I can turn into a serpent on a whim and tempt Eve out of paradise, but that when concocting a campaign to influence every Christian child in the world for hundreds of years I would just spell my name with a few letters switched around.

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My consultation with Genghis Khan notwithstanding, the real front lines of this war are in Australia, where Victorian Premiere Ted Ballieu has taken on the Scrooge role and told everyone in Parliament that just because they're the government, they shouldn't be drunk on the job - even during Christmas! At least the article features a picture of a really cool tray that holds 8 glasses of beer. I bet that tray was headed to someone who, like Mr. Ballieu's colleagues, understands the true meaning of Christmas: making sure you pass out face-down in a safe area.

Like all people who don't consult the Bible to solve practical problems, I'm at war with Christmas. I wish people "Happy Holidays" , promote the idea of Santa Claus in order to deflect attention away from the role of the Christ-child, and accentuate the pagan elements of the celebration in favor of the Christian ones, which are in extreme danger with our country maintaining a paltry incidence of Christians at a mere 76%. And why wouldn't I? I stand to gain so much from the effort, I really can't afford not to. But we need a shot in the arm. So I'm mining the great war-mongers of the past for material. What do say, Genghis? How would you attack Christmas?

Genghis Khan: Well, first I'd find a few stores that feature religiously neutral decorations, like holly, wreaths, and maybe even some Kwanzaa stuff, because they'd clearly be part of the war effort. I'd absorb them into my army and ride to a store that has the nerve to wish people "Merry Christmas" when they check out. While riding we'd drag yule logs behind our horses to kick up extra dust and give the appearance of greater numbers. When I arrived at the store, let's say it's a Wal-Mart in Texas, I'd explain to the manager that he can either surrender, or everyone in the store can be killed. Then I'd camp out that night, instructing my soldiers to each light 3 Christmas trees apiece instead of just one, again to give the impression of greater numbers. We'd probably light a few Menorahs as well, just to show how at war with Christmas we really are. Naturally, there would be no praying.

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You know what I like best about kayak tricks, you can watch them from the front or behind.

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.

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In the 1990 world championships, a cyclist forced their opponent to go in front for strategic reasons.

Not to disparage the mentally handicapped, but Lindsay Lohan is clearly retarded...right?

Those are lines of cocaine in front of her (reportedly) and she's smiling for the picture. She knew she was being photographed...so it's safe to say she's retarded.

After a long hard weekend of laying in front of our television and picking our toenails, we need to relax. We're not superman afterall. WE NEED DOWNTIME AFTER OUR DOWNTIME. That's why we were tickled pink when we found Christina Hendricks in our Google Reader this morning. What a way to start the week! Also, this might be the FIRST TIME EVER we're buying Esquire Magazine.

(via Idontlikeyouinthatway)