50 kicks in 22 seconds is damn impressive.

In about ten seconds.

Shot at 2,564 frames per second.

Seventeen hours of snow, in forty-one seconds.

I hate to say "I told you so", but I've been a fan of breasts for many years, and now I know why. According to this CNN video, which I did not bother to watch, breast-fed kids get better grades. The title of the video makes one thing perfectly clear to me: before a test, put a boob in your mouth. Maybe even multiple boobs. And in case you disagree, I'd like to point out that I was breast-fed as an infant, which means I can never be wrong. Feel free to pass this on to any women in your life who have been stingy in their breast deployment. If they continue on that path, they're against education. Simple as that.

I bet you didn't think it was possible to fit the 100 greatest movie lines of all time into 200 hundred seconds did you? You were wrong.

You're going to end up at a lot of parties in the next 10 days. Some good, most horrendous. Here  are a few tips for getting out of a couple bad holiday situations.

Problem: Bad Party with more old people at it than you expected. What I do: Guerilla warfare. There's a laundry list of things you can do to destroy a party from within. Number one is clog the main toilet. This can shorten a party by hours, and if it's a small apartment with only one bathroom, you could bring it to a screeching halt right then and there. The best way to do this is with paper towels. Toilet paper is made to break up in water; paper towels are made to keep their structure as well as possible. Smuggle paper towels into the bathroom. This might be tough to pull off; if people are around, do it one at a time, like how Andy Dufresne smuggled the pieces of his cell wall into the yard in Shawshank Redemption. When you have a bunch, flush 'em. Once the problem is known to the host, say something like "thanks for having us, looks like you've got your hands full, though!"
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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?

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Let's hear it for time lapse video.

Watch her eat the entire slice in less than ten seconds.

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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A few second earlier and he'd probably clear it. Unfortunately, it clears him.

A few second earlier and he'd probably clear it. Unfortunately, it clears him.