I bring to you today a question about the social contract in hopes of making a case of my own and perhaps to glean some insight from some of yous who deign to read and consider my thoughts on the matter. This is not about the grand, all-encompassing social contract
The season of NFL football is in the books. The games were good, the better teams won. The cheaters were not rewarded this time.
The super bowl had me cleaning my dog hair-ridden hovel and making pulled pork for an expected group of 10-12, half of whom ended up not coming
Nothing like a good dose of corporate sleaze to remind us all what's important in this life.
After some basketball star (et al) dies, Planters pulls an ad featuring the death of Mr. Peanut. Notably, it included neither a helicopter crash nor Kobe Bryant. But in the interest of all of
What follows is a curling scoreboard. Not one of those fancy ones you see at your your Scotties and your Briers and various Grand Slam events. No, this is a plain old standard local curling club scoreboard. Unfortunately, they can no longer have the MacDonald Tobacco logo which graced so
"Most of one's life is one prolonged effort to prevent oneself thinking" - Huxley
This may well be the most accurate assessment of my life I have ever come across. It also sums up the divisional playoff game predictions I made last week. Sort of, I guess. I don't want to
"Victory is a fleeting thing in the gambling business. Today's winners are tomorrow's blinking toads, dumb beasts with no hope." - Hunter Thompson
Titans and Vikings bettors came out big on the weekend, winning straight up as 5 and 8 point dogs (at least on the spreads at which I'm looking).
Here we are at the precipice of another "new year". As far as the calendar goes, at least.
There's nothing new about it. Just as every day past and every day hence we will drift pointlessly and without meaning around some old ball of burning gas until all our friends die
Christmas time. The season of deception and greed and misery. Bah. Humbug!
The season for parents who lie to their children. Informing them with a straight face that their gifts are dependent on their behaviour alone. That poor kid down the street? Must have been a bad egg. The rich little
Welcome, fellow humans, to the latest filler episode of Dick Tuesday.
The Thursday night game provided most of the entertainment through repeated shots of the Cowboys players and position coaches melting down on the sideline, with much yelling and finger-pointing. Those shots were interspersed with footage of a grim-faced Jason Garrett
This was a difficult one to write. Not because I wasn't prepared, though I wasn’t. Not because I didn’t watch the games, which I did. It was because this was my favourite time of year that isn't a weeklong vacation in the summer with no plans – US thanksgiving. A
I had a long weekend. Not only did I take Monday off as usual for my post-Grey Cup recovery but I also took Friday off for no good reason and thus had no good reason to curtail my enjoyment of the burning dumb-water during Thursday's game.
Which is to say I
This year, as every year, began with the stilted bleatings of “experts” and “pundits” and their ilk trumpeting doomsday calls for the woeful and inadequate Seahawks draft, team, and season.
Yet again our common dullards, simple waterheads, and stunted dunces were pitifully mistaken. Their childlike lack of foresight overshadowed only by