I’ve never paid much attention to women’s professional basketball. I guess I’d rather watch children cross a busy highway. At least with the children, there’s hope someone will eventually stop them. Who’s going to stop the WNBA? Probably no one, because while people actually care about children, no one cares about the WNBA.
Has it really been six years already? It’s amazing how fast time gets away from you, seemingly slipping through the fingers like sand, or a carrot covered in sexual lubricant. Don’t ask. Even though the years have undoubtedly blurred together since that sunny morning six years ago, most remember the day vividly. A day burned into ones vision, never to be blinked away.
Next week the Indianapolis Colts will face off against the Chicago Bears in Super Bowl XLI, and I couldn’t be more disappointed.
It’s not the match up that’s disappointing but what’s going to transpire during the television timeouts. You know what I’m talking about: Super Bowl commercials. The same mind-numbing, soul-destroying garbage flashing on our screens but with new packaging. It’s the same numb feeling you get watching Dane Cook gesticulating his way into a caricature of himself.
Wow. Today, Slantmouth is officially one year old. Our baby learned to walk, talk, and probably poop this year. We want to thank all of our dear, loyal readers, and in celebration of this momentous occasion, we bring you the First Annual Slanty Awards for Excellence in News Making! The committee was determined based on height, weight, social status, and smell. Taking a grueling twenty-three minutes to decide, our committee finally emerged victorious, having chosen the most important people of the year. These awards go to 2006’s top news figures, in no particular order of importance.
If you’re like me, Thanksgiving makes you think of a lot of things (turkeys, Pilgrims, Indians, small pox), and while it was a week ago, I felt I needed distance on it to give an accurate account of what it means.
Thanksgiving is traditionally celebrated as a day to give thanks and for the Pilgrims, these thanks went to Squanto. He was their translator, their tour guide, and their hunting instructor. Without Squanto, the Pilgrims likely would have died quickly in the New World, starved into extinction and frozen to their overly-stylish pantaloons.
The battle has ended and the smoke has finally cleared. Karl Rove, the rotund Republican political architect and perennial Benjamin Franklin look-alike, emphatically stated there was no way the Republicans would lose in this midterm election.
Then “a thumping”, as President Bush called it, occurred. It is not clear what brutal, blunt instrument of destruction was used to execute this thumping. Maybe it was an old stiletto heel or a Ming vase or a prosthetic leg, but Slantmouth is betting that it was the bloody clang of democracy, squarely to the skull.
Greetings! Holiday Monkey here, coming to you from beyond the grave! As you may or may not know, today is Halloween. The most wicked of days is upon us! A day when goblins, ghouls, ghosts, and ghastly teens take to the streets seeking blood, carnage, vengeance toward ex-lovers, and of course, getting Mrs. Peterson’s trees super toilet-papery.
In unfortunate events this week, Kimveer Gill went on a shooting spree at his college in Canada before police shot and killed him. He was 25 years old. Though his motives were vague, postings on a site called Vampire Freaks tell a fuller story. He considered himself an Angel of Death, and reportedly hated jocks, preps, country music, and Hip-Hop. Clearly, Kimveer was filled with hate.
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