The Best Thing That Happened This Week: They Held the NFL Draft. Finally.
You know what that means? We don’t have to hear, see and read every Tom, Dickhead and Harry’s breathless prognostications, suppositions, divinations, probabilities, presumptions, plausibilities, possibilities, guesstimates, conjectures, bloviations, calculations, mastications and predications. Holy f’ing Chip, if American men put one-one-billionth of the time, effort, thought and energy they devote to football into, say, putting the toilet seat back down, they’d be scoring a whole lot more. If you get our drift. Now: We don’t ever want to hear the name “Marcus Mariota” again.