- Tiger and his affair(s). OMG. Stop the presses. ANOTHER sports hero sticking his pee-pee in another warm, tight vagina that is not his by virtue of marriage. Can't imagine.
- Mark McGwire and his steroids. Heavens to Murgatroyd and pass me the smelling salts! A baseball player on steroids! People, it's not like those Popeye-sized forearms of his way back when didn't scream it out in the first place.
- Brent Favre (sic). Need I go into it? The sports poster child of growing old gracelessly. Either retire or don't. And the fact that he went to Minnesota after years with Green Bay, antagonizing one of the biggest rivalries in the country, made him even more of a twat.
- Overanalysis of anything football-related, for that matter. Seriously, people? The fact that we make a multi-billion dollar enterprise out of football is a joke to me. Yeah, I can get behind the whole "pride in your own city" thing. There's better ways to do it. The way that millions of people either a) spend hours examining and analyzing players and their abilities and their potential, or b) pretend that they do is hoarksome. Straight-guy dick-fencing of the worst kind. (As a gay man, I have to admit I don't mind examining and analyzing players and their, um, assets. Most specifically: linebackers in tight contour-accentuating uniforms that barely restrain their big guts and bubble butts. Yum. Oh, and Howie Long, too. At least looks-wise.)
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