The Week That Was
Chronicling the past week via quick links and pithy commentary (Roger Clemens didn’t like the belly-button injections edition)
Yup, it’s Mitchell Report time kids: Where everyone cheats, no one is accountable, and best of all, you don’t have to prove anything!
The story of Mike: The greatest bus driver ever.
Do not mess with Oprah: The unassailable one hits the campaign trail in New Hampshire.
We found Whitey! Not really, but look at all the fun you can have with Google Street.
We wouldn’t mess with Jane Swift, either: At this rate, the only support Mitt is going to have left is from Seamus. Has anyone polled family dogs lately?
We had a j-school prof like this once too: We didn’t listen to him either.
The latest bomb scare makes all the others look brilliant by comparison: A TV taped to a tree? Really?
What is the sound of one coach staring incredulously? The zen of Belichick.
He’s all growns up: Big Baby becomes a man.
Even the Christians are f-ing with Romney now: Isn’t there a rule about thou shalt not tease, or something.
We had a feeling this would be bad: There is nothing good about snow and commuting.
Watching the weathermen: Check back on Monday. Assuming the city is still standing.
We knew it was too good to be true: Apparently there won’t be a blimp dumping tea into the harbor with Ron Paul’s face on it.
That’s all for this week. If you need us we’ll be ingesting HGH while we shovel snow.