The bar has been high for local politicians in D.C. to attract national attention for their shenanigans ever since the reign of Mayor Marion “Bitch Set Me Up!” Barry. But dang if former-for-now city councilmember Jack Evans didn’t Fosbury Flop right over it this week. Evans, zealous comforter of the comfortable since his 1991 election and self-appointed consigliere to the market’s billionaire sports owners, began his campaign for a city council seat just 10 days after being drummed out of that very job for nearly a dozen ethics violations (that we know of).
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Screengrab via NBC Washington
Illustration by Chris Thompson
It’s passé to publish a year-end list in February, but some shit came up and our plans changed. The Unnamed Temporary Sports Blog staff has compiled a non-exhaustive list featuring (some of) the worst tweets of 2019. Yes, we too wish Daniel Radcliffe was reading these.
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What a beautiful rare beast this is. The Battle of Alberta was not particularly close last night, as the Oilers won 8-3 to take their first game (of four so far) off the Flames this season. But it surpassed the other three in terms of sheer chaotic unforgettability thanks to a scrap between a pair of goalies with history on both sides of the rivalry.
What I’m trying to say is: GOALIE FIIIIIIGHT!!!!
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via ESPN
The 2019 NFL season began for all intent and purpose with Antonio Brown, and, hours short of the season’s end, there is Antonio Brown. We, as they say on cheap old-folks-and-shut-ins-police-procedural-network-TV-shows, are hooked.
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If you don’t like Phish, there is probably no point in trying to convince you of their greatness. Even if you haven’t really listened to their music (I bet you haven’t!) and just conceptualize their shows as one endless, boring riff echoing through a sea of sweaty stoners (they’re not!), you’re likely too set in your ways to listen with open ears. I know this because I’ve tried to make all the arguments and drop all the needles, but even though I don’t lack for friends and don’t fall short when it comes to passionate pleas, I’ve still gone alone to both Phish shows of my lifetime, and I exclusively enjoy their recordings with the isolation of headphones.
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I have many regrets at this hour. They include, but are not limited to, genuinely believing someone born after 1987 could win a major title, believing this even into the fifth set at the Australian Open final against this specific opponent, and (as a result) staying awake between the hours of 4 and 8 a.m. ET. Really bad judgment all around. But, under certain circumstances, you do gotta hand it Novak Djokovic.
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"Jeff Heath Stretching 9896" by Chris Hunkeler is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0
Thank you for your continued support of Unnamed Temporary Sports Blog. We’ll be back to close it out tomorrow.
Illustration by Billy Haisley
Ladies, break out those vibrators, fellas, squeeze you out some lotion, because when you see this photo of a half-naked Skip Bayless that the man himself tweeted this morning, you’ll not want to waste any time yanking off your pants and fiddling your bits while thinking about the barely hidden treasure that lies at the carefully shorn point of those V-cut abs:
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