If you dig The Beatles you’ve most certainly been asked to name your favorite album. It can be an impossibly subjective question and I have been a little non-committal on the topic … until now. The real question isn’t one of favorites, it’s a measure of best – what’s the best album by the best band ever. I came up with a formula to figure it out.
I saw an advertisement yesterday for a DNA test for dogs and I thought about what a sad, gullible, easily-brainwashed and influenced society we live in. I also thought about Lassie and about how rough it must have been for her to hear the news, “We’re sorry girl, I know all these years and through all those TV episodes you believed you were a Collie, but we just got the DNA results and it turns out that you’re actually an Italian Greyhound mixed with Cocker Spaniel and a little bit of retriever … It looks like your mom was boning every other dog in the neighborhood … we’re so sorry girl.”
Tom Brady and I are the same in so, so many ways. For starters, we are both almost universally despised, me because I know everything about, well, almost everything and Tom because he’s really good at sports. Our similarities have created a bond over the years and that relationship has meant a lot to me, and I know he feels the same. Now, as his spirals begin to wobble and his legs start to go, as he begins to fall down in the pocket when defensive tackles threaten his safe space I think it is an appropriate time to capture some heartfelt sentiments.