I would rather watch pornography — created ethically — with my family than scenes of violence. Wouldn’t you?
For many players, the state league season is imbued with a sense of hope. It is an audition for the national league. But there is no point in auditioning if there are no available positions.
A man called me a skeezer on The Pick and Roll’s republishing of The Fallacy. I did not know what this word meant. I suspected by his tone, though, it was most likely unflattering, and that was correct.
I use the word failure to describe myself sometimes and friends flinch in condemnation and pat me on the shoulder. But failure is not an ugly word.
The national league is not built on the backs of its marquee players. It is built on the backs of the players at the bottom of the list. The league does not survive without them.
As a child, I was warned tacitly about the pandemic: of dangerous, contagious lesbianism. I rolled my eyes and dismissed it. I was heterosexual but cool.
My brother was driving home late from work last week when he saw a woman on the side of the road being chased by a man. They were both in their early fifties. She was screaming for help. Nobody stopped to help her.