Hey Little Buddy!

MIAMI, FL - H. Wayne Huizinga announced at a press conference attended by a total of 4 reporters that the Dolphins will have a new mascot and model for the new logo this season. In an attempt to toughen up the floundering 'Phins' image, Huizinga hopes that the new addition can bring success to a franchise that seems lost at sea.

Gilligan, a yet unidentified creature from the Mariana trench offers considerably more bite than Snowflake, the last dophin mascot. Snowflake was introduced in 1990 to modest reviews. He managed to get himself kidnapped by transsexual ex-kicker and police detective Ray Finkel the day before Super Bowl XXVIII. He was rescued before the Dolphin's historic victory over the Eagles, thanks to the heroics of one Ace Ventura and Magnificent Bastard Dan Marino.
After being dismissed that summer, Snowflake returned to his home in Billings, Montana to a modest barber shop and shoe repair store. He has two apprentices.

Let the Gilligan era begin!

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Is It Sunday Yet?

This is ABC's Wipeout.

It sucks.

I'm referring only to the timing of the show: the show itself is pretty funny. It features Jon Henson, the old host of Talk Soup accompanied by one of the more entertaining anchors on ESPN, whatshisdouche.

This show makes a triumphant debut, only because football isn't filling the empty void that is the summer season. The timing makes it even more difficult for me to wait until opening day of the NFL. I'd rather gouge out my eyes with AIDS-infested icicles than wait another weekend for my pro football fix.

Kill me. Now.

Cartoon Phelps kinda resembles a caucasian Barack Obama

Matt Serra's Definatley Not Gay MMA Techniques

Hey kids! I'm Matt 'The Terrah' Serra. You may remembah me from such underground scat films like Trowel of Shit III and special celebrity presentah at the 2006 MTV Movie Awards. But when I'm not plowin' spokesmodels or slammin' yaygah bombs at Club Gold, you can catch me down at the Orlando Convention Centah at the 2008 MMACon. I got a fuckin' booth set up there. Pamphlets too.

My parole officah says I need to teach your panzy ass some new moves, so here I am, ya mook. Today, I'm gonna show you the clavicle grab. I call it tha Hellraisah. It's named after my favorite horrah movie 'cuz that's some shit Pinhead would do to someone. It's a great way to get your opponent to bitch out and cry like a queeyah. It might even put him out of commision for a few months. I tried this on Randy Couture and put him in the infirmary. They had to stop shooting over on the set of The Scorpion King II. You should see him in that little girly Egyptian skirt they make him wear. Big-headed freak looks like Shrek...if Shrek wore a dress!

Pay attention, numbnuts. This maneuvah is applied from tha mounted position, just like da Ray Charles. I've also done it on unlucky bastids when I was against the cage. I'm unstoppable in that shit. I'm crazy like that. First, yous hook your ankles around his waist and get a nice, tight grip with yah thighs. Then, twist one of his arms under him. If ya wanna really freak him out, tell him that you used ta fuck guys like him in prison, like the bad guy said to Patrick Swayze in Road House. I love that movie. It gets little Matty hard just thinkin' about it...

Anyone can get a stoppage on someone when you've got the full mount on them, but doing tha Hellraisah will make 'em go cryin' all the way back ta Iowa. After you put your weight on him, you reach out with your strong hand and grab that fucker's clavicle bone and try to rip that shit out of his little sizzle-chest! He won't be able to continue, you can bet your ass on that. Here's a copy of some fancy x-ray that was used in my last trial. Pin that on ya fridge, ya Nancy.

Joust: Tom Brady vs. Tim Tebow

Welcome to the first episode of Joust! I'm your host, Pat Sajak. Each week, we'll be matching up some of today's most dynamic performers from the sports and entertainment worlds. For your amusement, two competitors meet on the lava-filled caverns of a faraway planet to do battle on ostriches and storks.
Ahem. Ladies and gentlemen! Meet your fighters!

Thomas Roderick Brady

Seen relaxing on the golf course.

Nickname: The New England Clam Digger
Armor: Mirrored Shield of Reflection +3, Belichick's Chain Mail Hoodie of Homelessness
Weapon: Bastard sword of Model Smiting +4

Mount: ChiChi, the Jazzy Ostrich

Strengths: HAPPENS TO BE TOM FUCKING BRADY, entire offensive line, wears ring of protection from EPIC FAIL

Weaknesses: Brazilian supermodels, paternity tests, one or both of his feet

Battle Cry: Yoikes!...And away!



Tim DeWayne Tebow

Shown here on the bench.

Nickname: Tebreesus

Armor: Rock hard abs, Heisman ring of bling +2

Weapon: Jaw bone of jutting +3, lengthy catalog of Chuck Norris references

Mount: FloZell the BloodStork, Harbinger of Doom and Sorrow

Strengths: Circumcision, Baptism of newborn asians, can kill with one strand of hair

Weaknesses: Gorgeous SEC poon

Battle Cry: Excelsior!

Here they go, sports fans! Luck versus ability. Who will win? Only God can decide that. I'm calling my agent.

(bright flash of light)

Oh, FUCK! It appears as though the universe is imploding from the colision of these two mammoth forces of nature! This is like when the Ghostbusters crossed the streams! Oh, well. This is Pat Sajak saying, "see ya on the other side, assholes!"

I Got Nothing

Be Very Afraid

Allow me to introduce you to American softball slugger Crystl Bustos. Try not to stare. She hates it when people stare. This will be the last year that the Olympics will be featuring softball. This makes Bustos very angry.

Crystl was born in Juarez, Mexico. Her father was a gun runner and repeat offender in America's "Catch and Release" border protection program. Her mother was a 1985 Jeep Grand Cherokee.

As a child, Crystl displayed an early propensity for team sports. As a soccer goalie, she once decapitated an opponent by squeezing her neck against the post with her forearm. She was found not guilty by reason of having a beastly physique.

As a young woman, Bustos was employed by her father as a truck. By the tender age of fourteen, she could load twenty-two migrant workers on her enormous carriage, eventually shuttling thousands of workers across the border to chase the dangerously elusive but rediculously lucrative American dream. The stowaways paid a premium for this, as their rucksacks remained dry and their children were carried safely in her cavernous jowls. Crystl rightfully earned the hearty nickname Autobus Bustos. Her father became rich and he had soon saved up enough to send her away to the prestigious St. Annas school for girls.

Once enrolled, the softball coach there spotted her early and convinced her to try out hitting. She sent three of her best pitchers to the hospital. Later that day, the catcher made the mistake of blocking the plate when Crystl was rounding third. A modest monument to her courage now stands just behind home base.

She was recruited by USA Softball in 2003 to anchor the already loaded American hitters. She caused an avalanche in a small mountainside town outside Athens, destroying ancient ruins when she found a skirt in her size. After leading USA to a gold medal, the undefeated ladies of softball went their separate ways. Jenny Finch went on to be a fine ass bitch. Crystal Bustos started endorsing an energy drink for latina women who lead alternative lifestyles. Arriba! is a drink made from roadside citrus juices, feral donkey semen and signature brown crystal meth from Tijuana. I'm told it's delightful.
At these Olympics, Bustos hopes to bring home the gold once again and honor her father Pablo, who died last year of lead poisoning and gunshot wounds. No one knows what became of her mother. Some say she was eaten by the mighty Bustos.

From the Desk of Dick Pound

Memo

To: All you fuckers that made fun of my name

From: Dick Pound, Sports Blogger Extraordinnaire

Whats up, shitheads?!?! By now you're probably wondering, "Why am I reading a memo from Dick Pound?" Well, cumgutter...I'll tell you why: It's because I don't work for the IOC any more; and I don't give a fuck!

Since I got Floyd Landis' Quaker ass booted out of cycling, I've had plenty of time to pursue my true passion: writing. If I could persuade twelve judges to vote 11-1 on Landis' guilt, then you can bet your arrogant American ass that I can get you slobs to laugh at my dick jokes. I don't wanna say Landis had a lot of drugs in his system, but the amount of testosterone in his bloodstream could choke Courtney Love after a traceotomy. I'm going to be a little gratuitus and quote myself here:

"You’d think he’d be violating every virgin within 100 miles. How does he even get on his bicycle?"

Fuck the Queen sideways I love that line. You know I once ran into Floyd in an elevator? Yeah, I shoved him up against the doors and pulled his little fairy jersey over his head, like I used to do with hoseheaded lacrosse guys back in Toronto.

But enough of that macho bullshit. I'm here to announce my entry into the cutthroat world of sports blogging with my first post entitled:

"The Gay Scale of Olympic Sports brought to you by Queer As Folk; Wednesday Nights on Showtime"

These are the top 5 most effeminate sports in the world, and you can bet your ass I wanna dip my tainted test tube in them.

5. Water Polo

This is basically swimming and soccer combined into one wet, floating ball of faggery. It features some of the biggest sports primadonnas featured in the Olympics, with all the obsessive-compulsive manscaping of swimming with the added flare for flopping of soccer. Plus, they wear headgear that is more suited to sweaty men touching each other; also known as wrestling.

4. Badminton

This is a true embarrassment to humanity. Somehow, it manages to make tennis even more emasculating by using something called a shuttlecock. Now, if we can only get Rafael Nadal to play it wearing a puffy shirt with his trademark capri pants, we've got a sport with a crossover appeal that can persuade even the most strident Brady Quinn fans to watch.

3. Swimming

Where to begin? This sport has been getting men to nipple-fuck each other since the first two Spartans raced each other in the Adriatic. Did you know that the sport of swimming utilizes more grooming supplies than all the dog shows and beauty pageants combined? Congratulations, you simple fuck...now you know.

2. Trampoline

Somewhere, deep in the vaults of the Triumvirate of Gayness located in the gayest of the gay districts in Gaytown, Alabama rests the inventor of the trampoline. His name is Philip Injerase and his dying wish was that trampoline routines be accepted into the Olympics. His disciples not only made his dream a reality, but they somehow managed to get syncronized trampoline routines in there, too. They also have been leaders in promoting the javelin throw.

1. Wrestling

This one is just too easy. Wrestling gets the Hal Sparks award for gayest Olympic sport. Excuse me...I'm going to rinse out my eyeballs.

Put In Melon!

JM: Welcome back to the games of the 28th Olympiad, I'm Jim Norton. With me now is some diving slore we don't give a fuck about. The American fans here are a little upset and have begun to chant something that we can't quite make out here up in the booth. It may have something to do with the large asian soldiers with menacing eyepatches. Let's throw it down to our poolside correspondent, Soledad O'Brien. Whaddya got for us, sweet britches?

SO: Thanks, Jim. I'm here with Reed Walters, a Womyn's Studies major at the University of Florida. Reed, what is everyone so upset about?

RW: THIS COACH BLOWS! We can't trust him!

SO: What do you mean?

RW: Just look at him!

SO: So, you don't feel that he's qualified?

RW: Look bitch, HE'S ASIAN. They're a sneaky, underhanded people. He's looking out for his own kind and screwing up our chances at Olympic gold! We've got a guy on the bench that can win this bitch! PUT IN MELON! PUT IN MELON! (emphatically fist bumps roommate)

CROWD: PUT IN MELON! PUT IN MELON!

SO: There you have it, Jim. The fans want their Melon. Back to you.

JN: Thank you, Soledad. I can't hear a God damn word you're saying. Wait a minute here, folks...the coach of the American Diving Team is motioning strangely now, I think he's cupping his chest and doing some sort of variation of "tuning into Tokyo." That seems inappropriate here, since that is an obvious reference to the Japanese people. I think he's signaling to the locker room. Can it be? YES! He's bringing in Thornton Melon, the Cinderella star of these Olympic Games!

(chugs whiskey from flask, gives finger to Chinese bodyguards)

Thornton Melon, 64 years young, makes his way to the top of the platform now. Here he goes, folks:

I Got Nothing

Spring Training Camp Debriefing

VILLAGE ON THE IRAN-IRAQ BORDER

Good morning, freedom fighters! I trust everyone slept alright? I know it was a little noisy last night, but you know how me and the guys get when Yusef and his dirty sheep come through our part of the desert. For those of you that are new, I'm Ali and I am your camp director. Allah has ordained that I maintain your training and discipline before your eventual violent, painful martyrdom. Just kidding...it'll just be violent.

Anyway, I know everyone has been looking forward to our Olympics Party this weekend, and I'm proud to say that this year, Mother Iran has entered more women into the Olympics than any other Muslim country. We serve as a proud reminder to...to the world...I'm sorry I can't say it. It's just too funny! Ha! ha! Everyone knows that women can only compete in shooting, unless they want to be hung for improperly exposing themselves. Those American lapdogs, the Saudis (boo!) are trying to one-up us as usual by forbidding all women from competing in the Games. We'll show those Shia shitheads that we Sunni lead the world in keeping women in their place, Insha'allah!

(fires AK-47 in air)

Did everyone get a copy of the schedule? Tonight, we've got men's track and field and women's beach volleyball. WHO NEEDS SHEEP TONIGHT, HUH?!?! Am I right? Am I right? Tea and pecan sandies will be served over at Farad's. That's the big red tent, for all you new guys. What's that, Abdul? Yes, the party is bring-your-own-lotion.

Next up is camp cleanliness. Some of you country boys don't seem to get it! We set up the brown tent for a reason, fellas. We wanted a little privacy when we dropped the little ones off at the oasis. I won't name names (Amad! Trevor!), but some people keep shitting in a hole just west of camp. That's where we prepare our meals, guys! I know you think you're a badass 'cuz you got your first explosives belt, but if you can't learn to respect this camp, we're going to have to ask you to leave. And no, you can't keep your rifles.

Next up is our battle cry. I know that a lot of you want to change it, but the elders had a vote and it's gonna stay like it is. So for you new guys, it goes, "YES-WE-CAN! OBAMA-OH-EIGHT!" Got it? Keep practicing, Amad. You'll get it.

(Popping sounds, several campers' heads explode)

The fuck?!?!
(SEAL Team shoots everyone)

Matt Serra's Definately Not Gay MMA Techniques

Hi I'm Matt 'The Terrah" Serra. You may remembah me from such reality television programming like The Ultimate Fighter IV and UFC 88: Reacharound. I heard your sorry ass was getting sand kicked in your face down at the peeyah, and I want ya tah know, I'm here to help. Anyways, it's part of my community service. If it was up to me, the closest you'd get tah me is if you were to buy a fuzzy navel for one of my porn star lady friends.

Got yah tights on? IT'S THE REQUIRED UNIFORM! Heh heh, ya like dat? It's a quote from Tha Breakfast Club, one of my favorite fuckin' movies. I got a lot a doze quotes. Anyway, diss week's lesson is called da Ray Charles. It's applied from the full mounted postion. After passing your opponents' guard, you're ready to kick his mooly ass. But he'll be expecting that. Instead of reigning down punches to get a stoppage or a KO, reach down and jam your filthy thumbs in his eye sockets. Flex the core muscles to get extra leverage behind it and force his skull down onto da canvas. You should stop when you feel warm goo, like a jack-o-lantern that's been lit up all night. It reminds me of Halloween back on Long Island!

It looks like you don't have it down yet. Good thing I put this little instructional video together. Take notes, junior. Someday, you could be da UFC champ.

The 10 Grossest Hollywood Thumbs-Into-Eyes

Now hit the showers, numbnuts!

Welcome to Geoff's Ginger Den!

Hello, campers! Gather 'round the fire and get comfy. Tonight's guest comes all the way from Dallas to tell us about his career in the National Football League! We all know that's where big men go to smash their heads together. Ever wondered what would happen to your gorgeous red hair if you bashed it into someone's helmet? Well, one Sunday, Jason has ran around the field without his helmet on and almost found out!

GEOFF: During a game last year against the Eagles, you caught a throw from Romo mid-field and broke some tackles. Take us through what happened next.

JASON: Well, I felt some cool air on my head, but just kept running. Where's the wine and cheese? I was promised cheese.

GEOFF: We have Ritz crackers and Easy Cheese. What was going through your head at that moment?

JASON: Um, don't get hit on the head. My boss, Mr. Jones taught me that.

GEOFF: Truly inspirational. Chek cola?

JASON: No, thanks. I'm in training camp right now.

GEOFF: What have you done to help spread awareness about the suffering endured by gingers worldwide?

JASON: What? I thought we were talking about my career as a Cowboy?

GEOFF: Fuck those guys. They smoke crack. It says here you played at Tennesee, Peyton Manning's alma mater. What was that like?

JASON: So, no wine then? This interveiw is over.