This is the type of advertising I like: big blocks, big machines, and noisy failure.
Just another day on the range…pistols, semi-autos, a few full autos, and a fucking anti-tank gun from WWII that could level Mt. Everest.
We don’t do dedications (or take requests) here at Wheeeeeeee!, but I’ve got to make an exception for Dan (my partner in WheX8) and Greg who I can’t wait to throw down with next week to celebrate their respective birthdays. I’m so excited that I just couldn’t see myself sitting on this track for a whole ‘nother week, so here goes!
Only a select few will wear the coveted tiny green jacket.
Now why didn’t this result in a generation of women who felt they needed to shave their men and rub them down with Old Spice? I guess Ken just wasn’t the influencer that Barbie is. Hear that plastic woman roar!
Wake up Zog Sports! Where are you on this one?
Moments later, emboldened by his balancing and spatial mastery, Putin stabbed his fellow statesman with the very same pen. ‘Cuz he’s an asshole like that.
Everything you wanted to know around the culture—and the future(?)—of e-cigs and vaping.
“Uguu.” Sounds about right.
Well, tomorrow is the New York Islanders’ last home game of yet another dismal season. I’m posting Mike Bossy’s French-Canadian KFC commercial as a reminder of better times, when the Isles ruled the skies, scooping up deep fried flightless birds and Stanley Cups in equal measure. Get’em next year…the bucket of drums, that is.