A Tribute to a Champion; Dale Earnhardt, submitted by Drew. Dale Earnhardt and his inability to avoid a fatal accident have proven to be one of the most powerful influences on the poetry and prose of complete morons, possibly even giving September 11th a run for its money. After the Intimidator slammed his #3 car into the wall and his blood exploded across his brain I'm sure the shocked silence at the speedway was only interrupted by the dull whirring of ten thousand adult children composing poems and songs about their deceased hero all at once. The same people who would soon be rhyming "we can" with "taliban" deployed their beer coolers and foam novelty fingers across the Internet, letting their simple tears breath new life into the legend.
We weren't looking; we were watching the finish line.
"There was a crash? Well, this is one heck of a time:
Which car was it? Number 19? Number 5? Number 7?"
It was Dale... One Quarter Mile From Heaven...
Nietzsche once wrote "'Evil men have no songs.' How is it, then, that the Russians have songs?" I think his maxim should be revised to "'Stupid men have no poetry.' How is it, then, that the NASCAR fans have poetry?".
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.
Expendable? You must be joking.
Awful Links of the Day spotlights the worst and weirdest websites on the internet. And we're not talking "weird" in a good way either.