I did appreciate that one enterprising lass erected her own computer-TV tribute to my strapping countryman David Beckham.
Some provocateur generated a randy Sapphic portrait that I dare not reproduce, and even now blush to conjure -- would that the riddling effects of age could rob me of that wanton memory, rather than stripping my treasured recollections of halcyon days! Any road, while I found this imagery a bit tawdry, others declared it ace.
Alack, the banter wasn't always so bloody chipper. This poor urchin seems to abide the Dickensian squalor of child-labour camp, though she fancies herself skillful enough with the song and dance to win a role in Oliver!
Sorry about the blurry photo. I was lunging at my phone, yelling at it to take a clear picture. It's the only image of me that exists. I'd take another picture for you, but I'm in the middle of a rigorous trampoline session.
Call of Duty Advanced Warfare promises to up the ante on Kevin Spacey's face in a video game.
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