Life imitates art in a really bad way

I don't usually deviate from Yankee content, but this picture is from the Yankee game Wednesday night, and I just had to comment after seeing it.

In the wonderful world of make believe that is television, things can happen that are beyond the realm of comprehension. Nuns can fly, horses can talk, and a fat ass like Peter Griffin can score a piece like Lois. But in what I like to call the "real world" I like things to happen the way they are supposed to. When you see a nun, she is walking like everyone else; a dog's only means of communication is diving nose-deep into another dogs ass; and fat, ugly pricks like Jerry Ferrara DO NOT date Meadow fucking Soprano.

As a disclaimer, I date a smokeshow, but it is only fair given the boyish good looks and insatiable rear end that God himself reached down and bestowed upon me. This is the natural order of things. This is why I have the luxury, nay, the RIGHT to be irritated by this. Beautiful people should be with other beautiful people. Jerry Ferrara is slapping Charles Darwin in the mouth.

I liked Entourage for the first two or three seasons when it was a little more palatable - Vince hooked up with the 10's and guys like Turtle here were left with the table scraps. Aaahhh, reality. Then things went haywire and everybody started plowing through supermodels left and right. It was at this point that I deemed their reality too unrealistic, and stopped watching the show.

To that point, I am not really sure that I want to live in a world where Turtle dates Meadow. Please continue to check the blog, because if there isn't an update for a day or two I may have thrown myself in front of a train.

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