This charming lady is Laura Francese. Not only a Buffalo Bills cheerleader, she is also a bit of an avid outdoorswoman. And I don’t mean she likes camping in the back of the minivan in the parking lot at Lake George. No, Laura likes killing things that had parents (and presumedly, eating them). This includes deer, boars and fish. Yes, she shoots fish with fucking arrows! Here is her Biffalo Bills “Jills” cheerleader page. Her favorite color is pink and she “adores every animal.”
And that’s all well and good. Nothing blows off steam after a season of having to cheer for Terrell Owens like shooting something through the spleen with a sharp rod. But what is this?!
“On a pride-themed float called ‘Experiment of His Own Power,’ Obama is compared to ‘The Proud One’ of Dante’s Inferno, posing with his Nobel Peace Prize medal, next to several other representations of him—along with Oscar and Heisman Trophy awards, he appears as a five-star general, president of General Motors, and as the ‘healthcare-expert’ Surgeon General—all engulfed by the flames of hell.”
Bodies like an oil drum stacked atop another oil drum with another oil drum atop that; no fashion looks good on them. Thighs thicker than waists; no pants fit properly. Calves like two-gallon milk jugs. A sport coat is an absurd waste of a cotton field. Offensive lineman—especially great offensive linemen—are freaks of nature towering the height of some NBA players but with muscle on top of muscle on top of bone the thickness of baseball bats, and then some fat padding atop that. Banana Republic, J. Crew, Express—their cuts are hopeless. When one can even find a stylish size 46 (or 56) jacket, the arms are too narrow. Shopping at H&M is an absurd farce for any proper guard, tackle or center. Skinny jeans and the hipster aesthetic are a conspiracy against people who can lift their own body weight straight up over their heads, and then do it again.