John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
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Useless Thread MM: Juan Soto Appreciation Thread
- Thread starter John Price
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Sega Dreamcast
party like it's 1999
Everyone wants Bills and Commies, but we're gonna get Chiefs and Eagles, and god damn it, you're gonna like it.
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Sega Dreamcast
party like it's 1999
PanthersPens62
Paul & Stanley
You are now off the long list of PP62's "mental midgets".......well done ! 
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 388,663
- 31,990
RECAP: Kings 2, Panthers 1 | Florida Panthers
Kings score twice in third period to snatch win from Panthers
www.nhl.com
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 388,663
- 31,990
‘South Park’ Streaming Rights Standoff: Warner Bros. Discovery Wins Ruling Clearing Way for Trial
The summary judgment ruling opens the door to discovery on Paramount's understanding of its deal with WBD and, possibly, Paramount's viewership and subscriber metrics as they relate to the series.
www.hollywoodreporter.com
Putting select movies or "specials" on Paramount+ was a huge disaster
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 388,663
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PanthersPens62
Paul & Stanley
You are awfully quiet about "Eva's" loss ! 
Why are you not celebrating a great American win???? 
Nice to see Bowen Yang announce Oscar noms.
Why are you not celebrating a great American win???? Nice to see Bowen Yang announce Oscar noms.
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 388,663
- 31,990
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 388,663
- 31,990
Sega Dreamcast
party like it's 1999
Companies being greedy idiots and starting their own streaming services was a huge waste that served no benefit to consumers.
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 388,663
- 31,990
Sega Dreamcast
party like it's 1999
What a worthless collection of trash.
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 388,663
- 31,990
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 388,663
- 31,990
Before you eviscerate me for buying a Happy Meal at McDonald's I'll have you know the Tails was purchased online
The MCD's here just give out old toys in the happy meals anyway instead of the advertised toy
Sega Dreamcast
party like it's 1999
One can only imagine why this game is dead and buried.
Top comment: "Man I miss when people screamed on the mic and pretend to be dying"
You're outright admitting that playing the game is secondary to the distracting and immature bullshit.
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John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 388,663
- 31,990
Saw some videos of grown men mobbing a Costco for Pokemon cards lol
why
f***ing nerds trying to sell everything for a profit now. Tickets (1000 dollar tickets to NFC Championship game from people who already have seats), plushies (people selling Shadow BAB plush way marked up for about 100+ dollars) and now pokemon cards
f***ing pathetic. Do these people have a job.
"What is your job"
"I f***ing wait in line for hours at Costco and then grab Pokemon cards and flip them on ebay for a 10 dollar profit"
why
f***ing nerds trying to sell everything for a profit now. Tickets (1000 dollar tickets to NFC Championship game from people who already have seats), plushies (people selling Shadow BAB plush way marked up for about 100+ dollars) and now pokemon cards
f***ing pathetic. Do these people have a job.
"What is your job"
"I f***ing wait in line for hours at Costco and then grab Pokemon cards and flip them on ebay for a 10 dollar profit"
Sega Dreamcast
party like it's 1999
Scalpers are going to exist when there's enough demand for limited quantities of something.
Blame the companies for not combating scalpers and blame the shitheads that buy from the scalpers.
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 388,663
- 31,990
Yep, Costco doesn't even limit how many they sell for those pokemon cards. I saw the comments sections in the video, "they should limit it to one per person"
Sega Dreamcast
party like it's 1999
From a business perspective, it doesn't even make sense to let one chode buy them all.
If everyone can only buy one, then that means you're getting that many unique customers into your store who might buy other shit.
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 388,663
- 31,990
SoupNazi
Keeps paying for Hangman’s OF to get promoted
- Feb 6, 2010
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As we rolled back into Vancouver, I was hoping that Brenda and Juan—sorry, John and Brenda again—might take some time to reflect on their chaotic Alaskan misadventures. Instead, Brenda leaned out of the passenger window, breathing in the city air like a conqueror returning to her empire.
“Vancouver!” she bellowed. “We’re back, baby, and this time, it’s a banger of a pinched log!”
I groaned audibly from the driver’s seat. “Brenda, for the love of sanity, what does that even mean?”
“It’s a metaphor!” she said proudly. “You know, for squeezing out a tough situation but making it work! Like when life gives you lemons, but better!”
“Or worse,” I muttered, watching Juan nod enthusiastically in the rearview mirror.
Juan, now somehow back in his moose costume, leaned forward, clutching his duffel bag of plushies. “I like it. It’s got… layers. Just like lasagna!”
“That’s the spirit!” Brenda said, slapping his arm. “Now, first order of business: we need a new location for Brenda’s Lasagna Igloo 2.0. No snow this time—maybe a Lasagna Log Cabin!”
I sighed, knowing better than to argue. “So what’s your plan this time? More plushies? Another lasagna empire? Or are you going to turn this ‘banger of a pinched log’ into something even more absurd?”
Brenda rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “You’re onto something, narrator. Why not all three? A plushie-themed lasagna restaurant with a gift shop that sells my catchphrases on t-shirts!”
“Catchphrases like…?” I asked warily.
“‘It’s a banger of a pinched log,’ obviously,” she said, grinning. “And maybe ‘Lasagna is life’ or ‘Pinch out your dreams!’”
Juan, ever the devoted accomplice, nodded furiously. “We could even sell plushies shaped like lasagna. I could design them myself!”
Before I could protest, Brenda clapped her hands. “Let’s do some market research! Take us to the nearest mall!”
I reluctantly drove to a nearby shopping center, where the two of them immediately began accosting strangers with samples of lasagna from a cooler Brenda had dragged out of the van.
“Try a bite of this and tell me it’s not a banger of a pinched log!” Brenda shouted to a confused shopper.
Meanwhile, Juan was setting up a folding table near the food court, displaying his plushie collection like a garage sale. “Only $40 each!” he announced. “Collector’s items! And every purchase comes with a free lasagna coupon!”
It was only a matter of minutes before mall security showed up, and we were politely but firmly escorted out.
“Don’t worry,” Brenda said as we piled back into the van. “That was just a dry run. Vancouver’s gonna love us once we really get started. This city isn’t ready for the banger of a pinched log revolution!”
I rubbed my temples, wondering if it was too late to fake my own disappearance.
“Vancouver!” she bellowed. “We’re back, baby, and this time, it’s a banger of a pinched log!”
I groaned audibly from the driver’s seat. “Brenda, for the love of sanity, what does that even mean?”
“It’s a metaphor!” she said proudly. “You know, for squeezing out a tough situation but making it work! Like when life gives you lemons, but better!”
“Or worse,” I muttered, watching Juan nod enthusiastically in the rearview mirror.
Juan, now somehow back in his moose costume, leaned forward, clutching his duffel bag of plushies. “I like it. It’s got… layers. Just like lasagna!”
“That’s the spirit!” Brenda said, slapping his arm. “Now, first order of business: we need a new location for Brenda’s Lasagna Igloo 2.0. No snow this time—maybe a Lasagna Log Cabin!”
I sighed, knowing better than to argue. “So what’s your plan this time? More plushies? Another lasagna empire? Or are you going to turn this ‘banger of a pinched log’ into something even more absurd?”
Brenda rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “You’re onto something, narrator. Why not all three? A plushie-themed lasagna restaurant with a gift shop that sells my catchphrases on t-shirts!”
“Catchphrases like…?” I asked warily.
“‘It’s a banger of a pinched log,’ obviously,” she said, grinning. “And maybe ‘Lasagna is life’ or ‘Pinch out your dreams!’”
Juan, ever the devoted accomplice, nodded furiously. “We could even sell plushies shaped like lasagna. I could design them myself!”
Before I could protest, Brenda clapped her hands. “Let’s do some market research! Take us to the nearest mall!”
I reluctantly drove to a nearby shopping center, where the two of them immediately began accosting strangers with samples of lasagna from a cooler Brenda had dragged out of the van.
“Try a bite of this and tell me it’s not a banger of a pinched log!” Brenda shouted to a confused shopper.
Meanwhile, Juan was setting up a folding table near the food court, displaying his plushie collection like a garage sale. “Only $40 each!” he announced. “Collector’s items! And every purchase comes with a free lasagna coupon!”
It was only a matter of minutes before mall security showed up, and we were politely but firmly escorted out.
“Don’t worry,” Brenda said as we piled back into the van. “That was just a dry run. Vancouver’s gonna love us once we really get started. This city isn’t ready for the banger of a pinched log revolution!”
I rubbed my temples, wondering if it was too late to fake my own disappearance.
SoupNazi
Keeps paying for Hangman’s OF to get promoted
- Feb 6, 2010
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The next morning, I woke up in the van to the sound of Brenda shouting, “Rise and shine! It’s a banger of a pinched log kind of day!”
Juan, now wearing a plushie costume shaped like a slice of lasagna, was already pacing outside, muttering to himself about branding opportunities.
I rubbed my eyes and groaned. “What now? Another failed mall escapade? Or are we getting banned from another country today?”
Brenda poked her head through the van door with a gleam in her eye. “Neither. Today, we’re going straight to the big leagues. We’re pitching our plushie lasagna empire to the city council. Vancouver needs us!”
I stared at her, slack-jawed. “You’re going to the city council to pitch… this?” I gestured to Juan, who was now handing out tiny plush lasagna samples to a group of seagulls.
“Exactly!” Brenda said, unphased. “Every great empire starts with a bold vision. Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know!”
“It also wasn’t built by lunatics with a lasagna fetish and a closet full of plushies,” I muttered under my breath.
Despite my protests, we were soon on our way to city hall. Brenda had thrown together a so-called “presentation” on a stack of crumpled notepaper, while Juan was busy stuffing his plushies into a rolling suitcase.
When we arrived, Brenda marched confidently into the council chambers, dragging Juan and me behind her. The room was full of bored officials who looked like they had been stuck listening to zoning debates all day.
Brenda slammed her cooler of lasagna samples onto the table at the front of the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, Vancouver is about to experience a culinary and cultural revolution!” she declared. “I present to you: Brenda’s Plushie Lasagna Emporium! Where food meets fun!”
Juan, standing next to her in his lasagna costume, held up a plushie of a smiling lasagna slice. “And every meal comes with a collectible plushie! Because the plushies must be avenged!”
The council members stared at us in stunned silence. One of them raised their hand hesitantly. “I’m sorry, but… did you just say the plushies must be avenged?”
“It’s a metaphor!” Brenda said quickly, though even she seemed unsure of what Juan had meant.
I buried my face in my hands as Brenda continued her pitch, complete with taste tests of her lasagna and a live demonstration of Juan attempting to juggle plushies.
The presentation ended with Brenda dramatically unveiling a t-shirt design that read, “It’s a banger of a pinched log!” in bold letters.
Needless to say, we were politely but firmly shown the door.
“Well, that could’ve gone better,” I said as we walked back to the van.
Brenda waved me off. “They just don’t have vision. But that’s okay—we’ll take this straight to the people! We’ll set up a pop-up lasagna plushie festival in the park!”
I groaned. “This is never going to end, is it?”
“Nope!” Brenda said cheerfully. “Because we’re just getting started!”
Juan, now wearing a plushie costume shaped like a slice of lasagna, was already pacing outside, muttering to himself about branding opportunities.
I rubbed my eyes and groaned. “What now? Another failed mall escapade? Or are we getting banned from another country today?”
Brenda poked her head through the van door with a gleam in her eye. “Neither. Today, we’re going straight to the big leagues. We’re pitching our plushie lasagna empire to the city council. Vancouver needs us!”
I stared at her, slack-jawed. “You’re going to the city council to pitch… this?” I gestured to Juan, who was now handing out tiny plush lasagna samples to a group of seagulls.
“Exactly!” Brenda said, unphased. “Every great empire starts with a bold vision. Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know!”
“It also wasn’t built by lunatics with a lasagna fetish and a closet full of plushies,” I muttered under my breath.
Despite my protests, we were soon on our way to city hall. Brenda had thrown together a so-called “presentation” on a stack of crumpled notepaper, while Juan was busy stuffing his plushies into a rolling suitcase.
When we arrived, Brenda marched confidently into the council chambers, dragging Juan and me behind her. The room was full of bored officials who looked like they had been stuck listening to zoning debates all day.
Brenda slammed her cooler of lasagna samples onto the table at the front of the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, Vancouver is about to experience a culinary and cultural revolution!” she declared. “I present to you: Brenda’s Plushie Lasagna Emporium! Where food meets fun!”
Juan, standing next to her in his lasagna costume, held up a plushie of a smiling lasagna slice. “And every meal comes with a collectible plushie! Because the plushies must be avenged!”
The council members stared at us in stunned silence. One of them raised their hand hesitantly. “I’m sorry, but… did you just say the plushies must be avenged?”
“It’s a metaphor!” Brenda said quickly, though even she seemed unsure of what Juan had meant.
I buried my face in my hands as Brenda continued her pitch, complete with taste tests of her lasagna and a live demonstration of Juan attempting to juggle plushies.
The presentation ended with Brenda dramatically unveiling a t-shirt design that read, “It’s a banger of a pinched log!” in bold letters.
Needless to say, we were politely but firmly shown the door.
“Well, that could’ve gone better,” I said as we walked back to the van.
Brenda waved me off. “They just don’t have vision. But that’s okay—we’ll take this straight to the people! We’ll set up a pop-up lasagna plushie festival in the park!”
I groaned. “This is never going to end, is it?”
“Nope!” Brenda said cheerfully. “Because we’re just getting started!”
SoupNazi
Keeps paying for Hangman’s OF to get promoted
- Feb 6, 2010
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- 18,505
Back at the van, as Brenda scribbled plans for her lasagna-plushie pop-up festival, Juan had a sudden, ridiculous epiphany. He threw his lasagna plushie into the air, narrowly missing my face, and shouted, “I’ve got it! The plushies need music! That’s what’s been missing this whole time!”
I sighed, already bracing for whatever insanity was coming next. “Music? Please don’t tell me you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking.”
Juan struck a triumphant pose. “I’m starting a band! A plushie band! We’ll be Avengers of the Plushies, playing polka music across the land, spreading the plushie gospel!”
“Polka?” I asked, incredulous. “Why polka?”
Juan looked at me like I was an idiot. “Because it’s upbeat, lively, and, most importantly, no one expects it! The plushies demand originality!”
Brenda clapped her hands. “Juan, that’s a banger of an idea! A plushie polka band could be the next big thing!”
“No, it couldn’t,” I said, trying to bring some semblance of reason to the situation. “First of all, Juan can’t play an instrument. Second, no one listens to polka anymore except for, like, 80-year-olds in small-town community centers.”
“Shows what you know,” Juan said smugly. “I’ve already come up with the first single: ‘Polka for the Plushies.’ And I’ve got backup dancers—every plushie I own will be on stage with me.”
Brenda gasped like he’d just discovered the cure for cancer. “Juan, you’re a genius! This could be the next Lasagna Emporium idea! Music, food, and plushies—what a combination!”
“And where are you going to find a polka band?” I asked, crossing my arms.
Juan gave me a sly grin. “We don’t need a band. I’ve already got a synthesizer accordion app on my phone. And you”—he jabbed a finger at me—“are going to be on the drums.”
I blinked. “What? No. Absolutely not. I’m not enabling this madness.”
“Too late! Brenda already ordered you a drum kit off Craigslist!”
Sure enough, Brenda held up her phone, showing a confirmation email. “It’s getting delivered tomorrow morning! This is going to be a banger of a plushie performance!”
I groaned, but Juan wasn’t done yet. “We’ll debut the band at the plushie-lovers meetup in Stanley Park next week. It’s going to be epic! Think about it—polka music echoing through the trees, plushies cheering us on. And we’ll close the show with our anthem, ‘The Plushies Must Be Avenged Polka.’”
“Kill me now,” I muttered.
Juan didn’t hear me. He was too busy practicing a wildly off-key polka melody on his phone’s accordion app while Brenda jotted down ideas for plushie-themed choreography.
By the end of the day, I was somehow roped into helping them rehearse. Juan, wearing a lederhosen plushie costume, danced maniacally around the van, waving his stuffed eagle. Brenda belted out nonsensical polka lyrics about lasagna and plushie justice, and I banged on the Craigslist drum kit like a man whose spirit had been crushed under the weight of unrelenting chaos.
As Juan spun around with his eagle plushie, he shouted, “Polka is the future! The plushies demand it!”
And with that, I knew we were doomed.
I sighed, already bracing for whatever insanity was coming next. “Music? Please don’t tell me you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking.”
Juan struck a triumphant pose. “I’m starting a band! A plushie band! We’ll be Avengers of the Plushies, playing polka music across the land, spreading the plushie gospel!”
“Polka?” I asked, incredulous. “Why polka?”
Juan looked at me like I was an idiot. “Because it’s upbeat, lively, and, most importantly, no one expects it! The plushies demand originality!”
Brenda clapped her hands. “Juan, that’s a banger of an idea! A plushie polka band could be the next big thing!”
“No, it couldn’t,” I said, trying to bring some semblance of reason to the situation. “First of all, Juan can’t play an instrument. Second, no one listens to polka anymore except for, like, 80-year-olds in small-town community centers.”
“Shows what you know,” Juan said smugly. “I’ve already come up with the first single: ‘Polka for the Plushies.’ And I’ve got backup dancers—every plushie I own will be on stage with me.”
Brenda gasped like he’d just discovered the cure for cancer. “Juan, you’re a genius! This could be the next Lasagna Emporium idea! Music, food, and plushies—what a combination!”
“And where are you going to find a polka band?” I asked, crossing my arms.
Juan gave me a sly grin. “We don’t need a band. I’ve already got a synthesizer accordion app on my phone. And you”—he jabbed a finger at me—“are going to be on the drums.”
I blinked. “What? No. Absolutely not. I’m not enabling this madness.”
“Too late! Brenda already ordered you a drum kit off Craigslist!”
Sure enough, Brenda held up her phone, showing a confirmation email. “It’s getting delivered tomorrow morning! This is going to be a banger of a plushie performance!”
I groaned, but Juan wasn’t done yet. “We’ll debut the band at the plushie-lovers meetup in Stanley Park next week. It’s going to be epic! Think about it—polka music echoing through the trees, plushies cheering us on. And we’ll close the show with our anthem, ‘The Plushies Must Be Avenged Polka.’”
“Kill me now,” I muttered.
Juan didn’t hear me. He was too busy practicing a wildly off-key polka melody on his phone’s accordion app while Brenda jotted down ideas for plushie-themed choreography.
By the end of the day, I was somehow roped into helping them rehearse. Juan, wearing a lederhosen plushie costume, danced maniacally around the van, waving his stuffed eagle. Brenda belted out nonsensical polka lyrics about lasagna and plushie justice, and I banged on the Craigslist drum kit like a man whose spirit had been crushed under the weight of unrelenting chaos.
As Juan spun around with his eagle plushie, he shouted, “Polka is the future! The plushies demand it!”
And with that, I knew we were doomed.
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 388,663
- 31,990
Wish other teams run like tax writeoffs would realize you win by spending money most likely. Pittsburgh, Washington, Baltimore, Miami "Wait, you are allowed to spend on players? We did not get the memo."
