It’s not that want anyone to keel over and die, but if Stephen A. Smith were to keel over and die, I’m pretty sure that not only would I not give a shit, there would be a part of me that would be glad.  Yes, that’s a horrible thing to put into writing, but I can’t really say that it would be an inaccurate statement.

Whenever Stephen A. Smith is on television, which is unfortunately way more than he should be, because the retards at my gym have the locker room televisions set to ESPN, and there’s no known way to change the channels without a remote, and First Take seems to be on for eleventy-billion hour blocks at a time, I want to shower and dress out and get out of the locker room as quickly as humanly possible.

Stephen A. Smith makes me want to get away from a screen faster than a snuff film, or any one of those ASPCA commercials with Sarah McLaughlin music in the background.

Continue reading “An attempt to put into words how much I hate ESPN” →