Braylon Edwards’ beard drunk drives him to deviance.

Driving drunk in Manhattan has got to be one of the dumbest crimes in the history of crime.  It’s like getting arrested for kidnapping in Malaysia, where I have it on good authority babies are both plentiful and complimentary.

According to Wikipedia (which gives this data an 11% chance of being accurate) there are 13,087 taxis in NYC and over 40,000 other for-hire vehicles Braylon could have taken. NYC also has close to 650 miles of subway (that’s a lot of Jared Fogle). If that were not enough, the Jets have their own complimentary 24 hour limo service for it’s players. So if he wasn’t in the mood for mass transit he could have had a Towncar, Escalade or Mercedes drive him and his entourage.

When Braylon was trapped in my Co-Mish’s hometown of Cleveland and playing for The Browns (a team that would drive anyone to the sauce) getting a DUI would have made sense because, after the bars close there’s pretty much nothing to do there. That over-sized silver triangle filled with guitars and shiny pants really should stay open later than 8pm.

But, in New York City? NEW YORK CITY!?! Come on Bray-Bray! Not only is there hardly a reason to EVER get behind the wheel of a car there, unless it’s yellow and checkered and you’re name has like six consecutive consonants, but what in the world would possess you to do so while intoxicated? It’s just bad bidness, which is why I am blaming his beard.

Edwards' beard enjoys the sauce, cigars, cock fighting and rebelling against democracy in all its devilish forms.

Braylon promptly trimmed his homage to Kimbo Slice’s Pubic mound after his car trouble and has since looked like a new man. He was sidelined for the 1st quarter of Sunday’s game due to his beard’s weekend indiscretion, but made a huge impact once he entered the game with a 67 yard TD. Since there was no mischievous chin-fro to slow him down or order him another round of lemon drops on the way to the end zone, the NYPD pulled the check point they had planned on setting up at the 10 yard line.

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The Philadelphia Philthies.

Fact–they’re the hottest team in baseball. Fact–they’ve won eleven straight games. Fact–their fans are the scum of the Earth. They really are. If there’s a roster spot for fans next season I can see them going early, like Lindsay Lohan early. These days nary a fortnight goes by without some Phillies fan doing something that reminds us why people hate America.

Recently, while the Phillies were hosting the Florida Marlins, third baseman and fan of alliteration, Placido Polanco took to the plate with two outs and one man on in the bottom of the 8th inning. The Phillies had an 8-7 lead and were looking for an insurance run or two to help secure the win. The camera man panned through the crowd to capture the electricity in the stadium–He should have known better.

A short-bus-dwelling moron in a baby blue Phillies fisherman hat (yes, apparently they do still make those) made the Philly-most of his four seconds of screen time by doing the Philly version of, “Hi mom.” Which, of course means he grabbed the tits of the chick standing next to him. Nothing says post season push like feeling up an overweight intoxicated stranger on TV.

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Newly liberated flight attendant to be recruited as a wide receiver for the Jets!

This doesn’t have anything to do with sports, but it is worthy of making one Santonio Holmes incredibly jealous. Steven Slater, a Queens-based Jet Blue flight attendant, cursed out an airplane full of passengers upon landing at New York’s JFK airport, then pulled the emergency chute and slid off with as many beers as he could carry. The flight, by the way, came in from Pittsburgh.

Yes, he somehow made it out of the airport without getting gunned down. The cops apprehended him at his home, where he was found mid-coitus with his partner. No rodeo reported.

Read the full story here.

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Missing: JR Smith’s gambling money, Gucci bags, rolexes and a story that makes sense

I am as eager for JR Smith to start crookin’ this offseason as he is anxious for something to happen in his life. I thought for sure his offseason boredom would translate into points already. I mean, he’s already gotten a new tattoo! While the #2 pick in the inaugural Crookball draft continues to disappoint, he’s just beginning to excite.

JR Smith’s mansion got robbed while he was puttin’ up 17 points against the Jazz on April 28.

Apparently Smith left his garage door open, as well as the Mercedes that was parked inside. His security cameras were turned off. No one else in the Cherry Hills Country Club had an incident, and the video system at the community entrance had been shut down due to a “pre-planned construction project,” according to Arapahoe County Sheriff Grayson Robinson. Despite the crime lab evidence, Robinson says the case has been “deactivated, because we’ve exhausted the investigative leads.”

Here’s a list of what Smith lost. Should you come across any of these items, send your boy a tweet.

• Garage door opener. Taken from the glove box of the unlocked Mercedes. $50 in value.
• 4 Louis Vuitton bags, $60,000 in value.
$15,000 cash (inside one of the LV bags).
• 1 G-Shock watch, $200.
• 1 Panerai watch, $5,000.
• 1 black Oakley sports bag, $45.
• Another $2,000 in cash (inside said Oakley bag).

To top it all off, the culprit took Smith’s clothes out of his drawer and tossed them all over his room. What a schmendrick!

Come on, JR! Retaliate!!

– A frustrated Co-mish, Snitches Get Stitches

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Golden Tate and the great Seattle donut heist

Seahawks’ undrafted rookie, Golden Tate, had an insatiable craving for some maple bars at 3am on Saturday. Since his Bellevue apartment is in the same building as Top Pot Doughnuts, the wide receiver usually treats the famous shop as an extension of his kitchen. The only problem is, it’s not open 24 hours. Tate ran a route downstairs, snuck in through an unlocked back door and, according to an employee, stole her keys and began scarfing up them shits like Winnie the Pooh with a honey jar.

The lady called 911, and Golden Tate got away with merely a warning and some sticky fingers.

“They’re irresistible,” Tate said, according to the Seattle Times. “If you ever want some maple bars, that’s the place to go.”

When Golden Tate wants a maple bar, you can't keep him from crossing the goal line.

This donut caper comes at a coincidental time, when the Seattle-based chain was just brought on as an official vendor at Qwest Field, home of the Seahawks. Is that why Top Pot didn’t press charges, or is Golden Tate merely a scapegoat in a marketing stunt? Here’s what head coach Pete Carroll had to say about it:

“I’m not disappointed in a guy being in a doughnut shop when they’ve got maple bars like Top Pot has. We talked about it, addressed it and he’s most remorseful about it and all that. I do understand the allure of the maple bars.”

We’ll be watching Carroll’s tummy grow all season. As for Golden Tate, this is a great example of how dumb rookies make for great Crookball players. The big contracts and bright lights bring the sudden allure of invincibility. Eat up rookies. The donut shop is your kitchen, and the liquor store is your sandbox.

– Co-mish, Snitches Get Stitches

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Baby makes a case for including fans in Crookball. Of course, Baby is at a Phillies game.

It’s not too late to vote on this issue! And Phillies baseball has a lot more season to go. See previous post of Phillies fan delinquency.

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How a Crook uses Twitter to snag bitches

I’m spectin’ to get some points in the Bitches column pretty soon.

– Co-mish, Snitches Get Stitches

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