Isolation breeds insanity. This is science.
Most Americans (outside of these dipshits) are experiencing varying degrees of delusion. I’m one Chopped marathon away from padding the walls and strapping myself into a straight jacket. I’m almost positive my wife is divorcing me, but luckily the lawyers are all under quarantine, so as it stands she’s refusing to make eye contact with me and using what sounds like an electric toothbrush behind closed doors.
A touch of insanity is understandable during these times, but Michael Irvin may have ventured into the point of no return.
Just one day after blowing his conversation with DeAndre Hopkins “out of proportion,” Irvin has put the burden of a global pandemic square on the shoulders of the only thing that is getting us through: beer.
Profound use of the transitive property here by the Hall of Famer.
Michael has admitted what we already knew.
Understood. I wouldn’t be okay either if I was isolated in what looks like a middle school basement.
Jesus, dude. Twenty million in career earnings and you couldn’t spring for AirPods and a place that doesn’t look like a hostage hideout?