Ed. note: This new column is about sports and the law. You can read the introductory installment here.
Hardly was I surprised that the Democratic National Convention took up most of my attention last night. I saw it approach from Monday last and should have surely set aside time to write the flowery and horrible introductions that I am known for around these parts. Alas, I did nothing of the sort. I neither plumbed the depths of my own sick psyche nor hit up Mama Juggs for a blast from my past. I couldn’t even be bothered to make up something really dumb to open this column. Consider yourself lucky.
Instead, because of my devotion to and obsession with watching Joe Biden’s hair plugs gently sway, this week’s installment is a lean one. Consider the previous editions the bloated, corpulent Vegas Elvis, and consider the one you’re currently reading as the young, join-the-Army, good-looking dynamo Elvis. Or something.
Let us converse about sports, shall we?