Pop culture generally makes me want to stick my head into a bucket of chloric acid, but plump middle-aged men telling me "women dig this, actually" and the media's gleeful regurgitating of it have unlocked levels of Hell in my life that I previously did not know existed.
Now there's a bunch of misguided dads out there who just fast-tracked their divorce because they think they're sex icons. Somebody is going to end up sued over this.
THE BALLAD OF MIKE CONLEY. Given that Kobe Bryant is dead (and that, in retrospect, he was a delusional asshole), I have now decided that Mike Conley is my favorite NBA player.