The Daily Riff.
Humor, Reviews, Sports Picks, and whatever else invades my mind.
I bought a fancy robot vacuum that also mops. Unfortunately, I haven’t fired the other two. Now three machines are competing for control of a house where the dogs remain undefeated. Plus, a 3–1 autopsy and today’s picks.
Alan Cumming is wearing Scotland’s curtains, Jeff Probst may need a hula skirt, and Julie Chen should consider full-time Zingbot duty. Meanwhile, my entire strategy for The Traitors would collapse during the wardrobe fitting. Plus, a 4–1 night, eighteen wins to .500, and four new picks.
I dreamed I was saving a hummingbird, then woke up with pillow guts all over the bed. Was I the rescuer or the reason it needed rescuing? Three dogs aren’t talking, the vacuum needed emptying four times, and somehow I’m still qualified to offer five sports picks.
Hollywood has spent ninety years pretending snoring is a tidy little metronome instead of a shop vac eating gravel. Meanwhile, closing the run-line department immediately produced a 3-1 card, encouraging us to attempt four more wagers without demanding that anyone win impressively.
The Jenny Rose Restaurant has been closed for nearly two decades, but its enormous heart-shaped sign continues reporting for work beside Interstate 15. Inside, the blue stools are still waiting. Meanwhile, our sports picks also refused to function properly, producing an 0-4 demolition and the permanent closure of the run-line department.
Two roadside stores, five directional arrows, a prospector relieved of duty, the lowest-resolution fireworks show in America, a 2-2 autopsy and four picks technically there.
A cranberry White Claw medical breakthrough leads to an important question about Pumpkin Spice White Claw—and a memorial flask behind a Bakersfield bar offers an even better lesson: Live the kind of life that makes people want to engrave your face on drinkware. Plus, the Chiefs deliver a stress-free winner before geographical freedom restores access to four additional bad decisions.
A roadside stop in Boron revealed two neighboring museums and the complete history of American ambition: first, twenty mules helped us clean the laundry; then test pilots helped us leave the planet. Add a 4-1 Sunday, one spectacular Detroit collapse and California’s mandatory one-pick card, and suddenly everything is burning green for Rosie.
A road-trip quickie featuring five picks, no anchors and my daughter’s Prius—complete with gas-station coffee, premium beef jerky and the numerous unidentified scents a 20-year-old can create inside one car. The picks are packed and heading west. Hopefully, they smell better than the car.