We took whole articles, and then, using a USDA-inspected process, selected only the finest informational snouts and hooves and lovingly crafted the equivalent of a fact hot dog -- for you, the Internet. Share these with your unenlightened friends on social media -- or put them in your Ramen.
They're our tastiest nuggets and might even make you look smarter. We call them Crackedoids.
Today, you need only two things: "Ace of Spades" and -- to hell with it, you only need "Ace of Spades."
It's not enough to just have the camera love you, son.
Take a look at Lemmy. He keeps his microphone tilted up and doesn't cast his eyes at the audience, which might help him overcome some aesthetic hurdles.
Of the superpowers alcohol seemingly gives you, one of them is not "stopping your wife from dumping your drunk ass after you repeatedly jump out of a window like a damn moron."
Not that we're encouraging it per se, but if he ever wanted to do it again, Motorhead would probably come and play on the ground behind this idiot's landing spot.
Ma Xiangang might laugh at fuse boxes, but we doubt he could handle the mighty power of Lemmy's handshake.
Strip joints are full of cash-waving, subconscious ovulation-sleuths.
Motorhead puts off its own scent as a band -- the scent of pure, unadulterated ass-kicking.
Being at the top of your game can really drag you down.
Sometimes our big, dumb brains are just flat-out wrong.
Every critic is wrong from time to time.
Your favorite isn't necessarily your best -- sometimes it's your worst.