You know what really burns my biscuits? A maintaining the same speed buddy. Accelerate, decelerate I could really give a Big Betty White, just don’t keep pace with my pace you fecal funbag. If you can’t figure out how this passing game works, maybe you should take up agoraphobia and save us all from your so very stupid self. While yes, I did put a little extra elbow grease into this fierce, feeling myself exterior today, I don’t need you going full paparazzi at the cost of a claustrophobic panic attack. I believe that the lionized savant Luda said it best when he implored, “Move bitch. Get out the way. Get out the way bitch. Get out the way.” Wise words indeed. Burnt biscuits never killed anyone, but don’t pin baby behind a Slowbi Wan Kenobi.