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TBS Likes is a strange place where anything goes. Like International Waters, or Christmas morning after the shine has worn off and the booze has kicked in. May the ugliness commence.

Approx Reading Time-11What happened while you were asleep, Pumpkin? Well, California is richer than France, Bob Katter faces art critics and more chicanery at the Euro.




California overtakes GDP of France, knows how to party.

In the city, of LA. In the city, of Compton. They keep it rocking. According to Bloomberg.com, the wild-wild west, is a state that is untouchable like Eliot Ness, if you happen to be the GDP of France (or Brazil). Amazingly, that particular state has overtaken those two countries with a sharp 4.1 percent upturn. It helps that Cali has the world’s largest tech companies throwing up dubs, but come on. Resource-rich Brazil? France with all that priceless art and magnifique pate?


It’s all good, from Diego to the Bay. Throw up an investment, if you feel the same way, Dre putting it down for Californ-I-a.


Bob Katter in hot spaghetti Western over his campaign ad as detractors stick to their guns.

Yesterday, the man with no name (Bob Katter) twisted his iron downrange, wrote on a sign, and planted lead into the chest of the two tallest democratic systems. Twelve hours after high noon, those who Katter went the full Sergio on want him to holster his political ambitions.

I mean come on. He made bold choices and ran with it. Is that not art?

The only thing, Mr Katter, as a trained (and failed) filmmaker, I thought that the jib shot at the end was a bit…overkill. Beyond that, fabulous restraint to not actually show the violence, but rather the assumption of violence, allowing those who you shot to form their own demise in their mind. Bravo.

Katter’s technique reminds me a lot of Alfred Hitchcock’s, namely in Pyscho, where you never actually see the knife stab Marion, you just think it did.


France go through, England step into the naughty books.

I don’t want to promote terrible stereotypes of the game I love – as it’s hard enough to convince those who grunt criticisms toward the lack of equilibrium that professional footballers possess – but today I must.

England, you’re being a bunch of tits.

Again, the British have been chased off with tear gas – justifiably so, going off this video from the BBC. A shirt should always be worn outside the house, especially at night, or at an establishment with tables. For the nation that trumpeted manners around a table (and colonialism), it’s monocle-dropping stuff.

According to some sources, the violence was renewed after this flashpoint.

Saying that, the Irish were there to clean up the glass bottles that those English yobs pelted at whoever in Lille. Clean up, you boys in green!

On the pitch, the plucky Albanians held on for most of the encounter. But, similar to the man with no food in his cupboard but with a Dominos within reach, they folded late on.

The name of the delivery man was Dimitry Payet, who is fast becoming the most loved French demigod since the man who stole fried potatoes from the Belgians, Jean-Paul Belmondo.

2-0 France.

Elsewhere, Switzerland drew Romania in a tie that I couldn’t think of an historical joke to torture (Dracula? – Ed), thanks to yet another Euro 2016 big boy strike:

Elsewhere, the Slovakians threw off the yoke of ancient communist oppression, by fanging an orb of plastic into a box of twine, sewn with the force of a thousand sweat shop workers. 2-1 Slovakia and the Russians are in deep borscht.

See ya!

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