Grand Prize - Cap of your choice and Gutfeld Sharpie Collection…
1. First person to post on THIS Thread once the GUTFELD! Ad starts running
2. Make a prediction on who will win and include a score.
3. Include a photo of the Ad running on whichever device you are using (phone iPad TV, video wall bar etc..
4. Contest ends at the official end of the Super Bowl.
The first post after the ad starts running with the correct Super Bowl winner - wins and runner up will be the first winner w/correct score… you can enter more than once:
Good luck and have an engaging, fun and safe Sunday!
Sincerely Team Gutter, Gutfeld & Gus!!
For those who keep asking where all the fun merch is… you can find it here. We’ve also just marked some holiday items down.
https://www.theconnextion.com/greggutfeld/index.cfm
What are you cooking tonight that requires two sticks of butter to make it truly great? 😂 This Mustards Napa cornbread is getting the full honey-butter treatment.
Congratulations to @SoCalMike and @Watchinaw. Your questions were chosen for tonight’s Ask Greg and the Panelists.
@SoCalMike Is there a television family your family was most like growing up?
@Watchinawe Did you ever find yourself rooting for the bad guy in a movie?
#BlackCatAppreciationDay:
I miss our silly black kitten - Shadow - each and every day - she crossed the Rainbow Bridge June 2024 at 18.75 years - Adopt Black Cats
“Nevermore!”
We were waiting to see ‘Old Faithfull’. I was about to walk by this Raven sitting on a lamppost. I expected it to fly a way. He just looked at me and made a guttural call. I responded with
“Well hello Mr. Raven, may I take your picture?”
;;Click;;
The Raven
By Edgar Allen Poe
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “
“'Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this, and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt ...
