Greetings from the midpoint of the 2014 NFL Season. Well, I guess that depends on who you ask.. some say it's Week 8, others Week 9. I say I'll do this during Week 14 if I want to! Luckily for you all, I don't want to do that. The middle of the season is an important time for the football fan; the playoffs are just beginning to take shape. December is quickly approaching, meaning Tony Romo is about to die a horrible death for the millionth year in a row. Games have snow because winter is coming. The most important baseball games of the year still get crushed in the ratings by the most pedestrian of NFL games. It's just a good time.
Now, you may notice the eye-catching title of this post. You're probably saying to yourself, "this one can't match last year's. And NOTHING will ever compare to 2011." As you sit reminiscing, you get a disquieting feeling that you're not being told the complete truth. But you know what? By the time you verify that this blog is nowhere near even one year old, let alone four, you've already read the whole thing. I MADE YOU READ A BLOG! HA HA LOSER!
See, I had some very, very important decisions to make about this award ceremony. I would have to go back and check stats. I may even have to go back and rewatch entire games. The awards business is a demanding one, and something like this has to be done just right. Then I came to the most difficult decision I have ever come to: what am I going to call the awards? I needed a catchy name. I needed an "Oscar." A "Grammy." An "ESPY." What would I call the non-existent trophies? Firsties? Roundies? (this was the worst one, I think) Punties? I then decided that, to hell with it, they'll be called Bloggies. I'm sure that name is already taken, and that I'll eventually be sued into poverty and forced to abandon my millions and millions of loyal readers, but Bloggies it is. Onto the awards.
Ryan Leaf Memorial Rookie of the Half-Season
This award goes to... nobody. Seriously, I cannot think of one rookie from the 2014 class that has stood out. Jadeveon Clowney has played about thirteen seconds of the season. Blake Bortles is a giant ball of unwiped ass. Ditto for Teddy Bridgewater. If I wanted to be really generous.. if you held a gun to my head (which would be a weird thing to do to force me to give an award away, you psycho), I'd probably give it to John Brown of the Arizona Cardinals, but even then it doesn't seem like he deserves it. The Class of 2014 needs to get its collective hooey together and start making some noise. Otherwise, at the end of the season, they're gonna cancel that award for realz. Then they'll cancel the 2015 Draft. After that, college football players will riot in the streets. Businesses will be burned to the ground, homes will be looted, police will be beaten and killed, and the US Government will be forced to instate martial law for an indefinite period of time. Elections will be canceled, politicians will be in office permanently. Do you want Barack Obama to be President forever, Allen Hurns? I DIDN'T THINK SO. You too, Devonta Freeman! Stop ruining my country!
Biggest (-) Surprise of the Half-Season
This award easily goes to the Seattle Seahawks. I mean, damn. Last year they looked like the most dominant team the NFL had ever seen. They had all the pieces in place to build a dynasty. They lost nothing. They changed nothing. They feared nothing. Now they're 4-3 and were recently on the bad end of the most awesomely clever play I've ever watched on televised football. That Stedman Bailey punt return was classic. Anywho, Seattle looks.. normal this year. They lost to a team that just got stomped by Kansas City. Russell Wilson seems to be regressing, though he's probably in line for an insane contract. The defense seems a little softer than they've been the last few years. Did losing Walter Thurmond really hurt that much? Srsly? Whatever is going on, be it a Super Bowl hangover, bad referees, the post-apocalyptic fallout of the Percy Harvin trade, Seattle needs to right the ship. They're letting Carson Palmer run away with this division. They're letting Carson Palmer run away with this division. They're letting Carson Palmer run away with this division. (Some things bear repeating. I like the Cardinals and am happy for them, but that's still Carson Palmer, yo, and he's running away with the NFC West.)
Biggest (+) Surprise of the Half-Season
I can't believe I have to say this, but this Bloggie goes to the Dallas Cowboys. I don't think anyone anticipated Dallas being 6-1 (adjusted tomorrow, it will likely be 7-1) at midseason. Tony Romo was still there! That defense was still buttjuice! How did they beat the Seahawks? How did they beat the Texans? How did this atrocity befall my beloved game? It's quite simple, really; they finally fixed their offensive line and let Demarco Murray do his Demarco Murray thing. That guy is unbelievable. I can't even hate him. BUT IT'S ALL A SMOKESCREEN AND THIS IS A PASSING LEAGUE AND THE ONLY THING A RUNNINGBACK NEEDS TO DO IS PASS BLOCK AMIRITE GUYS?? Hey, don't look at me, you're all the ones buying into this nonsense. Demarco Murray has big, big things in store for him. I just hope he's not in Dallas when those big things come to pass.
Nelson Mandela Lifetime Overachievement Award
There's simply no better way to honor the great Nelson Mandela than to name an award, which doesn't have a trophy and is given to a guy who plays in a sport Mandela probably never even saw with his own eyes, after him. You're welcome, Mandela's children. You're welcome, people of South Africa who suffered under apartheid. You finally got your due. Anyway, this award.. if you thought it was going to anyone BUT Antone Smith, you're both ignorant and stupid. Probably fat, too. Now, he hasn't overachieved in the last few weeks, because the coach of the Atlanta Falcons, Mike Smith, is both stupid and ignorant. Kinda fat, too. And ruddy. And angry. The Falcons went to London yesterday and gave up a three-touchdown lead to lose by a point on a last-second field goal. But Antone Smith was nowhere to be found, probably because he got knocked out of the game. But that does nothing to damper his 89 yards per carry this year (give or take a yard). He is a playmaker who's ready to break out and make plays. And I have a feeling he won't be doing it in Atlanta.
Kristallnacht Award
This award, a reference to an event that occurred in Nazi Germany before World War II, is given for the amazing inability to stay healthy regardless of circumstances. "Kristallnacht" means "night of the broken glass or something like that," from what I've read in history books. If there were a trophy for this Bloggie, it would be in a hundred pieces; given that, I feel perfectly OK awarding it to both Jake Locker and Robert Griffin III. Funny thing about Jake Locker.. during the 2011 draft, I was actually more than a little pissed that the Tennessee Titans grabbed him two spots ahead of the Redskins. Then the Redskins traded their pick down with Jacksonville, who ended up taking Blaine Gabbert with that pick. The Redskins, "led" by Rex Grossman, had just passed on two of the top QB's of the 2011 Draft. And for what?! RYAN KERRIGAN?! Now obviously, hindsight is 20/20, and when Jake Locker read that sentence, he fractured both of his orbital sockets. When he went to cover his eye, both of his hands broke. When he screamed from the pain in his hands, his jaw broke, and then fell off. Yes, Jake is injury-prone. If a trophy for this actually did exist, I'd be afraid to hand it to him for fear of separating his shoulder. RGIII? Yeah, he's a little on the fragile side too, but in his defense, he's only been injured three times in his pro career, which is about 1/50th the rate of his co-awardee Locker. Point is, both of these guys are better-known for not playing than for playing. That's why they get an award commemorating a night when angry Germans destroyed the lives and businesses of German Jews. It's the least I could do.
Russian Winter Award
This one is for the best defensive player. See, when Napoleon invaded Russia during the wi-... ok, you guys all get it. Hitler did it too. And I'm aware that the amount of World War II references in this ceremony is disturbingly high. Aaaaaaaanyway, there is no possible way this award goes to anyone but JJ Watt. JJ Watt is the best player in the NFL right now, and the margin isn't all that close. Peyton Manning? How many sacks does HE have this year? He also has thrown way more interceptions than Watt has. Watt is a beast. He eats nails and craps barbed wire. He then takes the barbed wire, dips the barbs in ink, and gives himself tattoos of barbed wire. On his scrotum. And he only cries a little. JJ is unstoppable. He also has more receiving touchdowns than Manning has this year. I know a lot of people will be furious that Peyton Manning didn't win defensive player of the half-season, but maybe in four or five more years he'll be on JJ's level. JJ Watt is the only reason the city of Houston, Texas hasn't fallen to Ebola. Ebola has a paltry 4.3 points-per-game average because they keep running into JJ Watt. He's the love child of the Hulk and the Juggernaut. Unstoppable. QB's have bad dreams at night about this guy. And his name is initials. You don't let your name be initials unless you're a badass.
Tet Award
See, we've moved past World War II and jumped head-first into Vietnam. That night when the North Viets got the jump on the South and the US armies and just whooped ass. Tet Offensive. Offensive. Offensive Player of the Half-Season is what this award is. I bet you didn't know that's where I was going with this, huh? I'll throw Peyton Manning a bone here and give him this Bloggie. If we were talking about the offensive player of the postseason, Manning would be nowhere in the vicinity of this conversation, but hey, even I can admit that as long as the game is meaningless, there is nobody in history that has ever operated on his level. Ask Eric Decker what kind of player Peyton Manning is; Decker is dying of Ebola in New York because of Geno Smith. And because JJ Watt isn't there. Manning has won this award each of the last four years (see what I did there? Again?) and he'll probably win it for as long as he's an active player. The guy just gets it done. With precision. With extreme prejudice. Too bad he has extreme prejudice toward postseason success.
Best Pigeon
This Bloggie goes to the pigeon that hung out on the field in Jacksonville yesterday when the Jaguars (not Jaguires) were playing the Miami Dolphins. The pigeon sacked Blake Bortles twice and gave Lamar Miller a concussion on an illegal hit. Pigeons don't give any sort of shit. About anything. Kudos.
MOST VALUABLE PLAYER SON
This is the big one. I've named three people thus far that have made strong cases to receive this highly-prestigious award. They're all fistfighting over it now, as a matter of fact. So without further ado, the most valuable player of the half-season Bloggie goes to...
Kirk Cousins.
Heh heh heh. Just kidding. After weeks (seconds) of deliberation with my peers (by myself), I have to grudgingly give this award to Demarco Murray. He's carrying the Dallas Cowboys further than anyone ever expected. The Dallas Cowboys are already 14-1, which is weird as hell because it's only Week 8. And it's all because of Demarco Murray. Once the world got a good look at Tony Romo in their first game, it was decided that Romo wasn't allowed to do anything ever again in any fashion. He doesn't even hand the ball to Murray; Murray just takes it. Because that's the game plan now. I hate it as much as (most of) the rest of you, but I would not be able to maintain my journalistic integrity if I didn't acknowledge the lights-out manner in which Murray is currently playing. What the hell? I'm not a journalist and I've never had any integrity! Fuck Demarco Murray! Give me my invisible trophy back! HEY, DON'T YOU RUN AWAY FROM ME! YOU KNOW I CAN'T CATCH YOU! JERK!
The Mike Florio Award
I chose Florio's name for this award because he runs my favorite football news website, ProFootballTalk. And he shows up on Sunday Night Football sometimes, looking every bit the giant dork he is. The sports media is too all-encompassing. There's too many aspects to it. So in the interest of finishing up this excessively-long post, I'll just say that this award goes to the best football-talking-person-type. Sideline reporters, broadcasters, journalists, columnists, and yes, even bloggers. So here we go. The Mike Florio Half-Season Bloggie goes to:
Me.
Why me? Is it because of my tireless sacrifice? Is it because I didn't want to share the award with Juan, which I'm doing anyway? (Congratulations, buddy. You finally made it.) No, it's for two simple reasons. One, Juan and I are better than everyone else. It's true. Neither of us give a crap how many passes to the left Aaron Rodgers has completed after halftime in his career. I assume he's the all-time leader in that category, but that's all I do, assume. We write good. We're funny. We're not shameless self-promoters (we're shameless self-promoters). The second reason is something of a First Round Punter Exclusive. This happened a few months ago, and at the time I couldn't tell if I was bragging or complaining. So here it is, the bare bones of the matter:
I was plagiarized.
One of my favorite football-related websites, which is linked on this blog, is called The Draw Play Comic. A day or two before the theft in question, I asked the proprietor of the Draw Play, a super-talented artist named Dave Rappoccio, to read this blog. It was after the Adrian Peterson child abuse scandal, and I wrote a nifty little piece on it. What we're going to do now is link both my entry, and The Draw Play's comic, and I want you all to see if you can spot the crime. Check the dates, folks, and read the words.
Dave
Zane
So there you go. I wasn't really upset about it, but Juan was, and I can't blame him. This is a guy who himself has had his work ripped off by bigger media outlets and gotten no credit for it. Now, I know what you're thinking.. it's a coincidence. Anyone two people could have said that exact same thing. And you could be right (you're not), but here's the smoking gun: I have proof that he read it. When I sent him the link to our blog, he responded. Gave feedback. I was and still remain a fan of this guy's work, and I encourage you all to take a better look at it. But he's not getting my award. It's mine and I earned it. Juan, too.
So that's that. No Roundup this week (sorry, Andrea, but I will acknowledge the killer game Ben Roethlisberger had yesterday), but I'll be back next Monday. Take care, crapsacks.
Monday, October 27, 2014
Monday, October 20, 2014
The Monday Sunday Roundup: Third Time's a Charm?
G'morning, scumbags. This entry is coming to you a few hours earlier than originally planned, because, well, I didn't go to work last night. I wanted to get out of bed, but it just didn't happen. Can't really explain it, just wanted to sleep. I figured the mild high of the game I watched earlier would jolt me, but in the end it didn't. Maybe I just needed a mental health break? Maybe. Yeah, that sounds good. Mental health is paramount. Onto the show.
1. In late August, I gave Jay Gruden some sound advice that I eventually hoped to never have to see him implement. Well, yesterday, he implemented my sage advice, albeit in a different way, and ended what seemed like years of bad decisions and poor play, but was really only less than half a season. Kirk Cousins is a bust and I could not have been more wrong about him. That tends to happen when I feel strongly about something. People warned me. He's a decent backup, they said. He fell to the fourth round of the draft for a reason, they said. Dan Snyder is a buffoon, they said for years, which had nothing to do with Cousins. I didn't listen. I made a public declaration of allegiance. The RG3 era was over. Kirk was gonna win all the Super Bowls. So he threw an interception or 11 from time to time. Hey, so did Brett Favre, and Favre is an all-time great, right? Right? Realistically, I cannot recall having seen a guy regress so dramatically so quickly, and Jay Gruden had had enough. So at halftime, as the Redskins were down 10-6 to the tougher-than-advertised Tennessee Titans (BULLSHIT ALERT), Gruden answered the boos at FedEx. He did the right thing. He put Colt McCoy in the game.
What?
Never in the history of pro football has putting Colt McCoy in the game at QB been the right decision to make for any coach. Putting Colt McCoy in the game at QB is something a coach does when he gets mugged in the locker room at knifepoint. It's something a coach does when his team just couldn't snag Sage Rosenfels on the waiver wire. Colt McCoy's own mother doesn't draft him in fantasy football. His brother owns a Jake Delhomme Browns jersey. Colt McCoy is a guy who, against all conceivable odds, has accomplished less in the NFL than Tim Tebow. I forgot he was even on the roster until the middle of the second quarter yesterday. So Colt shuffles onto the field in the 3rd quarter & hands the ball to Alfred Morris for a paltry one-yard gain. Yeah, I've seen this crap before. Your QB is toilet residue, you know it, your team knows it, the fans know it, and even the QB himself is mouthing "I SUCK" and shrugging at the sideline reporters before the next play. And then the next play is a 70-yard touchdown pass to Pierre Garcon. Fans explode. Zane has a look of disgusted disbelief on his face. That play was all Garcon and that fact could not have been more obvious. But Kirk Cousins simply wasn't making plays like this. Kirk Cousins' best completions were to opposing defensive backs, and maybe one or two to Desean "Tookie" Jackson. Cousins, somewhere along the way, had been mentally destroyed. He was a shell of his 41-10-win-over-Jacksonville self. He's started something like nine games for Washington and won precisely one of them. Damn, maybe I should have looked at THAT stat before I gave him his golden tiara in week 2, huh? That could have provided some perspective, couldn't it? No, stupid Zane hung the blame on the Shanahans. Mike Shanahan's face, in both color and texture, looks like a raisin. He's an easy and convenient target for blame. I blame him for Ebola. I blame him for ISIS. My hair is probably 20% gray, and guess who gets the blame for that? Shanahan. So anyway, under the guidance of Colt McCoy, the Redskins derped their way to a last-second win over a similarly awful team, and man it felt good. An aside: the Redskins HAVE to find a better kicker. Kai Forbath has the leg strength of Steven Hawking. He's mostly accurate, but that doesn't mean anything when you can't hit anything beyond 30 yards. Back to McCoy. Is he gonna start next Monday against Dallas? If the choice is between McCoy and Cousins, hell yeah, I say start McCoy. But that may not be the choice, and if Robert Griffin III can go, then he has to go. After all, he's the franchise QB I've said all along he was *cough*.
2. The St. Louis Rams pulled off the most brilliant play I've ever seen on a football field yesterday. It wasn't a fake spike/dive for a touchdown. It wasn't a bootleg, or play action, or a fake handoff. It wasn't a fake field goal or a fake punt. They made the Seahawks look ridiculous on a punt. Tavon Austin was on the left side of the field (or right side, depending on which team you play for) when the ball was punted away by Seattle. Austin did was a punt returner does: he kept his eye on the ball and adjusted his position accordingly. All eyes were on Tavon Austin. As he caught the ball, he fell to the ground. Here's the thing, though.. he didn't catch the ball. He was nowhere near the ball. Stedman Bailey was on the right side of the field, which is where the ball actually traveled. He caught it. Nobody saw him catch it. The Seahawks were all locked onto Austin. He ran it back 90-something yards for a touchdown mostly unseen, and definitely untouched. That could not have been planned. It can't have been. How was anyone supposed to know which way the Seahawks would punt the ball? Also, Jeff Fisher is the least imaginative person in history, so he could not have possibly called this. This is 80% Tavon Austin, 20% Stedman Bailey, and 3% the special teams coach. 103% beautiful brilliance. It was so great that Pete Carroll tried to get it overturned. It barely looked legal. And I can assure you all that you will never see it again in the NFL. That's something that only happens once. WHen your grandkids tell their grandkids about it, they'll screw up the details horribly, because they'll have no frame of reference, and by then the NFL will have merged with Major League Baseball. So in the interest of harmony, here it is on Youtube. For the sake of your mental health, MUTE THIS VIDEO, unless you want to hear a computerized voice talk about the Street Louis Rams. Here you go:
Really, other than Colt McCoy winning a game and Tavon Austin pulling a Houdini, nothing of note really happened in the league yesterday, except the Cleveland Browns getting hammered by the Jacksonville Jaguars. But I don't really want to discuss that. If you want to ask me why privately, I'll explain it to you, but I guess the Browns are playing up or down to the level of their competition. I hope they play nothing but contenders the rest of the season. OK, you beat it out of me: I bought a Ben Tate jersey. That happened. So, tonight. The First Round Punter's © second team, the Houston Texans, take on a team that I guess I could consider an archrival (given recent confessions and purchases), the Pittsburgh Steelers. Look, one of my dearest friends is a Steelers fan. I've been at her home for Thanksgiving. We've watched football together. Drank beer together. She and her boyfriend lost to me at darts. We have history. But I want the Steelers to lose. Even if it's to the Texans. Praise Brian Hoyer. Free Josh Gordon.
Catch ya later.
Catch ya later.
Monday, October 13, 2014
The Monday Sunday Roundup: The Pursuit of Happiness
Good morning, folks. I come to you today a very tired man. I don't know why I'm so persistently sluggish lately, but I do know that these 9-10 hour nights at work aren't exactly helping matters. I'm basically forcing this entry through today, because I didn't want to do it on Tuesday when the word Tuesday appears nowhere in the title. So let's hop to.
1. I came out of the closet last Monday, in a manner of speaking. Maybe a better way to say it is that I revealed a dark secret (that has nothing to do with me being gay. I'm not gay. Honest. Not that there's anything wrong with it.) that I'd been keeping for a lot of years. Since it's no longer a secret, let me just say that right now, the Cleveland Browns are my preferred team to watch on television. They're not my favorite team; they're a distant #2, or 1A if you wanna split hairs. But I would rather watch this team play football right now than I would the Washington Redskins. Why? Because you know they're gonna do something cool at some point in the game. You know the other team is scared poopless that Brian Hoyer is gonna explode and rain touchdowns all over the field. They're terrified that Ben Tate is gonna run for first down after first down until he runs out of the stadium and into traffic. The Browns are for real, people. The beating they laid on Pittsburgh yesterday shouldn't have come as a shock to me, but it did. It did because as good as they've looked this season, they never seemed to know how to be frontrunners. All their best work has come when their back was against the wall. Yesterday they never took their foot off the Steelers' necks, and it was magnificent. Honestly, I'm about two or three more of these games away from staking my claim as a full-blown Cleveland Browns fan. It's not bandwagoning if you've been doing it in secret for yeas, right?
2. And speaking of the Redskins, uh, yeah. I'm not sure what's happening here. Kirk Cousins looks every bit like the franchise QB they need. He knows his stuff and he executes when given the proper opportunity to do so. So why can't they win a game? The defense is still somewhat of a liability, so there's that, but I don't wanna be for Kirk Cousins what so many of my fellow Redskins fans were for Jason Campbell for so many years: an enabler. They made excuse after excuse as to why Campbell couldn't get it done, when the answer was perfectly clear: he sucks. He's not a good QB. But Cousins is. This is what makes it so frustrating. Is it the playcalling? The offensive line? I honestly cannot figure this out, and it's pissing me off. It's forcing me to take solace in watching the Browns. It's making me peruse NFLshop.com looking at Isaiah Crowell jerseys. (I always go with the guy in the shadows. I wouldn't buy a Hoyer or Manziel jersey, or for that matter, an RG3 jersey. Isaiah Crowell? Sure. Darrel Young? You bet your ass.)
3. And on the shit side of this particular coin, I have to give credit where credit is due: The Dallas Cowboys look like a for realz contender this year. They are playing the best football they've played in years. Romo is still Romo, and he's always gonna be Romo and do Romo things, but they are playing waaaaaaaay above their talent level against tough opponents and kicking the crap out of them. On the bright side, Dallas & Philly are making the NFC East look like the NFC East of old. On the dark side, that conference/division loyalty garbage is for lame-ass college football fans and both teams can eat rocks.
4. If you thought I was going to stop beating the Antone Smith drum, you were wrong. Not until he is allowed to become the lethal weapon that he's already shown he can be. What do the Falcons have to lose at this point? Their defense is dog slobber, their offensive line isn't any better, and he's still being referred to as a "big play specialist." You know who else is a big play specialist? Calvin Johnson. And the Lions have Calvin Johnson on the field for 99.99992% of their offensive plays. But that's none of my business, I guess. If Atlanta is trying to lowball him come contract time, great. Come to our nation's capital, Antone. Nobody in Washington cares if you can pass block, because nobody else on the team can do it either. Instead of that one big play per game, you can make several. It's time.
5. Oakland almost pulled it off. Tony Sparano had them in every second of that game against San Diego. They lost, because the Raiders lose, but if I had to guess, I'd say that team is looking up. It's hard not to when you're below rock bottom, but sometimes that spark is all you need.
OK, that's it for this week. I simply don't care about the Rams/49ers game tonight. And I'm sorry for the downbeat tone of this entry, but again, I'm tired. And cranky. That's never a good combination. At least I don't have a headache. Whatever problem you're having in your life always seems a bajillion times worse when you have a headache. So there's that. Take care.
Friday, October 10, 2014
The NCAA - The 21st Century Slave Traders
Mark Emmert and his organized crime syndicate are at it again.
Earlier this week, Georgia running back and Heisman candidate Todd Gurley was suspended indefinitely as a result of an investigation into NCAA violations. Those rules "violations" investigations stem from accusations that Gurley received payments for HIS autographs, HIS memorabilia, and HIS likeness.
Wait a minute.
So you mean to tell me that Gurley, who is a fine NFL running back prospect, will likely never play college football again because he is trying to make a cool buck or two by using HIS OWN GODDAMN NAME? HOW DARE HE! TODD GURLEY IS PURE EVIL! Todd Gurley runs ISIS. Todd Gurley waterboards cats and eats bald eagle nuggets. HE PUTS HIS FLAG UP ON HIS MAILBOX WHEN THERE IS NO MAIL IN THERE! Arrest the man! Deport him! Send him to GITMO! He is trying to extort money from the people that would gladly pay it for being.... TODD GURLEY. If you are the NCAA, or at least a Mark Emmert sycophant apologist asshole dickbag, you basically were nodding your head to every nonsense sentence in this entire paragraph and you are a BIG part of the problem.
Because the NCAA is a piece of shit organized crime crew that will never accept responsibility for anything. What do you expect?
It's no secret. The American public loves them some college football. It's fun. It's exciting. It's a chance for you to live vicariously through a bunch of young men who have already gotten laid more than you ever will. By pumping your hard-earned money into this billion dollar industry, you are a big part of the TV networks making these record setting programming deals and the creations of things like the SEC Network, PAC-12 Network and the Longhorn Network that no one has. You are putting money into the pockets of these schools and NCAA executives and out of the hands of the athletes. You are the one saying that it is OK for this gang to continue to keep these unpaid laborers at their mercy in the name of AMATEURISM.... which is easily translated as "slavery". Now this is the point where some of you are going to throw your hands up and come up with lame arguments and run to the aid of these NCAA thugs. I'll go ahead and stop you now:
This came down today. Supposedly the 'snitch' in this deal was a guy that was upset that Gurley dared to maximize his own profits and expand his customer base. Stupid American enterprise. What is funny about that memorabilia dealer is that he was bascially pimping out this 'story' like Gurley was with his signatures. He is the perfect example of a scorned lover. This guy is the spawn of scum and filth. I imagine this asshole with his hair slicked back with a Hawaiian shirt on with the top three buttons undone so his chest hair can bask in its Brillo-pad glory. All the while he is walking around with his fruity drink in his had with his sunglasses on in a dimly-lit room. This piece of shit smells of Brut and dollar store cigars. His nose would make Oswald Cobblepot jealous and his gut looks like he ingested a swarm of bees. His day probably consists of driving his 1993 Fiero to every school trying to ruin athletes lives with promised under the table paydays. These guys are the real enemies, Emmert. These are the guys that are stealing your stolen money, you ass-backward Robin Hood motherfucker.
The NCAA is a mob. They are a cartel. I am almost afraid to publish this post with the risk of them finding me and killing me, or at worst, suspending me indefinitely for the sake of an investigation. This beloved conglomerate of dirty money disguised as an educational institution continues to sell YOU their values while continuing to steal from the students. No one goes to the Iron Bowl, Kyle Field, The Swamp, the Rose Bowl to see a bunch of gangsters in suits. They are going to see the future of professional sports. The people are going to see the next Montana, Sanders, and Rice. They go to see who the next JJ Watt is going to be. But the business of college sports doesn't see it that way. They see you as dollar signs that will never ask questions nor speak your concerns. They will tell you that the NCAA is a system that thrives on AMATEURISM while they cash that billion dollar check. They do not care for these players, because more are lined up outside, ready to slave themselves to the master for a taste of an unguaranteed future. It's a vicious cycle and the wheel will keep on turning, no matter what. Nothing will change. You all will get your fix on Saturdays and that is all you are worried about.
By the letter of the law, Todd Gurley did violate the NCAA rules. But that doesn't make the rules right. Adolf Hitler had rules for his concentration camps. Saddam had some regulations. The rules are put in place to keep the players from profiting off of their own work. Those are some shitty rules. Those are some slave rules. The schools are not innocent either. They play with dirty money as well. You see all of the memorabilia out there. Hell, there are a few here in town that have signed items from past collegiate greats. There's some Johnny Football stuff out there. The VY memorabilia is still hot out there. I have a friend who has a football signed by a few old Longhorns. Think that stuff is legit? I don't think so.I think that Todd Gurley is going to be OK. He is still going to get drafted pretty high in the draft. He is only a cog in the wheel. I have a cousin who is pretty damn good at baseball, and I hope he is good enough to go pro straight out of high school. I have a friend who has a brother that is one of the top recruits at tight end. I hope that he understands what he is going to go through once he goes to the next level. I have a son who is possibly the next Jose Altuve and I won't let him fall into the trap.
There are a lot of words that you can use to describe the NCAA. Greedy, selfish, thugs, assholes, dicks, and many more that I could think of but I won't because I am going to end this here. Fuck the NCAA and its beliefs. Fuck those who believe that it is OK for them to steal from their student athletes. Hopefully we can all one day see them for what they are, and that is the new generation of slave traders.
Until next time, cabrones
Juan
Earlier this week, Georgia running back and Heisman candidate Todd Gurley was suspended indefinitely as a result of an investigation into NCAA violations. Those rules "violations" investigations stem from accusations that Gurley received payments for HIS autographs, HIS memorabilia, and HIS likeness.
Wait a minute.
So you mean to tell me that Gurley, who is a fine NFL running back prospect, will likely never play college football again because he is trying to make a cool buck or two by using HIS OWN GODDAMN NAME? HOW DARE HE! TODD GURLEY IS PURE EVIL! Todd Gurley runs ISIS. Todd Gurley waterboards cats and eats bald eagle nuggets. HE PUTS HIS FLAG UP ON HIS MAILBOX WHEN THERE IS NO MAIL IN THERE! Arrest the man! Deport him! Send him to GITMO! He is trying to extort money from the people that would gladly pay it for being.... TODD GURLEY. If you are the NCAA, or at least a Mark Emmert sycophant apologist asshole dickbag, you basically were nodding your head to every nonsense sentence in this entire paragraph and you are a BIG part of the problem.
So, Georgia is no longer selling #3 jerseys. Of course, it's not because everyone knows it's Todd Gurley. Nah, just coincidence.
— Jay Bilas (@JayBilas) October 10, 2014
Because the NCAA is a piece of shit organized crime crew that will never accept responsibility for anything. What do you expect?
UGA was selling #3 jerseys on their site yesterday. Now they're not. Proof they were selling Todd Gurley's likeness. pic.twitter.com/gqZ5XGLrUM
— Rand Getlin (@Rand_Getlin) October 10, 2014
If the NCAA is really abiding by the rules of morality, then why take that down? Because they are the devil and Saddam Hussein rolled into one corrupt mob and they are above you all.It's no secret. The American public loves them some college football. It's fun. It's exciting. It's a chance for you to live vicariously through a bunch of young men who have already gotten laid more than you ever will. By pumping your hard-earned money into this billion dollar industry, you are a big part of the TV networks making these record setting programming deals and the creations of things like the SEC Network, PAC-12 Network and the Longhorn Network that no one has. You are putting money into the pockets of these schools and NCAA executives and out of the hands of the athletes. You are the one saying that it is OK for this gang to continue to keep these unpaid laborers at their mercy in the name of AMATEURISM.... which is easily translated as "slavery". Now this is the point where some of you are going to throw your hands up and come up with lame arguments and run to the aid of these NCAA thugs. I'll go ahead and stop you now:
The NCAA and its universities are providing an opportunity and a free education for athletes who probably couldn't afford it....First off, how the fuck do YOU know what these kids can and cannot afford? You don't. This is you saying that these schools are plucking these kids out of ghettos and other "subpar" living conditions and putting them in crispy, well-kept facilities for them to be shaped and molded into young, revenue generating thoroughbreds for the entertainment of the masters and who will never see a dime of THEIR winnings for the sake of.... AMATEURISM. That won't fly around here. As far as the "opportunity" is concerned, I will admit that the NCAA does provide an opportunity for these young men to hone their skills and prepare them for the next level. But you know what, so does Minor League Baseball, the NBDL, and European Leagues. Difference is, those leagues will gladly PAY for their services; as they should. If the NFL had any moral compass, they would develop some sort of minor league system that would allow young prospects, who would not attend a school for whatever reason, a chance to earn a living and basically get an extended tryout to the NFL. But since the NFL is also ran by a flock of anal warts and are most definitely getting a cut of the NCAA pie, there is no shot that something like that would happen. The NCAA is the NFL's "farm system" and will remain that way. As for your 'free education'... slaves got a 'free education' as well. But only 'free education' was spelled 'Christianity'.
If you pay one player, you'll have to pay them all...And? What about the coaches? How are they being allowed to receive MULTI-MILLION DOLLAR contracts in the name of AMATEURISM? If you were REALLY wanted make it a legit amateur system, you would have the coaches be unpaid as well. I'm more than sure you can find a bright mind in every FBS school and have him recruit, coach, draw-up game plans, mentor, discipline, give press conferences and win championships. Sounds ridiculous, right? Because it is. That is a commitment and one that should be compensated. Just like the players. Will some get paid more than others? You bet, and deservedly so. Just like any other corporation in America. The super skilled tortilla maker at Taco Cabana who can push out 150 tortillas an hour deserves to get paid more than that young dude with all of the SWAG in the world who shouldn't be trusted with food. That's just the way it works. Todd Gurley, Kenny Hill and the rest of the top tier players would get a bigger cut of the deal. They are the faces of the sport and likely the highest merchandise movers as well. Don't you think that Jamies Winston wouldn't have stolen those king crab legs (LOL) and dodged those tacklers (double LOL) in the store had he been getting a little of football money. Who knows, but there is a solid chance he doesn't.
But, these student-athletes ARE getting paid... with a scholarship!...Miss me with this. COMPLETELY. Money comes in one form, and that is GREEN. That "payment" won't mean dick if that kid is hurt and can no longer play football. The sooner people realize that nothing in this world is free, the sooner we will see real progress. Until then, see if you can go buy that new Lexus you like with a "scholarship". The house you wanted to buy your mom that she always loved? Can't use that 'free ride' as a down payment. Remember Shabazz Napier? He's the guy that went to bed hungry on a regular basis because he wasn't allowed to eat after a certain hour. Yeah... they are certainly being "paid". Piss off.
This came down today. Supposedly the 'snitch' in this deal was a guy that was upset that Gurley dared to maximize his own profits and expand his customer base. Stupid American enterprise. What is funny about that memorabilia dealer is that he was bascially pimping out this 'story' like Gurley was with his signatures. He is the perfect example of a scorned lover. This guy is the spawn of scum and filth. I imagine this asshole with his hair slicked back with a Hawaiian shirt on with the top three buttons undone so his chest hair can bask in its Brillo-pad glory. All the while he is walking around with his fruity drink in his had with his sunglasses on in a dimly-lit room. This piece of shit smells of Brut and dollar store cigars. His nose would make Oswald Cobblepot jealous and his gut looks like he ingested a swarm of bees. His day probably consists of driving his 1993 Fiero to every school trying to ruin athletes lives with promised under the table paydays. These guys are the real enemies, Emmert. These are the guys that are stealing your stolen money, you ass-backward Robin Hood motherfucker.
The NCAA is a mob. They are a cartel. I am almost afraid to publish this post with the risk of them finding me and killing me, or at worst, suspending me indefinitely for the sake of an investigation. This beloved conglomerate of dirty money disguised as an educational institution continues to sell YOU their values while continuing to steal from the students. No one goes to the Iron Bowl, Kyle Field, The Swamp, the Rose Bowl to see a bunch of gangsters in suits. They are going to see the future of professional sports. The people are going to see the next Montana, Sanders, and Rice. They go to see who the next JJ Watt is going to be. But the business of college sports doesn't see it that way. They see you as dollar signs that will never ask questions nor speak your concerns. They will tell you that the NCAA is a system that thrives on AMATEURISM while they cash that billion dollar check. They do not care for these players, because more are lined up outside, ready to slave themselves to the master for a taste of an unguaranteed future. It's a vicious cycle and the wheel will keep on turning, no matter what. Nothing will change. You all will get your fix on Saturdays and that is all you are worried about.
By the letter of the law, Todd Gurley did violate the NCAA rules. But that doesn't make the rules right. Adolf Hitler had rules for his concentration camps. Saddam had some regulations. The rules are put in place to keep the players from profiting off of their own work. Those are some shitty rules. Those are some slave rules. The schools are not innocent either. They play with dirty money as well. You see all of the memorabilia out there. Hell, there are a few here in town that have signed items from past collegiate greats. There's some Johnny Football stuff out there. The VY memorabilia is still hot out there. I have a friend who has a football signed by a few old Longhorns. Think that stuff is legit? I don't think so.I think that Todd Gurley is going to be OK. He is still going to get drafted pretty high in the draft. He is only a cog in the wheel. I have a cousin who is pretty damn good at baseball, and I hope he is good enough to go pro straight out of high school. I have a friend who has a brother that is one of the top recruits at tight end. I hope that he understands what he is going to go through once he goes to the next level. I have a son who is possibly the next Jose Altuve and I won't let him fall into the trap.
There are a lot of words that you can use to describe the NCAA. Greedy, selfish, thugs, assholes, dicks, and many more that I could think of but I won't because I am going to end this here. Fuck the NCAA and its beliefs. Fuck those who believe that it is OK for them to steal from their student athletes. Hopefully we can all one day see them for what they are, and that is the new generation of slave traders.
Until next time, cabrones
Juan
Thursday, October 9, 2014
The Black Mamba
Close your eyes, relax, and picture it. Let it come to you like a lucid dream.
You're at work. There was just a small office party in your honor, commemorating your twenty-five years as head custodian at the manure plant. The party was, given the circumstances, a rousing success. There was a single cupcake, and it was yours, and it had a candle in it. Your coworkers sang "For He's A Jolly Good Fellow", like, three times. Your supervisor even made a surprise appearance to congratulate you, and to remind you to take the trash out before you clock out, since you didn't do it yesterday. That one came with a stern look of disapproval. But whatever, you made it. Who in this day and age keeps a job for 25 years? Sure, the benefits aren't great, and the hours aren't either, but you've been able to give yourself a life of relative comfort. Your 1994 Mazda Protege still runs, though the engine knocks a little bit, and your ex-wife long ago got remarried to the head poop technician, or whatever they're called at a fertilizer plant, so you only had to pay alimony for a few years before you were home free. Yet, you can't shake the feeling that something is missing. There's this nagging feeling that something has passed you by without you being aware of it. You go home to your efficiency apartment, sprawl out on the futon, and try to put your finger on it. It comes to you: you've never taken a real, actual vacation in your lifetime. The closest you came was that one time twelve years ago, when you took your yearly unpaid vacation, where you just said "to hell with it. I'm driving to Delaware!" Off you went. You sent your brother and his common-law wife three postcards from Dover and Wilmington to your hometown of Possum Scrote, Tennessee, and they didn't talk to you for years because they were so jealous. In the present, you take stock of your situation. You've been very smart with your money. You've saved quite a bit over the years, because you never worried about things like going out on dates or having social plans with friends. You've made your decision: this is it. It's time. It's time to see what else there is in the world. You have a passport, for some reason, and the world is full of culture and experience and fun that you've only imagined in your dreams and by watching the Discovery Channel. But where do you want to go? Can you get the time off work to do it? That shouldn't be much of an issue. The globe your grandma got you in the eighth grade, the one sitting on top of the fish tank, is your answer.
So you start thinking about what you want to do on vacation. Do you want to be warm? Yes. Do you want to be near the beach? Oh, definitely. Do you want a short flight? Hell no! You've never been on an airplane and being on one for seventeen hours seems like a story you could tell your grandkids. You close your eyes, spin the globe, and your finger randomly does the choosing for you: you're going to Tanzania. Tanzania has everything you're looking for: heat, beach, and distance from home. You're all in.
Your documents are in place, you're ashamed to admit to anyone that you didn't know Tanzania was in Africa until you'd already bought the tickets, and you're flying high over the Atlantic Ocean. Finally, you land. Even though you had a sweet window seat back in coach, seventeen hours is a long time to sit down. The only time you got to stretch your legs was when you got up to go to the bathroom, but that did no good, because you were shy and afraid someone was gonna walk in. No big deal, there's a bathroom at the hotel. You're not quite sure what you expected here, but you have the sudden realization that international airports tend to be in major cities. You quickly accept that and make it the starting point of your trip. So you get a cab to the hotel you booked on Orbitz, and you check in and go to your room. You're jetlagged like hell, and it's 3AM anyway, so you decide to call it a night.
So you wake up the next morning. You had that completely satisfying kind of sleep where you wake up in the exact same position you fell asleep in, and you have to stretch extra today to shake off the stiffness. You go to the bathroom sink to tidy up, and WAIT! DON'T DRINK THE TAP WATER! IT'S NOT SAFE! JUST GRAB ONE FROM THE MINIBAR INSTEAD! No biggie, dude, it's complimentary. Try finding THAT in America, amirite? You brush your teeth, get showered, get dressed, and rush out the door to start your adventure.
You find the city hectic. Dirty. Crowded. Maybe a little dangerous. Maybe a lot dangerous. Hell, maybe you just don't like black people (I kid, I kid!). After a full day and evening exploring the city, the beach, the bars, the restaurants, the police station you spent three hours at because you forgot your passport and visa at the hotel, and they thought you were rich because you were white, and they were shaking your ass down hard for bribe money, you decide that while you're here, you're gonna explore nature. If you want to explore nature, this is damn well the place to do it! The hotel knows a good travel agency and they set you up. Tomorrow you're leaving Dar es Salaam and headed west to the end of the world. Or the beginning, depending on how you look at it. NATURE. Rhinos. Tigers. The works. Yep, maybe you'll catch a cool bug that they don't have in the USA, put it in a jar, and smuggle it back. You always wanted to upset an ecosystem and this is your chance to do just that.
The next day the tour van picks you up and you're on your way. Some hours later, you arrive at the nature reserve right in the middle of the Serengeti. You're all alone in the world right now. There's peace. There's nothing but you and the earth. You look to your right and see a looming titan, a hulking presence that still seems to exude both calm and command. That's the world's tallest free-standing mountain. You stare at it, jaw agape, and note to yourself how Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti. (YES! YES! I DID IT! I REFERENCED TOTO'S "AFRICA" IN A SPORTS BLOG! NONE OF YOU THOUGHT I COULD DO IT, BUT I DID! YOU DIDN'T THINK I COULD DO IT BECAUSE NONE OF YOU HAD EVEN THE DIMMEST IDEA THAT I WANTED TO, BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER! SUCK ON IT, HATERZ!) The sun is setting, but still huge and fierce, yet soothing. You unholster the ol' Polaroid and snap the last picture you'll ever take. A picture that will bring you joy for the rest of your life. There's a giraffe about a hundred yards to your left, a leopard about a hundred to the right, stalking said giraffe, and you have this thought: everything in the world is great. This is pure perfection. I could die right here, right now with no regrets.
Hold that thought, junior....
You don't notice the almost-silent rustling. You attribute the mild swaying of the grass to the calm, warm breeze coming from the Indian Ocean to the east. You are lost in a world where nothing matters. Where nothing changes or will ever change. This is the cradle of life, and you're standing on it.
You're dead. You're dead, man. Why are you still breathing?
As you turn around, you see a flicker of movement and feel a sharp pain in your leg. Then another, then another. You've been introduced to the black mamba. Deadliest animal on the planet, and that's only partly exaggeration. He got you three times. Once is enough, but you stuck around a few seconds too long, and he got scared. He panicked. And he killed you with zero effort. As the life drains out of your eyes, and your throat closes, and your heart just doesn't care anymore, you have this thought: that snake isn't even black. Why is it called that? It's because the inside of its mouth is, indeed pitch black. But there's an interesting marking on the inside of its mouth that you fail to notice before the sweet, sweet release of the most unpleasant death a person can experience. It looks kinda like this:
You're at work. There was just a small office party in your honor, commemorating your twenty-five years as head custodian at the manure plant. The party was, given the circumstances, a rousing success. There was a single cupcake, and it was yours, and it had a candle in it. Your coworkers sang "For He's A Jolly Good Fellow", like, three times. Your supervisor even made a surprise appearance to congratulate you, and to remind you to take the trash out before you clock out, since you didn't do it yesterday. That one came with a stern look of disapproval. But whatever, you made it. Who in this day and age keeps a job for 25 years? Sure, the benefits aren't great, and the hours aren't either, but you've been able to give yourself a life of relative comfort. Your 1994 Mazda Protege still runs, though the engine knocks a little bit, and your ex-wife long ago got remarried to the head poop technician, or whatever they're called at a fertilizer plant, so you only had to pay alimony for a few years before you were home free. Yet, you can't shake the feeling that something is missing. There's this nagging feeling that something has passed you by without you being aware of it. You go home to your efficiency apartment, sprawl out on the futon, and try to put your finger on it. It comes to you: you've never taken a real, actual vacation in your lifetime. The closest you came was that one time twelve years ago, when you took your yearly unpaid vacation, where you just said "to hell with it. I'm driving to Delaware!" Off you went. You sent your brother and his common-law wife three postcards from Dover and Wilmington to your hometown of Possum Scrote, Tennessee, and they didn't talk to you for years because they were so jealous. In the present, you take stock of your situation. You've been very smart with your money. You've saved quite a bit over the years, because you never worried about things like going out on dates or having social plans with friends. You've made your decision: this is it. It's time. It's time to see what else there is in the world. You have a passport, for some reason, and the world is full of culture and experience and fun that you've only imagined in your dreams and by watching the Discovery Channel. But where do you want to go? Can you get the time off work to do it? That shouldn't be much of an issue. The globe your grandma got you in the eighth grade, the one sitting on top of the fish tank, is your answer.
So you start thinking about what you want to do on vacation. Do you want to be warm? Yes. Do you want to be near the beach? Oh, definitely. Do you want a short flight? Hell no! You've never been on an airplane and being on one for seventeen hours seems like a story you could tell your grandkids. You close your eyes, spin the globe, and your finger randomly does the choosing for you: you're going to Tanzania. Tanzania has everything you're looking for: heat, beach, and distance from home. You're all in.
Your documents are in place, you're ashamed to admit to anyone that you didn't know Tanzania was in Africa until you'd already bought the tickets, and you're flying high over the Atlantic Ocean. Finally, you land. Even though you had a sweet window seat back in coach, seventeen hours is a long time to sit down. The only time you got to stretch your legs was when you got up to go to the bathroom, but that did no good, because you were shy and afraid someone was gonna walk in. No big deal, there's a bathroom at the hotel. You're not quite sure what you expected here, but you have the sudden realization that international airports tend to be in major cities. You quickly accept that and make it the starting point of your trip. So you get a cab to the hotel you booked on Orbitz, and you check in and go to your room. You're jetlagged like hell, and it's 3AM anyway, so you decide to call it a night.
So you wake up the next morning. You had that completely satisfying kind of sleep where you wake up in the exact same position you fell asleep in, and you have to stretch extra today to shake off the stiffness. You go to the bathroom sink to tidy up, and WAIT! DON'T DRINK THE TAP WATER! IT'S NOT SAFE! JUST GRAB ONE FROM THE MINIBAR INSTEAD! No biggie, dude, it's complimentary. Try finding THAT in America, amirite? You brush your teeth, get showered, get dressed, and rush out the door to start your adventure.
You find the city hectic. Dirty. Crowded. Maybe a little dangerous. Maybe a lot dangerous. Hell, maybe you just don't like black people (I kid, I kid!). After a full day and evening exploring the city, the beach, the bars, the restaurants, the police station you spent three hours at because you forgot your passport and visa at the hotel, and they thought you were rich because you were white, and they were shaking your ass down hard for bribe money, you decide that while you're here, you're gonna explore nature. If you want to explore nature, this is damn well the place to do it! The hotel knows a good travel agency and they set you up. Tomorrow you're leaving Dar es Salaam and headed west to the end of the world. Or the beginning, depending on how you look at it. NATURE. Rhinos. Tigers. The works. Yep, maybe you'll catch a cool bug that they don't have in the USA, put it in a jar, and smuggle it back. You always wanted to upset an ecosystem and this is your chance to do just that.
The next day the tour van picks you up and you're on your way. Some hours later, you arrive at the nature reserve right in the middle of the Serengeti. You're all alone in the world right now. There's peace. There's nothing but you and the earth. You look to your right and see a looming titan, a hulking presence that still seems to exude both calm and command. That's the world's tallest free-standing mountain. You stare at it, jaw agape, and note to yourself how Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti. (YES! YES! I DID IT! I REFERENCED TOTO'S "AFRICA" IN A SPORTS BLOG! NONE OF YOU THOUGHT I COULD DO IT, BUT I DID! YOU DIDN'T THINK I COULD DO IT BECAUSE NONE OF YOU HAD EVEN THE DIMMEST IDEA THAT I WANTED TO, BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER! SUCK ON IT, HATERZ!) The sun is setting, but still huge and fierce, yet soothing. You unholster the ol' Polaroid and snap the last picture you'll ever take. A picture that will bring you joy for the rest of your life. There's a giraffe about a hundred yards to your left, a leopard about a hundred to the right, stalking said giraffe, and you have this thought: everything in the world is great. This is pure perfection. I could die right here, right now with no regrets.
Hold that thought, junior....
You don't notice the almost-silent rustling. You attribute the mild swaying of the grass to the calm, warm breeze coming from the Indian Ocean to the east. You are lost in a world where nothing matters. Where nothing changes or will ever change. This is the cradle of life, and you're standing on it.
You're dead. You're dead, man. Why are you still breathing?
As you turn around, you see a flicker of movement and feel a sharp pain in your leg. Then another, then another. You've been introduced to the black mamba. Deadliest animal on the planet, and that's only partly exaggeration. He got you three times. Once is enough, but you stuck around a few seconds too long, and he got scared. He panicked. And he killed you with zero effort. As the life drains out of your eyes, and your throat closes, and your heart just doesn't care anymore, you have this thought: that snake isn't even black. Why is it called that? It's because the inside of its mouth is, indeed pitch black. But there's an interesting marking on the inside of its mouth that you fail to notice before the sweet, sweet release of the most unpleasant death a person can experience. It looks kinda like this:
(Concerned Author's Note: should you find yourself in the vicinity of a black mamba, please do not get close enough to its mouth to check for the Kansas City Royals logo. Run. Run quickly. The snake will bite you and you will die, and it won't be a peaceful or honorable death. It will be an agonizing and gruesome death. If you have a firearm available, please aim it at your temple and squeeze the trigger. This is your best chance.)
Where the hell did the Kansas City Royals come from? Now, granted.. my knowledge of and/or interest in baseball is largely colored by where I happen to be at any given point in time. For example, I've lived in southern Pennsylvania/Western Maryland for over two years now, and as such, I've absorbed a vague acceptance of the Baltimore Orioles, who coincidentally happen to be KC's opponent in the American League Championship Series. But really? The Royals? How did that happen? They suck! They've sucked for decades! They even sucked when George Brett was on the team, so you can only imagine how much they've sucked since then. This is just surreal, man. It bears an uncanny resemblance to another thing in another sport that I've been oddly drawn to for a number of years now. Don't ask me to analyze anything here; I can't. I don't watch baseball enough to know even a single player on the Royals' squad, but I do know that a good friend of mine, the biggest Orioles fan I know, completely expects the Royals to walk away with this series. They didn't even give us any warning! At least the Seattle Seahawks were good for a few years before dominating their way to a Super Bowl, ya know? They should have said something! Nobody expected this! Nobody knows what to do about this except hope they win, provided you're not an Orioles fan yourself. I'm gonna have to get my illustrious co-blogger to sort this out for me, because he watches out for this kind of thing, and he's also a baseball fan. Me, I'm just perplexed. I knew the Los Angeles/Anaheim/California Angels were in it, and since they signed Pujols (spell it phonetically, and then say it. Poo-holes. Heh heh heh) I figured a World Series title was just a formality. Then they get swept by the Cleveland Browns of Major League Baseball. What is going on in this world of mine?
Monday, October 6, 2014
The Monday Sunday Roundup: My Woman On The Side
Greetings from the cold, dark depths of an early October morning in Pennsylvania. It's cold outside. I have to wear jackets now. I wear jackets at work as a matter of course, so I don't particularly care for wearing them on my own time. But damn it, it's cold outside. Dark, too. I'm going to ask for your forgiveness in advance for this Roundup entry, as it may seem stilted or random; during the 1:00-4:00 hour yesterday, I was actually watching no fewer than five football games on television. I even found myself paying an unusual amount of attention to the Steelers game. See, the bar I go to (in Western Maryland, of all places) had what seemed like an unusual amount of Steelers fans in it yesterday, and I found myself yelling "IT'S STILL JACKSONVILLE" about thirty times over the course of the game. But let me go ahead and get to the meat and bones of the matter; lots of football happened and it needs to be discussed.
1. I have a confession to make. It's not an easy one. Since 2002, I've been carrying on a secret and slightly embarrassing love affair. I wouldn't leave my main squeeze, the Washington Redskins, for anything in the world. You have to know that. I guess I just fell for the hardship story. My other woman isn't the prettiest thing; she's sort of plain-looking, sometimes drab, and has low self-esteem due to the years of rejection and abuse she's endured. Here's a picture of her now:
I guess it has to be said in plain written Anglish: I like the Cleveland Browns. If they're not playing the Washington Redskins, I root for them. I want them to win all the games. I can't help it. The helmet.. my god, the helmet. It's just so beautiful. There's nothing there but orange football fury. 2007 was a wonderful year for me, and it was the year I almost went public with my infidelity. The Redskins were already in the playoffs, and the last spot in the AFC was open. It came down to Cleveland and Tennessee. The Titans sneaked in due to a game I swear was fixed, and the 10-6 Browns were left on the outside looking in. Face against the window, with tears of rage streaming down her face. Never again, I thought. I bought into the Browns that year with the conviction of a prisoner converting to Islam. Derek Anderson was a superstar in the making. Romeo Crennel, the coach at the time, had this team right in the mix. There was Braylon Edwards, Kellen Winslow Jr., Jerome Harrison, and many more. This was gonna be fun. My lady finally got some of her self-esteem back.
Except, no. 2008-2013 took a big turn for the worse. Coaches were hired, then fired after one year. Pat Shurmur was given a job against all logic. Drafts came and went. Nothing changed. So here we are now in 2014. A guy named Mike Pettine was hired to run the team. They had to stop giving up on themselves. Their star WR was (is?) a raging pothead, and their QB is a guy whose reputation in the NFL was based SOLELY on the fact that he was once Tom Brady's backup, and worst of all, they hired a Shanahan onto their coaching staff. You know, you even get tired of watching a train wreck after awhile, right? Loud noises, people die, and onto the next.
This year hasn't been as mean to Cleveland as the few recent years have been. My girl got herself into shape. She dropped a few pounds. She gave up some of her bad habits, like cutting herself and texting Juan at 3AM. This is a new Cleveland Browns team, and if you need any evidence of that, check out yesterday's game against the Titans. Down 28-3 heading into halftime, except OOPS, Brian Hoyer does his quick little Brian Hoyer magic and it becomes 28-10. Whatevs, right? The Browns defense gave up two TD passes to Charlie Whitehurst in three attempts. This fight they've been showing, it's all a mirage, right? Right? NOPE. 29-28 final in the Browns' favor on the strength of what may have been the finest half of football I've ever seen a team play. OK, maybe this wasn't the 2006 AFC Championship game, but still. The Browns no longer give a hoot what you think about their helmets, their fans, the city of Cleveland and it's 300,000 men named Ray. They're coming for your throat. They're coming for your eyes and groin. They're pissed off and they're not taking it anymore. This is the most fun, and possibly the most dangerous, team in the league right now. And I'm no longer embarrassed to be seen in public with my side piece.
2. On the other side of the coin, the Steelers slugged their way to a hard-fought win over the Jagua-.... what? Hard-fought win over Jacksonville? How does that happen? The Redskins dropped 41 points on Jacksonville. The Jaguars aren't even ranked in the BCS standings because they're so bad. Their QB is named Bortles, which sounds like a bottle of high-end gin. But then I remembered that Pittsburgh lost to Tampa Bay, of 56-14 Monday Night Football fame, last week. So it really does seem like all is right with the world. And speaking of the right of the world...
3. ...LOL @ the New York Jets. If I really wanted to get into the problems this team has, I'd be writing forever. All my friends and family would be long passed, it would be the year 3014, the new iSung Galaxy S623 would have just hit the market, and I'd still be here on my Google Chromebook, pounding away at those "SOOOO 2014" keys, explaining why Eric Decker was a bad signing and that Geno Smith isn't worth the paper his contract is printed on. I mean, holy shit. This is a tragedy.
4. Who wants to explain to me how the Dallas Cowboys ended up starting the season 4-1? Because I can't. This is the same team they've had for years, give or take a Terrance Williams. "Worst defense in NFL history" was the main conversation piece when talking about the Cowboys, circa 2013-2014. How the.. HUH? What the hell is going on here?! Do they have the Browns on their schedule? Because somebody's gotta put a stop to this. This isn't right. Why was JJ Watt not chewing on Tony Romo's spine yesterday? Why were the Texans not able to move the ball against this defense? Why was Ryan Fitzpatrick no-....BINGO! I think I found the problem. Fitzpatrick is dog food. His own parents think he was the 3rd greatest QB in the history of Harvard. He writes fan letters to Mark Wahlberg. Actual stamp-and-envelope letters. The man is a criminal mastermind, is what he is. He has fleeced at least five different teams to the tune of millions of dollars and gotten away with it. Worst of all, he lost to Dallas. Get this man out of my league immediately.
5. Antone Smith caught three passes yesterday for 83 yards, one being a touchdown. He ran the ball once for two yards. And the Falcons lost. COINCIDENCE? For the millionth time, why is this guy not more involved in the Falcons' offense? If not for Julio Jones, he's the best player on the team! Pleeeeease, let him walk in the offseason. There has to be a team out there willing to give this guy the opportunity he deserves.
OK, so, tonight. I took the night off work to watch my main woman, the Redskins, lose to the Seahawks. Why would I do that? Why would I say it like that? Any given Sunday, right? Have any of you jackasses seen the last two Monday Night Football games (or at least the same ones I've seen)? We all know Seattle ain't losing 89-0, so there's really only one possible result. But a night off is a night off. I can cry alone instead of in front of my coworkers. I can console myself by watching Brian Hoyer hit Travis Benjamin twice in the end zone. Because even if she's prettier now than she used to be, she inexplicably still loves me.
Take care!
1. I have a confession to make. It's not an easy one. Since 2002, I've been carrying on a secret and slightly embarrassing love affair. I wouldn't leave my main squeeze, the Washington Redskins, for anything in the world. You have to know that. I guess I just fell for the hardship story. My other woman isn't the prettiest thing; she's sort of plain-looking, sometimes drab, and has low self-esteem due to the years of rejection and abuse she's endured. Here's a picture of her now:
I guess it has to be said in plain written Anglish: I like the Cleveland Browns. If they're not playing the Washington Redskins, I root for them. I want them to win all the games. I can't help it. The helmet.. my god, the helmet. It's just so beautiful. There's nothing there but orange football fury. 2007 was a wonderful year for me, and it was the year I almost went public with my infidelity. The Redskins were already in the playoffs, and the last spot in the AFC was open. It came down to Cleveland and Tennessee. The Titans sneaked in due to a game I swear was fixed, and the 10-6 Browns were left on the outside looking in. Face against the window, with tears of rage streaming down her face. Never again, I thought. I bought into the Browns that year with the conviction of a prisoner converting to Islam. Derek Anderson was a superstar in the making. Romeo Crennel, the coach at the time, had this team right in the mix. There was Braylon Edwards, Kellen Winslow Jr., Jerome Harrison, and many more. This was gonna be fun. My lady finally got some of her self-esteem back.
Except, no. 2008-2013 took a big turn for the worse. Coaches were hired, then fired after one year. Pat Shurmur was given a job against all logic. Drafts came and went. Nothing changed. So here we are now in 2014. A guy named Mike Pettine was hired to run the team. They had to stop giving up on themselves. Their star WR was (is?) a raging pothead, and their QB is a guy whose reputation in the NFL was based SOLELY on the fact that he was once Tom Brady's backup, and worst of all, they hired a Shanahan onto their coaching staff. You know, you even get tired of watching a train wreck after awhile, right? Loud noises, people die, and onto the next.
This year hasn't been as mean to Cleveland as the few recent years have been. My girl got herself into shape. She dropped a few pounds. She gave up some of her bad habits, like cutting herself and texting Juan at 3AM. This is a new Cleveland Browns team, and if you need any evidence of that, check out yesterday's game against the Titans. Down 28-3 heading into halftime, except OOPS, Brian Hoyer does his quick little Brian Hoyer magic and it becomes 28-10. Whatevs, right? The Browns defense gave up two TD passes to Charlie Whitehurst in three attempts. This fight they've been showing, it's all a mirage, right? Right? NOPE. 29-28 final in the Browns' favor on the strength of what may have been the finest half of football I've ever seen a team play. OK, maybe this wasn't the 2006 AFC Championship game, but still. The Browns no longer give a hoot what you think about their helmets, their fans, the city of Cleveland and it's 300,000 men named Ray. They're coming for your throat. They're coming for your eyes and groin. They're pissed off and they're not taking it anymore. This is the most fun, and possibly the most dangerous, team in the league right now. And I'm no longer embarrassed to be seen in public with my side piece.
2. On the other side of the coin, the Steelers slugged their way to a hard-fought win over the Jagua-.... what? Hard-fought win over Jacksonville? How does that happen? The Redskins dropped 41 points on Jacksonville. The Jaguars aren't even ranked in the BCS standings because they're so bad. Their QB is named Bortles, which sounds like a bottle of high-end gin. But then I remembered that Pittsburgh lost to Tampa Bay, of 56-14 Monday Night Football fame, last week. So it really does seem like all is right with the world. And speaking of the right of the world...
3. ...LOL @ the New York Jets. If I really wanted to get into the problems this team has, I'd be writing forever. All my friends and family would be long passed, it would be the year 3014, the new iSung Galaxy S623 would have just hit the market, and I'd still be here on my Google Chromebook, pounding away at those "SOOOO 2014" keys, explaining why Eric Decker was a bad signing and that Geno Smith isn't worth the paper his contract is printed on. I mean, holy shit. This is a tragedy.
4. Who wants to explain to me how the Dallas Cowboys ended up starting the season 4-1? Because I can't. This is the same team they've had for years, give or take a Terrance Williams. "Worst defense in NFL history" was the main conversation piece when talking about the Cowboys, circa 2013-2014. How the.. HUH? What the hell is going on here?! Do they have the Browns on their schedule? Because somebody's gotta put a stop to this. This isn't right. Why was JJ Watt not chewing on Tony Romo's spine yesterday? Why were the Texans not able to move the ball against this defense? Why was Ryan Fitzpatrick no-....BINGO! I think I found the problem. Fitzpatrick is dog food. His own parents think he was the 3rd greatest QB in the history of Harvard. He writes fan letters to Mark Wahlberg. Actual stamp-and-envelope letters. The man is a criminal mastermind, is what he is. He has fleeced at least five different teams to the tune of millions of dollars and gotten away with it. Worst of all, he lost to Dallas. Get this man out of my league immediately.
5. Antone Smith caught three passes yesterday for 83 yards, one being a touchdown. He ran the ball once for two yards. And the Falcons lost. COINCIDENCE? For the millionth time, why is this guy not more involved in the Falcons' offense? If not for Julio Jones, he's the best player on the team! Pleeeeease, let him walk in the offseason. There has to be a team out there willing to give this guy the opportunity he deserves.
OK, so, tonight. I took the night off work to watch my main woman, the Redskins, lose to the Seahawks. Why would I do that? Why would I say it like that? Any given Sunday, right? Have any of you jackasses seen the last two Monday Night Football games (or at least the same ones I've seen)? We all know Seattle ain't losing 89-0, so there's really only one possible result. But a night off is a night off. I can cry alone instead of in front of my coworkers. I can console myself by watching Brian Hoyer hit Travis Benjamin twice in the end zone. Because even if she's prettier now than she used to be, she inexplicably still loves me.
Take care!
Thursday, October 2, 2014
Top 5 for Week 4 - PICK 6
I would like to welcome myself back to the ever-great First Round Punter. It is getting a little difficult to write due to stupid work and my stupid dedication. But alas, I am here for you... the people. Obviously, we are going to skip Week 3 and get straight to the madness that is Week 4. Again, the Top 5 that you see here are the best 5 happenings in the NFL on its fourth week in my opinion only because Zane isn't allowed to have any opinions.
And away we go.
NUMBER 5 - ...AND THEN THERE WERE TWO
Raise your hand if you had the Arizona Cardinals and Cincinnati Bengals as your last remaining undefeated teams this season. OK, you need to stop lying because no one thought these two were going to be the last two teams in the way of a bunch of old, crotchetty, diaper-wearing old men from the undefeated Miami Dolphins team from popping their apple juice bottles and partying like it's 1535. Honestly, I want to punch Mercury Morris and crew in the face every time the last team loses a game because those assholes can't allow a team or its fanbase to be happy about something. Seriously, fuck the 1972 Miami Dolphins. Celebrate DEEZ NUTS. Anyway, the Bengals will be coming off two bye weeks (fine, only one bye week. But for the record, playing the Tennessee Titans is kinda like a bye. But, I digress. How's THAT pick looking, Zane?) and heading to New England to play the Patriots (more on them in a minute). After that, they have the Panthers at home, Colts at Indy, and Ravens at home. My guess is that they won't come out of that stretch undefeated but you have to give it up to Marvin Lewis and crew for where they are since they lost their offensive and defensive coordinators. The Bengals are mean on both sides of the ball and the Ginger Quarterback is playing decent football. For now. As far as the Cardinals are concerned, Zane and I agreed that they are due for a big step up this season and they are proving us right. What's even more impressive? The fact that they are doing this with a backup QB in Drew Stanton who has been kicked around the league since being drafted 43rd in 2007. The Cardinals are the type of team that doesn't due anything great and look like that they should collapse any minute, then all of a sudden it's the fourth quarter and they are up 10 on you. They are sneaky. They are like pick-pockets. They are the NFL's version of Gollum and Smeagol without the bipolar disorder. I don't think they the Cards get past Denver on the road this weekend, but I still see them making a postseason run with Bruce Arians at the helm.
NUMBER 4 - THE MIGHTY HAVE FALLEN
Julio Cesar Chavez has always been all time favorite fighter. He spent his youth trucking would-be contenders and the occasional homeless Boxcar Willies. Nothing no one could do could derail this stallion of a man. Then, after all these years of dominance and ass-kickery, Chavez came across a young lion named Oscar De La Hoya who would lay the wood to him real good; destroying him physically and basically ending Chavez's career as a top guy. The New England Patriots are Chavez and the Kansas City Chiefs on Monday were De La Hoya. This could be a gross overreaction by me, but Tom Brady and the Patriots look finished. Done. Cooked. Rest in peace, putos. It's all over but the crying. When you see them handled like this, you start to notice everything that is wrong with them.Quarterback is old. Defense is swiss cheese. Receivers are little, fragile, and white. Gronk still isn't 100%. No real run game. Coach isn't spying on teams anymore. These things start to stick out like a Mexican in a Ferrari. It was so bad, that the Boston press are starting to write about life after Tom Brady. Maybe we need to be praising the effort of the Kansas City Chiefs more than we are, but these are the mighty Patriots we are talking about. They have been the poster boys of consistent dominance for over the decade. Yes, they haven't won a Super Bowl since 2004, but they are always there. There are organizations who would sacrifice small villages to be in New England's position. Perhaps Kansas City is the real deal, but they have their issues as well. They are not long removed from a beating at the hand of the Tennessee Titans, who have lost 3 straight games by an average of 55 points. Who knows what happens next. Can Kansas City build off of this game and make it interesting in the AFC West? Can New England regroup and take out all of their anger on the Cincinnati Bengals next week? Those are questions that will be answered soon. Maybe it is over for the Pats. Like the great Chavez, they all fall eventually.
NUMBER 3 - DON'T CALL IT A COMEBACK
Up until a few years ago, the NFC East was seen as a powerhouse division. Four fierce rivals spent the year destroying each with a chance to make a run in the playoffs. Though the records rarely reflected it, the Cowboys, Eagles, Giants, and Redskins were always quality teams that played each other tough. Recently, that division had become bad. It could be that the division was overhyped and not really that great to begin with. If that's the case, that showed to be very true the last few years. That division's title would usually be decided by two 7-8 teams on the last game of the season and the winner would usually take its place on the fishing lake after the wild card week. Well, the NFC is no longer the red-headed stepchild for now. They are looking like a formidable division once again with the resurrection of the New York Giants, the Dallas Cowboys, and the Philadelphia Eagles. (Sorry Zane. Washington is asswater right now). The Eagles soared out of the gate to a 3-0 record with 3 straight comebacks and were looking like they were going to run away with the division. That is until they went to San Francisco and were bludgeoned to death by the 49ers. That game was one of those beatings where you didn't get the KO punch on the chin. They took a sustained body punching, internal bleeding type beatdown. It was ugly. The Eagles scored 21 points on the 49ers' offense and special teams, but none came against SF's defense. The Giants started off 0-2 before producing two straight dominating wins over the Texans and Redskins. Eli Manning seems to be comfortable in his new offense and is taking care of the ball while the Giants defense is playing up to their potential. To me, they look to be the most complete team of the division and should be favored to finish at the top. The Cowboys, who are bipolar, started their season getting their heads mashed in by the 49ers at San Francisco West aka AT&T Stadium in Arlington, TX. Tony Romo had 3 interceptions by halftime and just looked like a team that could potentially have the worst record in the NFL. Since then, Dallas has won 3 straight over the Titans, Rams and Saints and have a date with the 3-1 Texans this Sunday. FRP favorite Demarco Murray is gashing defenses behind a dominant o-line and Romo is taking care of the ball and is not being asked to do a lot. (More on them in the next post) The season is still young and it is still possible that every team in this division regresses (in the Redskins' case, progress) to the mean, but it seems like the NFC East is getting back to normal.
NUMBER 2 - WELL, BYE
This blog was founded on ridiculous views and opinions, and what you are about to read is no different. I hate the NFL bye week system. I don't know whose bright idea it was to give teams off weeks at all the weird times that they do, but it is a ridiculous system. Why doesn't the NFL give these teams all the same week off like all the other normal sports? It's because they're the NFL, stupid. Duh. Can't tell them what to do because these hipster motherfuckers just have to be different. I keep forgetting this is the same sport that employs a man with complete control of the league. Judge, jury, and illicit asshole. Whatever. I'm in favor of every team getting the same week off. No games. Nobody plays. Everyone can go to church or Sunday Funday or whatever people do these days. All of these fantasy football losers can tear themselves away from setting their shitty rosters full of their favorite players from the Jacksonville Jaguars who have already caused them to get blown out every week. No loser blog posts from loser writers about how much their loser team sucked loser ass that week. Everyone gets a break so they can all rest up and finish out the season. Give them all Week 9. Hell... you can even make that Pro-Bowl week . Fly these guys to Hawaii or some other ebola-infested area so they can do some kind of skills competition because no one gives a half-dead fuck about playing in the Pro-Bowl anyway. See? I'm killing two birds with one stone here. Make the NFL season normal and eliminate a useless "game". Even better? Take this "Pro-Bowl weekend" to London instead of forcing teams to blow one of their home games on a country that would rather see Manchester United trot out an all of a sudden fully haired Wayne Rooney and his band of Red Devils than a epic loser team like the Jaguars. Stop this. Stop this now.
NUMBER 1 - THE NEW WAY TO SPELL MVP
For those of you that are new, or ignorant, here, I am a Texans homer. Andre Johnson and Arian Foster make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Not that kind of warm and fuzzy, perverts. These guys are why I watch this football mess. But Houston has a new mayor now. A new sheriff is in town, if you will. I introduce to you, Mayor JJ Watt.
And away we go.
NUMBER 5 - ...AND THEN THERE WERE TWO
Raise your hand if you had the Arizona Cardinals and Cincinnati Bengals as your last remaining undefeated teams this season. OK, you need to stop lying because no one thought these two were going to be the last two teams in the way of a bunch of old, crotchetty, diaper-wearing old men from the undefeated Miami Dolphins team from popping their apple juice bottles and partying like it's 1535. Honestly, I want to punch Mercury Morris and crew in the face every time the last team loses a game because those assholes can't allow a team or its fanbase to be happy about something. Seriously, fuck the 1972 Miami Dolphins. Celebrate DEEZ NUTS. Anyway, the Bengals will be coming off two bye weeks (fine, only one bye week. But for the record, playing the Tennessee Titans is kinda like a bye. But, I digress. How's THAT pick looking, Zane?) and heading to New England to play the Patriots (more on them in a minute). After that, they have the Panthers at home, Colts at Indy, and Ravens at home. My guess is that they won't come out of that stretch undefeated but you have to give it up to Marvin Lewis and crew for where they are since they lost their offensive and defensive coordinators. The Bengals are mean on both sides of the ball and the Ginger Quarterback is playing decent football. For now. As far as the Cardinals are concerned, Zane and I agreed that they are due for a big step up this season and they are proving us right. What's even more impressive? The fact that they are doing this with a backup QB in Drew Stanton who has been kicked around the league since being drafted 43rd in 2007. The Cardinals are the type of team that doesn't due anything great and look like that they should collapse any minute, then all of a sudden it's the fourth quarter and they are up 10 on you. They are sneaky. They are like pick-pockets. They are the NFL's version of Gollum and Smeagol without the bipolar disorder. I don't think they the Cards get past Denver on the road this weekend, but I still see them making a postseason run with Bruce Arians at the helm.
NUMBER 4 - THE MIGHTY HAVE FALLEN
Julio Cesar Chavez has always been all time favorite fighter. He spent his youth trucking would-be contenders and the occasional homeless Boxcar Willies. Nothing no one could do could derail this stallion of a man. Then, after all these years of dominance and ass-kickery, Chavez came across a young lion named Oscar De La Hoya who would lay the wood to him real good; destroying him physically and basically ending Chavez's career as a top guy. The New England Patriots are Chavez and the Kansas City Chiefs on Monday were De La Hoya. This could be a gross overreaction by me, but Tom Brady and the Patriots look finished. Done. Cooked. Rest in peace, putos. It's all over but the crying. When you see them handled like this, you start to notice everything that is wrong with them.Quarterback is old. Defense is swiss cheese. Receivers are little, fragile, and white. Gronk still isn't 100%. No real run game. Coach isn't spying on teams anymore. These things start to stick out like a Mexican in a Ferrari. It was so bad, that the Boston press are starting to write about life after Tom Brady. Maybe we need to be praising the effort of the Kansas City Chiefs more than we are, but these are the mighty Patriots we are talking about. They have been the poster boys of consistent dominance for over the decade. Yes, they haven't won a Super Bowl since 2004, but they are always there. There are organizations who would sacrifice small villages to be in New England's position. Perhaps Kansas City is the real deal, but they have their issues as well. They are not long removed from a beating at the hand of the Tennessee Titans, who have lost 3 straight games by an average of 55 points. Who knows what happens next. Can Kansas City build off of this game and make it interesting in the AFC West? Can New England regroup and take out all of their anger on the Cincinnati Bengals next week? Those are questions that will be answered soon. Maybe it is over for the Pats. Like the great Chavez, they all fall eventually.
NUMBER 3 - DON'T CALL IT A COMEBACK
Up until a few years ago, the NFC East was seen as a powerhouse division. Four fierce rivals spent the year destroying each with a chance to make a run in the playoffs. Though the records rarely reflected it, the Cowboys, Eagles, Giants, and Redskins were always quality teams that played each other tough. Recently, that division had become bad. It could be that the division was overhyped and not really that great to begin with. If that's the case, that showed to be very true the last few years. That division's title would usually be decided by two 7-8 teams on the last game of the season and the winner would usually take its place on the fishing lake after the wild card week. Well, the NFC is no longer the red-headed stepchild for now. They are looking like a formidable division once again with the resurrection of the New York Giants, the Dallas Cowboys, and the Philadelphia Eagles. (Sorry Zane. Washington is asswater right now). The Eagles soared out of the gate to a 3-0 record with 3 straight comebacks and were looking like they were going to run away with the division. That is until they went to San Francisco and were bludgeoned to death by the 49ers. That game was one of those beatings where you didn't get the KO punch on the chin. They took a sustained body punching, internal bleeding type beatdown. It was ugly. The Eagles scored 21 points on the 49ers' offense and special teams, but none came against SF's defense. The Giants started off 0-2 before producing two straight dominating wins over the Texans and Redskins. Eli Manning seems to be comfortable in his new offense and is taking care of the ball while the Giants defense is playing up to their potential. To me, they look to be the most complete team of the division and should be favored to finish at the top. The Cowboys, who are bipolar, started their season getting their heads mashed in by the 49ers at San Francisco West aka AT&T Stadium in Arlington, TX. Tony Romo had 3 interceptions by halftime and just looked like a team that could potentially have the worst record in the NFL. Since then, Dallas has won 3 straight over the Titans, Rams and Saints and have a date with the 3-1 Texans this Sunday. FRP favorite Demarco Murray is gashing defenses behind a dominant o-line and Romo is taking care of the ball and is not being asked to do a lot. (More on them in the next post) The season is still young and it is still possible that every team in this division regresses (in the Redskins' case, progress) to the mean, but it seems like the NFC East is getting back to normal.
NUMBER 2 - WELL, BYE
This blog was founded on ridiculous views and opinions, and what you are about to read is no different. I hate the NFL bye week system. I don't know whose bright idea it was to give teams off weeks at all the weird times that they do, but it is a ridiculous system. Why doesn't the NFL give these teams all the same week off like all the other normal sports? It's because they're the NFL, stupid. Duh. Can't tell them what to do because these hipster motherfuckers just have to be different. I keep forgetting this is the same sport that employs a man with complete control of the league. Judge, jury, and illicit asshole. Whatever. I'm in favor of every team getting the same week off. No games. Nobody plays. Everyone can go to church or Sunday Funday or whatever people do these days. All of these fantasy football losers can tear themselves away from setting their shitty rosters full of their favorite players from the Jacksonville Jaguars who have already caused them to get blown out every week. No loser blog posts from loser writers about how much their loser team sucked loser ass that week. Everyone gets a break so they can all rest up and finish out the season. Give them all Week 9. Hell... you can even make that Pro-Bowl week . Fly these guys to Hawaii or some other ebola-infested area so they can do some kind of skills competition because no one gives a half-dead fuck about playing in the Pro-Bowl anyway. See? I'm killing two birds with one stone here. Make the NFL season normal and eliminate a useless "game". Even better? Take this "Pro-Bowl weekend" to London instead of forcing teams to blow one of their home games on a country that would rather see Manchester United trot out an all of a sudden fully haired Wayne Rooney and his band of Red Devils than a epic loser team like the Jaguars. Stop this. Stop this now.
NUMBER 1 - THE NEW WAY TO SPELL MVP
For those of you that are new, or ignorant, here, I am a Texans homer. Andre Johnson and Arian Foster make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Not that kind of warm and fuzzy, perverts. These guys are why I watch this football mess. But Houston has a new mayor now. A new sheriff is in town, if you will. I introduce to you, Mayor JJ Watt.
Unless you haven't been paying attention, JJ Watt is absolutely dominating the NFL right now. I know it is easy to call him the best defensive player in football, but I think we can safely say that he is the absolute best player in the NFL now. I know that you might think that Aaron Rodgers is the man that holds that title, but I might think that you are dead ass wrong. That's not an indictment on the Discount Double-Check guy, but it just goes to show what kind of a one-man gang Watt is. I am going to give you a couple of small samples of what JJ Watt has done.
- 16 quarterback hits - 16 times JJ Watt has laid the wood to a quarterback. That is MORE THAN 17 TEAMS COMBINED. Nine (!) of those came in one game against the Bills
- This happened:
These are not the things a 3-4 defensive end should be doing, but Watt is doing them, and doing them better than everyone in the league. The reason the Texans have gotten out to a 3-1 start is largely because of what Watt is doing. Washington? Blocked a PAT and ground RGIII into dogmeat. Raiders? He scored an offensive touchdown. Bills? The video above. There is nothing that JJ Watt can't do. Need a tree uprooted? Call JJ Watt. Need a car moved out of your way? Call JJ Watt. Need a few corny commercials done? Call JJ Watt. It is very early into his career, but as much as he has gotten better there isn't a way that he doesn't become an all-time great. And to think, a lot of us were displeased when we picked Watt over Nick Fairly. Even to the point where someone wrote this article that we can all point and laugh at when we are having a bad day. Again, the season is young, but Houston has its man and quite possibly its MVP as well.
Until next time, cabrones
Juan
And We All Learned a Valuable Lesson About Sharing
You may have noticed that there was no Monday Sunday Roundup this week, and the reason for that is quite simple: save for the Monday night Patriots/Chiefs laugher, I actually didn't watch any football this past weekend. I missed the Thursday night game, in which the Redskins got shithammered by the Giants, because I was working; therefore, there was no reason for me to get up early on Sunday to watch any of the games, because I worked Saturday and Sunday nights too. What can I say, I'm a dedicated professional. A dedicated professional who has used up all of his sick time for the year. To be fair, I actually was sick all the days I called off, except the one I used the day before my vacation this past August. Nobody asked you!
Here's some historical perspective for what this post is actually about. In the past five or so years, I have deliberately missed one Sunday Night Football game. That is to say, I made a conscious decision not to watch NBC's weekly football game. That one time was last October, for the series finale of Breaking Bad. I don't even remember what the game was, honestly, because it's Walter freaking White on my television screen for the last time! These are the kinds of sacrifices I make every day in the struggle of life, ladies and gentlemen.
So anyway, this past Sunday night. There was an event that occurred that, had I had the opportunity, I would have once again made a sane and rational decision to skip football for. The season premiere of Family Guy is not a big event in the Zane compound most years. This one, however, was the culmination of a combined 38 years of television programming. This episode of Family Guy had a new setting. It had a plot nobody would have ever thought in a bajillion years would ever occur. The Griffins were going to Springfield. The Griffins were about to meet... the Simpsons.
Here's some more historical perspective, just in case you guys haven't wasted the last quarter-century of your lives like I have: this is not the first crossover episode the Simpsons has ever done. Way back when (I can't remember the year without looking it up, and it's really not that important anyway), the Simpsons did a crossover episode with a little-remembered and criminally underrated animated show called The Critic, where the main character of the latter, Jay Sherman, came to Springfield to judge a movie festival. Now, there are differences here. This was an episode of the Simpsons with Jay Sherman in it, and the Simpsons writers had total control over the plot. The FG crossover was an episode of Family Guy, which has a different style. If you watched both of these episodes, you'll see the differences. They're striking.
It's no secret that both shows have both their fanatics and their share of harsh critics (*rimshot*). A lot of people say that Family Guy was, and remains, a cheap and inferior knockoff of The Simpsons. Some people say that the Simpsons wore out their welcome over a decade ago. I disagree with both of these sentiments. Family Guy has always gone its own way, with mostly mixed results. I enjoy Family Guy, but I am firmly in the camp of The Simpsons if you're comparing the two shows. It's better and it always has been. In 25 years on the air, a show is bound to lose some of its original edge, though I can honestly say that the Simpsons still has the same humor that made me a fan in the late 80's/early 90's.
Onto the show. I have to give Seth McFarlane a ton of credit for how this episode played out. He was very generous to The Simpsons, almost to the point of blatant admiration. Also, it seemed that he let the Simpsons writers write for their own characters, which was a good idea; I don't want to see Homer Simpson acting like Peter Griffin. It wouldn't work. It wouldn't be funny. This episode was funny. McFarlane even toned down some of Family Guy's more.. ahem.. racy humor, and it totally worked. It had Family Guy-style riffing on Simpsons-style humor, and it was just perfect. (Stewie says, after Homer walks out of the shadows of the Kwik-E-Mart, "why does a convenience store this small have so many shadowy parts?")
I don't want to write an actual point-by-point review of the show, because to do that I'd have to watch it again, and I don't have time for that right now. Also, in case some of you haven't watched it yet, I don't want to give away too much. I ain't no asshole. I'll just say that when Peter and Homer were fighting, Peter knocked Homer down and let out a Homer-original "WOOHOO!" Homer got back up, roundhouse kicked Peter, and deadpanned, "Road House!" I lost it at this point. I died. My heart stopped. I pooped in my pants, and my spirit rose from my body to give me CPR, slap me in the face, and make me finish watching the episode.
If you jerks don't know what my Cutler Scale is, then you're just gonna have to read my other blogs. On the Cutler Scale, "Simpsons Guy" registered an astonishing 117%. If you DO know what I'm talking about, and you're wondering how an animated TV show that can't possibly have arm strength can have more of it than Jay Cutler, I'll just remind you that A.) it's (50%) my blog, B.) it's (100%) my scale, and C.) nobody asked you and you can eat rocks. Eat rocks? Is that how the saying goes? Kick shit? Either way, eating rocks sounds painful, so that's what we're gonna stick with. And I just coined a new phrase for when I wanna tell someone to go eff themselves. Eat rocks, dickhead.
So yeah, there was no Monday Sunday Roundup, and aside from my lack of football, my level of mental and physical exhaustion had already peaked sometime around last Saturday afternoon, and I just simply did not care. But that's all in the past and I'll see you guys on Monday! Take care.
Here's some historical perspective for what this post is actually about. In the past five or so years, I have deliberately missed one Sunday Night Football game. That is to say, I made a conscious decision not to watch NBC's weekly football game. That one time was last October, for the series finale of Breaking Bad. I don't even remember what the game was, honestly, because it's Walter freaking White on my television screen for the last time! These are the kinds of sacrifices I make every day in the struggle of life, ladies and gentlemen.
So anyway, this past Sunday night. There was an event that occurred that, had I had the opportunity, I would have once again made a sane and rational decision to skip football for. The season premiere of Family Guy is not a big event in the Zane compound most years. This one, however, was the culmination of a combined 38 years of television programming. This episode of Family Guy had a new setting. It had a plot nobody would have ever thought in a bajillion years would ever occur. The Griffins were going to Springfield. The Griffins were about to meet... the Simpsons.
Here's some more historical perspective, just in case you guys haven't wasted the last quarter-century of your lives like I have: this is not the first crossover episode the Simpsons has ever done. Way back when (I can't remember the year without looking it up, and it's really not that important anyway), the Simpsons did a crossover episode with a little-remembered and criminally underrated animated show called The Critic, where the main character of the latter, Jay Sherman, came to Springfield to judge a movie festival. Now, there are differences here. This was an episode of the Simpsons with Jay Sherman in it, and the Simpsons writers had total control over the plot. The FG crossover was an episode of Family Guy, which has a different style. If you watched both of these episodes, you'll see the differences. They're striking.
It's no secret that both shows have both their fanatics and their share of harsh critics (*rimshot*). A lot of people say that Family Guy was, and remains, a cheap and inferior knockoff of The Simpsons. Some people say that the Simpsons wore out their welcome over a decade ago. I disagree with both of these sentiments. Family Guy has always gone its own way, with mostly mixed results. I enjoy Family Guy, but I am firmly in the camp of The Simpsons if you're comparing the two shows. It's better and it always has been. In 25 years on the air, a show is bound to lose some of its original edge, though I can honestly say that the Simpsons still has the same humor that made me a fan in the late 80's/early 90's.
Onto the show. I have to give Seth McFarlane a ton of credit for how this episode played out. He was very generous to The Simpsons, almost to the point of blatant admiration. Also, it seemed that he let the Simpsons writers write for their own characters, which was a good idea; I don't want to see Homer Simpson acting like Peter Griffin. It wouldn't work. It wouldn't be funny. This episode was funny. McFarlane even toned down some of Family Guy's more.. ahem.. racy humor, and it totally worked. It had Family Guy-style riffing on Simpsons-style humor, and it was just perfect. (Stewie says, after Homer walks out of the shadows of the Kwik-E-Mart, "why does a convenience store this small have so many shadowy parts?")
I don't want to write an actual point-by-point review of the show, because to do that I'd have to watch it again, and I don't have time for that right now. Also, in case some of you haven't watched it yet, I don't want to give away too much. I ain't no asshole. I'll just say that when Peter and Homer were fighting, Peter knocked Homer down and let out a Homer-original "WOOHOO!" Homer got back up, roundhouse kicked Peter, and deadpanned, "Road House!" I lost it at this point. I died. My heart stopped. I pooped in my pants, and my spirit rose from my body to give me CPR, slap me in the face, and make me finish watching the episode.
If you jerks don't know what my Cutler Scale is, then you're just gonna have to read my other blogs. On the Cutler Scale, "Simpsons Guy" registered an astonishing 117%. If you DO know what I'm talking about, and you're wondering how an animated TV show that can't possibly have arm strength can have more of it than Jay Cutler, I'll just remind you that A.) it's (50%) my blog, B.) it's (100%) my scale, and C.) nobody asked you and you can eat rocks. Eat rocks? Is that how the saying goes? Kick shit? Either way, eating rocks sounds painful, so that's what we're gonna stick with. And I just coined a new phrase for when I wanna tell someone to go eff themselves. Eat rocks, dickhead.
So yeah, there was no Monday Sunday Roundup, and aside from my lack of football, my level of mental and physical exhaustion had already peaked sometime around last Saturday afternoon, and I just simply did not care. But that's all in the past and I'll see you guys on Monday! Take care.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Meet Your New Life Coach
Quite obviously, the stated premise and goal of this here blog is to discuss sports. Y'know, just in case you haven't figured that out by now. As Homer Simpson might say, "Sports sports sports sports, sports sports sports sports... Marge, Bart gets to sit up front today, because he's a good guy at sports." Sports are fun. Sports are year-round. They're an American institution. Soccer is not one of them, and neither is NASCAR, but you guys knew that already. That being said, I am not, and don't want to be, known as a person that is one-dimensional. I have, like, three dimensions. Talking about football is probably the most prominent one. My sweet hair is #2. But anyway.. this entry isn't about sports, though I may sneak in a mention or two, but only peripherally. This is just a slice of knowledge that I feel the need to spread. So here we go.
1. The color purple. Note the lower-case letters, as I am certainly not talking about the movie of the same name. In recent years, purple has made a name for itself as a color not to be taken lightly any longer. Through hard work, dedication, perseverance, and the Baltimore Ravens, purple has staked its claim as no longer being a color just for chicks. The underlying psychology of the color is unique, almost duplicitous. It's a dark color, which says don't fuck with me because I'm hardcore, but it has a subtle brightness about it that says "I'm not emo and I'm ready to party at a moment's notice." I thought about this earlier tonight as I was shopping for a sweatshirt for the upcoming winter. I actually wanted the gray/neon yellow one, but they didn't have it in my size, so I looked slightly to the right and saw the purple one. I was hooked. Transfixed. I had visions of the women absentmindedly removing their clothes in anticipation as I casually strolled onto the scene. I bought the purple sweatshirt. It will almost assuredly become a staple of my regular attire in the coming months, even though it's not exactly heavy-duty and this winter looks like it's gonna be a brutal one. Men, you can wear purple now. It's OK. Your life coach would never steer you in the wrong direction.
2. I recently read a book by my favorite author, Nelson DeMille, that I hadn't read before, that I'd actually been putting off reading for years because, well, he writes two distinct styles of books: first-person and third-person. The one third-person novel of his I read, titled Spencerville, was a good book. That's it. The dozen or so first-person novels of his I've read have all been AH-MAY-ZING. (Actually, I just did a mental count, and the real number is ten. Ten books I've probably read ten times each, if not more.) So I finally broke down and bought the Google e-book, which is my preferred style of book these days. It's called The Charm School. It's a Cold War novel. It's about espionage and it's set in the former Soviet Union. The basic premise is that the Russians have a secret "school" that they send "students" to to "become" Americans. When you read that previous sentence, I'll be 99% sure you're gonna do finger quotes. That was the point of it. Anyway, my favorite part of this book occupied maybe a page and a half. The two main characters, a defense attache (military intelligence) and a public information officer get into a little tiff with the KGB on the street right down the block from a KGB jail. Things get physical; the guy punches the KGB colonel in the face after being shoved against a parked car, and when things settle down, the KGB colonel places the guy and his female companion under arrest. As they start walking toward the jail, two unmarked cars come from opposite directions. Five guys, including the Moscow CIA station chief, get out of the car in black jackets and ski masks, carrying silenced automatic weapons. The KGB guy tells Mr. CIA that he is also under arrest, after which Mr. CIA threatens to kill the colonel's associates and kidnap him right on the streets of Moscow, unless they let their American captives go immediately. KGB colonel agrees, everyone leaves, scene over. I don't know about the rest of you, but I didn't come down from the gotdamn Smoky Mountains, fly across 5000 miles of ocean, fight my way through half of Sicily, and jump out of a fuckin' aeroplane... wait, wait wait wait, no. Sorry, I'm mixing my plot points here. That'll come later in this entry. I don't know about the rest of you, but the thought of CIA thugs wearing ski masks and carrying automatic weapons prowling the streets of Moscow threatening to kill KGB agents for no reason and getting away with it gives me red, white, and blue balls. America, yo. I could read that page and a half a million times in a row and never get tired of it.
3. As men, we've bought bottles of cologne at some point in our lives. It's true. Cologne is valuable. When you're shopping for cologne, remember this one small detail: blue. Blue cologne is better than everything. It's better than a perfectly-cooked steak. It's better than the birth of your first child. It's just better. Me personally, I'm a body spray man. It's cheaper, it smells just as great (though not as overpowering), and you get more for your money. Blue cologne and blue body spray are at the top of the market. No matter the brand, no matter the price, BLUE. Everything from Cool Water to this stuff I "borrowed" from a friend of mine back in the day called Deep Blue Sea is better than everything you've ever worn. Go blue or go home, stank-ass.
4. So, ISIS. Or whatever they've taken to calling themselves these days. Those guys in Iraq and Syria that keep cutting people's heads off and getting American bombs dropped on them. I don't think bombs are the answer, though bombs are awesome. What I think of when I think of ISIS is the movie Inglorious Basterds. Brad Pitt leads a small unit of Jewish soldiers into France to kill Nazis. That's it. They're not a strategic unit. They don't capture and hold positions. They just kill and scalp, kill and scalp. ("I got a little Injun in me," says Pitt's character, Lt. Aldo Raine) Personally, I think this is exactly what's needed. A small, well-armed and highly-motivated group of assassins who do one thing: find ISIS soldiers and kill them. Kill them in humiliating and inhumane ways. This is the kind of thing that will make anyone carefully consider their next move. I don't know about the scalping, but if you shoot off their genitals and nail them to a big wooden Star of David coated in pig blood while they bleed to death and display them in the town square of Mosul, some cerebral terrorist might think, "maybe we shouldn't do this anymore. Let's just go home and pray or something." Just a thought.
I wrote this entry for a few reasons. One, I wasn't fully satisfied with my Monday Sunday Roundup yesterday. It felt half-assed. Two, I had tonight off work and plenty of time to do it after I assaulted a local Chinese buffet. Three, I wanted to see if people who don't read my writing because it's usually about sports would take a peek. I hope they do. Have a wonderful night, and keep reading, and tell your friends you know a guy who's good at writing stuff. See ya when I see ya.
1. The color purple. Note the lower-case letters, as I am certainly not talking about the movie of the same name. In recent years, purple has made a name for itself as a color not to be taken lightly any longer. Through hard work, dedication, perseverance, and the Baltimore Ravens, purple has staked its claim as no longer being a color just for chicks. The underlying psychology of the color is unique, almost duplicitous. It's a dark color, which says don't fuck with me because I'm hardcore, but it has a subtle brightness about it that says "I'm not emo and I'm ready to party at a moment's notice." I thought about this earlier tonight as I was shopping for a sweatshirt for the upcoming winter. I actually wanted the gray/neon yellow one, but they didn't have it in my size, so I looked slightly to the right and saw the purple one. I was hooked. Transfixed. I had visions of the women absentmindedly removing their clothes in anticipation as I casually strolled onto the scene. I bought the purple sweatshirt. It will almost assuredly become a staple of my regular attire in the coming months, even though it's not exactly heavy-duty and this winter looks like it's gonna be a brutal one. Men, you can wear purple now. It's OK. Your life coach would never steer you in the wrong direction.
2. I recently read a book by my favorite author, Nelson DeMille, that I hadn't read before, that I'd actually been putting off reading for years because, well, he writes two distinct styles of books: first-person and third-person. The one third-person novel of his I read, titled Spencerville, was a good book. That's it. The dozen or so first-person novels of his I've read have all been AH-MAY-ZING. (Actually, I just did a mental count, and the real number is ten. Ten books I've probably read ten times each, if not more.) So I finally broke down and bought the Google e-book, which is my preferred style of book these days. It's called The Charm School. It's a Cold War novel. It's about espionage and it's set in the former Soviet Union. The basic premise is that the Russians have a secret "school" that they send "students" to to "become" Americans. When you read that previous sentence, I'll be 99% sure you're gonna do finger quotes. That was the point of it. Anyway, my favorite part of this book occupied maybe a page and a half. The two main characters, a defense attache (military intelligence) and a public information officer get into a little tiff with the KGB on the street right down the block from a KGB jail. Things get physical; the guy punches the KGB colonel in the face after being shoved against a parked car, and when things settle down, the KGB colonel places the guy and his female companion under arrest. As they start walking toward the jail, two unmarked cars come from opposite directions. Five guys, including the Moscow CIA station chief, get out of the car in black jackets and ski masks, carrying silenced automatic weapons. The KGB guy tells Mr. CIA that he is also under arrest, after which Mr. CIA threatens to kill the colonel's associates and kidnap him right on the streets of Moscow, unless they let their American captives go immediately. KGB colonel agrees, everyone leaves, scene over. I don't know about the rest of you, but I didn't come down from the gotdamn Smoky Mountains, fly across 5000 miles of ocean, fight my way through half of Sicily, and jump out of a fuckin' aeroplane... wait, wait wait wait, no. Sorry, I'm mixing my plot points here. That'll come later in this entry. I don't know about the rest of you, but the thought of CIA thugs wearing ski masks and carrying automatic weapons prowling the streets of Moscow threatening to kill KGB agents for no reason and getting away with it gives me red, white, and blue balls. America, yo. I could read that page and a half a million times in a row and never get tired of it.
3. As men, we've bought bottles of cologne at some point in our lives. It's true. Cologne is valuable. When you're shopping for cologne, remember this one small detail: blue. Blue cologne is better than everything. It's better than a perfectly-cooked steak. It's better than the birth of your first child. It's just better. Me personally, I'm a body spray man. It's cheaper, it smells just as great (though not as overpowering), and you get more for your money. Blue cologne and blue body spray are at the top of the market. No matter the brand, no matter the price, BLUE. Everything from Cool Water to this stuff I "borrowed" from a friend of mine back in the day called Deep Blue Sea is better than everything you've ever worn. Go blue or go home, stank-ass.
4. So, ISIS. Or whatever they've taken to calling themselves these days. Those guys in Iraq and Syria that keep cutting people's heads off and getting American bombs dropped on them. I don't think bombs are the answer, though bombs are awesome. What I think of when I think of ISIS is the movie Inglorious Basterds. Brad Pitt leads a small unit of Jewish soldiers into France to kill Nazis. That's it. They're not a strategic unit. They don't capture and hold positions. They just kill and scalp, kill and scalp. ("I got a little Injun in me," says Pitt's character, Lt. Aldo Raine) Personally, I think this is exactly what's needed. A small, well-armed and highly-motivated group of assassins who do one thing: find ISIS soldiers and kill them. Kill them in humiliating and inhumane ways. This is the kind of thing that will make anyone carefully consider their next move. I don't know about the scalping, but if you shoot off their genitals and nail them to a big wooden Star of David coated in pig blood while they bleed to death and display them in the town square of Mosul, some cerebral terrorist might think, "maybe we shouldn't do this anymore. Let's just go home and pray or something." Just a thought.
I wrote this entry for a few reasons. One, I wasn't fully satisfied with my Monday Sunday Roundup yesterday. It felt half-assed. Two, I had tonight off work and plenty of time to do it after I assaulted a local Chinese buffet. Three, I wanted to see if people who don't read my writing because it's usually about sports would take a peek. I hope they do. Have a wonderful night, and keep reading, and tell your friends you know a guy who's good at writing stuff. See ya when I see ya.
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