You’re going to have to forgive me if this column isn’t up to par. I’m feeling feverish, and I can’t really see straight. And it all has to do with Yankee Stadium eats. What a shocking surprise.
I went to the Angels’ beatdown of the Bronx Bombers last night, and treated myself to quite the feast afterwards on the streets outside The Stadium. But, little did I know how lethal a combination of a dirty water hot dog, potato knish, and Mr. Softee vanilla cone (dipped in cherry topping) could be. I sense something horrific incubating inside of me at this very moment.
Just imagine what it would feel like to have Verne Troyer crawl up into your ass, live there for two weeks, eventually die, and then slowly decompose. The noxious gas I am releasing is akin to a scenario like that. And I’m not being hyperbolic at all. I’d bet good money that when I finally drop this hellbeast of a deuce, it comes out sporting a mustache and speaking in a thick Bronx accent. It might even look like Luis Sojo and sound like Suzyn Waldman.
On the bright and non-BM side, the Yankees got their asses kicked and I had a great view of the debacle. My favorite part of the night however, had to be when I took a cellphone picture of two Bros in matching “Jeets” jerseys. I then sent that picture to all of my Yankee fan friends with only the simple message of “gaylords” underneath. The reactions were priceless. It’s great that third grade terminology can still have such vital use all these years later.
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As a Bills fan, feeling pleasure in my own team’s performance is a rare thing. So, as you might imagine, schadenfreude plays a large role in my NFL life. And nothing made me happier than reading last night that Quincy Carter would be trying out for the Dolphins on Friday.
We all know Quincy’s history, but what might be even more tragic is the parade of starting quarterbacks that have gone through Miami since the retirement of one Dan Marino: Jay Fiedler, Ray Lucas, Brian Griese, A.J. Feeley, Gus Frerotte, Sage Rosenfels, Daunte Culpepper, Joey Harrington, Trent Green, Jon Beck, and Cleo Lemon. I mean wow, just WOW. Why not suit up McDonalds’ Grimace while you’re at it?
The best part of it all is that Fiedler was probably the only decent one out of the bunch, but he just happened to be the guy that immediately replaced Marino. Poor, poor Fiedler. It’s not hard to imagine that Fiedler’s own mother doesn’t even know her son started for the Dolphins earlier this decade.
The lukewarm reception Fiedler received is understandable though. I mean, just look at the guy. He probably holds the record for varsity quarterback that was laid the LEAST amount of times during high school. And now the poor fucker is playing beach volleyball.
As for Quincy Carter, one can only hope he makes the team. He has the potential to be worse than all of the aforementioned quarterbacks. The coming season could very well be Schadenfreude-tastic!
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Brett Favre.
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I love that former Bengals wide receiver Chris Henry has been suspended for four games despite the fact that he has yet to sign with a team. In all honesty, I hope this motherfucker signs on with the front of a 18-wheeler traveling 70 miles per hour down the highway. Or maybe the third rail of a train track. That might be the perfect fit for Henry. His skill sets match up well with electrocution.
But really, how many chances does this fuck-up deserve? Does he have to light John Madden’s eyebrows on fire before he’s banned from the league? Praise the Dennis Miller Monday Night Football era publicly? Dig up the corpse of Vince Lombardi and then sodomize it? I’d really like to know where the line is.
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Thanks to the Internet, we’ve seen numerous sports music videos resurface from the bowels of the 1980s and 90s. The following might be one of the more obscure ones, but it’s also one of the classiest. Just look at that brass section!
Only word can describe that. Magical.
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Don Imus called Mike Greenberg (of ESPN’s Mike and Mike) a pussy the other day.
I would have gone with “twatwaffle”, but “pussy” certainly works.
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Yeah baby, it’s fucking Shark Week on the Discovery Channel! I love this time of year! Nothing but 24/7 shark programming!
Shark Week always gets me thinking deeply about life and death though. You’ve likely heard people hoping and wishing that their lives end with a peaceful death. “Oh, I’d love to just pass away in my sleep,” they say. “It would surely be the best way to go.”
Well, you might as well just start referring to these people as “Mike Greenbergs”.
When I die, I want to be shredded by a Great White Shark. Ripped right in half and then devoured by the monster. Yeah baby, that’s the ticket!
