By: Boe-Boe

Oh boy what a week. As Lenny alluded, it is looking good for me to clinch the championship. This is basically the only “good” possible outcome of playing this sucker’s game, and I can’t wait to dole out punishment like a discount dominatrix from the adult services section of Craig's List. (CALL ME DADDY LOSERS!!!) I’m seriously looking forward to being the last one standing after only 3 hours of drinking. After I make Shawn, Lenny and Randie drink enough liquor to intoxicate an elephant, I just may treat myself to a nice dinner in peace and quiet.

Let’s talk about the Dolphins win. To be honest, I am disappointed. The only thing the Dolphins won, in my opinion, is the right to be closer to the fatter part of the bell curve and consequently, less interesting. Boo. I’m guessing the same people who wanted them to win are hoping the Patriots lose? God forbid anything strange might happen to hold our collective interest.

Deep shame for the Ravens - and that is on top of the shame they bear for the god-awful purple color of their uniforms. Knock-knock. Who is it? The Vikings. The Vikings who? The mother fucking Minnesota Vikings from the NFL, you dumb bitch, and we want our shitty color back!!! Is it rational to be angry at a color? Seriously, purple doesn’t need to exist. And the Dolphins - if possible - have become even less interesting to me.

What WAS interesting, on the other hand, was this clip of Isiah Thomas. (WARNING: Use headphones if at work). WTF??? Sunt? I’m uncomfortably speechless, but in a good way. Look at the guy between Thomas and Knight cover his ears, head, and face. He wishes he could disappear! Such a train wreck!!! Oh, the internets!!!

Somehow this week I stumbled upon the wikiquote page for Douglas Adams and it brought me back to my junior high days, passing time trying to beat the text adventure version of “The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy” on my dad’s PC. Kind of a good coincidence, what with all the self-righteous heavy bible thumping going on in the Republican primary race. Adams was an astronomer/philosopher type, and as an atheist, his view was, “I'd take the awe of understanding over the awe of ignorance any day.” I hear ya, buddy! I just don’t get why religion matters - particularly in a campaign to serve in an executive capacity for a representative, capitalist government in the 21st century. Whenever I hear about conflict escalating over “my god is better than your god” or “my faith is stronger than your faith”, it reminds me of the rednecks in my hometown who would get in pissing contests over whose 15 year old, rust-bucket pickup truck was better. In my mind, they are all bragging, “my awe of ignorance is greater than your awe of ignorance.” It makes about as much sense to me to thank Jesus and his ilk for my good fortunes as it does to blame him for my smelly farts.

Who farted? That sneaky sombitch Jesus farted. I swear to his dad it was him. And the stain it left in his tighty-whiteys that somehow transferred into mine tells me that he loves me. That’s in my Book of Revelations.

Seriously, if some sort of deity calls me to the carpet in an afterlife with a copy of this diatribe in-hand, fully prepared to banish me in my own personal hell, I’ll just tell him (it?) that FDR told me I have nothing to fear but fear itself. Then I’ll be on my merry way, searching for the Muslim terrorists from 9/11 and brewing for a fight over the harem of virgins Allah promised them. You don’t think Allah would renege on his promised virgins, do you? Anyway, you don’t even have to subscribe to “Pascal’s Wager” if you have the FDR excuse in your back pocket. You can thank me when this all happens. Because I'm told it will.

If I ever am in court, I will refuse to swear on the bible. I will bring in a nearly mint copy of The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past, and swear to the holy mother land of Hyrule to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, or may Ganon take my soul.

Back to football. Well, it’s been a great season in football. If you really believe in football. Ironically, the amount of time I spend watching football in a bar is inversely proportionate to my ability to remember any of it*. I watched about 9 hours last weekend at St. Marks and the Pourhouse. There were 15 TVs with every game on…yet I really couldn’t tell you who played - I only know that there wasn’t much scoring going on, and I can drink a 20 oz. Coors Light draft faster than I can drink water. Next thing I know, I’m sitting in a yellow cab in front of my building, being rudely awakened from my slumber by the driver, and thanking Jesus for loving me.

* - heretofore known as the Boe-Boe Paradox.