GB2K7: For Whom The Bag Tolls V

The Bag Tolls For....

2008-01-02T12:54:37Z

Randie, who finished with an 11-21 record (not bad at all for a bag wearer). I'll be donning the face paint for the third time in four years - this time, however, I'm face-painting for my favorite team. Yes, I'll definitely borrow some shoulder pads from Dave. Shawn will be carrying the rock, and Boe-Boe Bendler takes the Overlord spot with a dominating 17-win performance. No word yet on penalties for this season... there were a couple of red flags, a missed write-up or two (depending on whether Boe-Boe gets one in this week) and of course the infamous Jersey Gate of 2007. We've got an interesting roster of bag teams for next season. Many are first-time participants, and others are faithful long-time members of our little club: AFC: Miami Dolphins (East) Baltimore Ravens (North) Houston Texans (South - a bag team at 8-8! Yikes!) Oakland Raiders (West - lost a vs. the division tiebreaker with KC) NFC: Philadelphia Eagles (East - another 8-8 bag team) Chicago Bears (North - lost tiebreaker as they were swept by Detroit, and wow, Super Bowl to the bag - oof) Atlanta Falcons (South) St. Louis Rams (West) It was another good season, with some great write-ups. See you at the payoff!

Week 15: And on the 15th Week, Zelda Proclaimeth, “The Dolphins are No Longer Sunts!”

2007-12-19T15:41:06Z

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.

Down to the wire: Only two weeks left

2007-12-17T19:00:13Z

Boe-Boe clinched yet another write-up with a dominating 2-0, 68-point week. In the process, he stole Randie's thunder - even the Fish's first victory of the season wasn't enough to get him into the winner's circle. With only two weeks of bagdom left, there is still much to play for. With his 2-0 this week, Randie pulled within only a game of me for third place. I believe Boe-Boe has clinched the Overlord spot at this point... but all three remaining positions are still up for grabs. Boe-Boe, can we expect some gloating in the write-up this week?

Week 14: Brain Cramps and Laziness: Fat, Drunk and Stupid is No Way to Go Through Life, Son!

2007-12-12T16:03:26Z

By: Boe-Boe Not a lot of time, Gotta keep it terse. Don’t want to get a penalty flag, So I’ll submit a little verse. There, their and they’re, Which one will I use? Can’t mess up the grammar Or Lenny will come unglued. I’m fixin’ to learn me some words, And use them in a sentence. Uh-oh, here we go With some maudlin corporeal maleficence. Three weeks to go in the season, And I hold a two game advantage. If I rise to the rank of Overlord, My subjects’ livers will need a bandage. Miami’s winless, Vick’s in jail and the Patsies haven’t lost. Sometimes I wonder if Tony Danza fondled Alyssa Milano On the set of ‘Who’s the Boss?’ Wait - back to 2007, And things that make football nice. But first I have to ask what’s the deal, With this dude named Kimbo Slice? As long as there’s bars that dispense golden joy, I guess it doesn’t matter a pittance. So to Jimmy’s Corner, the Village Pourhouse and 3rd and Long: Thanks for making a difference.

Week 13: I heart New York City

2007-12-05T07:32:16Z

..by Herr Leonard ...as if you, faithful reader, didn't know that. Of course I do. But there's a reason I'm telling you this, once again, as if you've never heard it before, at 2:33am. It's because once again, as on countless other occasions, my faith in the Greatest City In The World has been renewed tonight. I just got a summons. For those of you who don't live here, a "summons" is basically a ticket... but one that generally requires a court appearance. Don't be skerred - court appearances are different here. Generally, "court appearance" just amounts to more money. If a police officer hands you a piece of paper and says "you have to show up in court," I'd say it's pretty obvious they're not too concerned with whether or not you actually show up or not. If they were - like they are in most places - they'd just arrest you. I promise, this information is going to seem relevant in just a moment. BACKSTORY (skip if you're bored): I play in a pool league on Tuesday nights in Brooklyn... Park Slope, to be precise. Our more loyal readers know Jason Field - we're on this team together. Those of you who know Jason don't need any explanation of what happens when he and I get together, particularly (and this is pretty much the norm) when whiskey is involved. Most of you know I've also got a penchant for heavy whiskey consumption while playing pool. It should shock no one that I sleep on the couch most Tuesday nights (and I'm sitting there right now - let me know once you've regained consciousness). Our pool league starts at 7pm. I generally try to get there by 6:30 so I can "warm up." Can any of you honor students guess what that means? Tonight, we had a make-up game. That means we played our usual competition PLUS made up an evening's pool against someone else. At the risk of boring you, what this means to you, faithful reader, is that we played EVEN MORE pool and drank EVEN MORE whiskey than usual. Usual is.... usual. Park Slope really isn't all that far from Battery Park City, where I live. Geographically, that is. I think it's about 5 miles... but at 2am, it feels like the distance between NYC and Philadelphia (or, for you "foreigners," Ft. Lauderdale and Orlando). It takes what seems like forever to get to the subway station, wait for a train, and then hope it actually stops where you want it to. So...... I usually buy myself a 40 for the trip. This is pretty much my Tuesday ritual. There's a bodega outside the N train stop at Prosepct Ave. (uh, Google it if you don't know what a "bodega" is), and the guys who work there pretty much know me at this point.... not by name, just by face (complexion? one of them once asked me if I was Arabic). They know me not because I'm remarkable... just because I come in at about the same time every Tuesday, and every time I buy a 40 oz. Coors Light, and thank them for their kindness on the way out. Tonight, as every other Tuesday, I hopped on the N on the way to Manhattan. While watching "Super-size Me" on my iPod, I noted zero people on the platform watching me crack my beer. When the train came, I got on and there was all of one person on the car with me. He got off a couple of stops later. All is well, right? No double-secret probation for me. I'm golden. I've done this a hundred times. In fact, on some nights, the train has "gone express" (Google), and I've ended up at Canal Street... only to either (on my dumber nights) go back to Brooklyn, trying to get a train that stops closer to my apartment (to no avail), or worse, gotten out of the subway and taken a cab home from there. One of my favorite drunk and belligerent Tuesdays, I recall getting off the subway at Canal, angry and hateful, and carrying a familiar 40oz Coors Light... and then having a conversation with the conductor: Me: grumble anger hatred f**ing stupid subways Him: Where are you trying to go, sir? Me: F**k you, I know where to go Him: Are you sure? Back to the present. I've got my 40 of Coors Light, and I'm on the train. I'm worried about the possibility that the train might screw me by bypassing my stop, as it's done so many times in the past.... but I'm buoyed by the electronic dazzler that indicates that this particular N train is actually STOPPING AT RECTOR STREET. Sweet Jeezus, I've hit the jackpot! Er something. I'm the only one in my car, and I'm really enjoying the trials and tribulations of this skinny dude eating McD's for a full month... when I notice some commotion in my periphery. I look up, and... it's one of New York's Finest. He's looking fairly good-natured, but it's obvious he disapproves of my 40. As I pull out my headphones, he says "would you mind coming with me?" I do, even though I do. Officer Friendly actually is. As we step onto the platform at Dekalb Ave., he notices the pool cue slung over my chest, and asks me about it. By now, my 40 is on the wooden subway bench next to me, and I'm as sober as a ghost. That said, Officer Friendly is very interested in me, in a totally non-sexual man-crush kind of way. He's gabbing me up about pool, telling me how, yeah, he too played a lot in college, and damn, he hates some of those straight-pool, APA rules too! Holy crap, we both play in a Brooklyn league, and wouldn't-ya-know, he knows some of the same people I do. This is getting creepy! By now, other Joes on the Beat have joined in. They're not saying much (although I sense the disdain over this cop talking to a perp), but Friendly asks me (VERY politely) for my ID. I hand it over, and he wonders (aloud) if I'm an "axe murderer" (direct quote), or some other type of miscreant. I assure him that I'm not (currently). He says he believes me, and proceeds to "call it in." This might be the best part. "Calling it in," when you're on the platform at Dekalb Ave., means using one of the rubber pay phones that are on the platform... the ones no one has the guts to use. I actually make fun of Friendly while he does this: Me: Seriously? You have to use a pay phone? Him: Does your cell phone work here? After Friendly and his colleagues determine that I am, in fact, NOT an axe murderer, the real fun ensues. He says to me... as my 40 sits next to me on the wooden bench.... "Here's a summons. You can either come to court to fight it, which would mean I'd have to come to court as well.... or not. You don't want me to come to court. Besides, all you have to do is pay $25 and you won't even have to bother. "I'm not going to do anything about your... contraband either. You're going to do that for us. Do you understand? I'm NOT GOING TO TAKE YOUR PACKAGE THERE. WE'RE GOING TO MOVE ALONG. ONCE WE'RE GONE, WE'RE GOING TO TRUST YOU TO DISPOSE OF THAT. Do you understand what I'm saying?" I did. As I hid the 40 behind the seat, summons in pocket as they walked away, I wondered... how big are my balls? I mean, it was still a good five stops to mine. Did I really want to do that without beer? As I watched the cops looking down the platform while I got on the train, I decided I was right to go this one alone. No need to tempt fate. I left the 40 behind a column. The Raiders have won two straight, and even though the Redskins are choking on a fat bowl of horse cock, I still have a decent chance of not being in the bag (and perhaps even face-painting my favorite team). I have a lot to be thankful for... not the least of which, living in this City. I made a pact with myself when I moved here... to NEVER go to JAIL here. It's harder than one might think. There will be plenty more opportunities to fight the law... but tonight, the law won.

Week 12: Heinz Field is a Toilet Bowl

2007-11-28T13:54:25Z

By: Boe-Boe I don’t know about you, but having three games spread out for the entire day of Thanksgiving was like a gift from the NFL. Week 12 saw two bag match-ups, with my Bucs prevailing over Lenny’s Skins 19-13 and Randie’s Cleveland Steamers prevailing over my Texans 27-17. Three of us went 1-1 for the week, with Shawn racking up two more in the loss column, and me winning the write-up by virtue of compiling a mere three points more than Leo. What struck me most this week was the train wreck that was Monday Night Football. When I first tuned in at 8:30, I saw an empty stadium and a bunch of workers up to their shins in water trying to make in go away by poking holes in the turf with a pitchfork. The amount of rain that was coming down - and the fact that they were so ill-prepared to deal with it - were both mind boggling. It reminded me of when I was little and went on one of my first sleepovers. At one point, I ended up clogging the toilet, and when I flushed, the water kept going over, and over, and over the top, and of course there is nowhere to hide it. My buddies and the babysitter are all hanging out in the hallway, waiting for me to finish my business, and I’m paralyzed by the fear of them finding out that I’m the skuzzy neighborhood kid that comes over and gets shit-water all over their bathroom because his turds are too big to go down a 4” pipe. I’m very aware that I could quickly gain a lasting reputation for being the guy who can’t manage to take a dump without screwing up the plumbing that seems to be perfectly fine for 99.9% of the human race - a tendency that is supposed to be reserved for obese adults who dine exclusively on eggs, meat and cheese. I’m desperate to find a way to cover my tracks before I raise the curtain, so to speak, yet I rapidly have to come to grips that I have some serious ‘splainin’ to do. That is how the Steelers owners and stadium management must have felt. They’ve only been playing football on grass in the rain for 100 years, yet here they are at the most professional level, on the biggest, brightest stage, and unable to get it together. “Shit shit fuck fuck why is this happening to me?!?!? Don’t come in don’t come in don’t come in where are the fucking towels?!?!?! FUCK! Are you kidding me with the fucking water??!?! The LINES are coming off the field? Jesus Christ! Please, if you just go down I swear to God I’ll be a better person.” They jiggle the handle yet the water keeps coming. “Who the hell can I blame for this? Crap, everyone is going to think I’m a douche! Shitty goddam sod! Gotta hurry gotta hurry I’ll be right out I’m just washing my hands!!! Who put that tarp there like that???” Much like the Steelers couldn’t keep the media from quickly finding out about their incompetence managing Heinz field, neither could I keep my friends from finding out about my unsanitary transgression. My friend started banging on the door, “Hurry up, I gotta take a dump too!” he screamed as I was rummaging for a plunger under a sink and throwing soaking wet towels in the bathtub behind the shower curtain. “I’m not kidding -open up I’m about to crap myself!” he yelled, attracting the scornful attention of the babysitter. “Come-on now, let him use the bathroom would you? This isn’t funny!” She pleaded in a tone that suggested I was purposely trying to torture my friend by taking my sweet time. I closed the shower curtain and the sink doors, and closed the lid to the toilet. At this point, the water stopped flowing but the bowl was just a hot, swirling stew of toilet paper and turds. Like the Steelers, I had to face the crowd. I have to say, metaphorically it was also probably the equivalent of a 3-0 win. As it turns out, he had to go so bad that he didn’t notice the situation until it was too late, and he repeatedly tried to flush the toilet as well, making matters worse yet. When he left the bathroom we both laughed hysterically and brought the babysitter in to bear witness to our collective destruction. She wasn’t pleased, but there is a part of me that suspects she was pretty impressed.

Week 11: I Like to Think of Deer Hunting as Shopping for Free-Range Steak

2007-11-21T03:04:11Z

By: Boe Boe Coming up with things to say about crappy teams week after week can and does get tedious…not unlike, I imagine, being a food critic assigned to come up with comparative descriptions of the same crappy fast food burgers week after week. “Greasy, yet queasy and vomit-inducing.” “Salty, yet putrid and stomach-curdling.” The same can be said whether talking about Big Macs or the average bag team. So this week I will tell you all about my weekend spent hunting deer in the Catskill Mountains. … Hunting is often maligned by non-hunters as the realm of the unintelligent, blood-thirsty, and inhumane. I’ve learned to embrace the fact that predator-prey instincts are a part of my genetic composition. Hunting deer is not only sporting, but it is a more humane way of obtaining food than stuffing cows in pens and force feeding them ground-up pig bones laced with hormones (read Fast Food Nation). As I said, hunting for deer is like shopping for free range steak, only it is much more challenging - and exhilerating. And instead of blissfully getting a prepackaged meal in a sack, you actually have to reconcile the implications of your carnivorous self. … Day one I was in the woods by 6:00 AM. Since non-hunters think it is unfair to use things like a rifle or scope to hunt deer, I probably shouldn’t mention the state of the art Motorola headsets my dad purchased so we can communicate as if we were a Navy Seal swat team. (But it was pretty convenient to have him be able to give me a discreet heads-up if Dasher and Comet were headed for my twelve-o’clock high.) I glanced at my reflection in my car window before heading into the woods, and chuckled at the thought that with all the camo and the headset I was wearing I looked like a back-up dancer for Beyonce. Looks like the hip hop world isn’t creating their own fashion cues after all...Word! (I briefly thought about asking my father if my call sign could be “S1W”.) Most of you know all about the ravages of the pesky coyotes and my encounter back in 2005. Within my hunting posse, there has been a two-year-long APB on Wile E. and friends with explicit instructions to leave no prisoners. As I didn’t have the opportunity to venture out last year, I was uncertain if my backwoods brethren had fulfilled their duties. Would this year be any better, or would I once again be shooting first and looking for a dog collar later? I walked in the woods past the tree stand my father built for my first hunt at 16. It was built between two trees that are joined at the base in a big “V” shape. 2 x 4s connect the two trees like a ladder, leading to a a 3’ x 3’ platform about 15’ up. The past 17 years have taken their toll on the tree stand and it looked to be in rough shape. Several of the rungs were missing and the rails on the platform were falling down. I decided it was too early in the day to break my neck and headed to a group of tree stumps overlooking a brook and a small clearing. I settled in to make myself very comfortable. In short time, woodsy creatures large and small would begin their morning routines completely unaware that there was a predator in their house. Most of the leaves were on the ground, but there were still quite a few that were rattling around on the trees whenever the wind blew. About 45 minutes pass, and I hear the slow and staccato, “crunch, crunch, crunch” of an approaching deer from behind me. Most of the readers of this blog are familiar with the adrenaline rush you get playing Buck Hunter when a buck runs across the screen and you know you have a very limited time to figure out if there are any horns on it, site your gun, and get a clean shot. Real hunting is like that…times a thousand. And in 3-D. My heart starts pounding. I S-L-O-W-L-Y turn over my shoulder to get a look at it, and see a doe coming straight for me. 40 yards. Pause. 30 yards. Still doesn’t see me. 20 yards. 15 yards. She stops and sniffs madly at the air. She smells me and then…is completely startled to finally see me staring at her. She stomps her foot four times…she’s either seeing if I will run in fear at that sign of aggression, or alerting one of her colleagues to my presence. We stare at each other eye-to-eye (I’m sitting at the base of a tree) for a good 5 minutes, taking each other in and trying to make something of the situation. She eventually makes her way past me and lazily continues about her business of pawing at the ground looking for nubs of edible plants until she is out of site. I’m glad to have the chance to turn my head back as my neck was getting stiff. But then I hear the crunching again. I turn around, and a fawn is not 10 feet away from me, smelling the air and like the doe, wondering what to make of me. In a couple minutes she tails after her mother and is gone. My heart rate returns to normal. I am disappointed that a buck wasn’t following them, but I am relieved to know that the coyote population apparently has been curtailed. Definitely a good sign. ... That afternoon, I decide to walk around a bit, particularly around the power lines that divide my father’s property from his brother's. Large swaths had been logged on either side to provide clearance from the wires, which afforded some good 200+ yard site lines. I walk along the edge of the woods, looking and listening for signs of movement. Again I hear the tell-tale “crunching” sound of a nearby deer. I turn to my left, lean up against a tree, and pull up my gun, looking through the scope. It is a semi-wooded area, and I easily make out the back hind-quarters of a deer. Another surge of adrenaline is released and my pulse speeds up. Just…look…up! He looks RIGHT at me, and I see a big rack…I have a perfect shot - he’s so close he practically takes up the entire field of vision in the scope. But I remember that a new regulation has been passed that requires bucks to have at least 3 horns on one side. Before I shoot, I have to be 100% certain it meets this criteria…beside breaking the law, I’d face certain lifelong heckling from my family and friends for taking a sub-standard deer. Again, I am amazed that the deer is not spooked by my site and hasn’t “turned tail” in fear of being shot at. And then it becomes obvious why: Despite having huge perfectly bowed tines (12”+) on each side, he has no brow points and in fact was only a spike. I watch him go on his way, and wonder if he will make it to see another season. …. The morning routine was the same for day two. Around 7:00 I see the back of a deer slowly making its way from right to left across the brook in front of me, about 60 yards away. I can’t tell if it is a buck or not, and I stealthily get it in view with my scope without it noticing. It takes a path so that its head is either blocked by trees on its side of the brook, or hemlock branches and a holly bush on my side. My heart is pounding. Then I see a small doe behind it and I suspect it is the same ones that visited me the day before. They continue on their way out of sight. I wait to see if they have a suitor today, but none appears. They come back into sight again, but again they are blocked from view. I watch them intently, as being in the woods hunting deer there really isn’t much else to do. It appears as if they are …licking each others noses??? WTF? I suddenly realize HO-LY SHIT! it is two bucks locking horns in a real life episode of Wild freaking America. I feel as if someone put me in the middle of a film set and my typical paranoia sets in that someone must be playing a joke on me because I never have good luck like this (except at the Seimens Tent in Talledega). I put the scope on them, unable to distinguish their horns, yet acutely aware that I am witnessing a pretty ass-kicking thing. I was thinking “DOUBLE BUCK” would flash somewhere if I could manage to get two rounds off. They go up and down the hill across from me, but their damn horns are still obscured. It lasts less than 30 seconds, and then they split up and run away from me. Damn! I lower the gun, still thinking that I am in some sort of staged event like Jim Carrey in the Truman Show. Two groups of does, one behind me and one in front of me, also dispersed once the tussle had concluded. 15 minutes later, I hear a single, loud BANG. My father chimes in on the headset, “Meet me at your cousin's farm…” I meet him on a logging road and we walkt to the back corner of my cousin's farm. His seven year old son greets us in a 4x4 tractor, struggling to see over the steering wheel and reach the gas pedal at the same time. “Look what my dad just shot,” he says. On top of a bed of hay is a seven point buck. ….. Coincidentally (or not) I didn’t see another buck the rest of the time. ….. Have a good Thanksgiving. Safe travels to all.

Making losses happen: 3 years of face paint?

2007-11-19T15:05:54Z

The haves are separating themselves from the have-nots. Boe-Boe and Balsac are into double-digits in wins, and Randie and I are slogging through another disappointing season for our favorite teams. At least Randie's got the Brownies to save his bacon - I'm stuck with the slumping Skins. The Raiders found a way to shit the bed once again (how long before JaMarcus gets his shot? Daunte is horrible!), and the Fish made a QB change, but still couldn't pull out their first win of the season. Boe-Boe gets the write-up this week with a commanding 2-0, 54-point performance. With only six weeks left to play, he's got a slim one game lead over Balsac, while only one game separates me from a two-year run in plastic. Either way, I'm pretty much a lock to be in the bottom two for the fourth straight year.... yuck.

I went 0-2 in fantasy this week also. I'm dead last in one league, and have lost 5 of my last 6 in the other. At least I'm still Making Technology Hap-pen....!

Week 10: An Ode to Incompetence

2007-11-13T03:11:55Z

By: Balzac the Jaws of Death How does everyday of work start for you? My day usually begins with several people calling me to tell me that they've fucked something up and I have to figure out a way to create something out of nothing, using only half the money that I would need, while not upsetting the client, and not letting anyone know that they have totally fucked up their job due to staggering incompetence. When I get on the train I read my e-mail and pour over all of the whining and pleading missives labeled as "URGENT" or "ASAP", or my personal favorite "Return Receipt Requested". Only the truly moronic use these terms. I read them and sigh and delete them because I know I don't need them. When I get to work my voicemail light is flashing. Who left these messages? Of course it is the same incompetent fools that sent me the URGENT email that needs a reply ASAP with a Return Receipt Request. They babble on until my voicemail cuts them off and then they call back and complain that they got cut off, and continue to blabber about some moron in West Bumblefuck that signed a deal but now wants twice as much work for the same money or "their going to cancel". Again, they still don't leave a full phone number and get cut off just before the last digit. Of course there is no return call after this. After e-mail and voicemail I usually get a phone call from the production department questioning me on why I have done things efficiently and didn't follow their 65 day contract approval process, but instead expedited it to 10 minutes of work. I exhale and explain how it all works. there is then a long pause on the other end of the phone and then "Ooooohhhhhhh, ok. I get it now". This is my life. Anyone have a new job for me? Why do I bring this all up? Because I can identify with the competent NFL players that are surrounded by incompetence. The Original Gangsta of Incompetence Endurance? Barry Sanders. Running for his life on every hand off, he never failed to show just how brilliant he was and how completely inept the rest of the Lions team seemed in comparison. I'm sure Barry was a 10th degree blackbelt at enduring stupidity. He never spoke up. He soldiered on and then finally all of the rage in his chest made him say "Fuck you, I'm out!". He just walked away from the game. To truly endure, you must be an island of sanity and direction in a storm of total and utter stupidity. So who is the current incarnation of the Supreme Chancellor of Incompetence Endurance? My vote would go to Zach Thomas. I thought about lots of other possible candidates, but no one else fit the bill. Sure you could say, "Well Zach has Jason Taylor". Close. But Taylor fucked his sister, then married his sister, then divorced his sister. This chain of events excludes Jason Taylor from being a "helping hand". Zach has done nothing but shoulder the load in South Florida year after year, always toeing the corporate line and trying to win with the meager tools he is given. He never quits, but I'm sure he gets frustrated. He has been to the Pro Bowl seven times and according to wikipedia has more tackles than any Linebacker in the Hall of Fame. The guy is the warm center of the world surround by steaming piles of shit. I wonder what he does to deal with the crushing disappointment and frustration of watching guys continuously shred the other idiots on defense and score touchdowns. For God's sake, the Fish/Bills game on Sunday was 3-2 at one point. That's a good hockey game, not a football game. So, when you are down at work, think of Zach nursing his umpteenth concussion, and begging to get back on the field with all of the morons the front office has deemed suitable to play alongside him. He is a better man than you. Thoughts on Week 10 1. Cleveland is for real. This is Randie's only hope, Zach Can't play every position. That Pittsburgh game made me believe a bit more, and fear Pitt a bit less. 2. Manning is nothing without his supporting cast. Vinatieri's deal with the devil came due this week. 3. San Diego is bipolar. How do they destroy Indy one week after getting shut down by the Vikings? 4. More to that point, how does Green Bay completely shut out Minnesota while having their best rushing day of the season? 5. This just in: Gumby is still dead and Eli still sucks. 6. I don't really care about the NFC. They are less than NCAA football at this point, but more than Arena league. Maybe equal with the CFL. 7. How does Drew Bledsoe not have a job? 8. I hate insulating my house. 9. I love beer, but I hate Coors Light. There has been a 30 pack lingering in the man fridge for weeks now. I keep buying new beer because I don't want to drink it. 10. NASCAR ceases to exist when football starts. 11. Drinking at home is not the same as drinking at the bar. 12. Steve McNair should not be a starting QB anymore. 13.As Brodie Croyle starts for KC this week, Tony Gonzalez will begin his bid to take Zach Thomas; Supreme Chancellor of Incompetence Endurance Award! Until next week!

It's a dead heat

2007-11-12T01:49:01Z

Playing with yourself often yields dividends. This week, Shawn's diddling gets him a write-up. Joe's group bye-buy-by gets him a tie for overlord. Things are heating up!

Balsac's offering to the Gods should be delicious this week. TGIW.

Week 9: Non-Scientific Study Reveals that People Who Refer to a Regular Season NFL Game as “Super Bowl 41-1/2” Masturbate to the Undergarment Section of JC Penny Circulars

2007-11-07T04:22:14Z

By: Boe Boe Okay, so I don’t have the data to back up the above hypothesis, but I’d be willing to sponsor a master’s thesis to prove it. These people also teeter on the precipice of suffering a stroke every time the news stations make splashy graphics proclaiming 3 inches of slush as the “Storm of the Century!” and subsequently call the office, family and 311 every five minutes to see if the “Blizzard of 200X!” will enable them to spend the day watching Dr. Phil and eating Toll House cookies. I’m fairly certain that a multivariate regression would also show a strong correlation with these people having a predilection to taking their shoes off on airplanes and walking around in their socks, making small talk with anyone willing to listen about how they almost missed their connection in Cincinnati. Personally, I avoid this breed at all cost. ***** Speaking of undergarments, I entirely forgot about Halloween…I was on my way back from the airport when I noticed a bunch of cops talking to what appeared to be a gang of strippers. I had to do a double take, but it turns out there was extra police presence…presumably to ensure that the 98% of girls who like to dress up as a slut of some form (nurse/roller derby/nun/cheerleader/fairy) for Halloween got enough ogling. I really admire the ones with enough sense to drop the charade and just dress up like a plain ol’, whore-for-the-sake-of-being-a-whore, slut. 2007 was officially the Halloween of Side Boob. At this rate, I expect to see labia by 2012. This is how our civilization is evolving. And I’m not complaining. ***** The Pats-Colts game itself was pretty damn exciting, ex-specially after yawning my way through the 1:00 games…I passed a couple hours watching the Skins and the Jets battling for futility, while hearing about how a certain someone (his last name rhymes with “Bueller”) purchases condoms online. I’m still not sure how I feel about that, but it gave me something to think about while I sucked down 20 ouncers of flat Bud Light and pondered how much of my life has been spent in 3rd and Long. I particularly enjoyed watching Balsac oscillate from jubilation (“Randy Moss scores! Brady is insane! Where’s the funnel!?!?) to his equally typical vitriolic self (“C’mon, the NFL is fixing this game so that Peyton Manning can satisfy his sponsors!!! FFFFFFFFFPPPPPPPPTHHHHHHHHHHTTT!!!”) Something tells me if their was a conspiracy in effect, Manning wouldn’t have coughed up the ball in the fourth quarter. Congrats to the 9-0 Pats...may the kinfolk of New England enjoy all the revelry that the Florida Gators had in 2006. But if you want to talk conspiracies, my money is still on an F16 owned by the US Gub’ment - not the passengers - dropping UA Flight 93 in the fields of Pennsyltucky. ***** I’m hitting .500 with my bag teams this year, and in this league, that’s all you can ask for. Coincidentally, both teams won bag matchups this week, with Tampa beating Balsac’s 2-6 Cardinals, and Houston Beating Leonard’s 2-6 Raiders. Tampa is actually 5-4, and much like the accountants at the Wall Street banks who have been trying to determine the true market value of their clever (but defaulting) structured investment vehicles, I’m hesitant to go digging for details - lest I have a severe aversion to what I might find. Do I really want to know what business Jeff Garcia has in Thailand in the off-season? Just keep winning, and I’ll keep looking the other way. ***** Call me crazy, but I like the call for Oakland to try a 64 yard field goal. If I could make one rule change on the NFL, it would be to impose a punting penalty…so you lose 3 points every time you punt it. Or hell, just ban punting entirely. ***** There’s a lot of games left to be played this year, and with injuries taking a seemingly higher-than-normal toll, many questions are as yet unanswered. Is Green Bay for real? Will Peyton Manning be abducted by aliens in a scheme to generate more revenue for the NFL? Is buying condoms online less expensive, or more convenient, than going to the local pharmacy? Only time will tell.

Boe-Boe's on the clock...

2007-11-05T17:17:04Z

...for his third write-up of the season after going 2-0. Randie picked up a game with the Fish off, and Shawn and I both split. There's now a clear one game separation between first, second and third places... with Randie bringing up the rear, two games back in the caboose.

Matchups of note for Week 10:

Shawn plays with himself
Two once-mighty franchises who've fallen on hard times meet as Chicago travels to Oakland
The Shitstains, Skins and Fish all have tough divisional matchups
BOTH of Boe-Boe's teams are on a bye buy by
New England is off as well, so Balsac and I both need someone to prop up our fantasy teams

That is all - I anxiously await Bendler's offering this week. Hopefully he found his laptop battery at Continental...

Week 8: The Patriots Want Your Lunch Money

2007-10-30T21:29:56Z

By: Balsac the Jaws of Death In the immortal words of Carl Spackler: "I guess we're playing for keeps now. I guess the kidding around is pretty much over. I guess it's just a matter of pumping about 5,000 gallons of water down there to teach you a lesson. Is that it? I think it is! ". The Patriots are pissed off. They want your lunch money. If you don't give it up right now, they are going to meet you at the bike racks at 3 o'clock and beat you until the other kids feel bad for you and pull them off, then they are going to run back and kick you in the face when everyone thinks the fight is over. Then they are going to walk off laughing and whistling. They just don't care what people think anymore. It's best to hand over the 25 cents at this point and just skip the confrontation. My favorite team has turned into a group of bullies...and I must admit, I'm enjoying watching the show. Team members have a choice of Halloween costumes this year: Nelson Muntz (Ha-HA!), Johnny from Karate Kid, Jason, Freddy, Dr. Doom, Lex Luther, or Bizzaro Superman. Bellichick will be Darth Vader. They have been stealing eggs and shaving cream from the local Stop & Shop for weeks now. But that won't be enough. On Halowwen night they will all raid Boe-Boe's gun closet for maximum killing potential. Like I said, they just don't care any more. they are planning a Columbine style assualt on The Colts in their own Dome. The Colts will all be dressed as firemen, cops, ninja turtles, clowns, and army men. it won't matter. Peyton will try his best in the Lone Ranger uniform, but he just can't get as evil as the team coming to town. he will go home crying. His candy bag will have a big hole in the bottom. There will be no Milky Ways with Kenny Chesney this year. For the last few weeks it wasn't "if they win...", it was "how badly can they beat these guys?" or "can they score at least 34 again?". I can't wait to see this game. Big news on the job front this week. Balsac's wife started a new gig at KPMG out in NJ. Also, our own Bag Boy Randie has cut ties with his former employer and is blazing the trail himself. let us all applaud and drool over the prospect of being our own boss. I would give myself a raise everyday and beer at lunch. But then I would probably have to fire myself for getting too expensive and too drunk. Hmmm...maybe I'm not set up for that gig. At anyrate, I'm still jealous. maybe we can get Randie Corporate sponsorship for the GB2K7 this year....are we a non profit? Thoughts for the week: 1. Um, so the Lions won apparently. Good for them. Unfortunately, I still don't care. Enough about the Lions. 2. The Cardinals had a bye week. Awesome. We don't have to talk about them either. 3. How bad is David Carr if you pick Vinny Testaverde to start over him? I mean, the coaching staff is basically saying, "We're gona start the guy who was sitting on his couch 2 weeks ago over you David. No, no, it's nothing you did...". Then when he gets knocked out, they have Carr handing the ball off on 3rd and 10 when the game is still in reach. Miserable times. 4. The Fins succeed in doing something no one else has done before: Losing a regular season game in Europe. Good work! Ted Ginn did catch a nice pass though, so you should really feel good about that first round pick right? 5. Pennington to the pine. Chad can fill his gatorade with vodka and fruit slices this week. He won't see the field. 6. Drew Brees finally woke up from whatever Hurricane induced hangover he was working. 7. I want to hear what Boe-Boe shot this weekend...anything? A Beer? A Bolf? A Boyote? 8. Jacoby Ellsbury is better than you...at everything. he also has a World Sewries Ring. 9. A-Rod is a douche and I hope he goes to the Angels. 10. I think the Giants hav ethe easiest scheudle in the league: DAL, GB, WAS, PHI, NYJ, ATL, SF, MIA, DAL, DET, MIN, CHI, PHI, WAS, BUF, NE. So through the entire season they have to face 3 playoff teams. Unreal. 11. Favre just keeps winning. They even got something out of the running game this week. 12. Lenny Management: When angry about the Raiders, buy Lenny a shot. If head is on bar at time of purchase, lift head, administer shot manually. Angry Silent Lenny should return to Angry Vocal Lenny in about 30 seconds. Much better for moral. 13. I need advice on the best protection for our pad this Halloween. I'm thinking of just getting a bucket of rocks to keep by the front door to throw at the kids. I guess I could get a paint ball gun too. I welcome any and all ideas! Until next week!

Two straight for the Brownies, Lions and F. Shawn

2007-10-29T11:30:23Z

Balsac wins another write-up with a commanding 1-0 week as the Cards get a buy by bye. There was an overall scoring drought for the other bag teams... that is, except for the surprising Cleveland Steamers, who continued to put up points while denying the underachieving Rams of their first win (but at least the Fish still have a dance partner at the "we can't get any wins, or girlfriends" table).

Other observations from the weekend's drinking and football watching:

Dan's fired for picking a bar that didn't have all the games on, and smelled like a combination of vomit and dirty socks. I think this effect was exacerbated by the frat party next to us blowing ass all night, but still. It was cheap, I'll give him that, but there were like 5 other bars within walking distance that had a lot more TVs.
Tampa Bay came up short late once again. This game wasn't on anywhere close by, so I didn't get to actually SEE it, but you'd think even a bag team would be able to beat the likes of Quinn Gray and LaBrandon Toefield. Seriously, WTF? Is the Jags defense really this good?!
As much as it pains me to say it, kudos to the New England area for having a ridiculous football team and winning another championship on the ballfield last night. Have fun with A-Rod next year. I heard the fans were chanting "don't sign A-Rod" after the game... you'd think them evoking the most hated Yankee after their team won just their second World Series in 89 years would be incentive enough to pass on signing him, but you don't think John Henry and Co. are that smart, do you?
Indy whipped Carolina so thoroughly last night that there was a Jim Sorgi sighting. Yikes! And unlike that Patsies, they didn't put the starter back in after a little adversity. Good job Tony, no need for any more RUTS than necessary. He has class. He won't be wearing headbands or cut-off sweatshirts any time soon. (Nice job going for it on 4th down up 45-0 Belichick! DOUCHE!)
...and while we're talking about Peytie Pie, good job being the first NFL QB to beat all 31 teams. I hate you, but keep ratcheting up those fantasy stats.
The first NFL game outside the US was... like watching flies fuck. Seriously, even Giants and Dolphins fans had to hate this. The turf looked like brown pudding, the teams looked lethargic and the fans did the wave in the first quarter. Giant Jason Taylor should have breathed fire or something like Eddie, that would have made it interesting at least.
...and while we're talking about the Giants, WTF is up with Eli, anyway? Is he Peyton's bitch at, like, EVERY family function? How is he still a starting QB in the league? I guess when Gus Frerotte, Kelly Holcomb, Tim Rattay, Quinn Gray, etc. etc. etc. are all starting, the Giants figure he's not THAT bad. Oh, but he is.
I officially rescind my predictions about Daunte Culpepper having a breakout year. Wow, does he suck. With multiple opportunities to take the lead in the fourth quarter, Culpepper found a way to seal defeat with surprising immobility and horribly non-existent deep touch. Mike Williams, a Detroit cast-off, mercifully ended the comeback bid with a tits-for-hands drop of what would have been a first down with just over a minute left deep in Titans territory. As Lane Kiffin said after the game, "this is getting old."

Looking forward to an amusing, and on-time write-up this week....

Week 7: Survival of the Canadians

2007-10-25T15:00:29Z

By: Balzac the Jaws of Death Another week in the NFL and someway somehow my pathetic bag teams earned me a win this week. The lowly Lions managed to beat a “possibly gay” quarterback and a 9th string running back last week. Matt Millen sighs and waits for the eventual onslaught next week. Mike Martz continues to plan his escape from the peninsula. Since the Lions aren’t worth talking about any further, and my other bag team (AZ Cardinals) are currently deciding between starting a 1 armed Kurt Warner or the homeless Tim Rattay, I deem them also unworthy of further discussion. What I want to talk about is survival, kids. When the chips are down and death is staring you in the face, who are you going to be? So far this year 30 NFL teams have lost and their bids for a perfect season have died out on the field as the final whistle blows. Covered in sweat, mud, blood, spit, tape, and tears the defeat comes crushing down. Last second field goals go through the uprights, only to find out the dickhead coach on the other sideline called a timeout a millisecond before the snap, negating the play and forcing your kicker to try that 52 yarder all over again with out that fresh leg. Errant passes slipping through fingertips and bouncing harmlessly on the field to groans and cheers of the various fans. Losing is brutal. Doing it kills you a little bit every time. We have two teams with spotless records that continue to survive the battle and the conditions every week. Of course I am speaking of the undefeated Patriots and Colts. So who are these guys really? What will they do to survive? I though it might be best to take a peek at the popular survival shows and see how things shake out: New England Patriots: These guys are like Les Stroud on Survivorman . No, they aren’t Canadians…well, some of them are…er, sorta Canadian. Les goes into the wilderness for 5 days survives in a harsh climate, carries his own camera gear, shoots the whole show himself, shit he even wrote and performed the introductory song (yeah it’s fucking weird hippy Bongo music, and the harmonica thing is creepy, but what the fuck!). This guy is even keel when he is pissing in a hole and trying to harvest the condensation from his own urine, eating scorpions off of a skewer, wading through frozen streams naked, and cutting his fingers to the bone demonstrating how to get water from a vine. This dude is Tom Brady. Nothing phases him. He delivers the monologue with the same even voice whether he just caught a rabbit and hadn’t eaten in 3 days or he just woke up from a long nap next to a fire. Cool as a cucumber all day long. Willing to do anything to survive. Completely comfortable with working with the tools he has to put together a win and get to the next game. Tom Brady is an honorary Canadian. Indianapolis Colts: These guys are more like Bear Grylls from Man Versus Nature . They talk a big game, they might eat some maggots out of a log, or some rotting zebra flesh while the various camera men crowd around and shoot him choking for maximum gross out effect, but it’s all show. Later on he’s puking up his guts and then he goes back and sleeps in a hotel some nights between filming segments. He is not surviving; he is a farce. Crawling up rock faces under waterfalls isn’t survival, that’s just showing off for the camera. So keep waving your arms around at the line of scrimmage Peyton, keep putting on the show and pretending that you are doing something important. We can all see through you. Can’t wait for the big showdown on Nov.4th! Other random Thoughts: 1. The Fins are thinking about bringing back Ricky Williams this season. Seriously, why the fuck not? I would go if I lived in South Florida just to taunt him and scream about bong hits for 4 hours. Good times 2. USF is ahead of UF in the BCS. Wow…um…WOW! 3. Who the fuck is the back up QB for Jax? When Garrard went out, some dude named Gray came in. Seriously, you could tell me he was pulled out of the stands and I’d believe you. 4. Why is Pennington still the QB for the Jets? Hey Man-Genius, you’re 1-6, time to give the Clemmens kid some PT. 5. How did Testaverde get a call and Drew Bledsoe didn’t? 6. For that matter, can you remember a year when there were so many mediocre/no-name starting QBs in the league? Edwards, Gray, Rattay, Huard, Griese, Campbell, Jackson, Ferrote, Kitna, Lemon, Harrington, Smith, Carr…that’s 12 without even trying! 7. Good luck to Boe-Boe this weekend. Channel your inner Les Stroud and bring back another rug. With a little work, you too can be an honorary Canadian. Until Next Week! Go Sox!