Dilettante philosophers, gather round! The Yachtsman has a poorly thought out point to make!
It's 4:13 AM, and I'm not proud of the ramblings you are about to receive.
I never really listened to Floyd lyrically until yesterday. Weird? Yes. I've been listening to them since birth (no for real "The Wall" was on heavy rotation in the cassette deck of our Chevy Blazer back in the day). But I never really LISTENED TO THEM.
- explanation: I'm an ADD guy (like the real kind, not the "I can't get my work done so I need Adderrall" kind...like I can't get a single thing done in life if I'm not juiced up on some sort of brain stimulant from Pfizer) - so my brain works differently than most other people. Melodic complexity and tone intervals and the sort actually soothe the constant ping pong running of my brain, so much so that I'll actually drown out whatever the hell the lyrics are in favor of focusing on the guitar riffs or the synthesizer. It makes sense if you have an addled ADD brain like mine. -
DIGRESSION. So when I heard these lyrics yesterday for seemingly the first time (as in focusing on them for the first time...god knows I've belted these out while driving/drinking/karaokeing to myself a thousand times), my heart broke in a million pieces:
Ticking away, the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your hometown
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way
Tired of lying in the sunshine, staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long, and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find, ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.
Now I've spent the past 24 hours going over all my favorite songs by Pink Floyd (I'm 29, that's pathetic, I'm well aware) and revisiting the lyrics. I've come to this question: is my fatalistic outlook on life based in my early obsession with Pink Floyd, and did Roger Waters' lyrics pierce through into my subconscious (and through David Gilmour's wicked guitar-ing) and leave me with this defeatist philosophy? Am I a negative nancy because of Floyd, Scott Norwood, Bethlehem Steel, or a combination of all three? THESE ARE THINGS I NEED TO FIGURE OUT NOW.
But here's the rub. It's not like I'm going to STOP listening to Floyd, or STOP watching the Bills, or STOP lamenting the fact that Buffalo will never be what it once was (or what was promised to us in our youth). I think now I'll just have to view all of these things with a little bit more perspective. As in I can't invest myself so emotionally into it. BUT I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO DO THAT.
How do you guys do it? How do you, the (apparently now) 1,000+ readers of our blog put the losses (year after year after year after year after year) into perspective? I want to be able to be Captain Ivory Tower and not take the losses so fucking seriously. LIKE DONTE WHITNER, THE DESIRE IS THERE.
I mean, I'm not Patton Oswalt in "Big Fan", but these things still affect me to an inordinate degree.
So, as I trudge to New Jersey tomorrow afternoon to watch the mediocre New York Red Bulls play the 1st leg of their playoff cup draw vs. the Galaxy, I will be thinking of ways to not let sports affect me as much as they have for the 29 years I've been on this planet. By the time I hit 30, I would like to be able to view sports in a vacuum.
NOW KEEP RED AND LET'S GET FUCKING MENTAL.
It really did tie the room together.
Welcome to your week 8 Bills preview. In honor of the most delightfully racist mascot in all of professional sports (except maybe the Canadiens), I pay tribute to the Dude's inability to understand the non-PC issue with the term "chinaman". Although the prick did piss on his rug.
This week the the Bills travel to Toronto to "host" the Washington Redskins, as they attempt to piss on Buffalo's metaphorical rug. Or not really because Buffalo's rug would be the Ralph, wouldn't it? And doesn't the Ralph already smell like piss from the years of grown men urinating in sinks during halftime? Huh? What was I talking about?
Oh right, football.
The Bills are still pretty banged up at receiver after failing to make a deal for Brandon Lloyd or Reggie Wayne at the trade deadline, and defensive stalwart Kyle Williams looks to still be weeks away from a return. Furthermore, roideriffic Shawne Merriman's season is over, and most likely his joke of a career in Buffalo. Back to long days of drinking Grey Goose and beating the fuck out of 90 pound internet models for him! You can hear us bitch about it more on this week's CrapTastiCast
In positive news, Demetrius Bell, aka Karl Malone Jr., will return to anchor the O-line, and the Amish Rifle himself enters the game with a brand spankin' new contract worth $59 million over 6 years. Daaaaaaaaayum! That is one expensive beard! Here's hoping it translates into a big game from the bearded wonder, and not a disaster, like the careers of other recent overpriced QB contracts. I'm looking at you Derek Anderson and Charlie Tavaris Whitehurst Jackson. With a huge pay raise in tow, look for Fitzy to come out firing on all cylinders, especially after a bye week and time to think about the atrocious picks he threw against the Giants two weeks ago. I for one would love to see Freddie Jackson to get 25-30 carries, and for Spiller to get 10-15, but we all know Chan wants to rack up at least 40 points, so let the heart attacks begin!
I SEE THE LIGHT! Oh wait, that's just the headlights of Marshawn's car.
As for the Redskins, their top wideout, starting TE, and go-to RB are out for the game. Santana Moss is nursing a broken interior cruciminary fibula bone, Chris Cooley is banging his hot wife
, and Tim Hightower was put on season ending IR for a burst eardrum and nagging nosebleeds. Sexy Rexy will NOT be gunning repetitive throws into Buffalo's secondary, and instead, assumed Mormon (insert sister-wives joke here) John Beck gets his second straight start after a decent showing in week 7 against the Cowboys.
That all seems to look wonderful for the Bills, except for the fact that Buffalo tends to play shitty against underdeveloped players that nobody has heard of. I see John Beck throwing for 400 yards, Roy Helu running for 150 and 3 TD's, and of course Art Monk will make his triumphant return to the 'Skins to put up 11 catches for 172 yards, all while taunting Andre Reed with his Hall of Fame jacket on. Not to mention, Brian Orakpo will be the first player to light up the Bills line by tripling the season sack total from two to six. He still remembers getting passed up for Aaron Maybin.
Alright, maybe I'm overreacting a taaaaaaaad bit. I just know Buffalo has played shitty in Toronto the past couple seasons, and it stirs up a rage storm inside of me every time it's called a home game. Fuck that! At least George Wilson finally stood up and called out the idea that this is some sort of advantage for his team. About time somebody spoke up. God knows that shitface Trent Edwards was always sucking up to the wasteland that is Canada. Stupid Canada, with their clean air, free health care, and incredible gun control laws. HA! Pussies!
Now excuse me while I breathe in enough toxins to kill a moose, look at a bill from Empire for $1300 for an emergency room visit seven years ago, and then get hit by a stray bullet on my way home from writing this. AMERICA! FUCK YEAH!
An early water color from the Apologist
Two weeks in a row and the Deeg is back on track!
If you consider back on track to mean more useless banter, a dog panting into a microphone, and our lovely producer pouring Malbec throughout the cast.
Besides that, episode 16 features a hip-hop intro from a 90's classic, overreactions to the Sabres dropping two in a row (including I, the Scizz, coming off sounding like a complete idiot when talking about Christian Ehrhoff), a new elite scoring line, walking contradictions, yoga farting, Tim Tebow, a Chinese food delivery mid-cast, Shawne Merriman's suckitude, Formula One racing, Halloween costumes, and an early exit from the Yachtsman. NONSENSE.
You can download episode 16 from Libsyn
or from iTunes.
Or feel free to stream it directly from DGWU, right here:
You may notice that the podcast appears to be a little long this week, but we actually stopped the craziness around the 57 minute mark and left you with just a smidgen of a SICK Halloween mash up created by DJ Mondee, the man responsible for our amazing intro. If you like what you hear, check out the whole thing on soundcloud
If you are a continuous supporter, or even just discovered us, take a minute and leave us a positive review on iTunes. Or tell us we suck....wait don't, keep it positive.
Until next time, enjoy our disaster and have fun getting drunk on Halloween and staring WAY too long at girls dressed up like themed whores. Oh! And check out some bonus evidence of the Barrister as Teen Wolf. Just as sexy.
I am a complete nerd
Nothing like waking up refreshed after another great night of CrapTastiCasting in Chez Megsie. With a renewed sense of motivation, and fully cognizant that Deeg did not provide you with a Fantasy Football recap for Week 6 and that you probably didn't notice, I'm back in the saddle for an update about where the four members of the Deeg stand in Fantasy Football land. If you want the short answer, it is "great, great, good and toilet."
Apologist's 2011 playbook
When last we checked in - albeit via Scizz's recap for Week 5 - I had just suffered my first defeat of the season at the hands of Yachtsman. At that point, Yachter, Scizz and I were sitting atop the standings at 4-1, along with Action Jackson
, and Apologist was swimming in the depths of 0-5. A lot - actually not really - has happened since then.The Week 6 Basics:
- Scizz moved to 5-1 on the back of some superb performances from Jay Cutler, Fred Jackson, Jimmy Graham and some nameless overachieving kicker from Chicago. The Hammering Hebrews, riddled with quiet days from everyone on his team, simply couldn't keep up. Who could have guessed that Curtis Painter would have had such a poor game?
- I also moved to 5-1 with a win over the DC Earthquakes. It's fair to say that I didn't much deserve the Week 6 victory, what with a sadly quiet day from Tom Terrific and an awful day from Pierre Thomas, but Ahmad Bradshaw proved to be good enough to keep my total score high as he racked up the points with his three TDs against the Bills. Joy.
- Action Jackson lost to Crippling Back Pain, which was good news for those of us at the top of the table, as Action Jackson fell to 4-2.
- And, finally, in a Deeg Deathmatch between Yachtsman's WMP's and Apologist's Yancey's Fancy, the unthinkable happened as Aps FINALLY BROUGHT HOME A VICTORY. In their post-game interviews, the two coaches had a lot to say about the reasons for the outcome. "I had two fucking starters on Bye Week and Aps only barely pulled out a win. That dude sucks so hard," Yachtsman was heard whispering into the ear of Suzy Kolber in the locker room. Apologist did offer some rebuttal, though: "If I had a choice between beating Yvo fairly and beating him because he was a dumbass and forgot to update his starting roster, I'll choose the latter."
Moving on to Week 7, Yachtsman's sinking ship continued to dip deeper in the standings as he suffered his second straight loss against Scizzer's Hoboken Hurricanes. A very close affair, as all matchups between Scizz and Yachstman are (zing!! man love!), it came down to a mere 2.3 points and demanded a pretty quiet game from Torrey Smith on Monday night. Both teams had rough weeks up and down their rosters - Scizz's shit games from Rivers and Cutler, and Yachtsman's awful outings from Hasselbeck and Watson - but the stellar games from Jimmy Graham and Mat Forte were enough to give Scizz the win.
Apologist followed up his Week 6 breakthrough with a Week 7 turd in what was probably the lowest scoring game of the season. Losing by over 20 to a team that only scored 85? FUCKING HELL APOLOGIST. Honestly, that's all the recap I can stomach for this game. It was that awful.
As for me, I kept pace with Scizz with a win against the real joke of the league - GiZ Beasts. The only other one win team in the league other than Yancey's Fancy, GiZ has the worst "points for" in the league. Not that I really needed the help, but I was lucky enough to pick John Beck out of free agency as a bye week filler. Beck's solid outing, along with the other standard good days from the rest of my team, was more than enough to give me the win - by a margin of 68.
In other league news, Crippling Back Pain and Action Jackson each moved to 5-2, good for third and fourth place, and DC Earthquakes joins WMPs at 4-3. With the six team playoff format, and another two teams at 3-4, it looks like we have a nice little playoff race going as we sit at the season's halfway point. Early season awards for futility go to El Mas Guapo and the J Spotters, both of whom have 2-5 records despite being the 3rd and 4th highest scoring teams in the league. Tough break, fellas. You may want to think about killing yourselves. Keep those options open.
In Week 8, I get my chance to kick Aps while he's down, while WMPs take on J Spotters and Hoboken Hurricanes take on DC Earthquakes in the battle of bad natural disaster humor. Until then, enjoy your weeks, try to keep reasonably sane about the Sabres laying an egg against the Blue Jackets (ohhhhh snap!) and don't get too frustrated about the Bills being forced to play another game in Toronto Fucking Ontario.
#56... not worth the sweat off of Darryl Talley's balls.
The BarristerLet it never be said that I can't admit when I've gone a little bit off the rails. It may take me a little bit of a ramble, but I'll explain...It's tough as a realist Bills fan. You want to be able to talk honestly about the boneheaded shit that comes out of One Bills Drive, but you are immediately contending with a dumb-as-shit contingency of
the fan base who would rather defend the team than admit basic truths of the franchise. With the rise of Twitter and other social media, the battle between realists - who necessarily live in with at least some
level of cynicism - and the "true fans" has gotten more heated as people rush to one up each other, all the while throwing in an @ mention to one of their favorite players. When Donte Whitner was going through his twitter implosion, there were countless fans - on both sides of the issue - who felt it necessary to engage in some direct contact with him, whether in support or not, and with each other. It got vicious, and when all was said and done, Donte rose above it to prove that he was as the cynics suspected: a big old bag of douche.This summer, when Patrick Moran of Buffalo Sports Daily published a hasty story about Shawne Merriman possessing steroids during a border crossing, there was a legitimate debate about journalism and ethics and sources and - in the end - Mr. Moran was roundly criticized on a number of good points. He ultimately apologized for the story, and that was largely the end of it.
There was another dimension to the story, though. One that pitted Bills' apologists against Bills' cynics. Those who, on the ends of the spectrum, see Super Bowl until the playoffs are out of the question against those who see 0-16 until that first win. For some fans, the Moran "story" confirmed suspicions about Merriman, and for others it simply triggered a knee jerk defense of #56 - who, at the time, had barely played a lick as a Bill and who, by all reasonable measure, appeared to be a shadow, much less a very injury-prone version, of his former, over-medicated self.
I fail to see any downside to steroid use.
This kind of conflict and bickering is nothing new to the fan base. Indeed, the chorus of cynics - reasonable cynicism, often, but sometimes a cynicism borne only out of fear and loathing and past sins - creates a frequent backlash of those members of the fan base who would prefer to enjoy their football without burdensome negativity.
Listen, I can certainly appreciate the desire to enjoy sport without hashing out arguments that, at their core, imply a certain hopelessness and wastefulness. If the Bills are, as they have annually been, a fucking trainwreck of an organization, then what we do on Sundays is, as my wife often points out, a waste of energy and time. And the way that some fans, myself included, feel when we point out the obvious - or at least the likely- truths of Buffalo Bills football can easily be interpreted as a sort of easy elitism. It's easy to point these truths out, and by doing so, we give ourselves a pat on the back that we've come to some sort of smart conclusion about the way that the Bills have so thoroughly wasted out time over the last decade.
That said, and I say this all with full recognition that these Bills are 4-2 and that there are plenty of reasons to have some
hope about where the rest of the season might take us, but... COME THE FUCK ON. Merriman's signing and the predictable path he has taken as a Buffalo Bill - at least predictable to those fans who chose to look at the science of steroids and the improbability of Merriman's long-term good health - has been an utter waste of money for a franchise that pinches pennies at every turn. We like to think, perhaps as a justification for a day of drinking every weekend, that the Bills have turned a corner, but then shit like this happens. Shit that confirms beliefs of the cynical side of out fan base, and it behooves all of us to take a minute and think about what, if any, optimism about this team is reasonable.
And, yes, this applies to me as much as anyone. Loving this team over the past two months, as I have, has been as fun a time as I've had as a sports fan, but it's also been horrendously foolish and has - as I'll admit now and as I've admitted a little less publicly over the past couple weeks - ignored the basic tenets of my Bills fandom, which - at their core - value a guarded sense of wariness and expectation of that other shoe dropping. In other words, I've certainly learned from the experiences of the past twenty years, and these past seven weeks have been nothing but a rash abandonment of those twenty years of Bills truth. Honestly, that win over the Pats made me into the football fan equivalent of an 11 year old girl with Bieber Fever, and now that I've come back down to earth a little bit, I feel plenty silly. To illustrate the point, as was discussed in CrapTastiCast #15
, I love to point out that my prediction for the season was 8-8. Not because that prediction will be proven right - in fact, right about now, 8-8 seems pretty far away - but because, as I've been swimming in the deep and pleasurable waters of blind optimism, pointing to an 8-8 prediction suggests, at least to myself, that I'm not that crazy.
Silver lining, albeit a championship-less silver lining.
Years of failure, years of frustration. Like the cynics among us who, before the season, butted heads with seemingly thoughtless optimists, it may appear to many pockets of the fan base that pointing these realities out now - particularly when it is triggered by an injury to a guy who has been such a small part of the success that is a 4-2 start - is simply callous or petty. But, fuck that. Seriously.
For now - after a frustrating Giants loss, an ever-increasing list of injuries and a predictably wasteful contract - forgive me if I turn in my #BillsMafia card (which I never formally embraced, but which would have been an appropriate designation based on the optimism I've felt for the past month) and begin a long countdown to an afternoon of hand-wringing and frustration on Sunday. Maybe we win, maybe we don't, but with Fred Jackson still vastly underpaid, Stevie Johnson and Fitzpatrick still inexplicably unextended, and Merriman again sitting on IR, I'm starting to resume my true and long-held role as a Bills cynic. Even if it does make me sad and feeling not a little bit pathetic knowing that, in spite of the truth of Bills football I'm now embracing, I'll be sitting down for another installment of the Bills in Toronto series come 4:15 on Sunday. Good fucking grief.
And, sure, I want them to prove me disastrously wrong. I want to be eating crow in two months, looking at a 10-4 team about to lock up a playoff berth, but for now I'm assuming the worst. Because, more often than I can stand, that's exactly what this team has given me.
If you read this blog, then it is no mystery to you that I have a giant man-crush on Matt Ellis.
For the past seven games I have sat quietly, waiting for the hardest working man in hockey to crack the line-up. Tonight is the night. After proving many wrong by earning another contract from the Sabres, and then proving more people wrong by making the team to start the season, he will emerge from the darkness tonight to lead this team to the promise land. Tyler Ennis is hurt? Bullshit. Lindy needs an excuse to unleash the true captain of this team.
Matt Ellis is here. There is no more need to worry about underachieving. There is no more need to worry about disappointment. There is no more need to occupy anywhere but the First Niagara Center. A hero rises from the ashes, and these "men" from Tampa Bay shall be warned.
Matt Ellis has arrived and you shall bow before him
Why have you even read this far?
We have come for your uncool niece.
The YachtsmanBEWARE. LATE NIGHT POST. IMBIBED SPIRITS + LONG DAY AT WORK + STRUGGLING WITH THE INEFFICIENCY OF THE INTERNET. ANGER SAUCE.Zen fascists will control you 100% natural You will jog for the master race And always wear the happy face Close your eyes, can't happen here Big Bro' on white horse is near The hippies won't come back you say Mellow out or you will pay Mellow out or you will pay!- THE DEAD KENNEDYSBefore I get into it, here's the CRAPTASTICAST #15: A Breakdown in Parliamentary Procedure.. [Ed. Note from The Barrister: You can also stream it directly below, or check it out via the iTunes Link. I may be all roses about my sports teams for the moment, as so gingerly pointed out later in this post, but Yachtsman's inability (or, more aptly, refusal based in feigned superiority) to listen to fucking directions really grinds my gears. God bless him. Which, as he is an atheist, is the perfect fucking medicine. Enjoy the poisoned hand of our maker, dick. But I digress. Just enjoy the crafty HTML embed codes I had to put in below. And when I say "crafty," I really mean "simple as fuck but somehow still beyond the ken of Yachtsman's interweb abilities." Cheers.]
One of these days we should just start fucking slugging each other. Parliamentary Procedure broke down in this one to a delightful degree. I was a big fan of the organized chaos. I think it came out pretty well. The discussion was heated, stupid unsubstantiated points were made, and our producer Meg chimed in with some Occupy Wall Street shit and texted me we should just go drink halfway through it.
NOW MAYBE I'M NOT "THE NORM".
FOR REALS THOUGH NOW YOU GUYZ. We've seen a lot of breathless optimism on this site from the likes of everyone else, so I feel....as The Yachtsman and title giver of this site (DEAR GOD WHY US IS IN REFERENCE TO BAD THINGS HAPPENING)...I'm gonna be the voice for the silent majority (could be minority, I don't care). My boy Matt Stewart of Buffalo Wins (I'M SORRY JOE I'VE HAD TOO MANY BEERS TO FIGURE OUT THE HYPERLINKING AGAIN) touched on some interesting points last week, but it was drowned out by the Handel's Chorus of Assumed Playoff Berths and Stanley Cups we've been subtly hinting at on this site and via Twitter over the past few weeks. <--- FACELESS INTERNET POT SHOTS AT MY COLLEAGUES BUT REALLY NOT FACELESS BECAUSE THEY SEE ME AND WATCH FOOTBALL/GET HUMPED BY MY DOG ON SUNDAYS.
I'M NOT NEGATIVE I'M METAL.
With that in mind, I feel that I'm going to have bring the realness to counterbalance what I believe to be a spiralling headwind into heartbreak (not a real metaphor, don't really care, sounded good in my head <---Meta! editing within the post as I write and breaking the fourth wall! <---clearly overserved writer <-----you should x out of this window now).
Bail bail bail! This post is crashing and burning!
So going forward, you're going to see some more weird shit from El Yachtero. I'm not a big recap guy. I don't like to be bound by the constraints of one single thing (for instance: Manchester United and Liverpool drew 1-1 at Anfield last weekend, Liverpool missed an assload of chances, Manchester didn't start a strong side, and basically the teams played scared for 60 minutes. Good? Got it. EPL Recaps with Yachtsman. Fail).
Scizz, Cross Country practice, 1998. / Me, Crew practice, same year.
I'm not gonna rain waste matter all over your parades, I'm just saying I'm not gonna be driving the floats (unless you ply me with ass, gas, or cash. I never drive for free). What you'll get from me is more rants, more anger, more swearing, and more metal. I feel the site has been lacking in all of these areas since last year's playoffs. Here's hoping my anger doesn't pop a valve in my chest first. I love you all.
Take it away, Jello....
Man in black? Is that you?
Ah the bye week. In the past several years, it has become one of my favorite times of the year. One week of the NFL where I can focus on my fantasy team(s) above all else. One week where I don't have to be concerned about the Bills getting blown out by 40. One week where my heart can rest from the ridiculous emotions the Bills have sent firing through me. One week where I can rest my liver from the pounding it takes while trying to drown said emotions.
This year I expected to be a little more antsy over the bye week, but alas, I'm pretty psyched about it. With a full Friday and Saturday of wedding plans in Connecticut (for friend of DGWU, D-Roc, whom you may remember from Ep. 14 of the CrapTastiCast), this Sunday is going to turn out to be a nice little resting period for the gal and I. No screaming at the secondary for getting torched by mediocre wide receivers. No near vomiting from all the close games that Fitz and the crew have put us through. And best of all, no new injuries to seven more starters.
So what else is there to do? Well I'm glad you stopped by, because the Scizz has got your back. Here is a fantabulous rundown of some activities to keep you busy this weekend, listed from top to bottom according to priority.
Paging the spirit of Bob Corkum. Bob Corkum are you there?
1. Stop back in to DGWU for the epic return of the CrapTastiCast. After a two-month hiatus due to constant traveling, high level stress at real jobs, technical errors because of celebratory beer spillage, and outright laziness, we all got together this week and recorded episode 15! It takes place in darkess at Megsie's apartment with a full menu of craft beer and incoherent ramblings from each of us. Remember how we hit our stride after a few episodes? Yeah, that's gone. But, it still was a lot of fun and we are sure you will enjoy it.
If you have yet to familiarize yourself with the little podcast we do here, check out the CrapTastiCast archives to prepare yourself.
May I suggest episodes 3, 7, and 13 as some of our best non-guest adventures.
2. NASCAR, BITCHES! With no Bills game, I'll be able to focus on one of my favorite races of the year; the Fall Talladega race. Tune in to ESPN Sunday afternoon to see why Will Ferrell and Adam McKay chose this track as their muse for Ricky Bobby. With only five races left in the Chase for the Sprint Cup, just 35 points separate first from eighth place. Carl Edwards holds a slim lead over Kevin Harvick and last week's winner Matt Kenseth. Five-time defending champ Jimmie Johnson sits in eighth place, so please join with me in hoping he blows an engine by lap 14 so that NASCAR can finally have a new title holder.
3. Sabres Hockey. Do I really need to write anything else? Go back and look at the Barrister's giddiness
over his last few posts if you need any more reason.
4. Go to the movies and watch Johnny English Reborn. I love Rowan Atkinson and I love Mr. Bean. I don't care if this makes it seem like I'm nine, the dude makes me laugh.
5. Piss of your girlfriend/wife (or boyfriend/husband!) by watching every other NFL game on Sunday, while keeping your computer open to stat-tracker from 1pm until 12am. This should be completely understandable. Just know that when football season ends, you may have to sit and watch a full day's worth of that Sex and the City box set you bought her for Christmas (or Aqua Teen Hunger Force for the dudes).
6. I know I said this could be a rest from activities that destroy your body, but then again, why not get intoxicated and watch The Big Lebowski. Then these stupid Bills preview posts will make more sense with a fresh viewing on your mind. And if you have never seen it, LEAVE THIS SITE NOW YOU GOD-FORSAKEN SPIRIT!!!!! THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!!!!!
7. Catch up on the blogosphere. If you're like me, then the sheer amount of content on Bills and Sabres blogs has been somewhat overwhelming over the past few weeks. I have often found myself way behind on posts from some of my "go to" blogs. Take a look at our archives first, of course, then check out our blogroll for all the sites we here at DGWU love. Or in some cases love/hate. I'm talking to YOU, Tim Connolly supporters!
8. Finally, if you have nothing else to do, watch stupid baseball and punch yourself in the face.
Enjoy the weekend and I'll see you next week for my Week 8, Bills-Redskins preview. Let us all hope and pray that Sexy Rexy will be playing, just for the high comedy that comes with watching him attempt to play football.
I have recently fell back in love with the wit and music stylings of Mr. Ben Folds, so enjoy this fantastic video from 1997 when I was an awkward, high school nerdathlete. Oh, and kudos to you if you "got" the caption under the the lead-in picture to this post. Gotta love that Lebowski/Jacob connection.
Damn right I led in with this. I am a barbaric hockey fan, and last night was AWESOME.
I think it's fair to say that I tend to be the most optimistic of the DGWU Crew. Where the Yachtsman tends to be viciously cynical and pessimistic, the Apologist tends to be the realist who will somehow rationalize the shit sandwich on his plate, and the Scizz - for the most part - keeps a pretty level head (except when his emotions well up into a disproportionate response of some nature), I tend to exist on planes of daisies and roses where my team, just by virture of being mine, is believed to be capable of superhuman feats. I'll be the first to admit that I can often go overboard with what I believe our Sabres can do, particularly on an individual level.
So, hat in hand, I think that maybe I could step back on my recent praise lavished on, say, Ryan Miller or Thomas Vanek.
But, Dubs, I just got a shutout. A real one.
Or.... maybe not.
After last night's contest, I don't think there's really a way - short of guaranteeing a Cup - that we all can be over-optimistic about this Sabres team. Ryan Miller is locked in, and seems to be playing at a superhuman level that we haven't seen since the Olympics. Thomas Vanek is, frankly, absurd - his two goals tonight were perfect examples of the myriad ways that he finds a way to be productive on the ice, and I don't know if we've EVER seen the guy play as well as he's playing right now.
Toss in the rest of the guys, none of whom appears to be playing bad hockey - very easy to say when the team just notched a thorough, 60 minute effort for the shutout - and there is every reason to believe that this team is unstoppable. Perhaps I'm tempting fate, but fuck it - that game last night, and the majority of the team's moments since the season started, are giving me no choice but to believe the very best about what will become of the Sabres 2011-12 season.
This team is very, very good.
They'll probably come down to earth sometime, but for now, I can't ignore the basics - Buffalonian tendency to fear the worst be damned. However, in case you're shocked at my tempting of fate (if you can even really call it that...though, Yachtsman will, surely), don't worry... I'll be making my sacrifice to the hockey gods this weekend. Gotta cover my bases.
For now, I'll be sitting in my state of awe just a little bit longer.
We rarely take on a serious tone for this blog, but after a series of conversations with my father this week, I felt the need to pay respect to a classic man in the world of motorsports. At 4:54 EST on Sunday from Las Vegas Motor Speedway, IndyCar driver Dan Wheldon died from injuries sustained during one of the most horrific wrecks in the history of racing. Dan was a successful, well respected, and downright classy guy within not only the IndyCar series, but all of racing.
In ten Indy seasons, he amassed 16 wins, 43 podiums, and won the 2005 championship after setting a modern day record with six wins during the season, including the world famous Indy 500. He also finished second in the points standings in both 2004 and 2005. With the exception of maybe Jimmie Johnson, that is one of the most dominant three year span's in racing during the last decade. He actually was tied for the championship in 2005, but the tie breaker of more wins went to teammate and friend Sam Hornish Jr.
Dan went on to finish in the top five in points for the next two years, and in 2006 teamed up with fellow Indy driver, Scott Dixon and NASCAR driver Casey Mears to win 24 hours at Daytona in the Rolex Sports Car Series. Following 2007, Dan toyed with the idea of moving over to Formula One, but ultimately stayed with his heart in Indy. However, after a two win season in 2008, Dan struggled to find the winner circle the following two seasons and was replaced by a younger driver. With things looking bleak, Dan agreed to a part time race deal in 2011 that would guarantee him a chance at winning the Indy 500.
At Indianapolis, in his first start of the season, one of only three he would have the opportunity to take part in, he passed the younger driver that replaced him in 2008 on the last lap, and drove to victory. It was a shocking and unexpected turn of events that left thousands in attendance and millions watching around the world, smiling from ear to ear to see the once dominant Wheldon battling back to show he still had the goods. Following the win, Wheldon delivered an emotionally fueled victory speech in which he spoke about the difficulties of not having a full-time ride, and then nearly broke down while dedicating the win to his ailing mother who had just been diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease. That moment got me to stay a little more focused on IndyCar this season. His likable persona and dedication to auto racing made it hard for me to not love the guy and pull for him when he would race later in the year.
On Sunday, while I was licking my wounds after a disappointing Buffalo loss, Dan was involved in the crash that would cost him his life. Since the Yachter and myself decided to relax outside and go to dinner with the girlfriends, I completely missed the news until Sunday morning. I stared at the article in the Daily News for a solid 30 seconds before I could even think about reading it. How could another successful, respected, and straight up classic driver like Dan Wheldon be gone "just like that"? All of this also happened a mere days after he had signed a three year contract to return to IndyCar, the series he loved, full-time while driving for the world famous Andretti family.
This started a train of though that I feel the need to discuss. Too often, auto racing, not just NASCAR, is insulted and given a backseat to "real sports". Richard Petty, Mario Andretti, and Michael Schumacher are never put on ESPN's stupd shit lists of top athletes. Hell, even a FUCKING HORSE is usually ranked above them. After Jimmie Johnson won his fifth straight title, "experts" scoffed and said he doesn't belong in the same category as Tom Brady or Sidney Crosby. I've always accepted people's confusion for my love of NASCAR and motorsports in general. I understand that it isn't everybody's cup of tea., but do not for one second become one of those people that find it "cool" to rip on these men who drive for a living. Maybe you think it's boring to watch cars drive around in circles, or maybe you think anybody can drive a car fast, but the truth is these guys put their lives on the line every single time they step into these vehicles, and that demands fucking respect. Tom Brady has never stepped onto the field and feared for his life. Alex Ovechkin has never skated onto the ice and thought to himself that it may be the last time he sees the light of day.
Sure, football and hockey players risk serious injury every game, but you cannot say that these men risk life and death for their fans and spectators, several times a week. Men like Wheldon, Tony Stewart, Dario Franchitti, and hell, even Danica Patrick entertain the world by driving huge machines at over 200 mph. They don't need the Colin Cowerd's of the world sniveling on their radio shows about what a joke it is to call them athletes.
You know what though? Maybe these people aren't athletes. They are better. They spend their whole lives working their way through minor racing series in order to make it into one of the elite circuits of the world, and that's enough to put them on a list above any diamond kings or heroes of the gridiron.
Dan Wheldon put his life on the line for the SPORT he loved and for the millions of racing fans around the world. Take a moment to think about that and appreciate what the man did during his life. More so, appreciate that, what these drivers do in one day's practice is more impressive than what Ryan Miller will do in his entire career.
So next time you want to rip on auto racing and it's fans for being boring or unimpressive, think about Dale Earnhardt. Think about Gilles Villeneuve. Think about Adam Petty. Think about Ayrton Senna. And now, think about Dan Wheldon.
Goodbye Dan. You were truly one of the greats. I'll have a big glass of milk tonight in your honor.