Ah yes, July. The time when I can't sleep because it's taint hot and I actually post. In the spirit of the Buffalo News, I'm going to mail this one in hardcore. As a matter of fact I'm writing this whilst sitting in my undies, just like Bucky Gleason (minus the frequent bachelor trips to Prague).
- What the fuck is with the All-Star game? At one time, it was the world's most unassailably awesome time. Even as most recently as the late 90s. Then came Bud "The Drooling Speech Impediment soon-to-be Dementia'd Colostomy Bag" Selig. Obviously, the idea that the All-Star game decides home field advantage in the playoffs is as Ho-Tarded as Jeff Wilpon, but that's not even the worst part. The fact that every team must be represented is abhorrent. THE ENTIRE GAME OF BASEBALL IS BASED ON PEOPLE BEING BETTER THAN OTHERS FOR THE SAKE OF WINNING. Who the shit does anyone want to see play baseball from the Kansas City Royals? I view this as similar to participation trophies in sports.....one day the Chinese will mow us down with bootleg M16s because we were all taught that it's okay as long as we tried our best. LOSERS CRY ABOUT THEIR BEST. NOBODY GETS ORANGE SLICES AFTER A LOSS.
- Remember the movie Mr. Baseball? There was a creepy scene where Tom Selleck and some smokeshow Japanese chick take a bath together. I saw that in the theater with my next door neighbor (lay off we were the same age, Sanduskies) when I was in very early middle school. That seemed wildly inappropriate at the time and that hasn't changed. You know what else is wildly inappropriate? Shitty segues into off color R.A. Dickey jokes. I'll digress and say that he's pitching wonderfully. So much so that I'm taking email bets on how many times the Bookshelf gets solo-loaded in his office writing briefs and decides to soliloquy about the magic of Dickey's knuckler. We're at 1 and counting, I'm taking the over on 5.
* sidenote: whenever Barrister says he's "up late watching the Mets" I always wonder if that's just code for he's in his underwear with a belt tied around his neck and the Met game happens to be on. These are things I wonder at 3:46 AM.
- I'll tell you what, I'm shit your pants excited for the Football season to start. Crisp fall days, horrifyingly unhealthy fried foods, blacking out before Football Night in America even starts.....AMERICA IN ITS FINEST MOMENT, KINFOLK. There is nothing quite like those first few weeks of Pro Football. College football has you primed because Conference Play is just starting, then you hit the ground running with the big week 1 marquee matchups.....all of a sudden it's 8 PM on Week 1 Sunday and you've spent $147.32 on a four hour bar tab, you're out $200 to the shady Italian kid at work who's Uncle takes bets, and you've done the entire "sober - drunk - sober - hung over" spectrum twice because you started drinking at 10 AM....GOD I LOVE FOOTBALL.
- The Bills are clearly the most compelling team in the 716 these days (cue some A-hole "yeah but the Bandits.." SHUT YOUR FACE AND TAKE YOUR TRAITOROUS FRENCH AND INDIAN SPORT BACK TO QUEBEC). Not only am I excited to bring back my freshman year of college self back for 16 Sunday afternoons this fall ("GIMME A PIECE OF FRIED CHICKEN I'LL THROW IT AT THE NEXT CAB"), but I'm also genuinely excited to see what kind of product Channel Changer's gonna put on the field.
Obviously our D-line is going to be phenomenal in Madden, but we'll have to wait and see if they're really the answer everyone hopes they are.
KIDDING I'M DONE WITH THE APOLOGIST-ESQUE ANALYSES THEY'LL BREAK THE CURRENT NFL SINGLE SEASON RECORD FOR SACKS. I'VE ALREADY PUT THE $67.25 I OWE SCIZZ DOWN ON IT AT BWIN.COM.
The offense, however.....well just know that Stevie Johnson will probably go down with a clavicle fracture or an ACL tear in camp because Bookshelf went and bought himself a #13 jersey on E-bay. If that happens we can all get in my car on our way to break his arms.
Also, the sheer ferocity of Ryan Fitzpatrick's unkempt Movember Beard.
- I'm not gonna lie, Hockey Heaven sort of blows, dudes and dudettes. When the only reason we've had to cheer since Frackmeister Pegs took over is the attrition of the likes of Connolly and Roy, well.......that makes us a steaming pile of dissatisfied hate manure. Here's hoping that Lindy Ruff, Darcy Regier, and all their unfunny fake twitter doppelgangers figure out a way to disappear over the next 4-6 months. That way we can ACTUALLY build this team in the image of a winner instead of forcing Ted Black to come out and announce a new coat of paint in the bathrooms every four weeks because we can't win a meaningful game. (For real though the empty suit putting lipstick on a pig routine is old, Teddy......make the fucking playoffs if you're going to come out like Caesar returning from Gaul every six months.....then I'll eat my words) /faints and hits head on laptop due to run-on sentences.
- Also, HAHAHAHAHA DEREK ROY IS GONE. To use a well established barb premise because I'm over tired, when one looks up a picture of a dillhole in the dictionary, a picture of Derek Roy comes up. HA! FINALLY! HE'S GONE! NO MORE MAN-SANDALS! NO MORE RUNNING TRAIN ON POOR UNSUSPECTING UB COEDS IN THE BATHROOM AT SOHO! NO MORE WRISTBAND AND TEQUILA SUNRISES IN A PLASTIC CUP PICTURES POPPING UP ALL OVER THE INTERNET IN LATE APRIL EVERY YEAR! ENJOY DALLAS, YOU PUCK HOG!
ALSO, I'll be having a Bloggers Summit at my apartment.....however only my ego is invited.