The Barrister

Back when we wrote a bunch, we had a habit of doing weekly Bills previews and recaps using bits of pop culture as thematic fulcrums. Mostly out of laziness. Also because it allowed us to crib Drew Magary without directly cribbing Drew Magary. 

With six weeks of football left (barring COVID-related season-stoppage, which is not outside the realm of likely outcomes) and the Bills sitting pretty atop the AFC East at 8-3, it seemed time to slip back into old routines in the hopes of sharing a laugh or two. And with American culture awash in very real and very absurd outgrowths of ignorant bigotry and violence, with a side of pathetic, zealous buffoonery, there's no better piece of pop culture to use as my fulcrum than HBO's Watchmen. HOLY SHIT what incredible television. Bonus points for teaching a generation of Americans about the Black Wall Street Massacre because I know for fucking SURE that they aren't teaching that shit in most high schools. If you haven't watched it yet, let me know and I'll slip you my buddy's HBO Max login just kidding Joseph I would never. 

As for the football, well, the Bills are a good football team! A friend of mine who also writes for this site and has a worse habit of pissing people off than I do insists that this is a mediocre football team but I disagree. I am happily eating crow this year as Joshua Withrop Allen and Sean Reginald McDermott remind us that nobody is perfect, especially not football fans. 

More on that below, as well as Power Ranking Trump's election lawyers, cannabis reviews from the Bay State, and some other stuff, too, probably!

THREE REASONS THE BILLS WILL SMASH TONIGHT:

1. The aforementioned Joshua. 

I don't know that I've truly expressed the mea culpa that I feel is due from my corner of the internet, what with me being so very wrong about Josh Allen. The Bills are 8-3, Allen is playing not-quite-mistake-free-ball-but-honestly-pretty-close, and more than anything - a point that can't be overstated, truly - the Bills are uproariously fun under the leadership of this big goofy kid with a rocket arm. When the Allen stans started demanding apologies from those who dared question Josh's greatness in years past, it was obviously ripe for me to start shitposting because that kind of discourse is juvenile nonsense, but honestly that kind of black-and-white approach to what we're seeing from Allen sells him short. When I watched #17 play over the course of his first two seasons, it was impossible to see a reliably likely path from his abilities under center to anything approaching success.  

Seeing Allen find that path despite how improbable it seemed in those first 20 or so starts of his career, and seeing now not just a winning football team but one that pulls hilarious, creative and - crucially - productive offensive production out of his reckless cannon of an arm is art. 

The job that Allen and the coaching staff have done to refine his accuracy is nothing short of unbelievable, and I could not be happier to have been wrong about this one. Does he have super annoying tendencies that may be his undoing in the playoffs like some sort of hubris-ridden Greek drama? Maybe! And that's the fun of it because we get to find out while he's running an amazing version of the option and lateraling to receivers who are dropping dimes for six. 

2. The coaching?

Another mea culpa coming, though it's slightly more muted. 

I like Sean McDermott as a football coach. I also think football coaches are patently ridiculous people. 

It's a profession steeped in cliché and that makes it an easy mark for criticism on the internet, and as this season plays out with Allen's numbers and the defense re-finding itself just in time for a playoff push, and the club playing truly enjoyable football under truly shit circumstances, the strength of McDermott's leadership is self-evident. He's a walking cliché and thus the easiest mark of them all, but he's also a master of those stereotypical coach tendencies. The end result is a group of football players who, by all accounts and the evidence on the field, are thriving during this pandemic season. 

The thing about clichés is that they exist for a reason and sometimes - not all the time, dear god no - but sometimes they're spot on, and in a season with few or no butts in seats, all things being equal, a team that is having a fun ass time playing together has a competitive advantage. 

Clap it up. 

3. The early-season chumps figuring it out. 

Two chumps in particular - AJ Klein and Tyler Bass - have been on my mind a lot in recent games as a couple key guys whose play has improved pretty dramatically and have produced some big moments in those wins. I won't get too deep in the weeds on either of these guys, but their play in recent weeks has been a boon to their respective units on the field. I don't read enough Bills news to really have a sense of what was wrong with Klein in his first 8 games of the season, but his numbers the last two games have been ridiculous. That kind of productivity down the stretch will be massive - especially the tackle numbers - as teams try to run on us in December weather. 

As for Bass, he's a rookie so calling him a chump is unkind but the dude was trash on the only metric that matters for a PK in the NFL: getting it through those big yellow things. That he has settled into a solidly reliable option for McDermott is a relief, if an expected one. He was never going to remain as bad as he was the first few weeks of his rookie season; whether he's good remains to be seen. But holy shit does he have a vicious right foot. 


THREE REASONS THE BILLS WILL LOSE:

1. I'm having a few friends over to watch on a projector around a firepit and it'll require no small amount of effort that is only really justified by a Bills win and the last time I did it was for the Chiefs loss and also the universe hates me. 

After that heading, well, this is pretty self-explanatory, I should think.

2. Bad Josh Allen

For a third year starter of any pedigree, while the dumb mistakes of your early career may rear their ugly head more infrequently, they haven't been put to bed altogether. One of the things I love about Allen is how his mistakes are simply something to overcome, and a challenge he's seemed to accept as part of the job description. His bounce back is very real after mistakes, but all the same some of the bizarre decisions he makes have the very real opportunity to cost us games.

3. San Francisco's Defense

I watch very little football that isn't the Bills, but the internet tells me that the 49ers are recently healthy at important spots on the defensive side of the ball - Richard Sherman, primarily - and that they're a solid unit against both the run and pass. SF is very much in the hunt in the NFC West, and they have the experience of having to relocate home games to Arizona to either bond the squad together or split it at the seams. If they can consistently jam up the Bills' plans on offense, it could be a tough and ugly game. 


Shifting gears....

This next feature has been ruminating for a couple weeks now, both in my brain and in reality. The kind of truly hilarious set of American circumstances that insists on one-upping itself on a near-daily basis. 

I write, of course, of the slow burn coup d'état that the Trump White House/Campaign/Organization is attempting, and I use each of those terms generously. To suggest that they're going through the motions of their various legal challenges would, again, credit the Trump team with knowing what motions are appropriate for this chosen strategy. They do not. For over a month, it's been clear that our Big Boy President got beat by Joe Biden and the only reason anyone pretends otherwise is because there's a sociopathic narcissist who still has the nuclear codes and he never learned how to admit failure despite a career absolutely steeped in it. Last I checked, and I stopped checking a while ago, Biden beat that ass to the tune of 6 million votes and something like 6000 electoral votes (don't look it up), and the death rattle of this administration has long-since transitioned to pathetic, frivolous litigant mode.

​Reverting to the mean, in other words. 

One of the themes that I have taken to heart the most over the tenure of Trump's Presidency is how unremarkable it is to see a deeply stupid fascist at work. The most prevalent lie we're told about successful fash dictators is that they're all geniuses. It's the kind of lie that excuses the rest of us for our inaction, since the destructive force of an evil genius madman requires equally genius, strong forces to stop it. So instead of asking questions about the passive ambivalence of well-intentioned Europeans - and Americans - in responding to Hitler's actions despite the fact that he was clearly a vicious idiot, we unconditionally praise the forces that eventually brought the great and powerful Hitler to heel.

The Trump Operation, from top to bottom, both the private and public sectors of the enterprise, is one most-prevalently marked by operational failures. It's only gotten worse as the administration's lifecycle has marched towards its inevitable conclusion, with any and all staffers holding a modicum of competence have been pushed out by a President who not only demands fealty to himself, but also to his various flawed beliefs about the world. Stating aloud plain-as-day facts about the world is the type of thing that can bring you in the crosshairs of this baby-brained fucking loser, which is why White House staffers who are looking for work are being fired for daring to suggest that Trump won't be sworn in as President in January, why Chris Krebs was surreptitiously fired for not publicly denouncing voting security lapses that didn't​ occur, and why John Bolton is suddenly the stupidest person Trump has ever worked with as soon as he suggests Trump lost an election in which he was dragged and whipped in a burlap sack by a guy who just six months ago was barely able to form complete sentences in public. 

Surprised, I am not, therefore, that the parting legacy of the Trump administration is this post-election loss insistence on digging deeper into a field of Ls and ensuring that our lasting memory of this humongous shithead is going to be how funny it was to watch him and his ragtag legal team go into court after court and get absolutely worked. And because I've had the idea to apply some longstanding Fire Joe Morgan principles to the various legal updates that have come into the news since election day, I wanted to take some time to riff. For you. Out of love. 

Today will be the first installment, so if you have suggestions for further rankings and/or have tidbits you want to share about Trump's hilarious legal fuckbois, @ me on Parler.

Caveat: this list isn't exhaustive and I can't really claim any sort of accuracy in what may seem like reporting here. This is me cobbling together tweet drafts and my basic knowledge of the last two weeks of legal news with some google searching and, as needed, blatant fabrication for the sake of jokes. 

I feel like the picture is all I need to put here, but also that's superficial and prejudice to simply assume that my perspective on Marc here is justified by his punchable face and the look in his eyes that screams "YES, I KNOW, I AM FIRING MY HAIR STYLIST AS SOON AS WE'RE DONE HERE." 

Marc Scaringi was just added to Trump's legal team in PA this week, having replaced Linda Kerns, a Philly lawyer who revised Trump's federal lawsuit in PA to remove the request that 682k ballots be thrown out because they were processed without campaign monitors present because that request was entirely based on a lie. Kerns and others have moved to withdraw as counsel due to the apparent conflict. Can't have that! So, Scaringi was pulled into the fray and the early reports were that he would be adding that claim back to the lawsuit, because, sure it's unethical to plead claims that are entirely unsupported by the factual record as it exists in the actual world, but it's also unethical to do so as part of a large scale political grift aimed at extracting the most value out of MAGA donations as possible. With Marc Scaringi, you get what you pay for. 

Marc's first big moment on Team Trump's Litigious Fuck Squad was a five hour oral argument on the PA case yesterday, and let me tell you, he thinks it went GREAT and he thinks Rudy Giuliani is an amazing litigator. He licked Giuliani's boots hard and he licked them good after Rudy did what Rudy does best and made the President's legal position more precarious. Marc is fitting in just fine.

Did I mention Marc Scaringi is a conservative talk radio guy in Harrisburg, ran for Senate in 2012, was a staffer for Santorum? I feel like that's relevant here. 

Anyway, unlike the lawyers he is replacing on the Trump legal team, Mr. Scaringi runs an election law practice that makes him well-suited for the task of representing Trump's interests in these election challenges, and certainly makes him a great judge of whether Giuliani nailed it during Tuesday's hearing. What's that? [mumbles into earpiece] Sorry, strike that and reverse it. Scaringi doesn't know shit about election law and runs a two person firm with his wife, specializing in commercial law, and the lawyers pushed out of the PA team were actual election lawyers. Read: Scaringi has no fucking idea what's going on here. You can add "practicing in an area of law in which he has absolutely no experience" to the list of ethical breaches. 

Maybe he should just start a band and call it "Mark" and avoid the judicial oversight.

Then again, if he did that, we wouldn't get this kind of compare and contrast AP English problem.

HYPE TRAIN SOUNDTRACK

I don't have to justify this. Ever.

DROPPIN Rs AND SMOKKIN Ls

With more states legalizing the good shit lollipop, our matron saint Mary Jane, and with my current residence in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts about three years into its post-prohibition journey to the land of milk and honey, let's talk buds. I'm not sure what this space is going to be used for beyond just telling funny stories or dropping recs for strains or delivery mechanisms, but I guess that's enough? 

Anyway, one of the strains I've been gravitating back to - both in flower and vape forms - is my now-beloved Alaskan Thunder Fuck, aka ATF. Leafly's write-up, which tracks strongly with my experience, describes ATF as "usually present[ing] large, beautifully frosted buds with incredibly strong odors of pine, lemon, menthol, and skunk. Known for possessing a relaxing yet intensely euphoric high, it is also described as having a “creeper” effect as well as pronounced appetite enhancement." Also, it's a fucking GREAT name. 

Sativas are where I spend most of my time under the influence (distinct from the 1:1 medicated edibles that I take for anxiety management) and ATF is one of the best I have ever had. (I also dig that the vape oil manufacturer I have been finding for sale at my local shop makes oil that is very true to the flower's flavor palette, which is a testament to it not being fucking wretched black market knockoff garbage that was literally killing people last year.) If you like your high to be one that gets you energized and creative (if a little unfocused), rather than sinking into your couch like a useless slob, sativas are always going to be the go-to. Not that there's not a place for indicas and also being a useless slob every now and again, especially when dealing with chronic pain, insomnia or loss of appetite, but it's more of a special occasion kind of thing for me these days.

FINAL SCORE PREDICTION:

Bills 34, SF 17. 

I don't see the Niners scoring a lot tonight, and honestly you are out of your goddamned mind if you thought I was going to come back for a game preview for Monday Night Fucking Football and not pick our Bills to run roughshod over just about anyone in the league. LETSFUCKINGGOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
​

The Outlander

Hi boys and girls. Before we begin, a quick disclaimer. This post is not all about sports. As a matter of fact, sports only cover a minority of this post. If that is a dealbreaker for you, I understand, and you can scroll down to the final third now. However, this post does contain the usual, if not an above average amount of vitriol, so it may be worth your time anyways.

Some two years ago, after a late night out, I shot an email to the deeg. The debaucherous, angry tone struck me as something I shared and wanted to lend my voice to. I get more ambitious when I’m drunk; some years ago I sent an email to the local paper declaring my intention to run for mayor around three or four am from my apartment in State College. A couple years back I ordered a bunch of shit on Vermont’s Long Trail  because despite the fact I’ve never hiked once in my life I decided it was something I wanted- and more importantly could- do (an example of drunken delusion if there is any). There are other examples but the point is, some people text their ex’s or fight- and although I have done both- I tend to go in the other direction.

Some of these drunken undertakings were doomed to failure but the decision to lavish praise on my favorite blog and ask if I may participate- I hate asking for things- was not one of them. For the last couple years I’ve been the only contributor to a blog revolving around Buffalo sports that still lived in the Buffalo area. This has been helpful for a myriad of reasons not limited to the fact I was able to watch my teams play without having to order a special internet or television package or head to a bar with Center Ice/Sunday ticket. I don’t watch local news or read the local papers but there is just something about living in an area where the vast majority of local sports fans root for the same teams as you. Outside of the soulless front running jagoffs that reside on the opposite side of the Niagara River, there is something to be said about going out and having any sports conversation you eavesdrop into revolve around the same teams you follow and love yourself, even if those having the conversation couldn’t grasp a salient point if they had eight arms apiece. I enjoyed walking to the bar in Barre, Vermont as the Sabres made their playoff push in 2011 but I loved going to someone’s house or a bar around these parts to watch the same thing much more. But that luxury is no longer as the deeg will be an all-expat blog once again.

Like many of you scattered across the country, this move has nothing to do with desire as much as it has to do with cold pragmatics. I understand that 2013 was the first year in decades that the region’s population did not suffer a decrease; every elected official and news organization seems eager to discuss the region’s rebirth, facelift, resurgence, whatever word is on the teleprompter in front of them at the moment. More people are drawn to this growth and I couldn't be happier; my issue lies with what's underneath that. From last April until this February I read every single job opening within 50 miles of Tonawanda, which usually amounted to around one thousand new posts per week. I did not discriminate on salary, title, experience or education requirements, I read every damn one of them and what I discovered, and what anyone in this area who has been job searching recently already knows, is that the reason the quantity of new jobs is discussed so much is because the quality of them is often abysmal and inapplicable to anyone not in the infancy of their working life. In the average thousand openings, I would find anywhere between one and three that were applicable for me and in the 10 months I was searching I discovered three that were truly in my wheelhouse (My “wheelhouse” is not as narrow as one may believe). Still, I applied to dozens, hundreds of positions in this area, many if not all of which I was overqualified for, and for my trouble I got one interview.

The Barrister


jesus titty fucking christ I hate a lot of shit.

Sometime earlier this week, I was in some sort of stupid daze where I was happy about things. It must have been Easter and Jesus rising and the wonderment of reincarnation magic smiling upon my heart. 

Fuck Easter, by the way.

It's Wednesday now, so this is the shit you get. An ornery dude in his early 30s blogging on a pretty shitty website since everyone stopped writing on it, complaining about a bunch of shit that you, at best, have a cursory interest in because sports.

Let's get on with it.

I fucking hate Major League Baseball.

Actually, that's not fair. I like the sport. I enjoy watching with friends. I fucking hate that baseball has an interminably long season that people weirdly care about during the first few weeks - enough to rag on a guy for HANGING OUT WITH HIS BABY AND WIFE WHO JUST BIRTHED HIM/HER/IT - and then they tell you it's because they like summer and being outside and drinking and all, but then they watch at a bar and make you turn off playoff hockey and that sort of defeats their argument about the joy of summer. Have a fucking barbecue. The MLB season's length is arguably one of the stupidest things in sports, right next to our weird treatment of athletes who used performance enhancing drugs in an era when everyone used them, thereby giving them essentially no competitive advantage. No big surprise that Bud Selig and his Merry Band of Miscreants manage to get so much wrong. 

Listen ...  OF COURSE I'd like baseball more if I followed a team that was good, but the Mets are not so let's move past that. In the midst of my hate for the team I love, it becomes abundantly clear that the league could cut 50 games off the schedule and still end up with basically the same product except without TV and ad revenue and I suppose that those things are what it's all about. Still defending it?

I'm going to a baseball game this Friday and it's so bad that I am compelled to go to a two hour open bar before the game so I can be sure to (a) not remember a fucking thing about the endless nine innings I observe and/or (2) get kicked out for calling a security guard a fat taint and/or (iii.) take a nap sometime between the fourth and seventh innings. Baseball is fun because of getting drunk, being an asshole with your friends, and naps. That's what we're working with here. 

Go Mets.


I fucking hate the NHL.

This is another sport I love that is ruined by the corporate fuckup of league decisions and the absolute assbags who work there. You know, in hindsight it should have been a warning sign that Pat Lafontaine worked for the NHL since it is pretty apparent that the league is routinely run in a way that can at best be described as "lacking clearly defined standards which tend to alter the competitive and fairness aspects of the sport" and can at worst be described as "OH DEAR LORD YOU DICKS ARE AWFUL IDIOTS AND RUIN EVERYTHING FUCK OFF AND DIE".

It's the playoffs now. And while NHL HQ's marketing blitz likes to tell us that things get all awesome and shit "Because it's the Cup" and "History will be made," it's becoming crystal clear that the real theme of the playoffs has become "Hey you! Yeah you! Feel free to be as violent as you want! We'll probably let it slide if you're important to your team!!" Shit, we don't even really get fights in the playoffs, but that hasn't stopped players from committing those acts that pose markedly high risks of harm, and it certainly hasn't stopped the NHL from allowing many of those acts to go unpunished, particularly when those committing the acts are stars, or a member of the Boston Bruins... those assholes get away with all sorts of shit always. This is all justified under the umbrella of "not wanting to stifle the natural competition of the tournament" or some such nonsense. Because, of course, risking injures that might injure a player or ruin his ability to use his brain is nothing in comparison to losing the assailant to a suspension for any drastic period of time. 

The NHL sucks at understanding the simple concepts of justice in it's system of player discipline. The people employed by the league are seemingly more likely to make a decision regarding player discipline based on gut instinct rather than based on a logical assessment of conduct and the assessment of a penalty that serves as an effective deterrent. Worst of all, making the situation endlessly confusing for fans and players alike, the NHL truly lacks any sense of applying even-handed player discipline as it leaves some egregious acts unpunished and others receiving unquestioned bans. Player reputations play too strong a role in the determination of punishments for truly egregious acts, leaving Zdeno Chara unscathed for ball tapping an opponent and Brent Seabrook's suspension lasting only three games, while the bad guys of the league - the guys who are barely missed by their teams or its fans - are treated as "examples." It's no fucking wonder that Blues fans make light of Backes' injury when the NHL can't be bothered to find a suspension that meaningfully punished Seabrook for causing Backes' brain to get violently thrown about in his skull.  Besides, I'm sure Seabrook will really learn his lesson when Matt Cooke is suspended for the rest of the playoffs.

Fuck the NHL and it's enormous clown shoes.

I fucking hate Donald Trump. 

FUCK. I really don't know what got over me earlier this week when I had a momentary lapse into "you know what? Trump might not be that bad! At least he would keep the Bills in Buffalo!" Fuck me, and fuck Trump. 

Yes, his politics are abhorrent to me, but more to the point the way he goes about his politics are the most truly fucking bothersome thing about this man. He doesn't just hate President Obama - he bandies about that hatred as a badge of honor and makes a concerted effort to find the most absurd criticisms upon which to latch. President Obama isn't American and his Presidency is unconstitutional? Check. President Obama walks in an un-Presidential manner? Check. This asshole picks on everybody, all the while courting our fan base - fans based out of the City of Good fucking Neighbors - in his looming bid to purchase our football team. Just the other day, he called Arianna Huffington ugly - really, guy, you are fucking hideous - and then retweeted the comment from a fan about her not having a green card. 

GOOD ONE, SIR. YOU REALLY SHOWED HER.

This is the dude trying to buy our football team. Our "I don't care who he is and whether he's a good guy as long as the Bills stay and win a Super Bowl" refrain is all well and good. I, too, do not really care so long as both of those hypothetical, really impossible to comprehend things happen. But for fuck's sake, is this the guy who is likely to get us there? Does the universe truly reward us in such a roundabout way, still leaving a terrible taste in our mouth and, actually pining for the days of Ralph "Odious Taint" Wilson? This - a purchase by Donald Trump, the lovable douchebag who has invaded our social consciousness with a stunning brand of buffoonery masked as corporate acumen - is what we've been dreaming for. 

Fuck that. We should be able to do better, and if not, let's at least not pretend to be happy about it.


I fucking hate Jose Mourinho. 

I don't really have anything more to add except that he can blow me. Fuck that guy.

And in closing...

I fucking hate fat people who fail to realize their girth and mistake a small subway seat between two people for a square footage of area that can fit their fat ass, the comfort and personal space of their fellow riders be damned all to fucking hell (and yes, that includes me which is why I fucking stand most commutes like a gentlemen). I fucking hate the assholes who ride the commuter trains back into New Jersey with luggage and/or stroller and/or kids of any age while the rest of us are just trying to go about our normal lives. I fucking hate all the tourists that jam up my subway station between 5pm and 7pm every evening, christ the metrocard swiper is not that fucking complicated fuck. I fucking hate Fred Wilpon and Robert Kraft and Nancy Grace and Piers Morgan and Ann Coulter and creationists and birthers and the failure of law enforcement to properly investigate Jameis Winston allegedly raping someone and Episcopalians who left after Gene Robinson was elected and everything on the WB and that FiOS can't fucking fix by HD NBC Sports so I have to watch standard definition like a chump and that David Moyes was sacked and Vincent Tan and Jerry Jones and Rex Ryan and that Michael Vick lives while those dogs remain dead and every fan at MetLife Stadium and my bitch tits and that Nassau Coliseum will no longer be a place upon which I can urinate and that my teams are shit except for Liverpool they're fucking boss and Yankee fans. 

Christ almighty I hate Yankee fans.

Back from the dead, The Scizz joins The Barrister for some delightful conversation wherein the pair take endless potshots at everyone, talk about the pitiful Buffalo hockey club, ponder Donald Trump and the meaning of life, and discuss the Wayans brothers. And other stuff probably. 

Music from The Jambrones, LCD Soundsytem, Pearl Jam, and Electric Guest



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