Show me, don't tell me, You've figured out the score...Show me, don't tell me, I've heard it all before...Show me, don't tell me, I don't care what you say...Show me, don't tell me...You can twist perceptions, Reality won't budge...You can raise objections, I will be the judge...And the jury...I'll give it due reflection, Watching from the fence...Give the jury direction, Based on the evidence...I, the jury...Show, Don't tell

Jan 17, 2005

The Curse of Coach Nickerson

Well, it turns out that the road to Jacksonville goes through Pennsylvania. Conference Championship Week is upon us, pitting the four best records in the NFL against one another for the right to participate in Super Bowl XXXIX. The Falcons head north to Philly while the Pats head south to Pittsburgh. Break down the games any way you like but both matchups are really very simple. In Philly, it all boils down to whether the Eagles can contain Mike Vick. In Pittsburgh, it all boils down to whether the Pats can confuse Big Ben and lure him into some big mistakes. And it will all take place in the Keystone State amdist talk of a curse.
That's right, a curse.

Because the Eagles and Steelers have collectivley managed to lose the last seven conference championship games they've played in (all at home) some of their fans are pointing to the existence of a curse. It couldn't possibly be due to their teams being outplayed, outmatched, or outwitted. No, of course not, there must be a curse! Some claim it's the curse of William Penn whose ghostwas apparently angered when his building-topping statue had its' view blocked by a new high-rise. Some in Philly say it's the cure of Michael Irvin who was booed as he was carried out of Veterans Stadium on a stretcher a few years ago. And some say that the curse was placed by a half-man, half-beaver who was gang raped by a group of Steeler fans outside of Erie, PA circa 1985. Although that last theory is quite compelling, all of the theories are wrong. Any sane-minded person will tell you that it's proposterous to believe that ol' Billy Penn would curse his own state, or that Michael Irvin is smart enough to recite incantations, or that some Steeler fans would molest a half-man, half-beaver (half-man, half-donkey maybe, but not a half-man, half-beaver). Let me state this once and for all, loud and clear: There is not a William Penn Curse, there is not a Michael Irvin Curse, and there is not a Curse of the Half-Man, Half-Beaver. Well, not really. Anyone with half a brain knows that the bad luck which has befallen the Eagles and Steelers is completely due to....... The Curse of Coach Nickerson.

Allow me to set the scene: It's the fall of 1983, night of the annual rivalry game between Ampipe High and Walnut Heights High. Ampipe (blue collar sons of miners and out of work factory folk) has put together its' best team in decades & are hoping to knock off perennial powerhouse Walnut Heights (obligatory, hated rich kids) for the first time in almost forever. Ampipe is leading 14 - 10 on a muddy field with rain coming down in buckets and have just stopped Walnut Heights on a 4th & goal and take over on downs at their own one yard line. With just two seconds to go, Coach Nickerson sends in the play. Instead of a kneel-down, he calls for a halfback dive. Rifleman takes the snap from center & hands to Vinnie Salvucci who proceeds to fumble the ball. It's recovered in the end zone by Walnut Heights for the game-winning touchdown as time expires. Final score: Walnut Heights 16, Ampipe 14. Steelworkers gnash their teeth and throw their hats, women and children look away in horror, a muddy & bloody Tom Cruise looks on from the sidelines in shock, in the bleachers Lea Thompson's nipples suddenly go soft, and Salvucci lies in the mud, a broken, weeping, shell of a man.

After the game, blame gets tossed around the lockerroom like Tara Reid at an MTV Awards afterparty. The town of Ampipe decides that Coach Nickerson is to blame and they head out to his house, with torches lit and bags of poo in-hand. After having his home defiled and family threatened, Coach Nickerson packs up the wife & kids and heads for a college job at Cal Poly. The whole story ends seemingly happily as Coach forgives Tom Cruise for throwing garbage on his lawn ("You threw garbage on me, my wife, and my little girl!") and eventually offers him a scholarship to play ball for him in California. However, what we never saw, what got tossed on the cutting room floor, is what Coach Nickerson did on his way out of town.

Still quietly fuming over how he was treated after the big loss, Coach Nickerson put a curse, yes a curse, on not only the town of Ampipe but also on the whole (and I'm using his words here) "the whole dirty fucking crap hole of a state". First, he made a quick trip to the library for a book on spells and incantations. Then, after the purchase of some pigs feet, a few spices & some candles, a few minutes of chanting, and the gang-raping of a half-man, half-beaver, the curse was set. And football in the state of Pennsylvania has never been the same since.

So what effect will that have on this weekends games? Well, it's a curse, so the Eagles and Steelers will lose unless the curse is lifted in time. Duh. The question is: How can the good people of Pennsylvania lift The Curse of Coach Nickerson? Good question, and one that the experts seem divided on. Many mediums tell me that a reverse incantation and gang-rape is the only way to lift the curse. However, Craig T. Nelson says the reverse gang-rape is a terrible idea, that the curse can only be lifted by a ten-year contract by all Pennsylvania tv stations to air reruns of Coach. Fr. Thomas O'Malley of Ampipe's Our Lady of the Blessed Hymen parish says that group prayer and collection plate offerings is the answer. Local astrologist and part-time street whore Melody Lane claims that the curse can be lifted by outdoor love-making when the moon is in the house of Capricorn. Nicole Kidman says the only sure-fire cure is the slow and painful death of Tom Cruise. And the Church of Scientology says the curse can easily be lifted, just go to one of their meetings with checkbook in hand, and they will show you how.

So there you go Keystone State football fans, you now know that there is indeed a curse, where the curse comes from, why it was started, and you've been given a lot of suggestions on how to lift it. Which remedy will work? I don't know. But I do know that you've only got three days, so I suggest you hurry up and try 'em all!

Jan 12, 2005

Monkey.... Mon-kay-eeeee

You know, there's just nothing more disturbing than seeing Leah Remini (co-star of King of Queens and my former fantasy girlfriend) go from "skinny little hottie" to "bloated portly dairy cow". Have you seen her lately? It pains me to say this, but she's in serious danger of becoming the new Kirstie Alley, who by the way, is in serious danger of becoming the largest land mammal this side of the Arctic Circle. If there truly is a God in heaven, why in the name of Himself is he allowing annoying beasts of burden like Roseanne Barr and Carnie Phillips to lose weight while a perfectly good peice of ass like Leah Remini suddenly lets herself go? It's all just a shame, really. And speaking of the obese, you know what else is a shame? It's a shame that Star Jones is, well, a star. It is my sincere belief that if you are fat and untalented, you should be working 9-5, wearing as much clothing as possible, and, most importantly, not on television. And while I'm on the topic, it's also a shame that Michael Moore hasn't mysteriously disappeared by now. It's a shame that Dr. Phil hasn't been attacked by a hive full of bees. It's a shame that I missed the Orange Bowl halftime show where Ashley Simpson (relation to Jessica, no relation to O.J. or Homer) got booed off the stage. It's a shame that I can't seem to figure out when Scrubs is on anymore. It's a shame that I only recently found out about Tumbleweed's all you-can-eat steak & potatoes for $12.99 deal on Sunday nights. It's a shame that sportscasters don't seem to use the word "flea-flicker" anymore. And it's also a shame that I may miss some of this weekend's NFL Playoff action.

That's right, due to some stealthly-made plans by the wife, I'm going to be out of the house and not near a tv for the better part of Saturday afternoon. Now, normally I'd just shrug it off & go wherever I feel the leash is pulling me, calming myself with the knowledge that my team isn't playing anyway (for the 15th straight postseason) and that catching the highlights later will sufficiently feed my football monkey. But this week is a little different. This week, my monkey wants to see some other monkeys, namely, the monkeys that are riding on the backs of three quarterbacks- Peyton Manning, Donovan McNabb, and Mike Vick. Truth be told, it's never good to have a monkey on your back. Unless, of course, the monkey happens to look anything like our latest Pigskin Palooza Cheerleaders of the Week (see link at top of page). I think Peter Gabriel said it best when he said, "Monkey....Don't you know you're going to....Shock the monkey......Yeah-heh..." Of course, he also said, "You could have a big dipper, going up and down, around the bends. You could have a bumper car, bumping...this amusement never ends", but, whatever. Trust me, monkeys on the back- not good times. First of all, monkey's are surprisingly heavy. Secondly, they're smelly. Then there's that ungodly poo-flinging habit. And finally, you've also got to contend with the occassional chubby-in-the-back problem. Nothing quite like getting spine-humped by a little, hairy, non-evolved man. And if you don't believe me, go ask Rhea Perlman. Three aforementioned quarterbacks currently have monkeys hanging from their shoulderpads, and they all want desperately to shake them loose, any which way they can.(sorry) For Manning, it's the "Can't Beat the Patriots" monkey. McNabb's is the "Can't Get to the Super Bowl" monkey. And Vick's is the "Can't Pass Well Enough to Win a Playoff Game" monkey. All good-sized monkeys that will either be shocked, shaken, or grow even larger and start swatting away airplanes.

Of all the playoff QBs, Manning is riding the highest. He's the league MVP, he just broke the single-season TD pass record, and most recently, his Colts just thrashed the Broncos last Sunday. However...... The Patriots are right where they want to be- at home, seemingly vulnerable, and completely in Manning's head. Plus, Belicheck's been preparing for the Indy offense for the last three weeks. (Yes, I know New England played Frisco two weeks ago, and No, I don't think they bothered preparing for them. That'd be like preparing for the GED) If Manning can go into Foxboro and finally knock out the Patriots, he'll go from "Great Quarterback" to "Horse-faced Superstar". If he can't, well, he'll suddenly take on the existential appearance of Mr. Ed being ridden by a gorilla as another great season once again ends in disappointment.
My hunch: Colts win, Dillion sulks, Patriot Empire begins its' collapse.

McNabb's plight is a little different than Manning's. During the Eagles run of four straight NFC Championship game losses, Donnie Mac has been hindered by a serious lack of offensive talent around him. Watching the Philly offense the last few years has been like watching the movie Suicide Kings. Decent story, good writing, Christopher Walken......and a bunch of crap as a supporting cast. A half hour into the movie, you can't help but wonder when another talented actor is going to come on screen and help Chris Walken out. In Suicide Kings, the help never comes. In Philly, T.O. came. And then he went. He's on the sidelines with a broken leg and now McNabb is left with yet another set of crappy wideouts and has to somehow find a way to make it work this time. If he does, he's the best thing in Philly since Ron Jaworski and cheesesteaks. If he doesn't, well, his monkey will start hitting him in the back of the head with cans of Chunky Banana and Poo Soup.
My hunch: Eagles lose, Mama McNabb consoles with some soup and lap dances, and two ferrets jump out of Randy Moss' hair during a postgame interview.

Then there's Michael, excuse me, Mike Vick. Mike apparently needs to throw the ball more. I hear that he needs to throw more effectively, more accurately, more efficiently, and more while in the pocket. Honestly, I don't know why. I mean, the man is as elusive as a chicken in a courtyard and he's as fast as a cheetah with a rocket firing out of its' ass. So I don't know why he really needs to throw at all. But if the Falcons lose and he doesn't throw the ball well, even if he runs for 300 yards, people are going to point to the lack of passing yards. And they will continue to do so until he can prove otherwise. This weekend, he's got Mrs. Doubtfire's Rams coming into the Georgia Dome. Not a powerhouse defense by any stretch of the imagination, so he's got a good chance to shake, I mean shock his monkey. If he does, he quickly becomes the hands-down best player in the league and the ultimate Create-a-Player in Madden 2005 without having to actually create him . But if he doesn't, his monkey's going to start some rythmic spine-humping that will systematically start wearing down his knees and his will to live.
My hunch: Vicks runs, Vick throws, Vick wins, Mrs. Doubtfire goes shopping for some more support hose.

Monkeys. We all got 'em. We all got at least one that we need to get off of our backs and out of our hair and to stop flinging poo at us. Mine? Mine is indeed heavy, smelly, and sex-starved. But it has long arms & often gives me a courtesy reach-around. I call her Mama Squints. What do you call yours?

Jan 3, 2005

Playoff Palooza aka "The Dirty Dozen"

From thirty two, down to the final twelve. Kinda like week three of The Bachelor. Most of the ugly chicks have been sent home, as well as a couple of hotties that mysteriously didn't make the cut. And among those remaining, there's an older needy broad, a token black chick, and a couple girls with "good personalities" that we know aren't going all the way. There's also a couple skanks who are way hot but also way too skitzo to make it to the end, and there are a couple hose hounds who seem to have just the right mix of looks and game to make them destined for the finals. This is the point that I like to call "The Dirty Dozen". And those of you who know me understand that when I use the word "dirty" in the title, you should brace yourself for some filth. So, before you read any further aloud, make sure the kids are wearing the earmuffs........................
.....Okay, now let's get on with this motherfucker! And to start things off in style, I thought I'd share with you some of Yiddy's email reply after I announced the final regular season Palooza standings. Enjoy...

happy new year,

As always, thanks Yid.

Mike Tice's purple pussy farts went 5-1 to 8-8, queefing their way into the back door of the postseason. As a matter of fact, the only game they won in the last five weeks was the gift given to them by the Lions on that botched extra point attempt.
Simply put, his is quite possibly the worst team to ever make the playoffs.

Here's our other 8-8 supergroup. I'm just hoping that at some point in the first half, Kyle Turley crashes the party, WWF style, with a couple of tattooed buddies & some folding chairs and proceed to kidnap Coach Doubtfire. Ahh, I can hear it now..........
Joe Buck: "Second and four from the thirty five. Hasselbeck steps under cen-.... "
Aikman: "Joe, that's Kyle Turley's music!"
Buck: "What in the hell is HE doing here?!"
Aikman: "I think he's looking for a peice of Mike Martz."
Collinsworth: "He ought to be looking for a therapist."
Buck: " Oh no, Turley and his goons are charging the field! Somebody get them out of here!"
Aikman: "They've got Martz, Joe. And I could be wrong, but it looked as if the entire St. Louis sidelines just stepped back & let them through."
Buck: "Now what are they doing? Oh God! They're putting him in a coffin! They're putting Mike Martz in a coffin!"......

Seattle Seahawks, Champions of the NFC West!
Hey, isn't that kinda like winning a beauty contest in a burn unit? Well, with an opeining round game at home against the Rams, followed by a potential date with the rusty, T.O.-less Eagles, these ugly sea bitches may just hang around for a couple weeks.

I have absolutely nothing bad to say about this team. So I'll let my good friend Triumph the Insult Comic Dog say a few words.......
"Ahh, thank you Smitty. Green Bay, huh? What a great town.....FOR ME TO POOP ON!! I once shtooped a St. Bernard in Green Bay. She was crazy for the anal, but gave me a real bad case of the syph. Hey, what are you laughing at Al Harris? You with the dreadlocks. You look like you have a long-haired Puli sitting spread-eagle on top of your head. And you, don't you laugh, Mr. Brett Favre. All this hoopla about starting 200 games in a row. Fuck you, I could start 200 in a row too if I was gargling pain pills. You gargle the pain pills like Jeff Garcia gargles man-goo. Speaking of man-goo, where is Kamangoo Biajala-Guatemala? Your name sounds like a Haitian hump-hump bar. Ah, but I shouldn't pick on you, you're a big dude. You're one of those defensive ends like Reggie White. That reminds me of a joke: Hey Green Bay, what do Vince Lombardi, Reggie White, and Lassie all have in common?....... They're all dead! Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week. Try the Snausages, they're delish."

Intersting fact: Not since Joe Theisman's 1988 Redskins has an NFC team won the Super Bowl while being led by a quarterback with a penis shorter than five inches.
Upon being made aware of this news, Mike Vick replied, "No worries fellas, I'm large and in charge. Most guys walk up to a chick and stick their dick in. Not me. I stick my dick in, then walk up to the chick. I'm Mike Vick, bitches!"

Eagles- I've got three words for Andy Reid: Eat. More. Fiber.

I've also got three words for Donovan McNabb: Yo'. Momma's. Hot.

And I've got three words for Terrell Owens: Mother. Fucking. Karma, baby!

Broncos- Now that Jake Plummer has grown a beard, doesn't he just look like a hairy vagina with teeth?

Jets- Being completely Ob-Jec-Tive here, Chad Pennington is kinda suckin'.

Chargers- I like this team. I really like this team. And what's not to like? I like the city they play in. I like those powder blue unis they break out every now and then. I like LT. I like Antonio Gates. I like the fact that Junior Seau no longer plays for them. I like that Eli Manning spurned them and is now sitting at Shockey's house watching the playoffs on tv. I like that Coach Schottenheimer's daughter fucked my old college roommate. I even like that creepy thing on Drew Brees' cheek. What the hell is that thing, anyway? A shit stain? A bad accident with a permanent marker? A tattoo of Indonesia? Or, to quote Austin Powers in Goldmember, a "moley-moley-moley-moley-moley-moley-moley!"?

Colts- Some people say this team is soft. And sure, they may be. Hell, they may be as soft as Nathan Lane's penis in the lap dance room at Bristol's. But, with all do respect, I don't think Nathan Lane's penis regularly gets into the "end zone" five times a night.

Patriots- The defending Super Bowl champs are 14-2, have a first round bye, and get their first playoff game at home. So why does it feel like there's no way they make the Super Bowl? Well, their offensive coordinator has one foot in Foxboro and one foot in South Bend, while their defensive coordinator has been given permission to interview for the Brown's head coaching position. I think Jim Morrison said it best when he said, "This is the end, Beautiful friend. This is the end, My only friend, The end......Father, yes son, I want to kill you. Mother...I want to...fuck you" That Jim Morrison was such a card.

Steelers- I hate to say it but this team is good. Real good. They're well coached, they play smart, they hit hard, and they've got a QB straight outta' Miami University. The question is- What other AFC team can put a defense on the field to stop Deuce & the Bus behind that kickass offensive line? And the bigger question is- Just how much pelt do you think Big Ben has scored over the last four months in Western Pennsylvania? I figure he's had to have earned at least 40-50 beaver badges so far, right?