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

Nov 27, 2007

A bedroom machete, the Double Shovel, Courtney Love's underwear, Barney Fife, my tour in Nam, The Predator, and Synchronized Group Defacation

Like most of you, the first thing I thought when I heard that Sean Taylor had been shot was, "Shit, I hope Chris Henry didn't shoot him." And the next thing that popped into my head was, "I wonder if Pac Man Jones shot him?" Then I thought to myself, "I wonder if we still have any of that leftover spicy chicken dip left in the fridge."

Look, I’m sorry that Sean Taylor died. It’s tragic, it’s uncalled for, and it’s especially terrible for his infant daughter. But I am so sick and tired of what typically happens after an incident like this. I’m sick of every normally sarcastic, attention-whoring Joe Sports Talk Host falling over himself to show his sensitive side to the world. “My heart goes out to the whole Redskin family…”, “It’s just a reminder that life is so very precious…”, “Our thoughts and prayers are with the Taylor family…”

What?! Five minutes ago you were trashing a player for an end zone celebration, demanding that a coach be fired, and belittling a caller. And before you send your heart out to anyone, you might first want to see if they really want something that small, black and frozen before you go to the trouble of retrieving it from the iron padlocked box you keep it in while you’re on the air.

You didn’t know Sean Taylor. All you know is that the dude got shot & died and your bullcrap sensor is telling you to start dishing out your best funeral lines. If you’re going to be a wise-cracking jackball (not unlike myself), then be a wise-cracking jackball. Turning sincere when someone dies is so, well, insincere. “That Sean Taylor is a punk. Just another punk from the U. Remember when he spit on that Tampa Bay player? What a jerkwad. They should’ve suspended….What? He’s dead? … Let me be the first to offer my condolences to the Taylor family. We joke around a lot on this show but you never want to see someone die.”

Really? I’d like to see some people dead. OJ, Robert Blake, Michael Moorer, anyone who willfully harms a child, Osama Bin Laden, Fidel Castro, Mike Brown, Chris Berman, any distant rich relatives who may happen to have me in their will, Kim Jung Il, Ashton Kutcher, and, of course, all two-faced Joe Sports Talk Guys.

And to be fair, it’s not just the radio hosts. It’s also the callers, the message board goofs, bloggers, and EVERYONE at ESPN. Everybody’s a blowhard until someone dies. Then, it’s time to straighten up your dress, put on a solemn face, and talk with your “inside” voice. Hell, I’ll bet even Stephen A. Smith and Sterling Sharpe have toned it down to levels that, for a change, will not cause your ears to bleed. As much as I like my ears not to bleed, this behavior isn’t genuine and it’s really kind of insulting. And I hate to break it to you guys but it doesn’t give you credibility or show your maturity. It only shows that you’re either a) faking it now or b) your normal everyday blowhard act is fake. Either way, to steal a line from Good Will Hunting, “You’re suspect!”

Just say it like it is. Taylor was a thug who unfortunately got shot while not acting like a thug. Probably. Or maybe somebody thought he had it coming. Or not. Who knows? His fiancée was quoted as saying that they heard a loud noise in the house and Taylor grabbed the machete he kept in the bedroom for protection and started out to investigate.
Go ahead and read that again, I’ll wait...
…. A machete? Seriously? Well, yeah I guess that’s normal. Most upstanding citizens have machetes in their bedrooms. Chances are, if you’ve got a machete in your bedroom, eventually things are not going to end well for you.

I didn’t know him, he didn’t know me. I didn’t shoot him and I won’t be at the funeral so I really have no emotions about it. I’m just wondering who the Skins are going to plug in at safety.

Thursday Night

Packers at Cowboys
Winner of this one likely winds up getting home-field throughout the NFC playoffs.
Hmmm, an NFC championship game played in cozy Dallas with God peeking down through the roof, or an NFC championship game played in godforsaken country with two feet of snow on the ground. I’ll be rooting for the Pack. Not because I want to see a snow game in January, because I can’t stand smiley guys. Tony Romo’s a smiley guy. Hey Tony, hows about you and Hines Ward take your smiley faces on down to a gay bar and sing along to some Village People songs. It’s times like these when I need my new invention to become reality. The Double Shovel. One long wooden handle, two square-faced shovels…. Hey Tony, Hines, come over here for a second. I have to ask you guys something. Here, stand next to each other. A little closer…BLAMM!!!


Niners at Panthers
Damn the Niners, damn them straight to hell!!!

Bills at Redskins-
I think the Skins have to make a roster move.
Hell, I know, whatever.

Texans at Titans-
New Oilers versus old Oilers and neither of them is called the Oilers. Instead, one team’s named after giant, mythical people and the other is named after people who wear giant, mythical belt buckles. That’s what you call a lose-lose.

Falcons at Rams-
Joey Harrington and the Falcons battle Gus Frerotte and the Rams, this Sunday on FOX!

Seahawks at Eagles-
You get the feeling that the Seahawks could lose the rest of their games and still wind up winning the NFC West? That division’s crappier than Courtney Love’s underwear after one of her normal pot pie, gin, and diet pills lunch.

Chargers at Chiefs-
Speaking of the west, these two ho-hummers are battling for first place in the AFC West. Good Lord, football teams are a lot like Irish bars this season- you can’t find but one or two decent ones west of Chicago.

Lions at Vikings-
Look Jon, it’s Jesus. And he’s purple!

Jaguars at Colts-
Can you imagine what Del Rio’s Jags could do if they ever got a quarterback who could throw? They could win at least nine games a year with a wounded elderly platypus behind center. They’ll probably win ten with David Garrard. They’d likely win fourteen if they had Manning. Peyton, that is. They’d likely only win six if they had Eli. Three less than with the platypus.

Jets at Dolphins-
Ho. Ly. Crap, what a game! If the Fish lose this one, things get a little desperate and really depressing in Miami. I can smell the carbon monoxide in the locked garage already.

Broncos at Raiders-
Time for this week’s pop quiz…
Everyone knows that The Black Hole is the end zone section at Raiders home games where people dress up like freakish GWAR members and commit unspeakable acts. What is the most unspeakable act ever committed there?
a) The sodomization of a recently deceased horse
b) Synchronized group defacation
c) The sacrifice of a live hot dog vendor to appease the Third Down God
d) A round-robin chess tournament
e) I can’t say because, well, it’s unspeakable

Answer: e)

Browns at Cardinals-
I know what you're thinking, "Holy crap, Romeo Crennel's gotta spend over three hours baking in the Arizona sun!" First of all, yeah, ewww! Bet secondly, don't worry, the grounds crew had plenty of practice over the last couple years when Denny Green rolled up & down the sidelines. They've virtually got the sweat puddle drainage system down to a science.

Buccaneers at Saints-
Hey fellas, it’s Cheerleader Posedown Time!!!

Tinks (Giants) at Bears-
Here we have a pressure game featuring two quarterbacks who handle pressure worse than Barney Fife. It ought to be fun to see which one shoots himself in the foot and which one locks himself in the jail cell with Otis.

Bengals at Steelers-
Did you happen to see the horrendous field conditions at Heinz Field on Monday Night? Watch this shit...

Holy mother of rice patties, I haven’t seen terrain that fucked up since my tour in Nam. I know, I was only three years old when the Vietnam War, er, Conflict ended but they took me ‘cause I was an explosives expert and a black belt in Jujistu. Also, thanks to my nanny, Shing Wan, I spoke fluent Vietnamese and was pretty adept at wooing information out of the oriental girls.

Monday Night

Patriots at Ravens
Watching last week’s Pats-Eagles game was like that scene in The Predator where they see its’ neon green blood dripping onto a leaf. “If it bleeds, we can kill it.”

But before anyone gets their hopes up, remember, that hideous creature killed like eight guys before Schwarzenegger finally had to blow it up with a shitload of explosives. The Ravens seem to be fresh out of explosives.

1 comment:

Blogger said...

Proto-col Slim-Fizz is a distinct appetite suppressant that contains the ground-breaking fibre Glucomannan, which is an organic dissolvable fibre derived from high quality pure Konjac.