My first foray into the field was performed non gratis on the campus of Miami University in Oxford, Ohio. Extensive minutes of research combined with my unparalleled ear for music and stranglehold on the middle-American zeitgeist of the time, culminated in a public proclamation that REM was a collection of talentless whiners who would leave an indelible impression only on the meek, the homeless, and the homely meek homeless homosexuals of our society. I, of course, was right on target.
From that proclamation, my reputation spread throughout the music world. My opinion was sought out by such moguls as Quincy Jones, Mutt Lange, Barry Gordy, Ted Templeman, and of course, Mama Squintz. The top act in Mama’s stable of performers was a little band you might have heard of here or ther-. Guns n Roses. G&R rode my suggestions to a glorious yet short-lived ride at the top of the charts. Slash’s hair & top hat- my idea. Axl’s snake dance in the Sweet Child ‘O Mine video- my idea. The opening guitar riff on Welcome to the Jungle- Slash’s creation, but I suggested the echo effect. The whistling on Patience- yep, also my idea. I even came up with their name. When I was introduced to them, they were billing themselves as Lugg Nutzz. After working my magic with G&R, a steady stream of successes followed. Tesla, Queensryche, Alice in Chains, Bush, Biggie Smalls, Faith Hill, Pantera, Ricky Martin, and on and on…
So what happened, you may ask. Well, to put it simply, two words: burrito addiction. Six years ago, I became addicted to Chipotle burritos. The doctors attribute it to the high content of cilantro combined with my high testosterone. It physically and financially ruined me. I would spend weeks just binging on burritos delivered to me by a neighbor boy whom I paid $5 per run (he eventually invested that money in some profitable penny stocks, dropped out of school, and is now a retired 13 year-old with a house on South Beach). I was a pathetic, bloated, burrito zombie. I’d often be so gorged that I literally could not lift myself off my living room floor, a floor covered by a two-foot tall sea of aluminum foil. I’d probably be dead, though my body still eerily preserved due to the cilantro, if not for Mama Squintz. She heard about the state I was in and flew immediately to my side. After several days of sponge baths and some just sensational fellatio, she convinced me to enter burrito rehab.
The rest, as they say, is history. I now have a respectable if not glamorous job, I have some money in my bank account, I’m in great shape, and I haven’t touched a Chipotle burrito in 10 months. Best of all, the word is out. First, I heard there was a buzz about me at the MTV Video Awards, then Kid Rock left me a voicemail, Clay Aiken texted me, and finally today, the call I’ve been waiting six years for. “Carol” from Music Research America phoned my cell and has offered me a seat in their alternative rock round table. I’m back, baby! We’re meeting at the Radisson the evening of October 2 to make decisions which will effectively sculpt the landscape of FM radio for years to come. It’s just me and approximately 49 other carefully selected people and we will each be paid $50 cash for our time. If things go well, I’m told that there may be future opportunities dealing with other music genres and possibly a chance to give feedback on experimental shampoos, soaps, and roll-on deodorants. Johnny B is also on the panel. I wouldn’t tell him, at the risk of hurting his feelings, but I have to presume he was selected as a tactic to try & convince me to attend.
In any case, I’m back in the game. And in case you’re worried that my newfound success and rediscovered glory will take me away from giving proper attention to this weekly blog, don’t fret. You shall all ride with me and share in my experiences (but not in my fame, fortune, and hordes of admirers) as I will keep you informed of my adventures every step of the way. And it all begins next Tuesday night in Northern Kentucky. I am preparing to document my earth-shattering return to prominence with a running diary of the evening to be posted right here. I am also in negotiations with WCET to film the event with the intention of using it for broadcast during their next on-air telethon. Bask in my glow, my friends, feel the warmth of my genius, let it comfort and inspire you. Now, I have a lot to do to prepare myself, so let’s get on with the matchups.
Also, Johnny B, Carol said if we get there early there’s a good chance that we can get a $25 bonus for giving our expert analysis on some new brand of granola snacks. Rock On!
Cal at Oregon-
Do not adjust the picture, the problem is not in your set.
Alabama at Florida State-
Best picture of the year so far. The Bama player got hit so hard, one of the numbers flew off his helmet.
Oh, no wait, I’m sorry. THIS is the best picture of the year so far.
Texans at Falcons-
As God is my witness, when I heard Chris Berman refer to Matt Schaub as Matt “Stump the Shaub” last Sunday, the top of my head lifted and a train whistle popped up and sounded. Yep, I went cartoon crazy. Mark my words, I will either skull Chris Berman with a shovel or anally violate him with Stuart Scott’s glass eye before the end of the decade.
Ravens at Browns-
The Romeo Crennel Farewell Tour is back after a short absence. Get your tickets at any local Ticketmaster or Cleveland area Waffle House today!
Raiders at Dolphins-
Culpepper leads the Silver & Black into Miami to take on his former team. Was he with the Fish long enough for this to even mean anything? They picked him over Brees, he played a couple games, stunk up the joint, got hurt, then got moved for Trent Green. Eh. This likely has all the ill will as a chance meeting between Britney Spears and that hometown pal of hers that she married & divorced all in one weekend in Vegas a few years back.
“Hey, how you doin’?”
“Not bad. You?”
“Good. Got a couple kids, you know. They’re with their daddy right now.”
“You look good. Nice sweatpants.”
“Thanks. You look good, too.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah…..”
“Do you remember me?”
“Of course…. Darren, how could I forget.”
“Uh, it’s Jason.”
“Right. Well, see ya later Jared.”
Bears at Lions-
Oh, Rex Grossman… Not since Jack Tripper has a man fucked up a seemingly no-lose situation this badly.
Jets at Bills-
I find myself rooting against the Jets more than ever now, just in the hopes that ESPN Radio’s Mike Greenburg will become so distraught that he’ll eventually take his skinny ass to the top of his own ego and jump to his death, leaving nothing but a greasy mark where his super-gelled metrosexual hairdo hit the pavement. Seriously, that guy is like listening to nails on a chalkboard crossed with a whiny old Jewish housewife. And if I hear his pal Mike Golic say “Yessss, Greeney” one more time, I’m likely to hit him with a shovel or anally violate him with the alien-shaped head of John Clayton.
Packers at Vikings-
If Favre is Superman, the Metrodome is kryptonite.
Also, if Favre is Spiderman, he’d pull it off much better than that twerp Tobie McGuire. Seriously. And what’s with Kirsten Dunst? I mean, are we really supposed to find her attractive? When I’m watching the Spiderman movies, I’m yelling at the screen, “No Spiderman, you can do better than her. You’re in New York City, go find a hot model or something.” Then he takes off the mask & I’m like, “Oh, yeah, you two are about right for each other.”
Rams at Cowboys-
If you get the chance, check out Wade Phillips sometime. Everytime something good happens in the game, he’s on the sideline with an I can’t believe this is really happening to me look on his face. He’s like a Price is Right contestant during the Showcase Showdown. “Also a part of your showcase…. an interception return for a touchdown!”
I keep waiting for him to turn to the stands for advice on how much he should bid.
Steelers at Cardinals-
This is the day Ken Whisenhunt’s been waiting for since January. It’s also the day the Lord has made. Let all the world rejoice.
Bucs at Panthers-
It’s Cheerleader Pose-Down Time!!!!
Seahawks at Niners-
Damn the Niners, damn them straight to Hell!!!
Chiefs at Chargers-
The Chargers are learning the hard way the first rule of human resources: Never hire a man named Norv to lead your team. Who the fuck is named Norv anyway? Is it short for something? Norvan? Norvert? Norvack? I need answers!
Broncos at Colts-
Hey, it’s bonus week fellas- Two Cheerleader Pose-Downs this week!!!
Eagles at Giants-
Donovan McNabb says it’s hard being a black NFL quarterback. Really? You know what else is hard? Right, my weiner. Gosh, you guys are easy.
Monday Night
Patriots at Bengals-
Who Dey think gonna flash dem puppies!?!
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