Wednesday, October 10, 2007
KLTLB Welcomes the Newest Carolina Panther
Welcome back to the NFL, Vinny Testaverde.
I remember when you first started for the Decatur Staleys. Gosh, you looked dashing in that leather helmet. Too bad you sucked so awful they had to move the team to Chicago in '21.
Labels:
carolinasucks,
oldpeoplejokes,
vinnytestaverde
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Cheers and BOO-Urns: Week Four Monday Night Sports Extravaganza Edition
Editor's note: this is clearly a blog devoted to football, but special exceptions will be made for the boys of summer as they play to be done with the season in time to trick-or-treat with their spoiled bastard children.
CHEERS to being able to choose from a Monday Night Fooseball matchup between the Cincy Tiggers and the New England Videographers; a wild-card tiebreaker between the Saint Diago Fathers and the Colorado Rockies; Weeds and Californication on Showtime; and Heroes on NBC (which my wife absolutely loves, but frankly I could take or leave)
BOO-Urns to not being able to watch everything at the same time.
CHEERS to the Pod Person who took over the body of Randy Moss. I mean, the guy makes for great football. But I hear that if you show emotion or sleep around him, he will eat you. Eat you, like swallow your body whole and replace you with another pod person. Perhaps that's at the root of Bill Belichick's success. Frankly... it all makes sense now.
BOO-Urns to the Cincinnati Tiggers. That's right. Tiggers, as in the Winnie the Pooh character that's all flash and no danger. Tiggers may pounce on you, but it's in a playful way. They don't cause any harm, except to your digestive tract as you vomit because you expected them to help push the score over the posted 52.5. Jerks.
CHEERS to the Colorado Rockies for making the post-season, and to that entire game last night. Both teams wanted it passionately, and unfortunately for the Padres, the Rockies had the horse shoe up their posteriors.
BOO-Urns to Cal Ripken Jr. as a studio analyst on TBS's post-season coverage. He looked like a middle-aged mad slouched over at a bar, impatiently waiting for his next drink. It occurs to me that I committed a mortal sin in the Baltimore region by slandering Cal. If I never make another entry to this blog, you'll know what happened: I was crucified for making fun of Cal.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Cheers and Boo-Urns: Week 4
CHEERS to Jon Kitna, who led the Lions back for the third time this season! This blog's name still has relevancy! HOORAH!
BOO-Urns to my weekend picks. After starting the day hot (6-1 in the early games), I took an epic dump in the 4 o'clock and Sunday Night games. Record for the week: 7-6. Let's just hope Cincy mans up, rises above their crummy Ohio origins and commits various crimes against the New England secondary. A shivving would be welcome.
CHEERS to Diego Montoya Anderson and Eli Manning for being relevant for another week. Especially to Diego, who totally pimp-slapped the Ravens. Too bad Jamal Lewis couldn't do the same. I may be a Ravens fan, but damn, do I love the irony of Diego downing the Ravens. I guess I'm just a fan of Irony in general.
BOO-Urns to the Houston Texans. Those first two weeks of the season really got my hopes up. Jerks. I hope Matt Schaub finds a bug in his Wheaties this morning. (Side note: I wonder if athletes still eat Wheaties for breakfast)
CHEERS to Coach Norv Turner for murdering the hopes of another franchise. Honorable mention to Phillip Rivers who appears to have gone color blind, or perhaps has been replaced by Jordan Palmer. If Phillip Rivers offers you a balloon this week and asks you if you've been saved, well, that's just not Phillip Rivers.
BOO-Urns to Brian Griese. Note to Lovie: BRING BACK REX!
CHEERS to Tampa Bay for thriving in the face of Cadillac Williams' knee a-sploding early in the game. Jesus, you could hear his knee pop all the way in Barrow, Alaska, from what I've read. It registered a 6.4 seismic reading in Carolina.
A BIG BOO-Urns to Carolina for not covering. You destroyed Chris Simms' spleen, and you couldn't win that game. Cadillac's knee is now in geo-synchronous orbit over Uruguay, and you couldn't win yesterday either. You're a blood thirsty bunch of thugs, but you can't win. Just. Plain. Sad.
CHEERS to Brett Favre for totally ignoring Dan Marino's recorded message o' congratulations after Favre shredded Marino's TD record. There are too many good sports in the NFL when it comes to record-breaking. Cheers to Brett for being an obnoxious jerk about it.
DOUBLE CHEERS to Daunte Culpepper for rubbing the health of his knee in the face of Miami's fans. That was world-class taunting. I'm struggling to find a way to reference the Minnesota Love Boat in here, but since I can't, maybe it's time to put it to rest.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Eli Manning in: The Land of Inferior Brothers
Lights up.
The scene: A New York Giants meeting room. TOM COUGHLIN stands in front of the assembled New York Giants roster, holding a Target bag.
ELI MANNING dozes at the center of the room. Some of his teammates look on unapprovingly.
TOM COUGHLIN:
ELI! Wake up you little panty snot!
ELI glances up, flips off Coughlin.
COUGHLIN:
Fine, you wanna lose by 21 this weekend? I'm not the one whose brother is worshipped by the unwashed masses. Not to mention, your daddy will stick his foot so far up your ass your boogers will have shoe crud in 'em.
ELI shrugs.
COUGHLIN:
SHOE CRUD! Nasal... Shoe... Crud... it tastes like... well fine then. I guess we've studied our game plan enough. In light of Tiki Barber's continued criticism of me making you crawl underneath barbed-wire, through broken glass while whistling "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" last year, I'll make you play board games instead. Since you're all a bunch of pansy-ass queens anyway. Here. I hope you all die on Sunday.
Coughlin tosses a stack of games out, MICHAEL STRAHAN jumps to catch one.
STRAHAN:
Ooh! CANDY LAND! I wanna be Queen Frostine!
One rogue box brains ELI MANNING, knocking him unconcious.
COUGHLIN:
Aw, shit. Now Archie's gonna kill me.
Dissolve to:
A SHADOWY FIGURE stands above ELI.
SHADOWY FIGURE:
Hey, kid. You alright?
ELI:
Yeah, I guess so... something hit me in the noggin. Mighta been Strahan's balls again.
ELI recognizes this shadowy man.
ELI:
Jose? Is that you? Jose Canseco?
OZZIE CANSECO:
Nah, he's going to the sixth layer of hell. I'm his brother Ozzie. Welcome to Land of Inferior Brothers, Pro Sports division!
ELI:
You gotta be kidding me.
ELI glances around the room. JORDAN PALMER, brother of Carson, skips by wearing a padded safety helmet and a smiley-face balloon chanting to himself. MIKE MADDUX, Greg's big brother, pitches underhand to Cal's brother BILLY RIPKEN, who swings and misses.
BILL RIPKEN:
C'mon Fuck Face! Throw me something I can hit.
Off in one corner sit all three TUIASOSOPO BROTHERS, flashing gang signs as ELI and OZZIE walk by. JERRY HAIRSTON prices HgH at the concession stand.
JERRY HAIRSTON:
Can't I get mail order down here?
The shopkeeper shrugs.
OZZIE puts his arm around ELI's shoulder.
OZZIE:
So, what do you think?
ELI:
I think this is worse than getting beaten by Archie under the Christmas Tree when I only bought him Soap on a Rope for Christmas.
OZZIE:
Yeah, I hear that. Archie's bloodlust frightens us all.
ELI:
How do I get back to the Giants' locker room?
OZZIE:
You really wanna go back there? Jeremy Shockey gives me the creeps. And, dude, think about who's in MY family.
ELI:
Tru dat. No man, I don't want to get stuck down here. Can't Peyton and I peacefully co-exist? I mean, I'm the #17 ranked quarterback in the NFL this season!
OZZIE:
(snickers) Hmm. #17, you say? Yeah, that ain't gonna buy you out of here. My advice? Plant drugs on him or something. Talk to those guys over there.
MARCUS VICK stands in a dark corner, offering marijuana to passerby.
ELI:
Yeah... that's scarier than my dad.
OZZIE:
Fair enough.
JORDAN PALMER skips up to ELI and offers his balloon.
JORDAN:
GOD LOVES ME!
OZZIE:
Sure he does, Jordan. Sure he does.
JORDAN waves his balloon in ELI's face again.
ELI:
You'd better keep that, buddy.
JORDAN:
YAY! GOD LOVES ME! AND SO DOES PEYTON MANNING!
JORDAN hugs ELI, practically smothering him.
ELI:
(struggling to breath) I'm... not... Peyton...
JORDAN releases ELI from his monstrous grip, then kisses him on the cheek.
JORDAN:
I LOVE YOU PEYTON MANNING!
JORDAN skips away, singing about God.
OZZIE and ELI look at one another.
ELI:
Drugs, then?
OZZIE:
I wish I'd thought of that before Jose retired.
A distant rumbling is heard...
OZZIE:
Looks like your visit is over, kid. Just remember... no one likes a Super Bowl-winning quarterback that gave hashish to a 10 year old.
The rumbling gets louder...
OZZIE's face dissolves into that of JEREMY SHOCKEY, whose greasy hair shakes as he pummels ELI with bitch-slap after bitch-slap to the face.
SHOCKEY:
WAKE UP! WAKE UP YOU PANTY WASTE! WAAAAKKKKEEE UPPPPP
ELI starts to wake up. He turns his head, SHOCKEY's slap misses it's target.
SHOCKEY:
YARRRRGGGHHH!
SHOCKEY slips off of ELI's stirring body, tears his groin, and will miss the rest of the season.
TOM COUGHLIN:
Yeah, I'm getting fired.
~fin~
The scene: A New York Giants meeting room. TOM COUGHLIN stands in front of the assembled New York Giants roster, holding a Target bag.
ELI MANNING dozes at the center of the room. Some of his teammates look on unapprovingly.
TOM COUGHLIN:
ELI! Wake up you little panty snot!
ELI glances up, flips off Coughlin.
COUGHLIN:
Fine, you wanna lose by 21 this weekend? I'm not the one whose brother is worshipped by the unwashed masses. Not to mention, your daddy will stick his foot so far up your ass your boogers will have shoe crud in 'em.
ELI shrugs.
COUGHLIN:
SHOE CRUD! Nasal... Shoe... Crud... it tastes like... well fine then. I guess we've studied our game plan enough. In light of Tiki Barber's continued criticism of me making you crawl underneath barbed-wire, through broken glass while whistling "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" last year, I'll make you play board games instead. Since you're all a bunch of pansy-ass queens anyway. Here. I hope you all die on Sunday.
Coughlin tosses a stack of games out, MICHAEL STRAHAN jumps to catch one.
STRAHAN:
Ooh! CANDY LAND! I wanna be Queen Frostine!
One rogue box brains ELI MANNING, knocking him unconcious.
COUGHLIN:
Aw, shit. Now Archie's gonna kill me.
Dissolve to:
A SHADOWY FIGURE stands above ELI.
SHADOWY FIGURE:
Hey, kid. You alright?
ELI:
Yeah, I guess so... something hit me in the noggin. Mighta been Strahan's balls again.
ELI recognizes this shadowy man.
ELI:
Jose? Is that you? Jose Canseco?
OZZIE CANSECO:
Nah, he's going to the sixth layer of hell. I'm his brother Ozzie. Welcome to Land of Inferior Brothers, Pro Sports division!
ELI:
You gotta be kidding me.
ELI glances around the room. JORDAN PALMER, brother of Carson, skips by wearing a padded safety helmet and a smiley-face balloon chanting to himself. MIKE MADDUX, Greg's big brother, pitches underhand to Cal's brother BILLY RIPKEN, who swings and misses.
BILL RIPKEN:
C'mon Fuck Face! Throw me something I can hit.
Off in one corner sit all three TUIASOSOPO BROTHERS, flashing gang signs as ELI and OZZIE walk by. JERRY HAIRSTON prices HgH at the concession stand.
JERRY HAIRSTON:
Can't I get mail order down here?
The shopkeeper shrugs.
OZZIE puts his arm around ELI's shoulder.
OZZIE:
So, what do you think?
ELI:
I think this is worse than getting beaten by Archie under the Christmas Tree when I only bought him Soap on a Rope for Christmas.
OZZIE:
Yeah, I hear that. Archie's bloodlust frightens us all.
ELI:
How do I get back to the Giants' locker room?
OZZIE:
You really wanna go back there? Jeremy Shockey gives me the creeps. And, dude, think about who's in MY family.
ELI:
Tru dat. No man, I don't want to get stuck down here. Can't Peyton and I peacefully co-exist? I mean, I'm the #17 ranked quarterback in the NFL this season!
OZZIE:
(snickers) Hmm. #17, you say? Yeah, that ain't gonna buy you out of here. My advice? Plant drugs on him or something. Talk to those guys over there.
MARCUS VICK stands in a dark corner, offering marijuana to passerby.
ELI:
Yeah... that's scarier than my dad.
OZZIE:
Fair enough.
JORDAN PALMER skips up to ELI and offers his balloon.
JORDAN:
GOD LOVES ME!
OZZIE:
Sure he does, Jordan. Sure he does.
JORDAN waves his balloon in ELI's face again.
ELI:
You'd better keep that, buddy.
JORDAN:
YAY! GOD LOVES ME! AND SO DOES PEYTON MANNING!
JORDAN hugs ELI, practically smothering him.
ELI:
(struggling to breath) I'm... not... Peyton...
JORDAN releases ELI from his monstrous grip, then kisses him on the cheek.
JORDAN:
I LOVE YOU PEYTON MANNING!
JORDAN skips away, singing about God.
OZZIE and ELI look at one another.
ELI:
Drugs, then?
OZZIE:
I wish I'd thought of that before Jose retired.
A distant rumbling is heard...
OZZIE:
Looks like your visit is over, kid. Just remember... no one likes a Super Bowl-winning quarterback that gave hashish to a 10 year old.
The rumbling gets louder...
OZZIE's face dissolves into that of JEREMY SHOCKEY, whose greasy hair shakes as he pummels ELI with bitch-slap after bitch-slap to the face.
SHOCKEY:
WAKE UP! WAKE UP YOU PANTY WASTE! WAAAAKKKKEEE UPPPPP
ELI starts to wake up. He turns his head, SHOCKEY's slap misses it's target.
SHOCKEY:
YARRRRGGGHHH!
SHOCKEY slips off of ELI's stirring body, tears his groin, and will miss the rest of the season.
TOM COUGHLIN:
Yeah, I'm getting fired.
~fin~
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
ALL HAIL GAMBLOR! Week 4
This feature is named in honor of the 5th season episode of The Simpsons "$pringfield", as well as former WBAL Radio producer Don Ayres, who would always preface his trips to Atlantic City by announcing "I'm going to go pay homage to Gamblor".
Oh, and the lines used here are from my office football pool. Don't use this for actual gambling unless you have the burning desire to flush your money down the crapper.
St. Louis Severe Injury Issues @ Dallas Coach Snausage Fingers and the Romosexuals (-12.5)
This game has the largest spread of the week, and with good reason. It's only week four and St. Louis is already shredded. Steven Jackson wasn't getting it done when he was healthy, and now he's unable to fornicate for the immediate future with a partially-torn groin. Marc Bulger's ribs are pulverized. Meanwhile, even T.O. is drinking the Romosexual Kool Aid in Dallas. Dallas covers, wins by 14. At least.
Green Bay Pack Attack @ Minnesota Vikings (-1.5)
You've gotta be kidding. Did anybody see the way Ole Man Favre ate San Diego's secondary for lunch last week? Besides that, you might also want to pay attention to Green Bay's young, hungry and improved defensive unit. Minnesota's current starting quarterback's biggest claim to fame is that his last name sounds a little like my favorite cereal from childhood. Take Green Bay, I'm guessing they win by two touch-scores and a field score. That would be 17.
Chicago No Sex Cannons @ Detroit Lions (+2.5)
This game makes me sad for two reasons. One, the Bears have benched the funniest, worst and most blogged about QB in the NFL. Two, because the Bears have no offense and their defense has (compared to last season) fallen apart, Jon Kitna will not need to lead the Lions back this week. He'll have the game under control in the fourth quarter and the Lions will easily cover.
Houston Texans @ Atlanta No-Vicks (+2.5)
Yes, ace piano player Joseph Harringbone had a good game last week. That's because he was playing with the fear of being Leftwiched. He won't feel that fear last week. Meanwhile, the Houstons nearly upset the Indianapolises without Andre 3001 starting at WR. Matt Schaub connected with 10 different receivers. Not to mention it's a great opportunity for him to show off how stupid Atlanta was to dump him. Houston covers, wins by 10.
Baltimore Scavenger Birds @ Marróns de Cleveland (+4.5)
I hear Cleveland's Quarterback is pretty passionate about winning this game. Cleveland will, at the very least, cover. They may actually win.
Oaktown Raiders @ Miami Crappy Sea Mammals (-3.5)
Ugh. Do I have to pick a winner? I'd rather poke out my own eyes than sit through this game. I'll go with Oaktown based on the resurgence of LaMont Jordan, but I wouldn't put money on this one if I were you.
NY Mangeniuses @ Buffalo Quadraplegics (+3.5)
Speaking of stinkburgers... I'm just going to keep picking Buffalo until they win one. You probably shouldn't, though. Avoid this game.
Tampa Bay Butt Pirates @ Carolina Panthers (-2.5)
This will be an interesting game, as Jeff Garcia attempts to blind Carolina's defensive line with his glittering eyelashes. Carolina responds by blitzing him silly and giving him the ol' Chris Simms a-sploding spleen treatment. Jeff Garcia will cry. Carolina will cover.
Seattle Seahawks @ Saint Francisco 49ers (+2.5)
You're kidding, right? Alex Smith may have struggled, but they've still got Frank Gore out of the back field, who needs to do a lot better this week to not anger the ghost of his mother. I hear Mamma Gore will now use supernatural powers in all cities except Pittsburgh to put the frighteners on her son's opponents. Matt Hasselbeck is already crapping his pants. Saint Francisco covers easily.
Denvers Who Are Not As Fast As The Horse Whose Name They Bear @ Indianapolis Dolts (-9.5)
I hate both of these teams, but Indy's been playing everybody close lately. Indy wins by a touchdown, but they won't cover. Take Denver.
Kansas City Native American Tribal Leaders @ Saint Diago Our Coaches are Morons (-11.5)
Norv Turner is your coach.
Norv Turner is your coach.
Norv Turner is your coach.
Kansas City will cover.
Pittsburgh Steel Workers @ Arizona Cardinals (+5.5)
Steely McBeam and company are way back this season, and as much as I feel a burning hatred deep in my soul for their team, their city and (to a lesser extent) their state, I respect them. More than I respect Indianapolis. The Cardinals, who are wisely sticking with Matt Lionheart, aren't there yet. Take Pittsburgh to cover. I'm thinking they win by 10.
Philadelphia Iggles @ New York Lesser Mannings (+2.5)
That's it? Philly only has to cover by a field goal? Vegas, this is like manna from heaven. The Lesser Mannings would be 0-3 if Joe Gibbs hadn't called Washington's two minute drill last Sunday like he was tripping on Acid. Andy Reid's sons might have supplied it to him. Andy himself does not partake. Philly wins big.
MONDAY NIGHT SPECIAL: THE SHOOTOUT AT THE OHIO NEARLY IN KENTUCKY CORRAL
New England Videographers @ Cincinnati Tiggers (+7.5)
New England has put up exactly 38 points in each of it's first three games. That's mind blowing to me. Cincinnati has absolutely no D to speak of, but Carson and company have to be pissed that they dropped the game in Seattle. They're at home, they've got a high-powered offense that's been together longer than Tom Brady and Randolpho Moss, and they like to show off in prime time. Cincy covers, big time. I currently also have the total points in this one at 52.5. If you believe that New England will put another 38 on the board, that means all Cincy has to do is score three TDs. They can do that with their eyes closed. Take the over.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Hello. I am Diego Montoya Anderson. You released me. Prepare to die.
Hello Baltimore Ravens.
I am Diego Montoya Anderson. Numero tres de la Cafés de Cleveland.
You released me from your football team.
Prepare to die.
Do you remember, Kyle Boller, when you duct-taped me to the goal posts and let Tara Reid bite off my nipples?
This Sunday, you die.
Ray Lewis, I let you hide your AK-47s and IEDs in my dorm during training camp, then you ratted me out to homeland security. I did 3 months at Guantanamo Bay for you, Ray Lewis.
On Sunday, at 1pm, you will die.
Brian Billick. I remember you, sir. You swore on your great grandmothers grave that I was your super awesome quarterback of the future. Then, on the final day of training camp, you buried a shiv between my third and fourth ribs.
On the seventh day, God may rest, but I will not. For I will kill you. Dead.
DeShawn, the locker room attendant at M&T Bank Stadium. I tipped you at the end of every game, but you refused to clean the feces out of my locker after Jonathan Ogden pinched a two-foot loaf all over my gear.
You may have forgotten, but Diego Montoya Anderson never forgets. Sunday, you die.
People frequently say that Matt Stover is the nicest guy in the Ravens locker room. No matter.
Sunday, I will break both your knee caps free of your twitching body and feed the cartilage to the Dawg Pound. For Sunday, you will die.
Heisman Trophy Winner Troy Smith. We've never crossed paths in this vast football universe. But I'm going to mentally put Drew Olsen's face on your body, and snap your neck.
Drew Olsen took my spot on the Ravens roster just as you took his.
For that, Sunday, you will die.
For I am Diego Montoya Anderson.
And on Sunday, you will all die.
Monday Night Football Cheers and Boo-urns
- CHEERS to the Tennessee Titans for covering. You didn't really think the Saints were going to go marching into the end zone, did ya?
- BOO-Urns to Deuce McCallister for failing to make it to the "over" on his annual devastating leg injury. I had week six in the "Deuce's ACL A-Splodes" dead pool. Drat.
- CHEERS to the New Orleans Saints for making like it's Groundhog Day. The Saints' Groundhog Day happens to be the NFC championship game last January.
- BOO-Urns to Jeff Fisher's ever-expanding gut and freaky goatee. All he needs is a pony tale and he'll be the spitting image of Comic Book Guy.
- CHEERS to next week's offense lover's orgasm matchup, the New England Videographers vs. the Cincinnati Super Thugs.
- BOO-Urns to Monday Night Football being on up against the best half hour on television, Showtime's Californication. If you haven't watched it yet, I'll leave you with this nugget of wisdom: "I don't want to sleep with her! Hank might have left booby-traps up inside her. Like the Viet Cong."
If the thought of communist booby traps inside anyone's anatomy doesn't make you laugh, then there's little to nothing I can do for you, friend.
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