0 Total Updates since January 20, 2010
over 3 years ago Update 3 comments
1. UP WITH THE FORCE OF REX RYAN'S UNDOUBTEDLY STRATOSPHERIC BLOOD PRESSURE: The NFL Playoffs. Count them as one huge event, with special mention reserved for the New York Jets again guaranteeing the top spot for the NFL by keeping the attention of the Northeastern Media Borg for us all. They defeated the San Diego Chargers in last week's round of playoff games, and thus ensured further coverage of Mark Sanchez's glorious flowing locks. One hundred yards passing? He's like a photogenic 21st century Sean King in a major media market, we say!
I'm sorry, I'm too busy keeping the all-important 25-40 Housewives demographic tuned in to throw to my checkdowns. You were saying something?
The perfect hype storm of Peyton Manning, Brett Favre, and the Jets all staying alive in the playoffs ensures the primacy of the NFL in the public eye this week, and also allows the New York Post to mix colorful anecdotes about Rex Ryan's obesity with some potentially inaccurate math:
The coach celebrated Sunday's triumph over the San Diego Chargers by scarfing down a cheesesteak and a beer on the charter flight back home. He was then offered a choice of barbecue chicken, flank steak or a Cobb salad. "I have never heard him order a Cobb salad," a source told The Post. "And I don't think you would be slandering him to say he is a beer guy."
The inaccurate part comes with the headline that Ryan is "Worth his weight in gold." This is extremely inaccurate even if you use today's slightly depressed gold prices, since Ryan's 350 poundish frame would be conservatively valued at $6.272 million. If alchemy were real, Dan Snyder would have long since hired him and Charlie Weis, turned their bodies into gold bullion, and had them sold on the open market as Redskin-themed knicknacks and jewelry.
Also, someone named their child "J-E-T-S," reminding you that the only constants in history are filth, suffering, and ever more inventive forms of child abuse.
2. DOWN LIKE THE EYEBROWS OF A SKEPTICAL DR. DREW INTERROGATING YOU ABOUT YOUR EMOTIONS: Tiger Is In Sex Rehab. Why Tiger Woods is in Hattiesburg, Mississippi to get away from sex is the question here, since we all know from extensive viewing of HBO's True Blood that the Gulf Coast is just one long sex buffet munched on by impossibly attractive and irresistible vampires. No, wait, that explains all too perfectly why Woods is there, actually. The high ranking this week comes primarily from the transcendent pull of the Woods story, which has now slid into the slums of coverage controlled by your TMZs and Us Weeklys of the world, and is therefore of deep concern to your mother, who just wonders if Sex Rehab isn't a great place to meet other Sex Addicts, and it's just not fair what he did to that girl and his babies.
3. UP LIKE THE FINGERS OF A HUNDRED THOUSAND ANGRY PEOPLE IN ORANGE: The Kiffin-ing, and its Sordid Aftermath. Speaking of people who crash cars in inconvenient and possibly scandalous ways: Lane Kiffin continued his quest to win the "National Championship Trophy of January Headlines" by first leaving the football program for the newly vacant job at USC, then possibly tampering with recruits on the way out to his new job in LA, and then finally drawing gossip reporters and their digging shovels to Knoxville after it came out that he had crashed a loaned Lexus one night in September of 2009. This confirmed at least one of the rumors put out by gossip sites surrounding Kiffin's tenure, something we're sure the Vol faithful will just let lie now that they've hired Derek Dooley and are moving on after Kiffin's stunning departure.
(Or they'll keep throwing skeletons out of this closet over here and attempt to name a local sewage plant after him. Whatever.)
4. UP LIKE GRAMPA OUT OF HIS CHAIR FOR SOME ENSURE: Chan Gailey Hired By The Bills. The Bills this week illustrate the variation on the Tragedy of the Commons that is the NFL by hiring Chan Gailey, master of the 7-5 record, to coach their professional football franchise. This is a current picture of Chan Gailey for those who have not seen him since his last tenure as offensive coordinator of the 2-14 2008 Kansas City Chiefs.
That may not be Chan Gailey. In fact, that may in fact be a Mexican Hairless Cat caught in a pose remarkably similar to a Gailey gesture, and then given a caption of semi-humorous content to accent its innate humor. Chan Gailey is not the same as hiring a Mexican Hairless Cat, but he may as well have been in the eyes of Buffalo fans, who disavowed God, law, and hope for humanity in the tidal wave of underwhelm greeting the announcement of his hiring:
In your post, you used the word God. That’s an entity in which I no longer believe. The f------ brain trust that runs this s------- of an organization is so f----- inept its pathetic. We just hired a f------ geriatric that sounds as if he should be the secretary/treasurer at the Spartanburg Klan rally. Wade Phillips coached this team for three years. They went to the playoffs the first two years, and 8-8 the last season. He was then fired. Those are the good old days for us now. F--- me.
To be fair, associating Chan Gailey with a racist organization like the Klan is grotesquely inaccurate, both because Gailey is not a racist, and because racism requires enthusiasm. Gailey, 57 going on 84, lacks that and any form of sizzle. This is where a talking head reminds you of the following:
--"He's a good man."
--"He's a pure football coach."
--"He's a players' guy."
--"He'll be fine there."
All the kind of unquantifiable gibberish you get when you can't count something or otherwise attach a number to it, and fresh from ESPNews' barrel of pablum. Chan Gailey will give you football slightly above .500 without excitement, and allow you to do what at least half of all the franchises in the NFL are designed to do: look like they're trying just hard enough to escape scrutiny when it comes time to cash the checks from profit-sharing. Also, you may get Reggie Ball as your starting quarterback, and as an Atlanta resident who watched him for four years let me congratulate you on the instant comedy you have acquired in this inevitable personnel move.
5. DOWN LIKE A WHITE GUY FROM BOSTON WHO MAKES MILLIONS OF DOLLARS A YEAR: Gilbert Arenas, Handgun Size Queen. Gilbert Arenas, he of the .50 handgun/hand cannon and legal troubles, plead guilty to one felony count of handgun possession without a license last week, thus ending any and all discussion about how colossally stupid Arenas was for carrying weapons into an NBA locker room and using them in a "polite discussion" about a gambling debt. This now frees up NBA writers to do what they do best: write out Lebron James' internal monologue in atrociously done African-America slang. "NEED ME SOME OOP!" That's DY-NO-MITE STUFF, BILL! Slip me some skin! Up top! Down low! AWRIGHT MY MAN!
6. DOWN LIKE THE DROOPING GYNOCOMASTIC PECS OF A DEFLATING NANDRALONE FREAK: The Mark McGwire Says Something We All Know Was True Anyways And Acts Like It Matters Story. As saggy as the once proud lats of a weightlifter dependent on horse testosterone for their spread and power, no one cares about a player everyone realized was taking steroids admitting a decade later that he took steroids, or about the manufactured outrage surrounding it, or lastly whatever Jose Canseco has to say about it as he stares Jon Cena-like into the camera and addresses the viewing audience like he's calling out McGwire to a cage match. Mark McGwire took steroids, Snape kills Dumbledore, and the dog dies in the end. Next.
7. UP LIKE DOWN IS IN AUSTRALIA: The Aussie Open. Get a ball-boy so excited he soils himself and we're talking internet mainlined gold, which actually did happen in the Aussie Open. That alone would be enough to put the Aussie on the top ten memes of the week, but throw in a heated debate over Venus Williams' choice of underpants (or lack thereof) and Andy Roddick arguing with an official, and you're looking at an early candidate for top five status for next week.
At this rate post-apocalyptic bandits will take over the tournament and have the players volley with live grenades for their survival, but as long as Chris Fowler's calling it we'll watch happily.
8. UP LIKE THERE'S LITTLE TO TYPE HERE BECAUSE HE REALLY IS HAVING HEALTH PROBLEMS: Jim Calhoun takes a leave of absence from UConn. The "medical leave of absence" is the new hotness in coaching circles, as Urban Meyer's indefinite leave of absence is followed up by Calhoun's more definite ten-day stint due to health issues. Calhoun knows where he's headed with this, though, being well aware of his own health after not one, not two, but three separate bouts of cancer. No, seriously, Urban. It's the same thing. Jim Calhoun isn't insinuating anything about you. You go figure out what you need to figure out with your yoga mat and deep breathing, and Jim Calhoun will just be over here putting cancer in a headlock and saying rude things about its mother until it cries.
9. UP LIKE THE PECS OF A 100% DRUG FREE ATHLETE: Brock Lesnar Announces His Return. Brock Lesnar will return this summer to defend his heavyweight crown in UFC as he has been cleared to train after suffering a debilitating bout of diverticulosis, a condition that caused a hole in his stomach that had him operating at 60% capacity physically, and in no way had anything to do with steroids. And no matter what he is asked, someone will still ask Lesnar about steroids, because people normally don't walk around looking like four hundred pounds of lean sausage poured into two hundred and fifty pounds of casing. That person will probably be thrown into orbit by Lesnar, but that's the price you pay for journalistic integrity. (Dana White: "That's just the kind of attitude we like in Brock!")
10. HOLDING STEADY LIKE PANTS THAT HAVE BEEN PLACED ON THE GROUND AND REMAIN THERE: The Ever Present Brett Favre Death Star and Country Bear Jamboree. Oh, all too operational, I'm afraid. Your friends are...doomed.