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The Smitty Ramblings
From Carl Winslow, to Gary Busey, with a splash of Dragnet, see what's going on inside Smith's mind this week.

FROM REGINALD VELJOHNSON TO MITCH WILLIAMS. WHAT'S GOING ON INSIDE SMITH'S HEAD THIS WEEK . . . .

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Just the facts ma'am. Just the facts.

How come TV announcers never mention Dave Wannstedt's brief acting carrer. After his star turn Dragnet, I really though it was going to take off. During last sunday's Giants Dolphins game, I half expected Jim Fassell to walk over to Wannstedt and say  "Well, Muzz, I guess it's just you, and... and me... and your balls... and this drawer."
 
 
When Joe Morgan reffers to someone as a defensive specialist, it's really code for "This Guy probably couldn't hit his weight playing for Murphy's Pub in the sunday afternoon beer league."
 
 
How Kevin Millar's Springsteen dance hasn't turned into a public service commercial, I don't know. I would pay to see Millar gyrating to "Born in the USA" then look deadpan into the camera and say, "Dancing. It's my anti-drug."
 
 
 
 
If the entire making of "The Run Down" was just an excuse to have Cristopher Walken go on a five minute on-screen tangent about the "tooth fairy" and people "crapping in his window" well then, I'm all for it.
 
 
Speaking of unintentional comedy, Ladies and Gentlmen, It's Johnny Damon!!! (no punchline here, just lots of hair)
 
 
I turned on the T.V. yesterday, and saw an interview with Shawn Kemp. For a minute, I honestly thought it was David Ortiz was talking about basketball.
 
 
Without a doubt "Getting a little Studio Time" is one of the best euphamisms for masturbation that I have heard in a long, long time.
 
 
Say what you want about Detroit, it maybe too cold, there's rampant poverty and too much crime, but at least they have two top notch professional sports teams.
 
I was thinking yesterday (hey, it could happen), and I wondered whatever happened to
Reginald Vel-Johnson. Then I watched "Like Mike" and all my questions were answered.
 
 
It may be pathetic, but the runaway higlight of my week was when I found out that Andy Milonakis (the superbowl is gay kid) Hails from my home county of Westchester, NY. 
 
 
When David Ortiz got up in 8th inning of game five, I mentally cued up the scene from Major League when Ceranno crushes the curveball for the first time. "You no help me hit curveball . . . I say F--ck you Jobu."
                 (1 thing that bothers me about Major League. If Cerrano couldn't hit a curveball at all, wouldn't every pitcher have thrown him a curveball on every pitch? Unless of course we are talking about Byung Yung Kim.)
 
 
Do you think that Mitch Williams has been coaching Kim how to perfect the post season melt down? Yeah . . .me too.
 
 
Speaking of old "Wild Thing" my college professor was comparing the story of Oedipus, to Mitch Williams'  blown save. I said that I totally agreed, especially because after the game in '93 Williams slept with his mother than gouged his own eyes out.
 
I've been a little dissapointed with the advertisment this football season. Can we get at least ONE Terry Tate commercial? Even a "Here's to Football"? Please. If I have to waste another 30 seconds of my life hearing about Chef Jimmy and Quizno's Subs, I might shoot out the TV.
 
I don't know what I enjoyed more on TV the past couple of months, The Nick and Jessica golf episode, Adam rapping on the Real World, or anything involving Gary Busey.
 
It's safe to say that if I watch an entire movie on USA, It's probably sunday, and I'm DEFENITLEY hung over.
 
Lastly,  the only thing more enticing than the thought of and OJ Simpson vs. Joey Buttafucco celebrity boxing debacle, would be if that fight had an undercard of Laci Preston's husband and Jon Benet's dad.
 
 
And if you think i'm being harsh, I got two words for you . . .Cowboy Up.

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If you have any comments, requests, or complaints for Smith, or just want to make it to the prestigious mailbag column, hit me up at smithmic@dickinson.edu
 
 

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