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From 'Nova to Carlisle, Smitty goes DEVO to Whippet into shape. . . . the ramblings . . . .

 

As most of you know, last Sunday, I took a trip to the Linc in Philly to see my Giants get slaughtered by the Eagles. . . . I just want to spend a few minutes on that. The Linc is a great stadium,  hampered only by the fact that it is, indeed in Philadelphia. But let me reiterate, this is NOT the Vet. Let me set up a scenario to illustrate this point.  At the Linc, a college kid, let's call him Smitty, after drinking 3 to 10 beers, decides it's a good idea to don his Jeremy Shockey Giants jersey and enter the stadium. After the game, he leaves and goes home.

               At the Vet, this same fan would have been attacked and murdered in the parking lot.  

 

But on to the ramblings .. . . .

 

First of all, The Giants are a miserable ball club . . . and you KNOW your team is

god-awful when Philly fans quit pouring beer on you long enough to feel sorry for your plight. 

 

One of the highlights of my trip was when Me, my buddy Bill, and all his Villanova friends set out on our drunken quest to find the parking lot whippet man. I mean, 5 sauced college kids stumbling around a parking lot trying to find some Mexican guys with nitrous oxide balloons? A person shouldnt be allowed to have that much fun at 10:30 on a sunday morning.

 

  Another highlight of the trip was ogling the Eagles cheerleaders. Wow . . . (speechless) it almost helps to ease the pain of being 1st and Goal, inside the 1 yard line, and getting stopped.

 

 

 . . . If there is one chant in sports that is more nauseating than the Chop, it HAS to be the Eagles fight song. Its been a week and I STILL cant get it out of my head . . . .

(Flyyyyyyy . . . Eagles Fly . . . )

 

 

 

Ok enough of the Linc, cause a whole lot has happened in sports this week that I want to get to.

 

 

Without a doubt, William Green has to be my favorite all-times Browns running back who was suspended for marijuana use, and then stabbed in the chest by his wife.

 

 

BTW . . . Where do I cash in my stock for The Doug Flutie Bandwagon comes crashing down around week 3 of the resurgence? Maybe I should roll over my winnings into a "Michael Jackson settles out of court for 10 million bajillion dollars" mutual fund.

                .. . . One thing about the Jackson case. The only reason that this has made the national media is because the alleged victim's father is  . . . .you guessed it . . .THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY!   sorry . . .couldn't help myself.

 

 

 

The Cowboys loss to the Pats just served as reminder to a very important football lesson, which is this. When Quincy Carter is your quarterback . . . then Quincy Carter is your quarterback. Its football 101 baby!

 

 

I've come to the conclusion that Bill Parcels is actually just Jake Busey wearing a fat suit. Has to be, right?

 

 

 

 

In the Hall of Fame ( or shame) of failed reincarnations, Id have to put the new

"Man Show" ahead of Ultimate Warrior #11, but right behind LL Cool J in RollerBall.

            For the record, the failure of the show is COMPLETLEY Joe Rogan's fault.

 

 

Speaking of crappy TV Hosts, Dickinson College (where I go to school) has invited the host of Blind Date to give a lecture at the school. Heres to higher learning!

 

This tuesday, Dickinson College held it's annual Mr. Dickinson pagent. I, in the pursuit of free alcoholic beverages, offered to be a contestant.  I don't want to give you a complete run down of the proceedings, but i will give you two alcohol soaked highlights.

 

1. I was eliminated in the bathing suit round, because apparently, "Naughty Santa" does not qualify as "swimwear" . . . who knew.

                A side note about the Santa costume. Two days after the pagent, I was alerted, by on of my friends in the front row that my "equipment" (which is on loan from NASA) Was hanging out the bottom of my shorts, for the world to see.  You can't make this stuff up. 

 

2. In the final round, the "talent" round, my buddy Rudy, who must have been blowing a 3.0 on the BAC tester, mumbled his way through a song, entitled "Dear Penis". Nobody in the audience could make out one word he was saying, and after one minute, the horrified silence turned into wild applause in an attempt to get Rudy off the stage. This didn't work, as Rudy, muttered his way threw another 2 minutes of the song. It was painful to watch someone struggle so terribly in front of an audience. Naturally we give Rudy a hard time about his performance roughly ever 30 seconds.

 

 

 

No . . .I havent seen the Matrix, and no, I dont plan to.

 

 

 

Nothing puts a hop in my step quite like listening to a semi-coherent Tracy McGrady vehemently deny that he had anything to do with the end of the Doc Rivers era in Orlando. Judging by that, game 7 of the ALCS had nothing to do with Grady Little's dismissal from the Red Sox.

 

 

There is comedy, there is high comedy, and there is transcendent comedy. Then there is Keyshawn being de-activated from the Bucs mid-season.

 

That brings up a good question. If Keyshawn had the ability of a Marvin Harrison, would all his actions be explained using the old Rickey Henderson standby, "Well, Keyshawn is Keyshawn?"

 

 

The other day, I couldn't sleep so I turned on HBO to see what kind of smut they'd be airing in the 3AM hour. I see a college movie, "Rules of Attraction" is playing so I decide to give it a shot.

             Let me just say that possibly the most disconcerting event of my week had to be watching James Vanderbeek masturbate to high speed broad band internet porn..

 

 

Wow. Wowee Wowow WOW!

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