The NFL Draft is Daft

I must be the only NFL fan in the world that doesn't give a shit about the draft. Sure, I care who the Jets draft but that's because they're my team (no, I don't own them but I should).

There are a gazillion colleges out there and I sure as hell don't have time to follow all of them and all of their players. I have a J-O-B to fill my days and when I'm not doing the job there are other things that need to be tended to.

Now if someone wants to pay me to do that all day I'll be happy to do so. But so far, no one's come knocking on my door.

If you read what the experts say it's actually quite amusing. The "stock value" of these kids rises and falls on a daily basis. They played for four years in college and suddenly on one day in March or April they become stars or scrubs? Hang on, how silly.

If these experts are so intelligent why the hell aren't they working for an NFL team? And if the team's management staff is also that smart why the hell do most NFL teams suck?

Sounds to me like nobody really has a clue.

Watching the games is one thing...and that already kills a lot of hours during the week but it seems a bit more worthwhile than losing hours, days and weeks on a crapshoot.

And that's what it is. How many high picks fall on their faces and how many lower round picks shine?

I'm glad it's over. Of course, now the experts can analyze the picks that were made. Me? Talk to me when the season starts.

Single White Male

It's been a busy 24 hours on the blog. Mostly administrative stuff. It certainly was a short partnership with Hoss. Hell, we didn't even get rolling.

The following information is for those of you wondering why the blog has moved and changed.

All three of you.

Hoss packed up and moved elsewhere. I have no idea where. Or why. My guess is he got caught by the wife and is turning over a new leaf. Or, something else female related. Sorry, can't say more than that but I can tell you there's gotta be a female to blame. There always is.

I logged in yesterday to post and noticed that things had changed a wee bit. All mention of Hoss had been removed. Well, since Hoss and I are the only administrators and I know I didn't do it guess who that leaves?

Very fucked up. No call, no card, no flowers. An operation executed under the cover of darkness. That's why I know there's a female to blame. She probably stood over his shoulder and watched as he removed every trace of Hoss from the site.

It's one thing to stop contributing but he deleted all of his posts! Again, WARNING, female involved.

Oh well, at least that gave me an opportunity to get rid of SquidDick. I cut him off in a heartbeat and deleted his inane posts. I only tolerated him anyway because Hoss brought him on board.

That's it for that subject. Tomorrow we get back to what really counts. Me. Perhaps one day, if I learn anything amusing about Hoss' last moments I'll share.

Mass Intentions

Okay, so it’s almost two weeks after Easter. I’ve been thinking about this since Easter Eve and I usually run two weeks behind in life anyway.

It’s quite amusing to watch the folks that go to mass on Easter. Well, let me be fair. Easter and Christmas. The other 50 weeks are optional.

Now don’t get me wrong. I sure as hell don’t go every week but I’m up front with it. In fact, if I wasn’t dragged along by the Family I would probably never go.

If you’re only going to go twice a year, why bother at all? I belong to the Roman Catholic Church (although I’m sure they wish I didn’t). They have an Easter Vigil mass (night before Easter). It’s the longest freakin’ mass of the year. It goes on and on and on. Something like nine hours. Okay, maybe three. It feels like nine.

I’ve been told by some of the part-timers that they go Saturday evening so they can sleep in Sunday morning. Why not just stay home, period?

So there I was, surrounded by a gazillion Catholics. Some full-timers but mostly the twice a year variety. Standing room only. Kids all over the place screaming and crying. Moms and Dads passing them back and forth, glaring at the kids and at each other.

Regretting that decision to come? What the hell did you expect would happen? Did you think the little tyke would remain silent for three hours? Hell, one hour wouldn’t be possible. If you have cable or satellite I’ll bet you could have found a TV broadcast of a Mass from somewhere in the world. Think about it…attend Mass from your living room, lock the kids in their rooms.

You might want to try bringing them to a regular Mass during the year, one that doesn’t last for a week and a half. Start ‘em slow. Work ‘em up to the marathon session.

Of course, most of the kids are dragged out kicking and screaming shortly after Mass begins and spend three hours hanging out in the lobby or walking around and around the church. Usually it’s the Dads with child duty, and they actually seem happy to be doing it. You know, as opposed to the alternative.

I know this because I was also hanging out in the lobby. I was falling asleep in church and woke up drooling on the old lady next to me. That was enough for me. Made a quick run to Starbucks for some liquid refreshment and sat down in the lobby to enjoy the show.

I don’t get kids. They’re screaming because they’re asked to sit still. So when they get their way and leave they’re still screaming. Make up your freakin’ mind. Wait, they don’t have one of those.

When the kids get older, what do the parents say when the kids ask why they only go twice a year? Or, perhaps, why they HAVE to go twice a year?

My parents did that. Twice a year whether they needed it or not. And during the rest of the year they dropped me off at Sunday school, turned around and went home to eat donuts, drink coffee and read the paper. While they have all the fun I’m learning that Jesus loves me. Yes, I know. I get it. Can we move on to something else? How about a little church history? Rumor has it there were a lot of bad Popes along the way that did some pretty rotten stuff. Why couldn’t I learn about them?

Back in the good old days we had Father Murphy. When he said Mass it rocked. In and out in a little over 30 minutes. He wanted to get back to the rectory and hit the bottle. He was the best.

That was my last Easter Vigil. I can’t take it any more. I’m gonna watch Easter Mass on TV next year. But I’ll record it on TIVO so I can fast-forward through the boring parts.

Say Please

I stood in line behind a middle-aged chick today at Starbucks. Yes, I spend a lot of time there. I really go for the crappy music they pipe through the rafters and then try to sell you in CD format at the counter.

Frontier Airlines almost does the same thing on their flights. If you don’t want to pay for the DirecTV service they offer they do leave one channel on for you. It’s got movie shorts and music videos.

The movie shorts are something out of a Cannes Film Festival nightmare. Wait. I mis-spoke. Nightmare is the wrong term since you don’t have to go to sleep to experience it. Daymare?

The music videos aren’t gonna be in the top ten list on MTV or VH1 any time soon. And if they are, it’s time for me to move to Canada with Alec Baldwin. God I hope that never happens.

So………….here I was, hanging behind middle-aged Annie. The Starbucks frau is very polite, welcomes Annie to Starbucks and asks how she can help her.

Annie responds (this is her entire side in the conversation), “I want a latte. And a banana chocolate chip muffin.”

No “Good morning” or “Hi, I’d LIKE a latte and a banana chocolate chip muffin, PLEASE.”

Annie is a member of the “I’M A RUDE JACKASS” club. They really should get t-shirts or hats or something. Then at least the folks behind the counter and the folks behind them in line could identify them at a distance and prepare.

Teenagers are given automatic entry to this club by virtue of being young, stupid, obnoxious, and, well, teenagers. I wonder if the older folks have to fill out an application.

Membership in this club increases daily.

I’m gonna look into having buttons made (yes, at my expense) and carry them with me. If I meet one of the members of this club and I do not see a t-shirt or hat on their person I’ll hand them a button.

I’m not talking about being rude when the jockey on the other side of the counter (or desk) deserves it. Hell, I do that all the time!

But not everyone deserves rudeness. We should be able to tell (at least the older folks) who deserves our wrath and who doesn’t.

Those older folks that can’t differentiate are nothing more than chronologically-challenged teenagers. These are usually high school students that got a high school job, left high school (either voluntarily or involuntarily) got older but still have a high school job. The only thing that changes is their age.

Admit it, we all know folks like this.

Anyway, I’ve added this to my personal job description. If you’re bein’ a rude jackass to someone that doesn’t deserve it then I’m gonna button you.

Yes, I get to decide. Who better than me to decide appropriate and inappropriate rudeness?

The cool thing about my job description is that I make it. I can add to it, remove items or modify it anytime I want. The un-cool thing about my job description is that I don’t get paid for doing any of the items on the list.

Oh well, someone's got to do it.

American Airlines

I usually don’t fly American Airlines. Not because I dislike them but because there are other airlines that have better frequent flyer plans, lower prices, etc. If I have to fly for work I better get something out of it. Remember, it's all about me. However, every now and then something happens and I have to fly an airline not in my top three.

Saturday was one of those days. And I flew American. I sure as hell won’t be in any hurry to fly them again.

Some of the highlights of my day with American Airlines:

1) The first leg of the journey was from Greenville, SC to Chicago, IL. The ticket guy in Greenville was just the beginning.

I want a window seat. If I can’t get a window seat I’ll take an aisle seat. Middle seats are, of course, the loser seat of all time.

Aisle seats suck because you have to get up every time the weak-bladdered bastards next to you need to take a leak. Also, when I fall asleep I either drool on the person in the middle seat or slide out into the aisle.

Window seats rock for the same two reasons. I can hold my bladder (here’s a hint folks, take a trip to the bathroom BEFORE you get on the plane) and not have to get up. When sleeping I can lean AND drool on the window. No harm done to anyone.

So I explained all this to ticket boy. I lost count how many times he generated a boarding pass that he then ripped up. Finally, he hands me two boarding passes, for the first leg and the second leg, and they were middle seats. I asked him if windows and aisles were taken. He apologized and said that those weren’t the seats he meant to give me. WTF?

What the hell was he doing for fifteen minutes shredding boarding passes BEFORE he handed me the wrong damn seats?

2) Okay, this isn’t exactly American Airlines fault. Why do they put up TSA signs recommending that you remove your shoes (but you don’t have to, the sign says so!) if the security person makes you take them off anyway? And government wonders why we think they’re retarded.

3) The flight chick from Greenville to Chicago was very nice. But english wasn’t her first language. I don’t think it was her second, third or fourth either. Some airlines play a recording for the moron show. The moron show is the part at the beginning of the flight where they show you how to buckle your seat belt, how to use your seat as a flotation device, what to do if an oxygen masks pop out of the overhead compartment, etc. Anyone that doesn’t know that routine by now must either be stupid or living under a rock.

Since we know people in this country do live under rocks (see the southern states) we know that the moron show is necessary (not to mention that the FAA requires it). So, if ya got folks that can’t speak English clearly, use the recorded show! Makes sense to me.

Not American Airlines, they let this very nice woman do the show herself. Well, it’s a damn good thing I had it memorized from previous experience because I certainly wouldn’t have understood it if I was hearing it for the first time.

4) The flight from Chicago to Denver was awful. I did have the window but was hoping by the mid-point of the flight that I could open it and jump out. What a nightmare.

First of all, the flight chicks were freakin’ rude. I have noticed that on the older airlines, with the older flight chicks (unions, baby), they are very impressed with themselves.

They’re Nazis over the stupid shit…make sure the bag is all the way under the seat in front of you, make sure I can see your seat belt when it’s buckled (yeah…ever look at most people's bellies these days? You’ll never find that belt and buckle once its on), demanding your trash whether you’re done or not. Shit like that. Younger airlines have flight chicks that do the same job but don’t get their panties in a bunch over it.

They are the snobs of the airline neighborhood. Get over yourselves. You serve snacks and beverages. You handle puke bags. You show people how to buckle their seat belt. And that’s fine. It’s a job. Someone’s gotta do it. But please, you ain’t exactly neurosurgeons.

5) And speaking of snacks and drinks, do you think you cheap bastards could give me the entire can of Coke? Would it kill ya? Gonna have to cut the pilots' salaries?

And thanks for the bag of pretzels. Mine had pieces of 11 mini-pretzels! The sucker next to me only had 9 pieces. Loser. But seriously, how about the whole can and two bags of chips. I’ll even buy the second bag if it’s gonna put you out of business.

6) The Captain tried to be a comedian. I think. I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. He didn’t look like one, didn’t sound like one and sure as hell had lousy material if he was trying to be one.

When everyone was settling in, he came on the intercom system and told us that everything was done in the cockpit, that the ground crew was done and if his first officer would stop flirting with the #1 flight chick we could be on our way. He actually said that.

Some people laughed, and some people (moi) couldn’t decide if he was trying to be funny or not. A few moments later he got back on and told us how long the flight would take and again referenced the flirting. “If the nonsense stops we’ll be on our way.” Weird guy. Not funny. Weird.

7) Rabbit ears. One of the flight chicks wore rabbit ears (Easter weekend) and did some trivia over the intercom. The prize? Meals from the first class cabin. How sickening to watch these folks in the cheap seats giggling and squealing (no, Hoss wasn't there) and punching their call buttons in the hope of a meal that still sucks worse then a Hungry Man dinner from the store.

Damn folks, show some pride.

Teddy & Molly

Today was an excellent day! It goes down in the books as one of the best. I know that's hard to believe when you consider that I have been on this planet for over 15,000 days. I don't have a top-ten list or even a top-hundred, but as far as my aging memory is concerned this is simply one of the most enjoyable days of my life.

It's interesting how someone's bad day on their personal list becomes a good day on your own. Hoss' Big Day with his scrotum comes to mind. But I can honestly say that I am not smiling now at someone else's expense. (Not that there is ANYTHING wrong with that).

Shell I say why? No, I'm not going to tell you why this day is so special. Hehehe....I'm so clever.

But I can say it's for a better reason than Hoss or Badger Boy could possibly have for one of their best days. Usually Hoss ranks a day in his top-ten when he finds some un-eaten cheerios under one of his man-breasts. Badger Boy has a top-ten day every day because he can't count higher than ten.

Some day, if you all behave, I might share. But not right now. I know, the suspense is killing you.

Yes, as you can tell, it's a slow day on our Blog.

New York, New York

McNasty Note: Yes, I live in Colorado. But not always. So no, I don’t give a shit about any Colorado teams. Unless they are awful and then I enjoy reading about their misery. That's a New York thing.

When did NY baseball fans become enlightened? I know they are savvy in the ways of the game of baseball but enlightened? They love both teams as not to damage the players' self-esteem? WTF? I’ve been reading articles in the NY sports pages these days that many fans root for both the Mets and the Yankees. How sad.

Rooting for both teams? Sorry, not where I grew up in NY. Perhaps it’s the younger generation that has this two-team love. I guess it’s a typical response to growing up in the liberal waste-land of the USA. But some of us dinosaurs grew up in a time and place when you were either a Mets fan or a Yankees fan.

Both? No way. A good day in NY for me was a Mets win. A better day for me was a Mets win and a Yankee loss. A bad afternoon was a Mets loss but things looked brighter in the evening if the Yankees lost too. A truly sucky day was a Mets loss and a Yankees win.

Same for football. If my Jets lost the early game (which they usually did) on early Sunday afternoon the day was not completely lost if the Giants could suck ass later in the afternoon. Ditto for hockey and basketball.

Of course, this two-team dynamic only exists in a few cities, and only NY has it in all sports. Well, all sports that count anyway.

If you root for both teams what the hell do you do when they play each other? Hope for a good game? Moron! Its sports, not the chess club.

The papers in NY talk about Mets fans having an inferiority complex living in Yankee Land. That is true for some Mets fans.

For me it has nothing to do with the fact that the Yankees are usually better than the Mets. That’s just the result of one team owner owning that team because he wants to win and the other one saddled with many different owners over the years that obviously didn’t buy the team for the right reasons.

The Mets latest owner has his favorite son in charge. Neither one of them is gonna win the Nobel prize for baseball. For me it’s much simpler. That’s just the way I was raised. There’s only room for one team in each sport in your heart. If you say otherwise you’re not a Mets fan or a Yankees fan, just a baseball fan.

I suppose these are the same folks that like all beer. Ick. Remind me never to go to their house for a party.

Daily Lessons

Lesson #1 - Don't drive in a convertible with the top down in the pacific northwest.

Now I know why no one in Oregon drives a convertible. It rains. All of the time. Of course you might not notice it unless you're stupid enough to drive down the road in a convertible with the top down.

Yes, I am that stupid. In my own defense, it wasn't raining when I left the rental car place. In fact, the sun was shining and there wasn't a dark cloud in the sky. It's been a year since I was in Oregon and I had forgotten just how quickly the weather changes.

I was warned in advance. Driving out of the rental area there was a very nice man named Hal that asked to check my driver's license. He looked at it and said, "Well that explains that."

"Explains what?" I asked.

"You're from Colorado. That explains why you have the top down."

That was Hal's way of saying "You ain't from around here, are ya boy?"

I looked around at the beautiful sunny sky and said, "Hal, baby, it's a gorgeous day!"

Hal snorted, handed my license back to me, turned away and mumbled, "Enjoy the weather, baby."

My traveling companion, Badger Boy, wondered aloud, "I wonder if Hal knows something we don't?"

"Nah, he's just embarrassed I called him 'baby'."

Apparently, Hal can see into the future. Five minutes later we were cruising south on the interstate. The sky turned black and the heavens opened up. I don't mean opening up to reveal the angels of Heaven on Harleys, I mean opened up and began pouring buckets of water from on high.

Lesson #2: - Don't try to raise the top of a convertible while driving down the interstate.

Now this may seem like a stupid idea to even consider but it was only a Ford Mustang and I figured Badger Boy could handle it. The cool part was I had never been in a car that left the ground without driving off of the road. Anybody could do that.

I assumed all was going well until I heard shouting behind me. I really couldn't make out the words. Well, hell, of course not! How could I be expected to hear with all that wind and rain in my ears?

I glanced in the rear view mirror and noticed Badger Boy's ass blocking my view. I turned around and watched him wrestling with the convertible top. He was looking back at me yelling something, but as I just mentioned, I couldn't hear jack.

Lesson #3: - Don't turn around for extended periods of time while driving.

I figured I should probably pull over so I could hear what he was jabbering about and when I turned back around to face the road, I was already on the side of the road heading down an exit ramp at 80 miles an hour.

Now I don't mind an intelligent car but the least it could have down was slow down.

One quick slam on the brakes and a three-sixty degree spin later, we had pulled over, and Badger Boy was back in the front seat, but with his feet sticking up in the air. He got himself turned upright (with a great deal of huffing, puffing and cursing) and started calling my mother all sorts of names. He hasn't even met my mother.

Lesson #4 - Don't go driving with guys from Wisconsin.

They can't even handle basic problem-solving.

Elevator Etiquette

This should be one of those topics you learn from a parent. Or perhaps a grandparent. Or maybe an Aunt or an Uncle. Bottom line is whatever form of parental unit you have they should have covered this subject with you.

In fact it should be a five minute conversation. Goes something like this:

"When you're waiting for an elevator, and the door opens, keep your fat ass back a few steps and allow the people getting out of the elevator room to do so. They get off before you get on. Once they have ALL gotten off, then and ONLY then do you get on."

But apparently there must be millions of people out there without any kind of parental unit. Wow, we must have a shit-load of orphanages.

Why? Because I run into people EVERY week that were never taught elevator etiquette. I travel a great deal and use elevators in hotels, office buildings, malls, you name it. And there is always at least one moron that is breathing on the door when it opens, colliding against the people trying to get off of the elevator.

You might think this should fall under the heading of "common sense." Once they bump heads with folks one or two times ya'd think that they'd catch on. Apparently common sense has been re-filed under the heading "rocket science."

I have decided that my job description in life has been expanded once again. It is my duty to fight elevator rudeness wherever I find it.

Usually I keep it short and simple:

"Hey dumbass. Why don't you wait for people to get off before you get on? Think there might be a little more room for your fat ass then? Huh, Einstein?"

Nothing too detailed for them. If they have such difficulty with the overall concept to begin with you better talk in small syllables using bright colors.

Honestly. People suck ass.

Vanishing Posts

Something foul is afoot.

My "Hoss Update" post which I spent hours creating, not to mention the blood, sweat and tears involved, has mysteriously vanished.

Conventional wisdom says that Hoss, in agony and anger, deleted it. Bad form, Peter, bad form.

I could always re-post as I always save my posts outside of the site. Hehehe...

But I'll be nice and give him the opportunity to fess up or deny it. I've tried to ring him up but I think he's in hiding. Stay tuned.

April Fool's Day

Why is this day the only one marked for all of the fools out there? It seems to me that every day is Fool's Day. Just look around.

Today I counted all of the fools I ran into. I didn't leave the house until noon and I was already up to 4. But that includes telephone calls.

One quick trip to the barber and by the time I got back home I was up to 10. Of course, most of those were folks that pass for "licensed" drivers.

A trip out this evening to Starbucks and the grocery store and I was at 33. Why do folks careen down grocery store aisles unable to stay in a semi-straight line? Shouldn't they give out tickets for jay-walking in a store? I think they should!

It's 9:34 PM. Wait. 10:34 PM if you're a good doobie and already moved your clocks ahead one hour in the mountain time zone. Frankly, I don't see the point if you're only going to have to change them back again this fall.

I wonder how many more fools I can encounter in the next two hours and 26 minutes? TV doesn't count.