Monday, December 26, 2005

Oh yeah we gonna sta

Hope you had a great Christmas. We did, thanks.

Since you asked:

Christmas Day-after ramblings.

Hard to believe that Tsunami was a year ago. That was so awful. Can you imagine? Over a year ago the idea of spending an exotic Christmas in Phuket seemed inspired. Wake up the day after Christmas, roll out of your mosquito net bed with a big ol’ ceiling fan and take a slightly hung-over walk on the beach with a hot cup of locally grown coffee while laughing with your loved ones only to turn and then say; “What do you say we go snorkeling after a big ol’ lobster lunch? Hey, what’s with the low tide? Cool. You see that dark line way out there? What is that? Fog?”

In a New York minute.

Does anything get accomplished by anyone this time of year? Me? I am going to workout and BBQ tonight and watch the last real ABC “Monday Night Football” with Dandy and Flawless and the vile, angry, fetid, bitter, greasy, surly, paranoid, ugly, trembling with the D.T.’s ghost of Howard Cosell. Even though he is dead many still consider Cosell currently the biggest A-Hole in television. And Saddam Hussein was in television.

They say people loved to hate Howard. I didn’t. I hated it. He was so loathful, so awful and so contrary and so full of himself and yet paranoid with insecurity that it was painful to endure him. And I am not even going to get around to that greasy weasel on top of his head. But they could have had Osama bin Laden in the booth and you had no choice, you had to watch. Not the case anymore. No, I am not one of the multitude of Madden bashers. The guy is great, and very sharp. And Michaels is a pro’s pro. It’s just that MNF is not compelling anymore. No offense to Country music fans, but MNF hasn’t been the same since that Hank Williams II theme song.

Dandy Don was awesome on MNF. He would groan loudly when the Cowboys stunk which they did a lot before they became “America’s Team”

How bad is the NBA in my book? The best rivalry of the year is on in the middle of a day when I had nothing else to do but watch Kobe’s Los Angeles Lakers versus Shaq’s Miami Heat and you would have had to put a gun to my head to make me watch five minutes of it. With tsunamis and hurricanes and suicide bombers, does anyone give a rat’s ass what pompous pseudo intellectual babble that multi-millionaire egomaniac Phil Jackson said to that egomaniac billionaire Kobe Bryant to inspire him to at least look like he’s trying?

Has anyone told the NBA that it is dying? And how is it possible that the WNBA is still around? Do you know anyone who knows anyone who has ever even thought about watching a WNBA game? Bless their Title IX loving hearts, but the players don’t watch the games.

What killed the NBA? Don’t get me started. But an entire last ten drafts of overly entitled selfish spoiled jerks who demand an unprecedented amount of respect without giving any respect hasn’t helped. NBA commish David Stern catered to these unmarketable rude imbeciles and now he is paying for it.  Never, in the history of human endeavor, has so much respect been expected and yet so little deserved.  

But I haven’t given up on LeBron James. He seems like the real deal. He’ll have to be. But that NBA dress code of Stern’s? Laughable. Why not varnish the deck chairs on the Titanic instead? Put a tie on a warthog. Fair is fair, if a hard-working and pure-for-the-love-of-sports league filled with talented and dedicated and under-paid athletes like the US Women’s Soccer League can fold, why shouldn’t a league loaded with out-of-touch rich di*k-heads, like the NBA, fold? Imagine never, ever having to listen to Bill Walton’s nasally Jolly Green Giant sounding “That’s horrible” ever again? It is almost too exciting to think about.

Ann Caroline is very excited about getting her fish for her new fishbowl. She is naming one Nemo and one Manchester after her local soccer club. In fact, Manchester also has a last name: Manchester Ivanhoe. So far the idea of naming a fish after her sainted father has not received much consideration.  

Currently reading “Marley and Me: Life and Love with the World’s Worst Dog.” A must for dog and Lab lovers like me. Marley and Wrigley were identical puppies. (Marley grew to be much bigger than is Wrigley) So far Marley is going neck and neck with Wrigley in the bad dog championship. True, Wrigley was never kicked out of obedience school, like Marley, but that is only because we knew not to enroll him in the first place.

Did Marley ever pee on the Christmas tree? I don’t think so. And maybe it is yet to come, but, on a cold rainy day, did Marley eat so much mud and then come inside, shake water on everything and – in the time it took a certain person to get towels to clean up said water - puke up the mud on the expensive Oriental rug, and then eat the muddy puke back up along with a sizeable chunk of that rug and then puke both chunk of rug and muddy puke back out again just for good measure?

Not that I have read.

But a certain Mister Wrigley Telluride Kaseberg sure has, yes siree. Maybe I should write a book: “Wrigley and Lex; Deep Affection Mixed with Furious Anger at the World’s Most Senseless but Ridiculously Sweet and Adorable Clumsy Beast.”

“The New York Times” Best Seller List is wetting itself with anticipation.