Tuesday, September 13, 2011

"Oh, come on, man, I'll be your Doug."

Dougie, Dougie, Dougie, Dougie, Dougie, Dougie, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

A study claims women who drink moderately are healthier than women who don’t drink at all; Good news, guys, apparently it is healthy for women to have sex with ugly dudes.

It’s Monday night. “Are you ready for some football?” (This question is considered rhetorical in Oakland, Jacksonville and the general area of Carolina, wherever the hell that is)

Across the country, the tenth anniversary of the attacks of September 11th were marked by ceremonies of solemn respect, dignity and grace; of course, a few drone missiles shot up the butts of some al Qaeda dudes would have been pretty sweet too.

In Sweden, a moose got stuck in an apple tree because it was drunk from eating fermented apples. You know who else they thought was drunk? The guy who called to report a drunk moose stuck up an apple tree.

A study claims women who drink moderately are healthier than women who don’t drink at all; ladies, moderate drinking is not when you watch “The Apprentice” and think to yourself; “That Donald Trump is kind of hot.” That is immoderate drinking.

A study reveals dolphins speak with the same speech patterns as humans. They transcribed one dolphin saying; “Seriously, do a few jump flips and those idiots at Sea World keep you in fish for the rest of your life.”

Despite signs stolen by vandals, a Minnesota town is going to keep a street named Stoner Ave. They are, however, going to change the names of Wasted Way and the High-As-Hell Highway.

The Cincinnati Bengals beat the Cleveland Browns 27-17. That is a great start for the Bengals, not only did they win, but, when they celebrated the win, only five Bengals got arrested.

Two fighter jets had to be scrambled to follow a Denver-to-Detroit Frontier Airlines flight because a couple had been taking unusually long in the bathroom. Turns out they were joining the mile high club. So he was not a terrorist and she certainly was not one of 72 virgins.

Since you asked:
As the old Southern expression goes, I have been places and ‘et in Ho’tels, Slats and Nuggifies, but I ain’t never seen what Tom Brady did last nicht. It was borderline scary.

Scary when you consider that playing NFL quarterback is the hardest thing to do in all of sports. Yeah, I know, it is hard to hit a 95-mph moving round ball with a round bat. But a lot more people can do that than can play quarterback well in the NFL.

Anyone who doubts the importance and difficulty of being a good quarterback did not see the highlights, or more accurately, lowlights of the Indianapolis Colts.

Last night, with the added bonus of incredible protection, Tom Brady stood there like a guy who is an expert-level video game player playing at the beginner level.

“Oh, the primary receiver is double covered? Great I’ll look to the next guy. He’s covered? No problem, where is my third choice? There is a one foot opening to throw it to him in one split second? No problem.” Zing. Touchdown. Walk off the field completely emotionless.

One could say Brady’s performance was surgical, but surgery requires dealing with blood. Brady’s performance was bloodless.

As things stand right now, barring injuries and bad luck, I cannot see anyone, including the Green Bay Packers, getting in the way of this Patriots team.

To paraphrase Peter Jacobson in “Tin Cup” NFL, you better start making birdies or you’re playing for second."

It is high time to play a feisty round of:

Four Heterophobes watch the Republican Debates:

Picture, if you will, four handsome mid-thirties gay men, nattily attired with a few pork pie hats, wire rimmed glasses, neatly trimmed goatees, sipping smart cocktails in a chic SoHo flat and watching the Republican debates:

“Oh, please, Mitt Romney, don’t hide behind your tennis sweater and yellow Labrador named Skipper, you’re too good looking to be straight, we know you’re gay.”

“He so is, and his life partner is that sexy Rick Perry. Your mouth says anti-gay marriage, but your eyes say drive me to Fire Island, Mitt.”

“Look at how cute Mitt and Rick are when they fight. They’re like our older friends, Terrance and Clifford. Remember how they fought over what to serve at their Tony Awards Party?”

“You have to admit, cucumber sandwiches are a bit gay-cliché.”

“Oh my word, how scary is Michele Bachmann? If her husband Marcus wasn’t gay before he married her, he certainly is now.”

“I’ve seen those scary Michele Bachman eyes once before, but where? Oh, right, it was when that homeless person fed crack to the wolf at the zoo.”

The entire four jump up from their seats and exchange horribly awkward fist bumps and high-fives.

“Poor Ron Paul, he looks like the gay son’s old dad who didn’t realize what he was getting into when he decided to go his son’s Cher Look-alike party.

“Look at Newt. He has as much a chance of winning as his wife has of ever blinking again. Seriously, I have seen porcelain Geisha masks that could move more than her face.”

“Who are you kidding, Stefan, you’ve worn porcelain Geisha masks that could move more than her face.”

“Stop it, bitch.”

“Oh, look, Mitt is all over Rick Perry again. Just get it over and kiss him, you tease.”

All four start a spontaneous chant of:

“Mitt, spank Rick, Mitt, spank Rick, Mitt, spank Rick.”

And scene . . .