This evidence in a report by the New York Times is more damning to the Bush administration than anything I've seen in the past few months.
"It was them saying, 'We need to stick our hands up your back and move your mouth for you,'" Robert S. Bevelacqua, a retired Green Beret and former Fox News analyst, said.
Of course, this likely won't do anything to expedite any legal proceedings that these criminals in the White House need to face. I'm also almost certain that in two days' time, the average American will not have a clue that this report was even published.
Ironic? Yes.
Inexcusable? Very.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Friday, April 4, 2008
well, this could suck
Take a moment and watch this.
So, let me get this straight - this machine could potentially take the planet and shove its head so far up its own ass that we could suddenly be seeing alternate dimensions? Sounds like we're either ultimately fucked or going to be spending the rest of our lives seeing what it was like to be Robert Downey Jr. on any given night in the mid-90s.
Either way, this is disturbing. I mean, the mere possibility of alternate/parallel dimensions is undeniably awesome, and I'm willing to entertain that notion. But the fact that they're developing this super-atomizing ass-plow in some underground laboratory and just waiting to push the big red button makes me raise an eyebrow and wonder how the hell they're getting the funding for this.
"So, Dr. Cox, what does this machine do exactly?"
"It re-creates the conditions we think were happening at the time of the Big Bang."
"So....how does it work?"
"Well, it fires a bunch of massive proton beams that crash into each other at the rate of about 800,000 per second, which could possibly open the doorway to alternate dimensions."
"Oh, playing god again? Sounds like fun."
"Indeed, sir."
*writes check*
"There you go. Have fun!"
I'm not scientifically-savvy enough to really know what the hell might become of things should this scenario go completely awry, but let me just say one thing:
If everything goes to hell, I'm calling this guy -
So, let me get this straight - this machine could potentially take the planet and shove its head so far up its own ass that we could suddenly be seeing alternate dimensions? Sounds like we're either ultimately fucked or going to be spending the rest of our lives seeing what it was like to be Robert Downey Jr. on any given night in the mid-90s.
Either way, this is disturbing. I mean, the mere possibility of alternate/parallel dimensions is undeniably awesome, and I'm willing to entertain that notion. But the fact that they're developing this super-atomizing ass-plow in some underground laboratory and just waiting to push the big red button makes me raise an eyebrow and wonder how the hell they're getting the funding for this.
"So, Dr. Cox, what does this machine do exactly?"
"It re-creates the conditions we think were happening at the time of the Big Bang."
"So....how does it work?"
"Well, it fires a bunch of massive proton beams that crash into each other at the rate of about 800,000 per second, which could possibly open the doorway to alternate dimensions."
"Oh, playing god again? Sounds like fun."
"Indeed, sir."
*writes check*
"There you go. Have fun!"
I'm not scientifically-savvy enough to really know what the hell might become of things should this scenario go completely awry, but let me just say one thing:
If everything goes to hell, I'm calling this guy -
Thursday, February 28, 2008
it's all "The Rage" if you like putrid filmmaking
It's a "classic splatter-fest," they said.
It's "one hell of a gory good time," they said.
But after enduring what could've been the longest 86 minutes of my life at the hands of this movie, Robert Kurtzman's "The Rage," I can safely say that I'm never believing anybody who endorses this movie ever again.
I must admit, however, that being the horror film junkie that I am, I was sucked in by this film's appealing cover, with said endorsements peppering the graphic of a rather unhealthy-looking face trapped in a cannister of mystery liquid. Seeing that it was directed by the dude who did makeup for a lot of 80s horror movies, such as "Friday the 13th" and a couple "Night of the Living Dead" installments if I'm not mistaken, I decided to give it a shot. (Hell, I was bored on a weeknight and my girlfriend was busy. What to do besides rent schlocky horror movies and drink beer, right?!)
Wrong.
Something should've triggered a red flag somewhere in my head when I realized "The Rage" was directed by a dude who normally does makeup, but inexplicably, I rented the fucking thing anyway.
The film stars two people named Andrew Divoff and Erin Brown (the latter of which has a resume' that includes a starring role in "Bikini Women on Dinosaur Island.") Divoff plays your stereotypical misunderstood German mad scientist who's pissed at the world because the gestapo came and destroyed his research when they found out he discovered the cure for cancer. They stole his ideas and tied him up in some secret prison somewhere to torture the living shit out of him for some time to come, which of course drove him completely insane. AND! AND! GASP! This mysterious cure for cancer was "mutated" by herr doctor after the torture and such made him a little disgruntled, and the results turn everyone into bloodthirsty freaks who look like Ron Perlman.
But, you see, we find all this out in the final 15 minutes of the movie, at which point the script decides to suddenly not suck. If you're still watching at this point, I congratulate you, because I was near the point of completely losing interest after a pack of virus-crazed vultures chase a pack of non-actors into an RV after they run over Reggie Bannister. (Why they had to kill the only actor with any horror movie significance whatsoever attached to his name in the first 20 minutes just speaks volumes about how infuriating this movie really is.)
The pinnacle moment of pure unfiltered Suck in "The Rage," however, came in the final few minutes. The barrel-chested, long-haired hero and boyfriend to Erin Brown's character, Kat, says to Divoff, "Let her go you crazy madman!"
Not only was the delivery among the worst and most unconvincing I've ever heard, but the tone the actor used would've been more appropriate for something out of a bad Saturday morning cartoon.
Fuck, even my cat jumped off the couch in disgust.
The Verdict:
Would be good for a drunken night of heckling the shit out of a terrible movie, but otherwise, don't waste your money.
Friday, February 22, 2008
the new caffeine craze, c'mon kids, everyone's doing it...
Being the energy drink connoisseur that I am, I decided to purchase one of these cans of liquid crack last night on a drunken stumble home from a concert. And after ingesting it this morning in lieu of my regular morning coffee, I've come to a shocking conclusion.
This stuff is just horrible. Just fucking horrible.
Each can apparently contains 225 ml of caffeine, which upon consumption I'm pretty sure has the same effect as 4 tabs of pure mescaline. Thank FUCK I finished the godawful concoction before my meeting with 3 editors and the department manager this morning, because I would've been a shaking wreck by the time we got halfway through.
"So Mike, what do you think of the new section we're planning? Should it still launch March 12?"
"PANDAS DO NOT BELONG IN THE MILITARY! ORDERS FROM CAPTAIN ZEEP!!"
*perplexed silence*
"HOBGOBLINS!!!"
After that, I'd likely make a quick escape to save myself the SHAME of having to sit through the rest of the meeting when everyone quite clearly knows I'm already off my goddamned rocker. Might make for a bit of uncomfortable half-hour, wouldn't you say?
Because when you raise this can of terrible liquid to your lips and proceed to pour it down your throat and into your belly, be advised: you are catapulting yourself into a world of shit.
Upon the first few sips, you feel like you're tasting coffee with a small hint of something far more potent and sinister than just caffeine. If you can dismiss the notion that this mystery substance isn't in fact 12 grams of Columbian cocaine, keep drinking. If you do think it's cocaine, for the love of christ, don't drink this stuff in a public place full of strangers, because you're about 20 minutes away from losing your goddamned mind.
Twenty or so minutes. That is the length of time that will pass before you feel much of anything but the slightest whisper of a buzz. If you've had most of the can by now, you might feel twitchy; not unlike the first rising vibes from a double-tall mocha from Starbucks. But after the point where you've put away the majority of the beverage, (or, god help you, the whole thing), it becomes a struggle to stay still and to maintain any composure or rational thought.
The fierce rush of the caffeine suddenly launches itself into an all-guns-blazing assault on your auditory and nervous systems, making all sounds slightly more intense and creating a complete inability to sit still for longer than 5 seconds. The horror you abruptly find yourself in threatens to envelop your mind absolutely, but you soon find you have the power to speak coherently if you concentrate. Otherwise, you end up sounding like a babbling lunatic, and you probably won't look much better than you sound. You'll be wild-eyed, paranoid and downright shaky. Your brain will be screaming at you to regain control of yourself, but the inner voice ends up getting lost in a sea of much more intriguing thoughts, such as
"What...just...happened?! I must understand this madness...wait...wait, who's that? Who is she?! Dear god has she been there the whole time? Maybe she's watching me. Maybe she knows what's happening now. Maybe I look crazy. I should probably go freshen up a bit. Sure, why not? I have to piss anyway. This could be bad business. This feeling...it's....oh wow, wait....there's...WORK...am I......WORKING?! Fuck, I hate when this happens. I'm in the goddamned office and completely unable to hold a coherent thought pattern, AND I HAVE TO WRITE! These bastards won't know what hit them, yes...yes, they'll all PAY, I tell you, PAY...I have to g.."
And then, the mystery woman will float your way from out of nowhere and say your name casually to get your attention on this week's marketing material.
"JESUS GOD, WHAT?!" you croak in response, scaring the living shit out of everyone in a 12-block radius.
"I....thought....well," she'll say, trying not to look petrified, "why don't you look over this and...then...you can get back to me."
"Yes, why don't I do that?!" you'll reply hastily and snatch the papers out of her hand before you know what you're doing.
Another 10 minutes might pass, and you'll begin to feel lost, confused or completely batshit, and then is about the time when you start to think it'd be a good idea to let the world know just what your state of mind is right then. You might write an unscrupulous email to a co-worker; maybe the girl you just scared into resigning. You'll try to explain yourself, but it's no use. You can't think of anything appropriate to say to defuse the awkward situation that just transpired, but you'll send a disjointed attempt at clearing the air anyway.
But, more than likely, it's probably too late. With luck, she'll be scarred only for the next few days, and the boss will be able to talk her out of quitting just because some caffeine-crazed freak blew up at her from out of nowhere for no good reason at all.
But then again, maybe you'll turn back to that wretched beverage the next morning. And then, the office will become a very dangerous place.
february, BEGONE!!
Corrine comes back on Sunday.
The past six days have felt like an eternity, and I knew they would. And I won't make you all barf by lamenting on & on about how much I miss her, but this week has dragged on at the pace of a crippled snail. AND IT SUCKS.
At least I have plenty to keep me busy, like this godawful deadline I have looming over my head right now that's staring me in the face. Its angry snarl is only getting worse as the minutes tick away, and yet I am strangely unaffected by this. Is it apathy? Lack of motivation? Both? Yes, yes...probably both.
Next weekend, my parents come into town to pay me a visit before my birthday shenanigans render me completely useless for the following week or so. This means two good things are happening in March, my seminal Month of Good Luck, that are already making me want to send February fucking packing:
1.) My parents are going to meet Corrine, which is something that all parties involved are looking forward to;
2.) My birthday falls on a Sunday, which makes that previous Saturday the official party date.
This could be very bad, now that I think about it a bit more. St. Patty's Day falls on a Monday, which is going to be truly horrible for my chances of getting into work on time Tuesday, which is likely the day I'll have to be out driving around lower King County all day interviewing people about their family-owned Scandinavian pastry factories.
The invite list I made for the party is already bursting at the seams, and I fear for the establishment we invade that night before heading to the Mercury. (Did you really think we were going anywhere else?!)
Ah, March. My favorite month of the year. It looms so close.
GO AWAY, FEBRUARY.
The past six days have felt like an eternity, and I knew they would. And I won't make you all barf by lamenting on & on about how much I miss her, but this week has dragged on at the pace of a crippled snail. AND IT SUCKS.
At least I have plenty to keep me busy, like this godawful deadline I have looming over my head right now that's staring me in the face. Its angry snarl is only getting worse as the minutes tick away, and yet I am strangely unaffected by this. Is it apathy? Lack of motivation? Both? Yes, yes...probably both.
Next weekend, my parents come into town to pay me a visit before my birthday shenanigans render me completely useless for the following week or so. This means two good things are happening in March, my seminal Month of Good Luck, that are already making me want to send February fucking packing:
1.) My parents are going to meet Corrine, which is something that all parties involved are looking forward to;
2.) My birthday falls on a Sunday, which makes that previous Saturday the official party date.
This could be very bad, now that I think about it a bit more. St. Patty's Day falls on a Monday, which is going to be truly horrible for my chances of getting into work on time Tuesday, which is likely the day I'll have to be out driving around lower King County all day interviewing people about their family-owned Scandinavian pastry factories.
The invite list I made for the party is already bursting at the seams, and I fear for the establishment we invade that night before heading to the Mercury. (Did you really think we were going anywhere else?!)
Ah, March. My favorite month of the year. It looms so close.
GO AWAY, FEBRUARY.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
an update because I'm dreadfully behind on this thing...
Note from the Dept. of WTF:
This quickly turned into a post that was originally supposed to be a to-do list. The result is frightening and shouldn't be read aloud while sitting bored in the office on some idle Wednesday afternoon, especially not one like today...no sir...
THOUGHTS:
-Write something on football season for Stereodust (AND UPDATE THAT THING YOU ASSHOLE)
-Look into getting a domain name. Maybe it'll be cheaper than you think. Mikeparker.net? That can't be taken, right? Right.
-BLOG. BLOG. BLOG. Write down the weird shit that goes through your head all day. You know you could sit here and type about anything all day and only the strongest-willed and soundest of mind could possibly labor through all of it. DON'T BULLSHIT YOURSELF, PARKER! See, you're doing it again. And that was only, what, 3 lines? Jesus.
-We believe, we believe....ah, god those nights on the dance floor are so liberating, aren't they? Fuck me, go see a show sometime soon. Go to And One tomorrow. It'll be FUN.
-I miss Corrine. I love her. It's maddeningly obvious by now. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, but it also makes the netherregions antsy and impatient as hell. Having her around just makes...everything better. I'm told our "cuteness" makes everyone else roll their eyes and yell some kind of barf-inducing comment about how...barf...inducing...we are...wait.....I....to hell with this, next thought:
-Fucking christ, I'm hungry. I'll be needing some sustinence soon. But when? It's 10:40 a.m. and I HAD breakfast this morning...what is this strange gurgling puking feeling that's surging up in my gut right about now? Maybe I'll take lunch early...escape the office for at least an hour anFUCK I have to go to Auburn today and take pictures of some weird bike-parts shop that used to be a junkyard or some crazy thing.
-It's the 3-year anniversary of Hunter's death today. It's a sobering thought that three years ago tonight, I was a raving, jabbering mess, feeling as though my guiding light had been suddenly blown out and I'd been left in the dark for the rest of time. The shock of hearing the news for the first time was almost unbearable, but the world has continued on without him, in a downward spiral that is almost turning his final predictions of a bleaker world into a frightening reality.
Jesus, I just read an exercpt from something I posted while on drugs from three years. That was unsettling.
God dammit all, it's almost noon and I haven't found the motivation to do JACK SHIT yet today, and that could be very bad in the foreseeable future. I think I've been writing, but....wait...what have I been writing?! You tell me, and then we'll go from there. Deal?! OK.
AND I'M STILL FUCK-ALL HUNGRY!
Why the hell are you still reading this?!
This quickly turned into a post that was originally supposed to be a to-do list. The result is frightening and shouldn't be read aloud while sitting bored in the office on some idle Wednesday afternoon, especially not one like today...no sir...
THOUGHTS:
-Write something on football season for Stereodust (AND UPDATE THAT THING YOU ASSHOLE)
-Look into getting a domain name. Maybe it'll be cheaper than you think. Mikeparker.net? That can't be taken, right? Right.
-BLOG. BLOG. BLOG. Write down the weird shit that goes through your head all day. You know you could sit here and type about anything all day and only the strongest-willed and soundest of mind could possibly labor through all of it. DON'T BULLSHIT YOURSELF, PARKER! See, you're doing it again. And that was only, what, 3 lines? Jesus.
-We believe, we believe....ah, god those nights on the dance floor are so liberating, aren't they? Fuck me, go see a show sometime soon. Go to And One tomorrow. It'll be FUN.
-I miss Corrine. I love her. It's maddeningly obvious by now. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, but it also makes the netherregions antsy and impatient as hell. Having her around just makes...everything better. I'm told our "cuteness" makes everyone else roll their eyes and yell some kind of barf-inducing comment about how...barf...inducing...we are...wait.....I....to hell with this, next thought:
-Fucking christ, I'm hungry. I'll be needing some sustinence soon. But when? It's 10:40 a.m. and I HAD breakfast this morning...what is this strange gurgling puking feeling that's surging up in my gut right about now? Maybe I'll take lunch early...escape the office for at least an hour anFUCK I have to go to Auburn today and take pictures of some weird bike-parts shop that used to be a junkyard or some crazy thing.
-It's the 3-year anniversary of Hunter's death today. It's a sobering thought that three years ago tonight, I was a raving, jabbering mess, feeling as though my guiding light had been suddenly blown out and I'd been left in the dark for the rest of time. The shock of hearing the news for the first time was almost unbearable, but the world has continued on without him, in a downward spiral that is almost turning his final predictions of a bleaker world into a frightening reality.
Jesus, I just read an exercpt from something I posted while on drugs from three years. That was unsettling.
God dammit all, it's almost noon and I haven't found the motivation to do JACK SHIT yet today, and that could be very bad in the foreseeable future. I think I've been writing, but....wait...what have I been writing?! You tell me, and then we'll go from there. Deal?! OK.
AND I'M STILL FUCK-ALL HUNGRY!
Why the hell are you still reading this?!
Friday, January 11, 2008
divisional weekend picks
As soon as I saw Marcus Trufant grab that horribly thrown Todd Collins lob that seemed to be more intended for Trufant than whatever oblivious receiver he was aiming for, I knew the tides were dramatically shifting in not only that memorable Wild Card win, but for the rest of Seahawks postseason.
If that seems like a bold statement, well, I have no brilliant retort. The Seahawks are the heavily criticized underdog going into tomorrow's game at Lambeau, I know that much. I also know they're as deadly as any postseason counterparts out there right now, but flying under the radar is what they've always done best. They come out, they play, and their defense eats 220-lb quarterbacks alive. Actually, now that I think about it a bit, this is the first starting QB the 'hawks have gone up against in the past seven games - the rest have been backup fodder.
But the fact that it's Brett Favre does scare the piss out of me. Just a little bit. Hell, I won't lie, I probably won't sleep much tonight. I'll probably resort to drinking away this strange & uneasy feeling and wake up tomorrow hoping I can conquer a hangover in time to make it across town to watch the game with some friends who will no doubt be in the same mental state as I will, but ENOUGH OF THIS SHIT from me, I'll babble on forever and your heads will be spinning like tops while I sit here chugging more porter and you're left wondering who the fuck I actually am and what I'm spiking my beer with. (And no, you can't have any.)
Divisional playoff weekend picks:
Seattle over GREEN BAY
This, in my humble opinion, WILL be the NFC game to watch this weekend. You can have your Cowboys/Giants matchup, with Tony Romo looking like a lost puppy for 3 quarters while the Giants' defensive line licks their chops and eats the bastard for breakfast and turns him upside down for his lunch money and Jessica Simpson's phone number. WHOOPS! I heard she wasn't allowed in the stadium tomorrow, which I think is both a good idea and crazily silly at the same time. Since when does a woman's presence at a football game have that much bearing on its outcome?! Does this mean I can't bring anymore dates to Seahawk games?! Are they really even interested in the first place?! Do they think I'm nuts?!?
No, no...you know who's fucking bat-shit right about now?! Chris Collinsworth. During the Seahawks-Redskins game last week, he mentioned Sean Taylor's name 284 times in the span of one quarter. He even resorted to saying "AT LEAST THREE OF THE REDSKINS BELIEVE SEAN TAYLOR IS ON THE FIELD WITH THEM RIGHT NOW" at one point. Fucking christ, I thought, either the guy's turning into Billy Graham or he's searching for his own ill-fated feel-good story that's destined to be churned out by Disney and Sean Astin in another 6 months. Oh, wait, they already did that.
The Seahawks might be facing a horrendous amount of pressure with this game on the line - there's more to it than just the score, if you've been paying attention as of late. Mike Holmgren might base his potential retirement on the outcome, and it woud be a gigantic achievement to one-up Favre at Lambeau in the playoffs, where they've been defeated only once. And guess what, folks, the magic number is "one" here, because that's how many road playoff victories the Seahawks have to date.
Despite the lack of a potent running game, the Seahawks have a list of options that's longer than Bill Gates' resume'. They can throw to their fullback (who can break tackles and score). They can confuse defenses with the complicated formations that come in the West Coast Offense package. They can contain pressure on Hasselbeck and make huge plays, especially with this group of inexperienced and young Packers.
Favre alone can't hold a team together, and the Seahawks have been here before. They know what's at stake here, and I simply can't shun the fact that their arsenal of weapons has a) playoff experience and b) a solid matchup on every position on the field. It'll be close, but count on the Seahawks to go in for the kill when it counts.
Jacksonville at NEW ENGLAND
You're going to think Chris Collinsworth is taking a back seat to me in the gone-totally-bat-shit category when I say this, but the Jaguars pulled out a pretty improbable win at Pittsburgh last weekend, and I think they have the right squad to be the one team this year that spoils the New England Patriots' run at perfection.
Winning in Foxborough is no easy task, don't get me wrong - but after watching Fred Taylor and Maurice Jones-Drew combine to make the most ridiculously unstoppable running back duo in the NFL, you can't tell me they aren't capable of staying on the field for hours at a time and pound the living shit out of New England's defense for most of a half. Plus, let's be honest for a second - keeping Tom Brady off the field is pretty much a must if you're planning on beating the Patriots, whether it's in New England, Jacksonville, Australia or the moon.
But even with guys like Marcus Stroud on IR, the Jags' defense is a force to be reckoned with, and the Pats have to respect that. Maroney can be stopped, so the secondary is going to have to step up and play out-of-their-mind football to stop Moss. Don't be surprised to see them go dime-formation on pretty much every down to contain guys like Welker and Jabar Gaffney, who gets the "who the fuck is this guy?!" award for the second half of the season on a team that seemed to leave no room for anyone else.
(Also, if David Garrard throws anywhere above two picks by the third quarter, I renounce everything I've said and the Jags are fucked. Just sayin'.)
INDIANAPOLIS over San Diego
Remember last week when I said Norv Turner's collapse will have to wait another week until after an unconvincing win over the Titans? Well, guess what, kids!
THE WAIT IS OVER.
Phillip Rivers is the worst QB in the playoffs, and he proved that last week by throwing more idiot long bombs into enemy territory than a blind Japanese infantry soldier at the battle of Normandy.
The Chargers may have ran away with a win in that game, but keep in mind they were down 6-0 for three quarters until Vince Young decided to hand over the aforementioned "worst QB in the playoffs" award to Rivers and say "here, take it and RUN TO INDY! Why would I want to take my team there and get destroyed 35-0 on national television?! Go right ahead!! AAHAHA!!"
Or, something like that at least. I'm not sure what was going on inside his head at that moment, but I'm not paid to figure out shit like that.
I mean, doesn't it just make you laugh out loud when you think about the QB matchup in this game?! Phil Rivers vs. Peyton Manning. Try to say that a couple times in your head and see if you're not at least grinning maniacally by the end of it. Okay, I've had a few drinks, maybe it's only funny if you're me, right here, right now. Who knows?!
Oh, and LT, sorry in advance at the sea of laughter you'll get when you're shown on the sideline sulking and refusing to sit on the same bench as your quarterback. It's okay, we understand.
New York Giants over DALLAS
I dunno about you, but all I can think about right now is last year's infamous Romo-snap-botch that led the Cowboys to fall flat on their faces up here in Seattle, and the glorious array of animated gif's that followed (most of which still even entertain me today.)
Now, I'm not saying that Romo will pull another stupendous blunder when it counts this year, but I really think the Giants are a better team right now. They dismantled a versatile but predictable Tampa Bay team last week on their home turf, after the Giants' defensive coordinator just sat there WATCHING THE GAME for any period of time. Jeff Garcia was easy to figure out, and his pass protection was iffy at best. They exploited the Bucs' weaknesses and it ended up being a blowout by the 4th quarter because of that.
Ask yourself this question: If the Giants played that well last weekend and nearly beat the Patriots in Foxborough, are the Cowboys really going to be able to stand up what they're going to throw at them? I have a seriously goddamned hard time believing that Tony Romo isn't going to pull another "blame-Jessica-Simpson" act when all is said and done.
And hey, maybe T.O. might plan on making headlines again with another attention-whore tactic disguised as a suicide attempt!
(Don't call me sick & twisted, the NFL season is almost over and I need to start thinking of things that're gonna amuse me in the meantime.)
If that seems like a bold statement, well, I have no brilliant retort. The Seahawks are the heavily criticized underdog going into tomorrow's game at Lambeau, I know that much. I also know they're as deadly as any postseason counterparts out there right now, but flying under the radar is what they've always done best. They come out, they play, and their defense eats 220-lb quarterbacks alive. Actually, now that I think about it a bit, this is the first starting QB the 'hawks have gone up against in the past seven games - the rest have been backup fodder.
But the fact that it's Brett Favre does scare the piss out of me. Just a little bit. Hell, I won't lie, I probably won't sleep much tonight. I'll probably resort to drinking away this strange & uneasy feeling and wake up tomorrow hoping I can conquer a hangover in time to make it across town to watch the game with some friends who will no doubt be in the same mental state as I will, but ENOUGH OF THIS SHIT from me, I'll babble on forever and your heads will be spinning like tops while I sit here chugging more porter and you're left wondering who the fuck I actually am and what I'm spiking my beer with. (And no, you can't have any.)
Divisional playoff weekend picks:
Seattle over GREEN BAY
This, in my humble opinion, WILL be the NFC game to watch this weekend. You can have your Cowboys/Giants matchup, with Tony Romo looking like a lost puppy for 3 quarters while the Giants' defensive line licks their chops and eats the bastard for breakfast and turns him upside down for his lunch money and Jessica Simpson's phone number. WHOOPS! I heard she wasn't allowed in the stadium tomorrow, which I think is both a good idea and crazily silly at the same time. Since when does a woman's presence at a football game have that much bearing on its outcome?! Does this mean I can't bring anymore dates to Seahawk games?! Are they really even interested in the first place?! Do they think I'm nuts?!?
No, no...you know who's fucking bat-shit right about now?! Chris Collinsworth. During the Seahawks-Redskins game last week, he mentioned Sean Taylor's name 284 times in the span of one quarter. He even resorted to saying "AT LEAST THREE OF THE REDSKINS BELIEVE SEAN TAYLOR IS ON THE FIELD WITH THEM RIGHT NOW" at one point. Fucking christ, I thought, either the guy's turning into Billy Graham or he's searching for his own ill-fated feel-good story that's destined to be churned out by Disney and Sean Astin in another 6 months. Oh, wait, they already did that.
The Seahawks might be facing a horrendous amount of pressure with this game on the line - there's more to it than just the score, if you've been paying attention as of late. Mike Holmgren might base his potential retirement on the outcome, and it woud be a gigantic achievement to one-up Favre at Lambeau in the playoffs, where they've been defeated only once. And guess what, folks, the magic number is "one" here, because that's how many road playoff victories the Seahawks have to date.
Despite the lack of a potent running game, the Seahawks have a list of options that's longer than Bill Gates' resume'. They can throw to their fullback (who can break tackles and score). They can confuse defenses with the complicated formations that come in the West Coast Offense package. They can contain pressure on Hasselbeck and make huge plays, especially with this group of inexperienced and young Packers.
Favre alone can't hold a team together, and the Seahawks have been here before. They know what's at stake here, and I simply can't shun the fact that their arsenal of weapons has a) playoff experience and b) a solid matchup on every position on the field. It'll be close, but count on the Seahawks to go in for the kill when it counts.
Jacksonville at NEW ENGLAND
You're going to think Chris Collinsworth is taking a back seat to me in the gone-totally-bat-shit category when I say this, but the Jaguars pulled out a pretty improbable win at Pittsburgh last weekend, and I think they have the right squad to be the one team this year that spoils the New England Patriots' run at perfection.
Winning in Foxborough is no easy task, don't get me wrong - but after watching Fred Taylor and Maurice Jones-Drew combine to make the most ridiculously unstoppable running back duo in the NFL, you can't tell me they aren't capable of staying on the field for hours at a time and pound the living shit out of New England's defense for most of a half. Plus, let's be honest for a second - keeping Tom Brady off the field is pretty much a must if you're planning on beating the Patriots, whether it's in New England, Jacksonville, Australia or the moon.
But even with guys like Marcus Stroud on IR, the Jags' defense is a force to be reckoned with, and the Pats have to respect that. Maroney can be stopped, so the secondary is going to have to step up and play out-of-their-mind football to stop Moss. Don't be surprised to see them go dime-formation on pretty much every down to contain guys like Welker and Jabar Gaffney, who gets the "who the fuck is this guy?!" award for the second half of the season on a team that seemed to leave no room for anyone else.
(Also, if David Garrard throws anywhere above two picks by the third quarter, I renounce everything I've said and the Jags are fucked. Just sayin'.)
INDIANAPOLIS over San Diego
Remember last week when I said Norv Turner's collapse will have to wait another week until after an unconvincing win over the Titans? Well, guess what, kids!
THE WAIT IS OVER.
Phillip Rivers is the worst QB in the playoffs, and he proved that last week by throwing more idiot long bombs into enemy territory than a blind Japanese infantry soldier at the battle of Normandy.
The Chargers may have ran away with a win in that game, but keep in mind they were down 6-0 for three quarters until Vince Young decided to hand over the aforementioned "worst QB in the playoffs" award to Rivers and say "here, take it and RUN TO INDY! Why would I want to take my team there and get destroyed 35-0 on national television?! Go right ahead!! AAHAHA!!"
Or, something like that at least. I'm not sure what was going on inside his head at that moment, but I'm not paid to figure out shit like that.
I mean, doesn't it just make you laugh out loud when you think about the QB matchup in this game?! Phil Rivers vs. Peyton Manning. Try to say that a couple times in your head and see if you're not at least grinning maniacally by the end of it. Okay, I've had a few drinks, maybe it's only funny if you're me, right here, right now. Who knows?!
Oh, and LT, sorry in advance at the sea of laughter you'll get when you're shown on the sideline sulking and refusing to sit on the same bench as your quarterback. It's okay, we understand.
New York Giants over DALLAS
I dunno about you, but all I can think about right now is last year's infamous Romo-snap-botch that led the Cowboys to fall flat on their faces up here in Seattle, and the glorious array of animated gif's that followed (most of which still even entertain me today.)
Now, I'm not saying that Romo will pull another stupendous blunder when it counts this year, but I really think the Giants are a better team right now. They dismantled a versatile but predictable Tampa Bay team last week on their home turf, after the Giants' defensive coordinator just sat there WATCHING THE GAME for any period of time. Jeff Garcia was easy to figure out, and his pass protection was iffy at best. They exploited the Bucs' weaknesses and it ended up being a blowout by the 4th quarter because of that.
Ask yourself this question: If the Giants played that well last weekend and nearly beat the Patriots in Foxborough, are the Cowboys really going to be able to stand up what they're going to throw at them? I have a seriously goddamned hard time believing that Tony Romo isn't going to pull another "blame-Jessica-Simpson" act when all is said and done.
And hey, maybe T.O. might plan on making headlines again with another attention-whore tactic disguised as a suicide attempt!
(Don't call me sick & twisted, the NFL season is almost over and I need to start thinking of things that're gonna amuse me in the meantime.)
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