Posts Tagged ‘boxing’

Homeless Box Office

February 23, 2009 Leave a comment

Little did I know when I woke up today, that a cross dressing no talent hump would save my life. According to him, this clown was once reduced to living in his car or some phoney Hollwood bullshit back story. He kept praying to the Lord, and Taylor ( not Tyler ) apparently. Because one day, while dumpster diving for dinner, there amidst the Mickey D boxes & wrappers, he found a size 26 floral housedress.

The rest is dreck history. The Lord obviously sending the message, if you all ready believe in me and that hasn’t worked out, the next stage is dress like a woman and make movies. Larry King is too stupid to ask why this ahole keeps at least one fine big black woman out of work, it’s their problem, huh. Maybe they’ll find a Sumo diaper, move to Japan and make it there. In a related story, Queen Latifah and Jennifer Hudson are duking it out for the lead in a biopic— Tyler Perry: Drag Yo Ass.

My antipathy towards drag flicks—not drag racing Biffaside, I do have him to thank. As soon as I am faced with my own eventual homelessness, I will not make my first stop a store to shoplift an air freshener for my car. I will go to Goodwill and get me a dress, sensible shoes, wig hat and a theatrical agent. Hedging my bets, I’ll drop by Sears and pick up a large Frigidaire box. I’ll probably never make a movie in a dress—just a guess.

I held an Oscar once—I don’t know about now—but 20 years ago, those boys were heavy. They should weigh even heavier on the consciences of the schmucks who didn’t vote for Mickey Rourke. In a year where they got almost everything else right, why? Anyone with a brain knows why. I never had a shot out there. But sometimes I’m glad I never did. I bet my old friend with the Oscar voted for Mickey though—that’s because the friend was a guy from Philadelphia. Ben Franklin & the Stallones would’ve given it to Mr. Rourke for sure. They’d know the difference between merely good acting and a huge heart.

AND since this is a bit random, I’d like to state once again ( and no doubt in a future post ) nothing says going backwards like boxing.* Nothing screams it louder than women boxing. Those idiots call boxing the ” sweet science “. Does the inclusion of women make it the sweeter science? Or maybe just butch-er. There’s a good chance most of them have no idea what science is—the last time beating people might’ve been considered scientific was just before the Paleolithic era.

Maybe I didn’t wake up at all and this is 1809. No wonder my fucking ISP is so slow!


* Mickey Rourke was a professional boxer before his acting career & for a period of time, during which he left acting. So, I am open minded. Any guy who names a chihuahua after the Norse god of malevolent mischief, is OK with me.

Are You Ready for Some Poofball!

August 11, 2008 Leave a comment

I’ve been busy, not busy enough and not money busy for sure. But not too occupied to escape noticing the sound of blowhards. Yeah, yeah other blowhards. I know I’m full of hot air(s) though. They don’t.

Fast forward past the Favre Fiasco ( so that’s what 4F means!), the recent contrived lead in to the 2K8 football season. That’s the one, where the Worldwide Leader in Splooge gave not only wall to wall coverage, but coated most of the ceiling, floor, doors, windows and a few sleeping dogs.

In between protesting too much, any apt simile here would be barf inducing, much like ESPN itself, they gleefully greased the skids for Brett Favre’s exit from Green Bay. A town known for football, cheese foam heads and record setting cold. Why he didn’t leave sooner? no idea. Maybe saving on needing a fridge adds up. Go Brett the Jet!

It’s not just ESPN, the bulk of the US sports media saw a meaningful way to fill the gap between their constantly voiced boredom with baseball after ManRam got booted from the hypocrisy which is Beantown, and the upcoming Olympics. ESPN doesn’t have the TV deal for the Olympics so all on air talent has been memoed to repeatedly say: ‘ do you care? I don’t care! hey let’s talk some football.’

Once upon a time I was fairly intelligent. But after all these years, I just had an epiphany while hearing yet another jock sniffer slurp his way through another monologue about who will be the backup quarterback for the Bears. The reason they all love football and anoint it as America’s Number One Sport is because the NFL sports the smallest number of games scheduled per season of all the professional (and college) sports, to have to pay attention to in order to do their jobs.

Throw in the fact most football fans think they could’ve played NFL football. This because they might have played once, in Pop Warner, High School or even Division I college, except for that torn up knee that ended the most likely Hall of Fame career. . . well, you know.

While their delusional commitment to football is as many waking hours they have to do it, the actual viewing hours are mostly Monday night & Sunday for 5 months. Now more than a few guys have special NFL TV packages and watch lots of games. Once playoffs near, Saturday opens up ( it’s a college deal thing ). The NFL noticed and added a Thursday night game to the Monday Night Game ad cashiola in perpetua. Lots of hours of football per week now.

But each team, due to the intense physical demands ( no, that is true and I do mean it ) only plays one game a week. I’m not here to break down the arcana of the NFL schedule—sometimes the time increment between games is less than 7 days—OK? I see it as proof of greed and wtf do the suits really care about the players minds & bodies?

So, the jock sniffocracy has just one game per week per team (32 teams /16 regular season games) to overanalyze and set up for bettors, the real reason football is popular. Betting the odds from Las Vegas. It serves up endless air time filled with—PREDICTIONS. Those clowns love predictions. Theirs, experts, fans and some ( totally true ) their grandmother. The lack of creativity in programming is only surpassed by the plethora of airtime eaten up with that meaningless, ludicrous drivel. Plus the points. . .. Baseball especially with 162 games, doesn’t lend itself to betting talk 24/7. Somebody official might have to notice. Or Pete Rose would anyway.

On it’s surface football is a good sport. When it isn’t stopped every 2 minutes for 4.5 minutes of commercials. The media breaks ruin the game flow but since so many feed off it, they ain’t changing it. It stretches thin the dubious charms of football along with betting & thuggery, which begins with big time college recruitment of inner city & rural kids who cannot spell the word college, let alone read the contract they are induced to dream about with the NFL someday. First, they need to lay their genetically superior ass muscles on the line for Old Tech.

Even the vaunted Ivy Leagues, bastions of WASP privilege and (in)breeding i.e. current Bush in the White House, have football teams. The real college football teams laugh at them and or kick their ass every season, but hey it gives the student body a traditional reason to get drunk on weekends. Or Thursday. Or late Wednesday so as to be lubed for Thursday. What in all of this dreckage would attract an intelligent person to fanaticism?

Sports talk radio/TV ass kissing and dollars aside, my thesis is football is homoerotica for the male too squeamish to enjoy the approach-avoidance repression of boxing. Or too in denial to embrace (!) the overt nature of wrestling, know your Greco-Roman history. Testing one’s strength by dominating another man physically. Yeah, why would you need to do that Butch? Hey! use the Michael Vick Defense: that dog was attacking my dog. IN a ring, surrounded by assholes who had made wagers on the outcome. On the odd chance, a dog on dog strength testing did break out in that location.

I care not for any past or current pyschological thesis opposing my view. It’s gay. Hitting people is violence expressed from a deep seated urge which is repressed. Are they all Oedipal? Unless that person was threatening your loved ones—you’re boxing, wrestling or. . .playing football.

Hitting. Grappling. Knocking men to the ground. Parti-colored tight fitting pants? Playing with balls? Come on dudes! Pardon the expression. It’s all obvious. You can say I’m wrong. You can say I’m dead too. . . I’d like to collect a dollar for every fat load who could actually read this and would want to punch me in the face. It would not only be a ton of money, it would prove my point. Wanna bet?

In a related story: Boston Medical Group ( gotta love that town ) your commercial copy and your spokesman also induce vomiting. AS if any Yankee fan would trust his virility to some entity with that name. If they did, the Yankees would be there to get some wood. Because whatever it is they are swinging, it’s weak. Note to Deej: MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMinka. But you better marry one of them the day after you retire. You’re a baseball player damn it ( see above ). Also, do you still have Jessica Biel’s cell?