The Liquid Kosmos

I am hung...

over. It started with a little Christmas party and ended with a cab ride and to add insult to injury I had to ride my bike to a business meeting at 9:00 this morning. It's freezing.

I don't know why the neighbor dog doesn't wanna hang with me anymore. He used to bark a lot and come over to the fence when I came home, but now he doesn't move an inch when I call his name. He just looks at me like I bore the shit out of him.

Some of my friends are at the Titans game and I'm not seeing the logic. Pro football bores me more than I bore the neighbor's dog. I love college football. The passion, the grit, the play for the love of the game stuff. But pro football is a flat-out yawner.

I used to like it. Back when Fran "the Man" Tarkington (it just now dawned on me that they stole that nickname from Stan "the Man" Musial) was playing. The purple people eaters playing in old municiple stadium. Outside in December in Minneapolis (Bloomington if you want to get specific). No heaters on the sidelines. And Bud Grant wouldn't let them wear gloves either. It was awesome. Those guys were tough.

Now we've got T.O. and a bunch of other pussy flamers leading the NFL's charge. He wouldn't have lasted one quarter on Bud Grant's Vikings. He would have cried the minute one of Tark's passes hit his hands. In fact, and I'm serious here, I think he might have died on the field if he played in that weather. Flat out over. Done deal. "I'm a pussy boy and I need attention...this playing as a team crap doesn't get me anywhere."

At least he admits he's a selfish and greedy bastard. Got that going for him.

Anyway, I did not get up early today to bash Terrel Owens. I got up early so I could take a nap, and that is exactly what I am going to do as soon as I am done writing this blog.

Night.

posted by The Oscillator @ 9:27 AM