O.J. and Coffee to Go
Woke up, got out of bed…dragged a comb across my head. Hey, now hold on a minute. A) I don’t have a comb and B) I am kind of, on purpose, bald. Well, I am on purpose bald because I really am going bald. As a supreme control freak, I need to have major input in this. So, done! It’s Sunday, we’re sipping on a cup o’ Pete’s. Remember, it is now fall, shmucks. Leaves are changing, there’ll be a nip in the air, the smell of holiday baking will soon waft into our sense memory; only, not in this house. No, here it will remain hot, muggy, and holiday cooking and the like is penciled in for late December due to the potential for additional tropical storm formation and inundation, thanks to some bitch named La Niña. Hah! Fuck that, football is on and this morning there is a major conflict within. On the one hand, I can listen to monotone no-nothings natter on about 400-lb men in spandex, with names such as Keionta, Te’Vontae, Dremilion, and Todd, prancing around a synthetic field of grass trying to graze up and down a large rectangular patch; or, I can actually watch a like number of 150-lb guys with names like Felix, Matip, Omegube, De Bruyne, and McGundy twirl, run, and pretend to perform tuck-and-rolls down a rectangular field for 90+ minutes, as they hold various body parts and grimace in fake agony, which ultimately leads to a lot of time-wasting and a final score that may include a goal. Decisions, decisions.
Well, while I am deciding, I cherry-pick my way across the universe that is the Times. Which Times, I have no idea. Let’s call it Father Shmuck’s Modern Times. This is news goddammit; it’s about people and their shenanigans and like all citizens inhabiting this planet I have a fucking right to know. Know what? How the hell should I know? What do I now know? Let me share. Here is something to note. Speaking of rectangular fields, spandex, interesting names, and double-homicides, guess who just got sprung? As in: got let out the back, Jack; flew the coop; ___ on the loose. Oh, for fuck’s sake, O.J. was released from the prison he has been housed in for the past 9 years for a crime he may or may not have – but surely - committed. Seems like America does forgive. In the spirit of letting ole Tricky Dick Nixon, that pathetic, sour-puss of evil genius, back into society with an instant status of human, so did Nevada see fit to vote O.J. Simpson back to life. He’s free as a jailbird. Whoops. All I can say is FS hopes O.J. becomes the statesman that Nixon went on to become, a priori biting the bullet on some bad leg thrombosis. O.J.: go do that voodoo that you do, so well.
What else? Hmmm. Trying to avoid the depressing: crazy-ass terrorists slitting the throats of train travelers in France, a cop-stabbing and other terrorist-type activity in Edmonton. Hey, that’s next door, so watch out, we might help out on that one. And, here’s some more twitter-ravings from S-I-C as he engages in a real war of words with the distraught mayor of San Juan, who has completely debased herself by – if you can believe the gall – demanding more assistance from Americans for, uhm, Americans who got knocked upside the head by a string of training hurricanes in PR. And wait, whaaa? Here’s a ration of serious shit. Apparently, some sick bastard is committing heinous acts of domestic terrorism right here in River City…if River City is in Orange County, CA. This twisted fuck of a nonhuman is tainting flutes of local school bands with….with…his personally-delivered SEMEN! A local teacher has apparently been using his own flute to tag flutes that play real music, which were to have been ‘colorfully’ designed and distributed to fine young musicians throughout the Orange County School District. As one, clearly distraught, parent may have suggested, ‘Read between the lines, morons, it ain’t sweat.’ And, so, it is not sweat. No, it’s not.
Well, speaking of oranges (e.g. O.J. and Orange County, and Miami Dolphins in London) and sweat, FS is opting to take the democratic route toward viewing the games. If god had intended us to watch more than one event at a time, he would have invented a television capable of allowing it. God bless P-I-P.