The Favre-sbury Flop Coming To The NFL?

It's bad enough that most of the media covering the NFL is comprised of guys who once coached Butt Favre, guys who played with or against Favre, guys who want to spend a week in a hot tub with him, or guys who gush over getting his cell phone number like they just pried the digits out of Charlize Theron. It's bad enough that he repeatedly held hostage the franchise that treated him like royalty for 15 years, cried like a bitch at a press conference, then came back like the drunk uncle who was politely asked to leave the kids' Easter Egg hunt and wants another shot. It's bad enough that he's the Teflon man with a Vicadin addiction and an affinity for creepy jeans commercials.

And it's bad enough that he got another undeserved trip to Hawaii for the Pro Bowl, despite leading the league in interceptions. He easily trailed more worthy candidates like Philip Rivers (3,515 yards, 28 touchdowns, 11 interceptions), Matt Cassel (3,270 yards, 18 scores, 11 picks) and Chad Pennington (3,218 yards, 14 touchdowns, six interceptions), when compared to 3,052 yards, 21 scores and the aforementioned 17 picks for Favre. What a joke, considering Favre's performance has plummeted woefully as the season has gone on and opposing defenses have started loading the box to stop Thomas Jones.

Those things are bad.

But maybe the worst part of it all is that now, almost predictably, Favre is trying to bring the flop to the NFL. If you watch any of his games, he now plummets to the ground when anyone brushes near him as he's throwing, fish-flopping to the turf like he's trying to earn a scholarship offer from Coach K. The biggest problem facing the NFL right now is the mind-numbing overprotection of its quarterbacks, spearheaded by the fact that they are seen as the moneymakers who drive the league's popularity. Now, on top of that unfair protection, you have an over-the-hill fraud trying to draw charges and play off of the referees' quick whistles when it comes to defenders coming within a three-yard radius of a signal-caller.


As if undeserved recognition, media coddling and overhyping aren't enough, now Favre thinks the honorable thing to do is to do his best Shane Battier impersonation and take advantage of the NFL's misplaced rules focus. It reminds me of the end of John Stockton's career, when his heady play for the Utah Jazz was eventually replaced with his embarrassing flopping, staggering around and crashing to the floor when anyone touched him, like a WWF wrestler hit with a fake metal chair. At the end, you felt sorry and ashamed for Stockton, instead of appreciating the greatness with which he played the point guard position for like 20 years in the NBA. If Favre wants to end his career with more rug burns than Paris Hilton and further tarnish his legacy among real fans by trying to singlehandedly bring the flop to the NFL, hopefully an objective journalist will finally call him out for it.

I won't hold my breath on anyone with any credibility pointing out his flopping, though. In fact, it's more likely to "earn" him an honorary degree from Duke instead.

W (Lame) Ducks Flying Air Iraqi Shoes

So during a press conference over the weekend, a disenchanted Iraqi journalist (is there any other kind?) decided to take off his shoes and whip them at Bush while screaming, "This is a farewell kiss, you dog" and "The end!" I can just hear Flavor Flav rapping, "Eyewitness news, Channel 7, more shoes at 11."

Coupla quick thoughts:

First of all, when did Rex Grossman join the Al-Jazeer network and why is he rifling errant shoes all over the place?

Second, gotta give some kudos on the reflexes shown by the prez. He (lame) ducked those size-10s like Ted Ginn Jr. dodges passes over the middle. Then again, you gotta figger he's had plenty of practice in trying to avoid stuff being thrown at him at this point.

Nancy Reagan Jokes + Footy Pajamas Cracks = High Comedy

OBAMA SLAMS NANCY REAGAN...AGAIN - watch more funny videos

Kudos to Jordan Peele for the Obama impersonation, although I've seen him do it better elsewhere …

Limerick Friday LXXXXXIIIV: Laugh, Think And Cry Today

It's a week for remembering the late Jimmy V
And all that he meant to so many, including me
His legacy is one of never, ever giving up
Now more than $80 million in the collection cup
His fight against cancer defined him and set him free

It's the PapaJohns.com Bowl for the Wolfpack
After an incredible late-season comeback
Wish I could make it down to Birmingham
With empty wallet and shaking head I say, "Damn"
But there will be plenty of fans supporting the Pack Attack

From Baton Rouge all the way to the bayou
So little time, and so very much to do
An afternoon spent in the French Market
The rental car was trapped when we parked it
Then every bathroom within 10 miles smelled like poo

He lit up the Big 12 yet again, but he's no Sooner or Gator
Nearly 5,000 yards and 41 touchdowns for this Red Raider
He led his team to 11-1 and seventh in the BCS
Now he's dealing with some Heisman political B.S.
Not a finalist?! Shame on you, every Graham Harrell hater

K-Rod joins the bullpen to help end losing ruts
Also added a proven reliever humorously named Putz
After another season went up in smoke
Mets are out to try to remove the label of "choke"
But it'll take more than a coupla new pitchers to find some guts

Last time …

Hopalong Cassidy Meets Dick Butkus: The "Sugarfoot" Story

Thanks to another in a long line of neat twists of phrase by Stephen King, one of my favorite answers when someone asks me how I'm doing is, "I'm busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest." Well, that phrase takes on new meaning when you consider the story of Carl "Sugarfoot" Joseph, a recent inductee to the Florida High School Athletics Hall of Fame.

I can't do as much justice to Joseph as the video can (there's even a requisite Dan Queerdorf quote included), so going against my normal tendency, I'm going to shut up and let the images speak for themselves.

Blind Midget Patrol Sees The Light … Yes, Pun Intended

Coming on the heels of the disappointing and controversial ouster of The Scooters from playoff inclusion, my faith in fantasy football was admittedly rocked. Coming out the lone loser in a five-way tiebreaker, the results of which I still don't fully comprehend, I basically threw in the towel on the 2008 fantasy football campaign.

However, in my second league, a 12-team collection of former co-workers, my solid Blind Midget Patrol squad wouldn't stop fighting. After an uneven 5-4 start that was hampered by underachieving efforts from LaDanian Tomlinson and Roy E. Williams (apparently, the "E" stands for "enema"), my team caught fire, winning four of the final five regular-season games. Using a record 144-point outing in a key matchup, BMP got into position for a winner-take-all regular-season finale. Winner takes the division and goes to the playoffs; loser goes home despite a more-than-respectable record.

The result was a 106-69 pounding for the good guys, sending Blind Midget Patrol to postseason play as the second-highest scoring team in the league (one point behind the leader, 1,266 points to 1,267). I grabbed the No. 2 seed with a 9-5 record, with the hope being that LT remembers who is, the Bears defense comes out of hibernation and my quarterback situation becomes respectable (Matt Schaub had a huge game last week, but Jeff Garcia has disappeared). Playoffs start this Sunday, so I'm working my guys to death out on the practice fields this week.

In odd years, Blind Midget Patrol is reincarnated and plays under the moniker "The Wrenchpants." This year, however, BMP has responded to a level that would even make a diminutive, squirrel-hands-having, wrenched-pants-wearing, tiny-Dudley-Moore-looking, Durham-dwelling, blind, bitch-ass midget proud.

Back In The Big Easy

"We want our city. And we don't want it to come back like no Disneyland for adults. It was getting that way anyway. We don't want that. Just give us a chance to collect ourselves."
—Wynton Marsalis, as quoted in Rolling Stone

One of the many reasons I never get tired of going to New Orleans is because no matter how many times you visit, you're always going to find something that you've missed. There's never enough time to see all the things you should see, that you need to see.

This time, I wanted to see Pirates Alley, located alongside St. Louis Cathedral in Jackson Square. Later on, I found out that I was standing right in front of the house where William Faulker wrote his first novel … and I didn't even know it.

Even for an all-too-brief afternoon hustling around the Quarter and the French Market, it was worth it. It always is. And I always leave a small part of me there.

Limerick Friday LXXXXXIII: Unemployment Tends To Diminish Fun Of Holiday Shopping

Layoffs pile up as our recession still does swoon
And half a million more will be jobless soon
Every week, another friend told to hit the bricks
Tough time of year to be job-hunting in the sticks
Hopefully the iPresident will lead an economic boon

A battle royale between the Gators and Tide
A national title is what this game could decide
'Bama has a Nicktator who can coach but is rude
Florida has an Urban who is one cocky dude
Everyone watching tomorrow is in for quite a ride

No better idea than an 8-year-old with an Uzi
Surrounded by adults who were quite boozy
Now he's dead on site at a pointless gun expo
Have we learned nothing from that jackass Plaxico?
Even Charlton Heston thinks this was an avoidable doozy

A fantasy football season to wrench your soul
Bad luck, injuries, then my playoff spot stole
A game that's hard to figure, even in the best times
The only way to play is with many Coronas and limes
Now my only hope is my last team—Blind Midget Patrol

All Wolfpack fans just want a bowl from some fat Santas
About any other gifts, we don't give a damn-as
Hottest team in the league after a dismal start
Thanks to all the seniors, who all played their part
But even Batman wears Russell Wilson pajamas

Last time ...

Meanie Words = Indefinite Suspension, Cheap Haymakers = Play On!

The NHL vs. the NFL. They're certainly not on par when it comes to popularity or relevance in the United States, but occasionally it's interesting to see how each league elects to handle sticky situations.

On the frozen pond, Sean Avery of the Dallas Stars thought it would be a good idea to gather the assembled media and deliver a blast directed at Calgary defenseman Dion Phaneuf. Did he attack Phaneuf's manhood on the ice? Did he denigrate his skills? Did he question Phaneuf's ability to match up with Avery? Nah. He basically called Phaneuf's girlfriend a tramp.

You see, Avery once dated actress (term used loosely) Elisha Cuthbert, who is best known for playing Jack Bauer's daughter on "24" and portraying a porn star with a heart o' gold on "Girl Next Door." So, Avery thought it would be humorous to call attention to the fact that he "knew" (in the biblical sense) Elisha early and often, long before Phaneuf arrived on the scene. It was also a reference to the fact that Avery once dated the ex-Mrs. Rod Stewart, model Rachel Hunter, at one point, and Hunter now resides on the arm of Los Angeles Kings defenseman Jarrett Stoll.

"I just wanted to comment on how it's become like a common thing in the NHL for guys to fall in love with my sloppy seconds," said Avery, with a mock look of disgust. "I don't know what that's about, but … enjoy the game tonight."



Apparently, it is widely accepted around the NHL that Avery is an "instigator and knucklehead" (in the words of the Chicago Sun-Times), so while his words didn't exactly catch everyone off-guard, they were certainly met with ridicule. While I don't know whether Elisha pulls the train at the All-Star Game or is being passed around the NHL (apparently, she also used to date Montreal defenseman Mike Komisarek), I do know that the comments were in poor taste, out of bounds, below the belt, uncalled for, immature, childish, and basically whatever other way you want to describe them. Agreed.

However.

Were they strong enough that they merited an indefinite suspension for Avery? Were they crass enough that his own team said they would have suspended him if the league had not stepped in? Keep in mind that not only did Avery never refer to Phaneuf, Stoll, Cuthbert or Hunter at all, but that, despite being considered the league's most-hated player, Avery has never been suspended. Yet NHL commissioner Gary Bettman acted swiftly, citing Avery's "inappropriate public comments, not pertaining to the game." A day later, Avery delivered a forced apology prior to a mandatory meeting with Bettman in New York, but it was way too little, way too late.

Compare that to the NFL. In the Nov. 23 game at Miami, New England left tackle Matt Light got tangled up with Dolphins linebacker Channing Crowder on a field-goal attempt. Light ripped off Crowder's helmet, grabbed him by his dreadlocked hair and began raining punches down on him. Mind you, Crowder was attempting to extricate himself the entire time, not punching back but trying to dance away as Light pulled his hair like a girl. On watching the event live, I assumed a multiple-game suspension for Light, especially considering the league's stance on fighting and basically any type of hard hitting on the field at all, much less sans helmets. The outcome? Both players were fined $15,000, and neither was suspended.

So, basically, Crowder got to pay $15,000 to have a roided-up cheater yank off his helmet, pull his hair and punch him repeatedly about the head and face. Light got to pay $15,000 to take some punishment-free swings at a defenseless player who, admittedly, is annoying and whose bark is much fiercer than his bite. Keep in mind that this is a league that issues fines and 15-yard penalties for breathing on a quarterback (check the last line in the below video, from Dan Queerdorf: "This is not hockey.").



Do you think that the Patriots' following-week matchup against the sack-happy Steelers, in a game with major playoff implications, had anything to do with commissioner Roger Goodell's decision not to suspend an essential offensive lineman for the Pats? Goodell, based on his long-standing relationship with New England owner Robert Kraft, has been a staunch Patriots apologist, even when the Patsies were caught cheating redhanded. Luckily, Pittsburgh beat the shite out of the Cheatriots anyway, but it was another telling development in the NFL's protection and favoritism shown toward New England. Despite their well-documented cheating and Tom Brady's absence, the Pats remain the NFL's favorite sons, demonstrated by favorable rulings, timely penalties against opponents at key moments, and a complete disregard for the infraction of holding against New England at any time.

For those of you scoring at home, in one league, it's OK to attack an unprotected, defenseless player with unreturned punches. In another, if you hint that another player's unnamed girlfriend might be an unmitigated skank, you're basically banished from the league.

Needless to say that, much like "wags" in Europe, Drew Barrymore with losers and Kate Hudson with musicians, Elisha Cuthbert can't resist toothless NHL defensemen. But it looks like Avery would have been better off just punching her instead of questioning her chastity. Because everyone knows that, if you hint that she gets around the NHL more than a Zamboni, you won't only have to worry about Jack Bauer killing your family and destroying your country, but you'll have to deal with the NHL's resident Mr. Bean—Gary "She seems like a sweet girl" Bettman.

And you thought "As the World Turns" was the best soap opera on TV. Not even close.

"The Invasion" Won't Put You To Sleep

Based on "Invasion of the Body Snatchers," the cleverly titled "The Invasion" is sparked by an opening that will have you glued to your seat and unconsciously mouthing, "Wow." The great, terrifying opening sequence turns out to be something of a flash-forward, since the true opening documents a shuttle explosion that leaves a trail of debris 200 miles wide from Washington, D.C., to Dallas. There's an immediate fear that the debris could contaminate the nearby population, and that fear is realized when a strange spore is found within the crash area.

Quickly, a government scientist (Jeremy Northam) investigates some of the victims and some of the areas that have been damaged, and he immediately begins acting stranger than Crispin Glover on Quaaludes. Somehow, he has procured a super-hot girlfriend, and then we learn that his ex-wife is D.C. psychiatrist Nicole Kidman, who parades around the movie in lingerie breakfast wear and a pushup bra, so let's just say this guy is doing something right. Kidman's colleague/love interest is the dude who plays James Bond, and the two team up to start investigating some strange organic material that shows up on her son's Halloween candy. I think you can see where this is going.

The camera shadows Kidman (Carol Bennell) to show her everyday routine, which we suspect (rightly) is about to be broken with some well-placed anything-but-normalcy. As the day progresses, we begin to see signs that people are starting to experience side effects from being affected by this spore, punctuated by a highly disturbing scene where we notice people throwing up in tea at a convention and serving it to the unaffected. The contamination is alien in nature, and results in the infected basically walking around in a dream state, feeling and experiencing nothingness.

The question quickly becomes, "Who can you trust?" The affected are embarking on finding and infecting those who have thus far avoided contact with the spores, so there is a pocket of the population who has to try to pretend to be the zombie-like, eyes-forward products of the infection. The terror is only increased by the ease of transmitting disease, which is scary for a lot of reasons in our current political climate. What is diagnosed as the flu quickly escalates once the victim falls asleep, and the result is a cross between "Stepford Wives" and "A.I."


After a quick Google search shows Bennell that many people are describing situations in which "my son is not my son" or "my wife is not my wife," she realizes that strange things are afoot at the Circle K. When her infected ex-husband insists on having their son visit him, she panics when she comes in contact with an infected person and sees the results. Upon trying to rescue her son, her ex-husband vomits on her (literally and figuratively), giving her the infection, which won't kick in completely until she falls asleep. Her mantra then becomes, "Do not trust anyone. Do not show emotion. Do not fall asleep."

As she heads through downtown D.C. attempting to pose as an infected person and avoiding eye contact, she comes across a scene where people are jumping off a roof, similar to "The Happening." Director Oliver Hirschbiegel (yes, that's his last name) then begins to interweave future scenes and events with the present and past scenes and events with the present, which is a neat tactic when done correctly and somewhat confusing when it's not. In this case, it is handled well by Hirschbiegel, setting up some impending doom and tension.

In attempting to kidnap her son from the home of his best friend, a creepy little fucker named Gene who is a disturbing combination of Short Round and Chuck Manson, there is a tremendously tense stare-off between the mother and the son, in which both don't want to give away the fact that they're not infected yet. It turns out that the son is immune to the infection due to a childhood disease, leading Bennell's scientist friends to embark on trying to identify a cure. Mother and son are eventually discovered to be pretending, leading to a terrific chase scene that includes a scary stop at a convenience store that involves the Mom having to shoot James Bond and the son plunging a syringe into his mom's heart to wake her up and ends in a rooftop helicopter rescue.

Eventually, a cure is found and disseminated, and the media asks one of the scientists whether society is going back to normal. "Pick up a newspaper," he says with a sigh. "For better or worse, we're human again." Charmingly, it is revealed that James Bond survived the shooting and was cured, and is now rocking breakfast at the therapist's house. Bennell has apparently gotten custody of Gene to go with her son, and she constantly recalls the words of a colleague: "In the right situation, we're all capable of terrible crimes."

Bolstered by a stellar trailer (below), "The Invasion" turns out to be a worthy remake of a classic, marked by a fitting soundtrack that highlights the many memorably intense scenes. It's a good length at 93 minutes, though the ending is a little simplistic and the real reasons behind the contamination and infection are unexamined. Still, if you're looking for an easy watch and some hair-raising (*add your own Kidman/pushup bra joke here*) moments, this is one that's worth checking out.

Café McDonalds' "NuggNuts": Now With Reefer!

Now, McDonald's usually has pretty smart commercials. Yes, a tad cheesy, yes, somewhat overly sentimental for super-processed fast food, but almost retro-cool. So their recent attempts to boost sales of their Pigeon McNuggets—er, Chicken McNuggets—by asking people to become "Nuggnuts" was somewhat surprising in its naivete.

Referring to their product as a "nugg" is sketchy at best. Ergo, I'll refer you to the Urban Dictionary (I will do so rarely) for the most widely accepted definition of "nugg."

Nug (noun)
1. A high quality bud of marijuana.
2. The Dank.
3. See ganja.
Ex. "Gayle packed her last nug into the bowl and smoked it on the way to work."

Nug (noun)
1. A small chunk of weed … not a chicken nugget.
Ex. (sic) "yo pack that nug in the bowl so we can toke this shit"

In the sense that smoking a "nug" of an afternoon will give you a craving for "nuggs" (or Funyuns) toot-sweet, then yes, I'd say Ronald is on to something. Still, tho, this is an advertising campaign that Mickey D's may want to rethink somewhat (hell, they already have a FaceBook application and some sort of creepy pledge that you have to take).

"Da, da, da, da, da … Tyrone's lovin' it!"

Add "Queerdorfies" To Your Breakfast Table!

I think most rational people would agree that Dan Dierdorf is the worst football commentator of all time, and I posit that he's the worst sports broadcaster, period, that has ever stumbled off the assembly line. Cliches, mispronunciations, horrific jokes, man-crushes, repetition … he's got it all. And, as an added bonus, he provides a stunning lack of insight or knowledge for someone who allegedly played the game. How he has sustained a lengthy career for CBS only leads me to believe that he has a picture of the president of CBS in a compromising position with a goat, stealing the tactic used by his doppelganger, Matt Millen.

Since the Dolphins are an AFC team and CBS carries AFC games, I've had to endure Queerdorf for longer than I bear to remember. I always cringe when I hear his voice leading off a Miami game, both for myself and for his partner, Greg Gumbel.

Dan Dierdorf has two dreams in his life: to be the meat in a Tom Brady-Joe Montana sandwich and to eat his bodyweight in Funyuns. Not many can claim to have maxed out their lives' hopes and dreams by age 40, so kudos to you, Douchedorf.

"Fuck It, Dude ... Let's Go Bowling."

Four Ws in a row.
North Carolina state champs.
ACC Rookie of the Year: Russell Wilson.
ACC Coach of the Year candidate: Tom O'Brien.

Who am I to argue with "The Big Lebowski"? Find us a bowl, baby.

Go.Freaking.Pack.

Even Bulgaria Thinks You're A Douche

As the W disapproval rating reaches new highs (or lows), tales of his douche-dom have reached the far ends of the earth, as this video displays. When you get the Heisman from someone whose country can't make a decent pair of jeans yet, you know you're having a rough career.

Busting out the high school metaphor, America's popularity level was at one point on par with the head cheerleader who pulls the train in the bathroom on prom night. Now, it's basically fallen to the level of the kid who founds the Geology Club and reserves the library to play Dungeons and Dragons at lunchtime.

Remember a time when America was pretty cool? Me neither.

Predictably, Season Ends In Unprecedented, Brutal Fashion. Again.

There was about a six-hour window where all was good times for The Scooters. Finally.

A season that I had all but given up on turned promisingly after I ended our league's regular season with two straight victories to boost my record to 6-5-1, with a season sweep of one of the teams I was battling for a playoff spot. During a strange campaign that saw three ties within the league and many teams finishing up with similar records, I was unsure of my status, still thinking I was going to be on the outside looking in.

However, one of my friends from the league sent me an e-mail yesterday congratulating me on getting into the playoffs. After I expressed doubts that I actually was going to slide in, he began to break down the possibilities. After crunching numbers that began to look more like the quadratic formula than tiebreaker scenarios, my friend informed me that I had, indeed, made it into the playoffs, despite all the shoddy luck and inconsistent play all year long. A new season, right? Anything's possible? Armed with a firm belief that I still possessed arguably the league's best team, I was heartened and optimistic for a veritable do-over in the playoffs.


But wait.

Our formula didn't include an impossible, nonsensical comeback by the league's resident douche … in fact, the same douche that we discussed here a coupla weeks ago. Down more than 100 points with three players left to play last night (Drew Brees, Pierre Thomas, Lance Moore), this buttnugget had been written off, despite having kiked me over already by a Hail Mary (literally) just a few weeks before. His opponent even had Green Bay's kicker to go with the 100-point lead, to at least partially offset the New Orleans passing attack. Another playoff candidate was in play as well, but he needed a fairly enormous game from Aaron Rodgers to get in the hunt.

I'm sure you can guess what happened from there.

The game turned into a pinball shootout, Brees had his usual monster game, Pierre Thomas went from selling croissants to transforming into Gale Sayers for a game, Lance Moore exploded as the team's second option and Rodgers was forced to throw on every down. The bottom line is my new arch-enemy, who I've dubbed Rectal Wizard, got a tidy 112 points from his trio of Ain'ts, the other jackleg got 30+ from Rodgers and out of nowhere, I got consolation e-mails from several members of the league saying that they'd never seen someone get screwed over so badly while getting backdoored out of the playoffs. There's no way to make this simple, but I'll tell you that five teams finished with a 6-5-1 record, and only four of us could make the playoffs. I lost out as the fifth team on a total-points tiebreaker by 35 points (1180 to 1145), or an average of less than three points per week. Now, this even takes precedent even though I swept both games played against another 6-5-1 team that did get in the playoffs (not even I understand that at this point). P.S. I'm dry-heaving as I type that.


Now, Rectal Wizard has had a rather interesting year. The two-time defending champ after lucking his way past me in last year's title game, he bitched and whined all year long about people not wanting to trade with him, our rules, and waiver-wire pickups and payments, eventually stooping so low as to suggesting that our commissioner was cheating him. Mind you, our commissioner has run our league for a decade, is a friend of mine, and grew up as a boyhood friend of the Rectal Wizard. So needless to say, Rectal Wizard should have taken his slightly-above-average team and bad karma and spent the offseason rocking back and forth in the fetal position in his grandmother's basement.

Fantasy football is fantasy football, but when you're in a 14-team league with a $200+ entry fee and people who are willing to pay $80 in free agency for an over-the-hill Irving Fryar, you can do the math and see that the payouts start to get pretty sizable. So not only did I get jewed out of a minimum $250, but I got rooked out of the opportunity to win as much as a couple grand. In this economy, I hate to say it, but I depend on fantasy football as a significant part of my budget.

Anyway, I was pretty down in the dumps by the end of the game, when it became clear that I was getting the shaft and Rectal Wizard and Random Dork were going to skate past me and into the playoffs. After the shock and fury passed, I consoled myself by watching a replay of this game until the wee hours of the morning. It helped.

So I went from thinking I was out to being told I was in to being back out. Goddam fantasy football; I don't know why I do it to myself. Anyway, ABS, fuckers. I'm taking the entire Scooters team to Tahiti with Jessica Simpson to be some drunken, motor-boatin' sumbitches for a week. They deserve it. Me, too.

41-10.

'Nuff said.

Butch-Slapped: Sweep The Sheep, Beat Them To Sleep

"They've been doing a lot of talking throughout the week, talking about this is our championship game and stuff like that … They've been hyped up so much by the media that they forgot who they really are and who they were playing … [We] came and showed them what it was.
"Towards the end of the game, it seems like they kind of gave up …

[We] just beat them to sleep, really."
—Jamelle "Hurricane" Eugene

EZU, September 20, 30-24
Duke, November 8, 27-17
Wake Forest, November 15, 21-17
UNC, November 22, 41-10

"What it speaks to is we're the best football program in the state, without question. We are the state university and we expect to be here. There's no other way to put it."
—Tom O'Brien

Man's game, Bitch Davis. This state is by-god Wolfpack country.

Go Wolf Freaking Pack.

Limerick Friday LXXXXXI: Take Down The Tar-Thugs

UNC's brought in a mercenary coach named Butch Davis
Wal-Mart fans now saying, "To hell with academics, just save us!"
Never heard much football-related from a Tar Hole's mouth
Only, "Just wait until basketball season arrives in the south"
Here comes the Pack thinking, "No chance is what everyone gave us"

Another ignorant comment by Donovan McNabb
Philly fans not exactly loving his gift of gab
Mr. Overrated didn't know that NFL games can end in a tie
You're as smart as a Campbell Soup can, aren't you guy?
You'll never throw up in another Super Bowl unless you take a cab

Another NFL executive stepping in doodoo
Sent an e-mail to a fan saying, "F you"
A rough week for Cleveland's Phil Savage
His team playing as well as rotten cabbage
Can't be saved by a gay QB, this is true

As I read this story about a single-wide
Not sure if I laughed more or cried
Only in Kentucky could this sort of thing take place
Where in-breeding is as common as a three-legged race
Imagine a trailer in your front yard with a family of 'necks inside

Attacking the passion of a Wolverine fan
No way to be considered a "Michigan Man"
U-M to miss a bowl for the first time in 34 years
Don't expect "Dick Rod" to shed any tears
Have the Wolverines fallen as far as they can?

TUCK THE FAR HEELS!

Last time …

Carolina Week: Playing With Passion

So Michael Troy Lewis was sentenced to 23 years in prison yesterday. If you don't remember him, he's the one who sexually assaulted three Tar Heels football players, with the help of a couple of freaky-looking big girls (*fill in your own UNC gay joke here*).


I'm sure there is much more to the story that has been covered up by Chapel Hill police (see Ford, Phil and Hansborough, Will), but the rumor is that UNC's coach will visit Lewis in prison … and become his Butch.

Guru Update: Mazel Tov, Heidi!

Five more can't- miss prospects for those of us recently-laid-off writers (god knows we're out there). Giddyup …

Title: bar mitzvah parady
Category: Writing / Editing / Translation
Description: I am wanting to do a song parady with my two teenage daughters about our son-brother for his bar mtizvah. can you help. needed by dec 6 2008.
thank-you
randy

Comments:
I consider myself a fairly talented writer, but I see no way to comfortably rhyme the words "kanish" and "circumcision." Though I do hear that a "parady" can be a quite charming ice-breaker for a nervous "son-brother" during a very emotional and terrifying day. Because nothing eases the tension better than having two teenage daughters cracking jokes on and harassing their brother. For possible ideas, please refer to "The Serenity Now" episode of "Seinfeld" for inspiration.


Title: Copywriter for Marketing Materials
Category: Writing / Editing / Translation
Description: Company Description:I am a children's portrait photographer. I photograph babies, children, families, and expectant mothers on location in their home or favorite location. I've been in business about one year, and I am now looking to create some new marketing materials to promote my business.

Project Description:I am putting together a new program for my clients, similar to Pampered Chef or Mary Kay parties, in which one client will host a photo party at their home, and invite their friends and their children to all be photographed at the same time. The more sales that are generated, the greater the discounts and bonuses for the host. I am looking for help writing content for a brochure to explain and promote this new plan and describe my business. I also would like help writing copy to describe the various products that are available for purchase such as albums, photo books, and canvas wraps.

Document Purpose:Increase Brand Awareness, Increase Customer Loyalty/Retention, Increase Market Share, Increase Revenue, Increase Site Traffic, Introduce Product/Service

Comments:
I get it: sort of a Tupperware party meets kind of a Jon-Benet Ramsay cookout?


Title: Re-write Testimonials
Category: Writing / Editing / Translation
Description: I need 15 to 25 testimonials written. They will need to be 100 to 150 words each (ex: 15 longer ones or 25 shorter ones). Will pay $30 total via SafePay Invoice.

Comments:
Something like this? "A is great at B, C and D. I wish more E's were more like A, because then F and G would be much H'er and I'er. If I could have more J's like A, my K would succeed in L and M ways. God bless A!" So you're looking for 2,500 words of made-up testimonials for $30? Throwing all that money around and providing so many details just sounds like a can't-miss business plan.


Title: Swedish to Danish Translation
Category: Writing / Editing / Translation
Description: We would like to have this dokument translated from Swedish to Danish.
KFI Spa Management AB
Stockholm Sweden

Comments: No "dokument" is worth this unless Heidi or pony-tailed Swedish Bikini Team members are involved.

Wait, a spa is involved? Hmmm …


Title: Ghostwriting lyricist needed
Category: Writing / Editing / Translation
Description: Have lyrics that need editing, proof reading, fixing, improving etc....(approximately 15 pages of standard length songs) all in the pop/rock, singer/songwriter genre mostly basic boy-girl relationship themes.

I am also looking for someone to create 20-30 pages of new lyrics and then probably more to come.

The new lyric theme is sort of a gothic/renaissance (fantasy) fictional story but based in the future but relevant with the "new beginning of life" to be used as a new concept lyrical/musical piece (the style of music FYI is progressive, rock, jazz, pop)
I, of course, will provide story details and notes of the characters, etc...

Also, if you own or have miscellaeous lrics that you are proud to sell I would love to buy some pieces of your work. Themes can be of any except religious content.

Flexible on time and deadlines but give me an idea what you would need to do to complete what I have mentioned.
I stress the importance of the ghostwriting aspect as the musician/bands I am affiliated with will want the flexibility to rewrite and change the writings if necessary.
Also, you will not receive credit, except possibly an acknowledgement or thanks in a finished marketed cd, etc...

Looking forward to the responses!
Best to you.

Comments:
Ashlee Simpson's agent, is that you?

This might be the greatest sentence I've read in a while: " The new lyric theme is sort of a gothic/renaissance (fantasy) fictional story but based in the future but relevant with the "new beginning of life" to be used as a new concept lyrical/musical piece (the style of music FYI is progressive, rock, jazz, pop) I, of course, will provide story details and notes of the characters, etc..." Closely followed, of course, by "Themes can be of any except religious content."

Somewhere, Cat Stevens is smiling.

Stay On Target … Stay On Target!

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If you're looking for Christmas gift ideas this year, some toolboxes on the West Coast put together a life-size replica of the X-Wing fighter from "Star Wars."

They painstakingly constructed it detail by detail, even adding a cute-ish R2D2 in the back. They crafted the model to dimensions of 21 feet long, with a 19-foot wingspan. They assembled it with four Class M rocket engines for realistic power. They included a separate motor that re-aligns the wings to attack position. They added three parachutes to the design in an effort to preserve its integrity at all costs.

And then they launched it into a serene California night, watched it fucking explode into roughly 376 pieces and wept tears that only Queen Amidala would be proud of. Then they headed back to the drawing board heartbrokenly returned to the basement in Frank's Mom's house and funneled boysenberry Boone's Farm until they couldn't feel anymore.

Pack's Got Friends In High Places

A few things going right in Wolfpack country …

• Best quarterback in the ACC

• "The Predator" is back

• Tommy O'Irish is 5-1 against the state of North Carolina

• Back-to-back and starting to get healthier

• 1-0 in hoops with a road victory already

• Sidney Lowe speaks from the heart

• Brandon Costner doesn't look like Nacho Libre anymore

• John Wall knows where it's at

• We now have access to Presidential pardons

Limerick Friday LXXXXX: In Space, No One Can Hear You Poop …

The space program's recent rides have been somewhat bumpy
Now plumbers head to the space station to fix all that's dumpy
Too bad we can't send Joe the Plumber to the moon
As the 15 minutes of fame stretch on for that retarded loon
To send an entire crew of plumbers, that must be one cosmic grumpy

It's forever been a whiteout in the White House
No one of color ever stirring, not even a mouse
So it's time to salute a butler named Eugene
Never complained through all that he'd seen
Obama's arrival has kindled hope and optimism roused

A remarkable turnaround for my Miami 'Fins
Covering up for many Wannstache/Saban sins
We used to play a lot like 53 Barbies
Now we're like Kens, even with guys from Arby's
Can we possibly consider the playoffs as we rack up the wins?

Pumpkin lattes used to be autumn fuel for persistent Will
His exploits with online dating used to give us a thrill
Used to go mooning with his crew from the Jaycees
Used to kick it with his fellow EZU hayseeds
I admittedly miss Will Looks for Love … it once gave me my comedy fill

Could this mark the return of the Polyester Paint Suit?
She's been gunning for a spot since her campaign got the boot
Now Hillary could be in line for Secretary of State
Even after attacking Obama with the politics of hate
Meanwhile, Bill's getting pumped about access to more interns who are cute

Last time …

Joe Six-Pack, Joe the Plumber Not Same Person?

Time to throw the final spade (*pun intended*) o' dirt on a coupla weak GOP gimmicks. So this is where we say goodbye to "Joe Six-Pack" -- apparently the "Hockey Mom" didn't realize that a union between her and "Joe Six-Pack" results in a "Domestic Violence on 'Cops' Family" ... even in the great country of Africa.


And we also bid adieu to Joe the Plumber -- the deadbeat, not-really-a-plumber, tax-dodging, guy-from-"The Shield"-looking Republican shill. He supposedly represented the American middle class ... except for the small issue that most of the people I know do pay their taxes, are who they say they are and have an idea of most of the issues that affect us. But hey, good luck with that country music career; methinks you'll be back to snaking trailer-park toilets for Boone's Farm money in no time.

Don't worry, guys ... there's a home for you in Obama's world as well. After all, plumbing issues and six-packs are often related, are they not?

Street Sheet's Left-Coast Pearls of Wisdom: Fury Of Beauty

Another excerpt from the $1 Street Sheet 2008 Art & Poetry Issue from a January visit to San Fran. All grammar ibid.

Think about it.

Fury of Beauty (by Queenanndi*)

"Not to dare be deceived
Nothing gets past me
Queen wit a heart of gold
And eyez that see
All this confusion is sickenin' me
Why don't tha devil just let me be
To destroy the dream that God blessed me and my seedz
To fulfill the manifestation of my destiny
It was in the making way before me
To have strength to battle- All that oppose

"I am angry- trusted true fam is now R.I.P.
Fellow souljahz are strangers to me
Some locked up or trickin' off knowledge-skeezin' hollin' that it's fun
So I know I stand along when its time to bust gunz
Such cowards always retreat-
As all tha babies fall dead at their feet
I am beautiful
What I birth is so precious
Ya rather die on yo' kneez-
Stead of seein' that tha futrez' protected
You reject it- Queen MaMa keeps house orderly-firmed
I squirm at yo' weakness-
Feel the fury of my beauty-when I take off
Yo' ass will be left burned- till you learn
A Queen. Fury. Beauty. Love. Struggle."


*From her recently published POOR Press book, "Life Struggle and Reflection"

From Playoff Shot To Throwing In The Towel In 6 Seconds

With six seconds left in the Saints-Falcons game, I had a six-point lead on my opponent. Even better, I still had Joseph Addai, Frank Gore and Steve Smith to play, while he only had Santonio Holmes left.

Then, since New Orleans is trying to get Drew Brees a statistical record this year even though they are a bad team, the Saints throw up a meaningless, last-play Hail Mary, down two touchdowns. Somehow, the ball is tipped around and ends up in the hands of reserve wide receiver Lance Moore. Did I mention that my opponent had BOTH Brees and Moore? So Brees gets 14 more points, Moore goes from zero to 16 point and thanks to a one-in-a-million play, all of a sudden I go from six points up to 24 points down.

Predictably, Steve Smith goes for one catch for nine yards AGAINST FUCKING OAKLAND, while Addai gets me ONE point and looks on as his backup, Derrick Rhodes, makes every important play down the stretch. Frank Gore did his best with 99 yards, but he didn't sniff the end zone and is playing behind a quarterback who even sucked at Maryland. Throw in the fact that this happened against the whiniest, bitchass-est of all the owners in the 14-team league, and that makes it hurt even worse.

The bottom line? Possibly the most devastating loss in my 10-plus years of fantasy football. Injuries, subpar seasons, personality issues, coaching changes—hell, I think I even saw a swarm of locusts attack Joseph Addai this year—all contributed to a miserable campaign.

So, with a measly 4-5-1 record, I'm officially throwing in the towel on fantasy football this year. Once again, I had the best team in the league following my draft, and once again, I'll have nada to show for it. This the unluckiest, most star-crossed season I've ever had in more than a decade of fantasy football, so maybe it's best to just sit and watch for a while.

For the first time since I can remember, I can actually take solace in the Dolphins instead of taking refuge in the Scooters.

Go 'Fins!

Limerick Friday LXXXXIX: Satan Descends On Baton Rouge, Napping At Hooters Is Fun

The douche returns to the bayou
Death Valley certain to be a drunken zoo
Saban lies, cheats and threatens the press
Blames everyone else for his self-made mess
Payback could be at hand for a fired-up LSU

Hope has become real, thanks to this brave man
As change has come to our hurting land
"Fix all this please," is all we can say
As America enters a bright new day
Now all seems possible as we whisper, "Yes we can"

From Wanchese to Corolla, beauty around every bend
A breeze off the sound casts your worries to the wind
A sunset that you always want to keep your eyes on
A bright future unrolling just beyond the horizon
Nothing like a trip to the OBX to help your soul mend

Only a coupla more months with W we're stuck
A brutal eight years ending with him a lame duck
Americans in every state are counting the hours
While he "leads" with the help of whiskey sours
I'm ready to say goodbye to a Prez who wasn't worth a $#@%

Stripes a 350-yard drive without hesitation or fear
Staggers to the next tee with a heater and a beer
Brought white trash to the PGA Tour
A fan favorite that everyone does adore
But not sure passing out in Hooters parking lot is good for his career

Last time …

Water Is Wet, Sky Is Blue, Sarah Palin Dumber Than Box Of Dirt

Now, I think it's widely accepted at this point that calling Fox News a news source is an insult to journalism itself. However, they have reached new lows, as revealed when the network basically admitted that it refused to air essential facts regarding Sarah Palin. For instance—she didn't know Africa was a continent. Read that again. Slowly.

I don't care how biased you are or how much of a shill for the GOP you are … but at some point, doesn't pure decency toward your fellow citizens lead you to actually feel ashamed for keeping such things from a voting public? People who are against the war are unpatriotic, but hiding the mind-numbing lack of qualification of a major-office candidate who is one skin-cancer recurrence away from being the leader of the free world is not?

I knew Sarah Palin was dangerous to our country long ago, around the time when she was talking about the end of days and claimed that living in Alaska means you're an expert on Russia. After all, I lived in Alaska for three years and never once picked up any fascinating insight into the tenets of communist thought by osmosis. I mean, I gained a mysterious affinity for vodka and potatoes, but I don't have any definitive proof that that was related to my newfound proximity to Moscow.

But Fox News and GOP have now shamed themselves to the point where it's difficult to see how they can even look in the mirror. Then again, I doubt they ever deign to do so … especially after anointing Sarah Palin the "brave new voice" of the Republic Party. Good luck with that.

Carry on.

Yes, We Did.

I've regained some hope in my country—and as our new President says, there can be nothing false about hope. Somewhere, RFK and MLK are smiling.



Today, I'm giving a well-deserved, long, slow clap for America. And I'm all cried out.

Yes, We Can.

"Sometimes it falls upon a generation to be great. You can be that great generation."
—Nelson Mandela

"The activist is not the man who says the river is dirty. The activist is the man who cleans up the river."
—Ross Perot

"Be the change you want to see in the world."
—Mahatma Ghandi

"Progress is a nice word. But change is its motivator. And change has its enemies.
There are those who look at things the way they are, and ask why ... I dream of things that never were, and ask why not?"

—Robert Kennedy

"For I am getting to an age where I have a sense of what satisfies me, and although I am perhaps more tolerant of compromise … I know that my satisfaction is not to be found in the glare of television cameras or the applause of the crowd. Instead, it seems to come more often now from knowing that in some demonstrable way I've been able to help people live their lives with some measure of dignity. I think of what Benjamin Franklin wrote to his mother, explaining why he had devoted so much of his time to public service: 'I would rather have it said, He lived usefully, than, He died rich.'"
—Barack Obama

R.I.P. Toot. We'll take it from here.

Yes, We Can.

The Scooters Update: Fantasy Football Blows Donkeys

Not as good as last year, but still alive. Gotta have some guys step up and be counted.


QUARTERBACK

This has been a problem spot for The Scooters all year long, with the guy on the bench almost always putting up a huge game.

Trent Edwards, Beefalo: While surpassing expectations, Edwards is the quintessential accurate quarterback who gives you around 200 yards, one touchdown and one interception per game. Nothing earth-shattering, but will usually keep you in the game—expect for that week where former Pack safety Adrian Wilson scrambled his brain on the second play of that contest. As the 241st overall selection, in the 18th and final round as an afterthought, Edwards has represented a net win for me.

Jeff Garcia, Tampa Bay: Unfortunately, being the only gay man in the history of the world to ever marry a former Playmate of the Year gives you no point in my fantasy league. "Chucky" Gruden is exasperating with his quarterback merry-go-round, and Garcia has killed me time and again by throwing for 330 yards on the weeks I don't play him and roughly 185 and an interception on the weeks that I do. Drafting Marc Bulger in the 7th round (96th overall) is looking "questionable" in hindsight.


RUNNING BACKS

Decimated by injury and underperformance, a perceived strength has turned into a huge question mark as the season has gone on.

Frank Gore, San Francisco: My first-round pick (12th overall), Gore has been a beast for much of the year. The only person that can stop him is 49ers offensive coordinator Mike Martz, who is allergic to running the ball more than 20 times per game and was apparently being blackmailed by J.T. O'Sullivan for most of the season. Gore would appear to be a perfect fit in an offense that features a lot of swing passes to the running back, but the hope is that interim coach Mike Singletary will force Martz to start pounding the rock in the second half of the season. After Singletary pulled down his pants in front of the team, I don't expect the 49ers to argue with him too much down the stretch.

Joseph Addai, Indy: In all respects, Addai has been a disaster. I pulled the trigger on a trade that brought me Addai for Marion Barber two weeks into the season, and while I stand by the rationale behind that deal (and Barber isn't exactly killing it this year), it's one I wish I had back. The former LSU Tiger has been hurt for much of the season and has been a dead man walking behind the Colts' brutal offensive line. I have faint hope he'll turn it around to become a respectable force the remainder of the season, but he's no longer a guy that teams can count on to put up consistent numbers.

Edgerrin James, Arizona: The end is near for the Rumblin' Rastafarian, my fourth-round pick (44th overall). He's been surpassed in the starting lineup by a late-round rookie back, and a coupla weeks ago, he got me a -2, thanks to a 12-yard, one-fumble effort. There was a time when I thought a Gore/Barber/James triumvirate at running back would carry me, but that seems like a distant memory. Unfortunately, James is basically unstartable for the rest of this season.

Felix Jones, Dallas: In the circus that surrounds the Cowboys, this kid began to seem like a steal as my late-round keeper pick (157th overall). He was scoring a touchdown every game, ripping off huge plays, stealing carries from Barber … until the bottom fell out when he didn't get a single touch in a matchup with Washington, then he pulled his hammy and has been out for weeks. Having Barber's handcuff helped me make the decision to deal Barber for Addai, but with Jones sidelined and Addai scuffling, the situation has become a weakness instead of a strength.

Kevin Smith, Detroit: Amazingly, this waiver-wire pickup might end up being one of my best transactions of the year. Of course, the Lions are horrific, but Smith can catch the ball out of the backfield and has passed up Rudi Johnson in the pecking order at tailback. When Jones returns to active duty, it looks like I'll have to throw Edge under the bus (off the bus?) and keep Smith around.


WIDE RECEIVER

The strength of the team has been in my top two wideouts, but the depth behind them has been marked by players at similar career stages who have simply not "arrived." Injuries have been staggering at this position as well. Giving up on Donnie Avery (my 15th-round-pick, 208th overall) after three weeks looks like a Steinbrenner-esque decision at this point.

Roddy White, Atlanta: Easily the Scooters midseason Most Valuable Player. My keeper from last year for the price of a sixth-rounder this year, White has turned out to be a great decision for me. He's gone from a tall red-zone target to a guy who can give you a 60-yard touchdown from time to time, and he's been my most consistent player. It looks like his rapport with rookie QB Matty "Ice" Ryan is only going to get better and better.

Steve Smith, Carolina: Smith has been a one-man wrecking ball since he came back from beating the ever-lovin' christ out of a teammate. I rolled the dice on him as my third-rounder (40th overall) even though I knew he'd be suspended for the first two games. He has rewarded that faith by ripping off monster games almost every week, and if I can ever get everyone healthy and past their byes at the same time, he could be a centerpiece for a second-half run.

Brandon Lloyd, Chicago: An early-season waiver-wire grab, Lloyd produced a couple of huge outings early on, emerging as Kyle "the Neckbeard" Orton's top target. However, a nagging knee injury has not only limited his productivity, but has knocked him out of several games. He is usually a game-time decision, so there have been a couple of weeks where I've put him in the lineup—only to learn later that he was not active for the game. His injury has hampered me big-time during other players' bye weeks.

Sidney Rice, Minnesota: Rice is one of those upside wideouts who had the looks late last year of a kid who might make the leap in 2008. Not so much. My ninth-rounder (124th overall) has snared a TD here or there, but usually doesn't catch more than one pass per game and has been battling injuries basically all season long. Obviously, you can't count too much on a ninth-rounder, but it would be nice to have him as a bye-week replacement from time to time.

Bryant Johnson, San Francisco: Johnson got off to a promising start, and there were signs that he could become the No. 1 wideout for the 49ers new fast-break offense. Grabbing him in the 10th round (129th overall) looked like a nice move for roughly a month, until he also got hurt and has become an afterthought behind the ageless wonder, Isaac Bruce. Yet another guy who has been hampered by injury and hasn't progressed as a receiver like many expected.

Donte' Stallworth, Cleveland: The winner of the "Fragile" Fred Taylor Award, Stallworth is quickly gaining a reputation for being a bitch. The first sign that he wasn't going to be a contributor is when he injured himself in PREGAME FREAKING WARMUPS for the season opener. This eighth-rounder (101st overall) has been another enormous disappointment for The Scooters.


TIGHT END

I have nothing to say here that doesn't involve curse words.

Kellen Winslow, Cleveland: Tabbed in the 5th round (68 overall), Winslow had breakout year written all over him. Unfortunately for me, Derek Anderson remembered that he was Derek Anderson, Winslow remembered that he is supposed to be hurt all the time and popping wheelies on tiny motorcycles, Winslow contracted syphilis, and Winslow blasted the Browns for being the Browns and got suspended. Terrible year at a position that could have helped separate me. "Soldier," my ass.

L.J. Smith, Philly: Between injuries and concussions, my 14th-rounder (185th overall) has chipped in with an occasional score in Winslow's stead. All in all, he's performed like a 14th-rounder, so I can't complain too much here. But I will anyway.


KICKER

Robbie Gould, Da Bears: I grabbed Gould with my second-to-last pick (17th round, 236th overall), and with the resurgence of the Bears offense combined with the disappearance of the Browns' attack, Gould has been steady and dependable.

Phil Dawson, Cleveland: If you can't tell, I drank the Browns Kool-Aid this offseason, thinking their offensive would put up beaucoup points. Not that a kicker in the 11th round (152th overall) is out of line, but Dawson's relative lack of productivity has been a by-product of Cleveland's stagnant offense.


DEFENSE

Buffalo: Losing Roscoe Parrish early on took a huge special-teams weapon away from this unit. However, the Bills are a more-than-solid defense when you consider where they were selected (13th round, 180 overall).

Atlanta: I've been able to take advantage of the Falcons' weak schedule from time to time by starting this unit against terrible opponents, and it has worked well for me. This 16th-round (213th overall) choice singlehandedly kept me in the game this week with an amazing effort at Oakland.


OUTLOOK

With my record (likely) sliding to 4-4-1, I'm a couple of games behind where I thought it would be. I've had some tight losses, a string of unfortunate injuries (this is the fantasy football version of the NC State Wolfpack) and some unlucky start-bench decisions, but I'm still in the thick of the race for the playoffs with three games left. I may have to win out to ensure a spot, but looking back at my draft, there are few choices I would have made differently. A little more patience with Avery and a little more foresight with Edge would have helped me out big-time, but it is what it is.

Go Scooters!