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The Autumn Wind's Stench Hurts My BraincaseThis post is dedicated to John, an ace chap from the great state of Washington who spends his days eating apples and creating acoustic magic. Here's to your fix, mate. So it's been about a month since I posted with any regularity and then I went and lied to you by promising to be back two days ago. Well kids, I'm finally here to deliver. After four weeks of being completely up against it and having it end in humiliating futility, I'm on vacation and ready to yak at you. I've missed far too much to comment on it now but I'll touch on a couple of the more irritating things that happened to me over the break.. I went down to Indianapolis a few weeks ago to watch the Colts and Bengals duke it out on Monday Night Football. I'm not a fan of either team but I'm not one to pass up tickets to what was supposed to be a solid contest. So we're in our seats for about a minute when this drunken reprobate shows up in the preceding row with a $12 beer. It took him about a minute to turn around and shout "WHO DEYYYYY!" in my face with breath so strong that it singed my noise hair and made my eyes water. He was rank. Absolutely foul. He was an abomination. And he danced to that goddamn Who Dey chant for the better part of a half hour. When the game finally started, he sat down and took off his coat. That's when I noticed this - the epitome of all jersey offenses:  Lemme tell you something, Bengal fan. It is the complete assclown, and he alone, that sports the number 69 after graduating from high school. But it is another person entirely who does so on an authentic NFL jersey that also has HMFIC on the back. After taking a picture of it, I gave him a tap and asked for a definition. "Acronyms aren't really my strong suit," I said. "Baby baby baby, I am the H.M.F.I.C. I am the HEEEEEAD Motherfucker in CHAHHH-GE!... WHO DEY!! WHO DEY!! WHO DEY THINK GON-" You get the rest. Up until that point, I had remained fairly calm with this twat's antics but that really was the last straw. What bothered me even more is that if anyone in this situation was supposed to be the head motherfucker in charge, I assure you, it was definitely me - who was acting as the sober, sane one for once in my life.. I spent the better part of the night eating nachos and fantasizing about kicking him in the teeth. But on the plus side, I made a brief "appearance" on Sports Center, as a highlight was shown of a Bengal fumble recovery that occurred directly in front of my seat. While chumpy engaged in song and dance, I stared at him with hateful disgust. Huzzah (kinda). Beyond that, I can't recall anything of note that occurred - well nothing that I need to weigh in on 15 days after the fact, at least. Let's see... I have an update at SportsbyBrooks, so check that out. Aside from obvious snippets about Art Shell and Bill Cowher, you can also check out the Daniela Cicarelli (Ronaldo's ex-wife) sex video, a Utah boy that found hardcore porn in a case of Madden 07, and from the "Like Clay Aiken, Some Schmo is Getting Hotter Ass Than You" Files, Jim Lampley got drunk, zooted, and then administered a beatdown on his girlfriend - Miss California 2003. I like to assume that the poor girl said something that reminded Lamps of Larry Merchant and he lost his head. The most important news of the day is that the Art Shell experiment has come to an unceremonious end. It seems he had a meeting with Al Davis and the two came to the mutual agreement that Shell move into the front office rather than continue to pilot the Raiders on a way ship to hell. When Davis hired Shell, I posted that this is how the process made me feel: And after a season of the Hall of Fame tackle, it's as if the goalpost came to life and smacked me around as well. But I'm not mad at Art Shell for this disaster. Hell, I'm not even mad at Al Davis. I am angry with the Angel of Death who continues to spurn my pleas for aid where Davis' lifespan is concerned... filthy git.. He's probably a Chargers fan.  Posted at January 5, 2007 12:49 PM Permalink • Filed under: NFL , SportsbyBrooks |
Comments (10): The Autumn Wind's Stench Hurts My Braincase
Brendan
January 5, 2007 1:38 PM
It's about freaking time!! I've actually been productive at my office for the last month because of you. Damn you Flashers! Welcome back :)
The Pen
January 5, 2007 2:40 PM
YES! You are back. I noticed on ESPN that Art Shell got fired, and I immediately headed to your site. I knew that you wouldn't let me down. Glad you are back, and I will be rejoining you full-force in a few days.
Signed,
HMFIC ... j/k
Silver
January 5, 2007 3:02 PM
haha The only reason you hated that dude was because he thought up the HMFIC shirt instead of you!! :)
goldie
January 5, 2007 6:21 PM
it's about time, warner!
great video by the way. daniela cicarelli looked like she was holding on for dear life. even in ronaldo's best days, i dont think he was moving like that on dry ground, let alone in water.
Shawne
January 5, 2007 11:58 PM
cant wait till Davis fucks up the #1 draft pick! HAHA! Y'all wont pick the right guy or even do the smart thing and trade down for more picks. Im predictin you take another corner the #1 that shoulda gone in the 3rd round.
AJ
January 6, 2007 12:05 PM
The chick was definitely trying not to get washed away with the waves but when that website said shallow water, i figured we'd actually see something! That was disappointing .
Kizer
January 6, 2007 4:49 PM
I'm more concerned with the fact that the dude put 5 pounds of seaweed on his dick when they got out of the water.
Patrick
January 7, 2007 1:26 AM
So is this just a year off for Cowher or is this it, period?
Paul
January 7, 2007 6:56 PM
You guys are gonna take Russell with the #1 pick and from there, all you need is an o-line. You guys suck but you aren't THAT far away from being a decent team.
Erik
January 8, 2007 12:56 PM
Why do I suspect this same guy would have the number 3 shaven into his back hair, were someone brave enough to tear that jersey from his gelatinous torso?