Fantasy Isthmus

Hey there ‘Redheads… I’m still coming down from the high of the first weekend of NFL football. By the time I fully recover, it’ll be time for kickoff again. This is the most wonderful sports time of the year. The first full slate of Sunday games nudged the status quo a little bit. The big shocker of the weekend was the upstart Texans beating the Colts while riding on the back of Arian Foster and his 231 yard/3 TD performance. I do feel bad for Arian Foster. He’s the newly minted star of the NFL season and he’s going to have a devil of a time finding a name for his fan club. “Arian Nation” is probably a bad idea, is all I’m sayin’… It was also nice to see the Redskins put on their yellow big boy pants and win a game. Or should I say, “not lose”… The only reason why the DC media jackals aren’t tearing them completely to shreds is because of that glaring holding call on Cowboy Alex Barron…I’ve taken a good look at the play from various angles and I’ve come to the conclusion that it wasn’t holding. It was a Cobra Clutch. He didn’t have much of a choice. It was either put Orakpo in the Million Dollar Dream or let him break Tony Romo into bite-size pieces. Kinda like what Ray Lewis did to the tight end from the Jets…

I’ll resist the urge to make an Old Spice body wash commercial reference. Instead, I’ll just say that Ray Lewis hit him so hard, it tore Kris Jenkins’ ACL. A lot of injuries in the first week. Packers RB, Ryan Grant is gone for the season, Eagles QB, Kevin Kolb got his brain meat tenderized, and Colts S, Bob Sanders got his annual catastrophic injury. It’s probably wrong, but most of football watching America doesn’t much care except for how their fantasy teams will be impacted. Screw these guys’ careers, I might lose $25. Speaking of which, I did ok in the first week of tripping the football fantastic. In one league, I scored the most points, and in another league, I ate a double-decker turd burger and scored the fewest. I went 2-2, the two wins coming in my money league and my keeper league, so I’ll take a slight setback in the other two.

But enough of that. I did manage to shower and extricate myself from the ass groove in my couch to take in some fine cinema at the local multiplex. I checked out the bloody burrito, Machete. It was everything it needed to be for my taste. A tortilla thin plot, bad guys getting their brains splattered like chunky salsa, and some tasteful nudity. I had my disbelief precariously dangling overhead, waiting for Robert Rodriguez to pummel it with his pulpy revenge fantasy until ludicrous candy spilled out. Steven Segal as a Mexican drug lord? Sure. Rappelling down the side of a building on a guy’s disemboweled intestines? Great. Jessica Alba falling for Danny Trejo, who makes Edward James Olmos look like Zac Efron? Sign me up. It was also nice to see Don Johnson found work. By the way, when you go see Machete, keep in mind that Danny Trejo is 66. That completely blew what was left of my mind. I’m steps away from 35 and I have about as much chance of being an action hero as BP does of getting a float in the Mardi Gras parade.

For those of you in various parts of Virginia, I’ll be in your neck of the woods this weekend. On Friday, I’m featuring at the Lynchburg Comedy Zone and on Saturday, I’ll be in Colonial Beach at The Riverboat with comedy compadres, Tommy Sinbazo and EJ Edmonds. Laugh at me, won’t you?

To be continued…

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Touching Down

Hey there ‘Redheads… Happy Jew Year! Wow, it’s 5771 and shit is crazy… Seriously, where did the time go? Yes, last night the matzoh ball dropped and it’s Rosh Hashanah. A happy and sweet new year to one and all. One of my Jew Year’s resolutions is to check my lunch meat. Yesterday, I was halfway through a sandwich before I realized that beneath the bread and mustard on my hid the reptilian metallic sheen of bad corned beef. But there’s another high holiday to observe today. NFL Kickoff. I’ve got the preseason ass groove in my couch ready for some football. To celebrate, let’s take a ride on the blog flume…

Before I get to the promised breakdown of my fantasy football teams that I know you’ve all been waiting for, I want to take a quick second to thank my buddy T. Brad Hudson for including me in his Charm City cavalcade of comedy, Laffapalooza, last weekend. I had the pleasure of sharing the stage with some of Baltimore’s finest: Mike Storck, Sonny Fuller, Tommy Sinbazo, Mike Shader, Matt Baetz, and Dorian Gray. The venue we were in was right next door to the Maryland State Fairgrounds, where Justin Bieber was scheduled to perform that night. Thousands of people were crammed into the surrounding area. Parking was tighter than one of Bieber’s groupies. I’ll go ahead and admit, the bulk of this paragraph was just so I could type that last line. Anyway, it was a great show and I was flattered to be included.

Now, as I mentioned in the last installment, I’m an obsessive degenerate who is inexorably drawn to the statistical lap dance of fantasy football. I drafted four teams last week, one of which will hopefully rise above mediocrity and bring me virtual victory. My four teams are: The Minnesota Vicarious, The Wiseacres All-Pros, The Pandora Blueskins, and Viva El Comix Cafe. The last team is in a keeper league that I was invited to through a guy who saw my show at the Comix Cafe in Buffalo. The club has since shuttered, so I’m using the team to keep the memory of great laughs and greater buffalo wings alive. By the way, I realize that alot of you have tuned out at this point because you could not possibly care less about such things. While I’m hurt, I do understand. My blog. Deal with it. Aside from the keeper league, where my draft position was determined by last season’s middle-of-the-road performance, I got shafted in my random draft placement. I picked 12th of 12, 10th of 12, and 9th of 10. My other three teams are pretty similar because I had to use the same bottom-of-the-order draft strategy. So, let’s focus on Viva El Comix Cafe… My three kept players from last year’s team were Maurice Jones-Drew (JAX RB), DeSean Jackson (PHI WR), and Antonio Gates (SD TE). Keeping in mind that most of the other elite players in the league were kept by the other 11 teams in the league, here’s my roster:

QB: Sam Bradford (STL)
RB: Maurice Jones-Drew (JAX)
RB: Arian Foster (HOU)
WR: DeSean Jackson (PHI)
WR: Wes Welker (NE)
WR: Dez Bryant (DAL)
TE: Antonio Gates (SD)
OP: Ahmad Bradsahaw (RB-NYG)
K: Bill Cundiff (BAL)
D/ST: Green Bay

I realize I’m a little thin at QB, but I picked up the suspended Ben Roethlisberger to pick up the slack later in the season. I also think Bradford will have a better than average rookie season. I’m also banking on rookie Dez Bryant to come through. And hopefully Arian Foster lives up to the massive hype. By the way, OP stands for “Offensive Player” and can be filled by any offensive position, including another QB. There’s a guy in the league who has Drew Brees and Phillip Rivers in the same starting line-up.

Ok, that’s all I’ll put you through for now. I just wanted to get it out there. Can’t wait for the stats to start flying.

To be continued…

August in the Wind

Hey there ‘Redheads… So, hey… Been awhile. Sorry for the anemic August, but things have been a little hectic on my end. I wanted to make sure I shoehorned one last blog, so we can hit September in full stride…or with a slight limp. I’ve been busy the last couple weeks. Last weekend I had the pleasure of celebrating the nuptials of two of my best friends, Allyson and Chris. I was lucky enough to be the officiant of the ceremony. They repeated after me and everything. I don’t have access to any of the pictures right now, but there was much rejoicing, and the open bar overfloweth. You can read all about it in an upcoming Washington Post Sunday Style section. They sent a photographer to cover the affair.

After an extended amount of time in dress shoes, I have to say, I gained a new respect for the ladies and the uncomfortable footwear they put up with. I wasn’t wearing five inch pumps, but my dress shoes put a hurtin‘ on my tootsies. Over the course of the evening, they turned into bear traps on my feet. Luckily, my best girlfriend in the whole wide world had her first aid kit of a purse with her, and she had gel band-aids at the ready. My shoes gnawed a dime-sized notch out of the back of both of my heels. It’s a hindrance on the dance floor when every step you take feels like you’re taking a cheese grater to your Achilles tendon.

Luckily, my injuries won’t keep me from participating in this year’s fantasy football season. I have my first of three drafts tomorrow night and I am PUMPED. I can’t wait for the stats to start flyin‘. All I need is a team flag to unfurl. How’s Mediocri3-D for a team name? I may re-use last year’s Minnesota Vicarious. I’m also thinking about breaking out this as a team name…I wasn’t a huge fan of the movie, but that’s pretty funny… So, I have my 3 beer mug ready to fuel my draft of a rag tag bunch to lead me to hypothetical glory. I’ll give you a full breakdown after the draft. Or I’ll have a breakdown during the draft. Either way, brace yourselves.

More to come…

Wide World of Sports

Hey there ‘Redheads… I’m not sure I’m ready to accept the fact that it’s a week deep into December. Time is flying like a clock in a catapult. The evidence was overwhelming on Saturday, when we got our first bit of snowfall. Luckily, I made sure to stockpile the essential bread, milk, and toilet paper before the big storm the Mayans tried to warn us about touched down and made the streets all damp. It wasn’t even good snowball weather. All it left me with was a minor inconvenience and a hankering for a milk and toilet paper sandwich.

I’d like to thank Tiger Woods for filling the void with plenty of salacious slush to frolic in. I kind of feel sorry for Tiger, mostly because of the many double entendres that exist in golf terminology. Por ejemplo, there’s no fair way to tell just how deep in the rough his balls are, but he needs to improve his lie with so many holes left to play. And it’s only too perfect that there’s nine strumpets (I’m bringing that word back) claiming he left a divot in their sand trap. Most women I’ve talked to seem to agree that the best word to describe him: Putz. Then, of course, there’s the obvious cat pun that I haven’t heard anyone make yet, so please pardon me while I make it here. He should probably change his name to *deep breath* Cheetah. I’m here all week. Try the veal.

If Tiger’s travails weren’t enough for you, then maybe you got a kick out the latest schadenfreude exhibition put on by the Washington Redskins, who outplayed the undefeated Saints for all but about two minutes of regulation. They had a chance to go up by 10 points with 1:52 remaining. Here’s a reenactment of what happened next. Viggo Mortensen represents the Saints, William Hurt represents every Skins fan watching, and the henchman with the chip shot chance to seal the deal represents Shaun Suisham

I suppose the other henchmen represent the many missed tackles of LaRon Landry… And after that, the Skins once again failed to succeed or succeeded at failure, and for all of that effort, they got squadoosh. I know the team is embroiled in a legal fight to change their name. After this loss, may I suggest they change it to the Generals. If you got trigger happy with your remote during the game, hopefully you were able to catch this infomercial gem that was on Channel 7 during the first half…

Wow, Bachelor of the Arts Baracus hawking cookware to a paid studio audience of fools not even fit for his pity… I’m pretty sure even Dirk Benedict would’ve turned that gig down. Mr. T’s street cred shouldn’t be swayed by this tiny pock mark. After all, he got past this…

Big doings in sports that don’t exist, too. Of the four teams that I helmed this fantasy football season, a whopping one of them, The Minnesota Vicarious, was able to back into the playoffs, while another, The Most Humble, has an outside shot. As for the other two, I’m starting to come to grips with the fact that my fantasy just might be mediocrity and crippling disappointment. I’ve got it that good, apparently.

Speaking of reality, do yourself a favor and check out my comedy compadre, Ryan Conner’s breakdown of the televised collision of two trains carrying a load of douche nozzles known as Jersey Shore. Click here to feel better about yourself.

To be continued…

Four… Score.

Hey there ‘Redheads… This introductory part of every installment, where I apologize for not blogging in awhile, then make a few witty self-deprecating statements designed to lower your expectations, while piquing your curiosity to read further… Yeah, I’m having some trouble with that. Let’s just take it as a given and move on, shall we? There’s alot to get to. Where to start? Didja see those VMA’s? Howabout that rabble rousing upstart, Kanye West ruining poor Taylor Swift’s big moment, huh? Wow, and then Beyonce graciously giving Taylor a chance to finish her acceptance speech. Oh, and howabout anybody still giving a shit about MTV? Really, people. Get a hold of yourselves. Arguing over who is more deserving of a video music award is kinda like arguing over who would be faster in a race, if they were both gerbils. It’s arbitrary and irrelevant. And it was probably staged anyway. If this incident proves anything, it’s that Kanye West doesn’t care about white people. I think my feelings can best be expressed in song…written and sung by Adam Dodd

Now that I’ve gotten that out of my system, on to stuff that matters… Like fantasy football. I went 2-2 over the weekend. My four fantasy teams had me crunching numbers like Rain Man on meth. Again, I won’t bore you with all the statistical minutiae, but the Minnesota Vicarious are going to be a hypothetical force to be virtually reckoned with this season, with a passing attack that includes Drew Brees, Randy Moss, Reggie Wayne, and Santonio Holmes. Just sayin‘…

In real NFL goings on, I’d like to thank Jake Delhomme for his 5 turnover performance on Sunday, because it gives me an excuse to trot out one of my favorite lines… *ahem* I’ve seen fewer balls thrown away in a dog neutering facility. And scene. Howabout those Redskins, huh? That offense is a garbage fire. If you go into halftime and your punter has scored your only touchdown, I think it’s time to stop basing your game plan on a previous night’s bar bet. The defense didn’t do much better. I’ve heard of the bend-but-don’t-break defense, but this squad did the kind of bending that is usual reserved for Cirque du Soleil. It’s a long season, and this was just the first game, but the ‘Skins appear to have more holes than the Penthouse Invitational golf tournament.

The inevitable zombie uprising got a little more rhythm, as we lost Patrick Swayze yesterday. He finally got put in a corner by pancreatic cancer. Of course, he’ll be remembered for his iconic roles in Dirty Dancing, Ghost, Road House, Red Dawn, and Point Break, but I’ll always remember him for this little number…


Swayze, we hardly knew ye…

For those of you who give a crap and are curious about this installment’s title, today (or yesterday now) marks this blog’s 4th anniversary. I started this exercise in self importance shortly after moving in to Stately Stern Manor. Thanks for reading…and for not impeaching me.

To be continued…

To the Nines…

Hey there ‘Redheads… It’s 9/09/09 (at least it was when I started writing this), a once in a hundred years event. So, I figure why not write a blog that is just as mediocre as the last hundred? Somehow, it got to be September already, when I’m pretty sure it was June a couple weeks ago. Right on cue, after Labor Day, a shroud of gloom has swept across the land. It’s cold and gray and downright dismal outside. Allow this beacon of mild amusement to be a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. I just bought new ribbons for my 1000 monkeys’ typewriters…time to rattle their cage.

For me, these last couple days have been consumed with circumventing reality. I’ve had four fantasy football drafts in the last week, and I’m itching to let the stats fly on the delusional gridiron. I won’t bore you with in-depth analysis, I’ll just share my favorite of my four team names…The Minnesota Vicarious. I’m just happy that the NFL is back in all of its grass stained glory. I’ve had enough of tennis and soccer and baseball. Let’s kickoff and hit something.

I’m also pretty excited because I found evidence to disprove gravity…

Someone give this guy a mascot contract…or a ninja outfit. And let me take this time to emphasize that the videos I slap on this blog are to enhance the overall blog experience. Watch them. Just a public service message, because I think alot of you just skim and leave the links and videos alone. They’re eye candy for you to suck on. Just saying is all…

Speaking of sour eye candy, while channel surfing the other day, I landed on the SyFy opus, Mega Shark Vs. Giant Octopus. The movie had some pretty innovative concepts, like using a cardboard stand-up of Lorenzo Lamas for all of his scenes. If Lamas was any more wooden, they could’ve used him for kindling. I know the economy is tight, but they’ve gotta find some way of bumping up these SyFy effects budgets. I’ve seen better visual effects on a Lite Brite. I could’ve concocted more compelling action sequences with a flip camera, a Jaws poster, and a wacky wall walker. It did offer one pretty cool visual, though…

Enough with the bad acting. I present to you a genuine adorable 3-year-old who has it all figured out. She has taken the phenomena of Facebook and Twitter and distilled them to their essence with a song…

That’s pretty much what it is. We are all 3-year-olds clamoring for attention without really knowing why.

Quick reminder: I’m opening for God’s Pottery @ DC9 on Sunday, the 13th. I’m hoping to see some friendly faces out there, because DC9 is primarily a music venue. Music crowds don’t know how to behave when stand-up hits the stage. I need you guys to keep those chattering hipsters in line. Click here for tix and info. See you there…

To be continued…

Labor-a-doodle

Hey hey ‘Redheads… Well, Blogust is just about over. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed doing it…to you. Three things I wanted to hit on real quick, then I’ll let you go about your day. September is barreling toward us and with it comes the sweet arrival of the three greatest initials in sports: NFL. Soon, the oblong hole in my soul will once again be plugged with pigskin…real and fantasy. I had my first fantasy draft (of 4) for the league of comedy people that I’m in (with locals Mike Shader and Kelly Terranova)…defending Super Bowl champ…just saying is all. I had an ok draft…I missed out on Reggie Bush because I wasn’t looking at the right part of the draft board…here’s my starting line-up for 2008…Shit’s Crazy:

QB: Tom Brady
WR: Plaxico Burress
WR: Laverneous Coles
RB: Maurice Jones-Drew
RB: Selvin Young
TE: Jeremy Shockey
K: Robbie Gould
D/ST: Jaguars

I also took a flier on rookie WR DeSean Jackson, who’ll hopefully be a deep threat for Philly. I’ve got three more drafts in the next couple days. Hopefully, I can once again latch on to Tom Brady’s coat-tails and water ski to victory. Let the fake games begin.

I’m worried about the YouTube viewing habits of you guys and gals. You are ignoring well written genuinely funny material in favor of trainwreck-spotting. I offer exhibit A. This great sketch that Chris White and I did has 63 views…

(by the way, I’m available to ominously voice weddings and bar mitzvahs)

Meanwhile, this dreck has 25,385 views…

C’mon, people… I admit schadenfreude is fun for the whole family, but start giving non-crotch-shot video a chance, eh? Sheesh.

This weekend begins four straight of getting laughed at by people. I’ll be kicking off this micro-tour at the Harrisburg Comedy Zone. If you’re up that way, come check out that show…we’ll hang.

I’d like to close with this: If you pay money to see Disaster Movie this weekend, we can’t be friends anymore. Demand better, people.

To be continued…