It’s the Summer of Sam So following in that vein, I am dubbing Duh, Arnold as the .14 Caliber Killer.
So, Jets fans…here we are in the doldrums. The Draft is over, the rookie minicamp that generates less shit than a 5 dollar combo from Taco Bell is gone. So this is where Bitches, Whines, and Moans start to become a catch-all for, we will talk Jets tangentially, and you will get to know your humble scribe.
So, whats going on in the world? The firecracker and I are negotiating a field trip to catch the Yanks at Progressive field, The Phin Phanatic, is….well…simply amazing. My day job, is haunted by the Biscuit, who, like the other two carries an infectious smile, and omfg, provides a level of eye candy every guy should enjoy, So being all work and no play, had been getting to me, so I left the house and went out to pick up a cue, (though this time, not to make a Jimmy stick).
So I ran a couple racks trying to get my now failing eyes back. (too many years on a Monitor.) As I was rediscovering my stroke, Some dude ambles over,
looking to play…and now I got a new Bro, my boy Lefty, a sharpshooter like William Munny. Brought my game right back to where it belongs.
So, For Meghan, The Biscuit, Angelina, and Jules, Happy Mothers day.
So the Summer of Sam (Stones Can’t you hear me knockin just came on….Hmmmm..Kismet?)
I cannot wait to force my esteemed editor to publish the crass line, “The .14 Caliber killer goes Berzerkowitz on the Patriot Defense”
He’s either going to shoot up opposing defenses, or Jets fans hopes. Either way…it’s apropos. So let’s talk parallels.
Taking orders from a Dog? hmmm… Given the Jets history at offensive coordinators, he very well may be.
We already know they are mismanaging the poor kid.
While The Don’s emissary to the Court of St James, Robert Woods Johnson, the ephemeral rock hard Woody, is off entertaining the Brits, his brother Chrissie, is spouting to the NY Media, that Little Sammy will be the draft choice of a Generation…AYFKM? Like Parcells famously said can we let him actually take a snap, before we put him in Canton. Chrissie must have been reading Maccabbes again. Some of the most Tarantino like writing in the Bible.
Judas and His Early Victories.
- Then his son Judas, who was called Maccabeus, took his place.
- All his brothers and all who had joined his father supported him, and they gladly carried on Israel’s war.
- He spread abroad the glory of his people and put on his breastplate like a giant. He armed himself with weapons of war; he fought battles and protected the camp with his sword.
In his deeds, he was like a lion, like a young lion roaring for prey.
He pursued the lawless, hunting them out, and those who troubled his people he destroyed by fire.
The lawless were cowed by fear of him, and all evildoers were dismayed.
By his hand deliverance was happily achieved, and he afflicted many kings.
That’s what Chrissie just put on the shoulders of the .14 Caliber Killer. Dude, you’re 20. No pressure.
And FWIW, Woody is a genuinely nice man. Met him twice. Shook his hand twice, He prowls the parking lot, pre-game, sucking up the aura of the tailgate. A genuine dude. However, that does not excuse the mismanagement of the team. If you love football, and your billion dollar toy, fucking get INTO IT MOTHERFUCKER.
Run it like you would run Johnson & Johnson. (No not the porn tube gangbang brothers.)
Now Jets fans, as much as I like Mr.Johnson, and his fan-friendly approach to things, let me ask a simple question: Could you see Al Davis, leaving Duh Raiduhs, to go be a poofter on the Island?
So, as we get to know each other, It works like this Sports fans. The green-eyed Phin Phanatic is my best friend ever, The Biscuit, who dare not be named, is a tasty morsel, with a great smile and better personality. And the firecracker, Meghan, is the most devastating woman to ever grace the earth with the imprint of her foot on its face. (and BTW, sweetie, I can prove it. I have a Picture of Helen of Troy, the face that Launched 1000 ships). If she was your sister, you’d be the pretty one, and your Aunts would say…’Gee, I hope poor Helen can find a man someday.”
Now, say what you will, she of the cute swath. You spend all day in the mirror, tell me, you aren’t 1000 times prettier. So if Paris were pursuing you, he would have launched a million ships….
So on the ownership/mismanagement thing, I want to know what you think,
C’mon. enter the tiger’s den.