Welcome to Patriot Nation.
We hope you enjoy the game.
Win or lose, we still LOVE this team and #12. [+ #87, #83, #81, #75, #50, #84, #70, # OL]
We’re here today because we forgot to bring something home last time.
It’s P-Day, today.
Welcome to Patriot Nation.
Let us rumble . . .
When faced with a choice between Saints and Colts, I am obviously going with the Saints.
I have nothing to lose with this Super Bowl but I do pray that Archie, Eli and Peyton Manning
eat a big ass plate of crow after the game.
Paytoilet is a great quarterback, can’t take that away from him, but I do hope he gets his clock cleaned early and often. (come on linebackers)
As far as Archie and his age old nepotistic tendencies regarding his sons?
Give me a freekin’ break.
Will he ever stop pulling the corporate strings?
CBS will undoubtedly show many pics of the shithead man during the game.
If you do a shot of metamucil everytime they show Archie (which they will) you will shit for
10 years straight.
Better off to stick with the Cuervo Gold.
Please obliterate the pretentious Manning masheen once and for all.
See you guys next week.
I am outta here!
It’s Malarky Monday once again folks!
Our chance to take you on a one way trip to Chucklesville.
Everyone needs a laugh to start the week so why not start here?
Budweiser launched a line of commercials called ‘Real Men of Genius’ several years ago.
While most are funny, some are just over the top.
God Bless the tubesteak . . .
Some sports teams are blessed with announcers that are true blue fans as well.
Such is the case with Johnny Most and the Boston Celtics of days gone by.
Back in the early ’80’s you would turn off the TV and listen to Most announcing
the games on the radio.
He was so biased and uber-pro-Celtics that it was more often than not hysterical.
Any foul by the opposing team was taken personally and ridicule of
the nasty visiting team was normal and quite expected.
This short clip is classic Johnny Most.
I thought I’d heard (and seen) it all until today.
Cheese Racing <–click there!
From the internet:
“The sport of cheese racing began in 1997 when a group of friends put individually-wrapped cheese slices onto a barbecue grill to see what would happen.
To their surprise, the plastic did not melt or burn.
But the cheese expanded, turning the objects into inflated pillows!
The object of cheese racing is to see whose slice reaches full inflation first.”
I’m thinking these suckers would be pretty awesome on some nice crusty bread with
a generous slather of vegemite.
(What do you think, Morky?)
So there you have it.
Malarky Monday is here.
However, it’s not complete until you visit my crazed accomplices.
You never know what will greet you at the destination of the next link.
Go for it!
Did anyone see this coming?
Oh, shit, I mean, rich Manny.
I’m struggling to pay my mortgage and this lying asswipe is making how much a year?
I’m going to bed.
Maybe I should look into some hypodermic needles.
Or not . . .
Here’s a sneak peak at one of the commercials from this years onslaught of ad campaigns.
It was the only ’09 one available at YouTube so
I’ve no doubt it will be plastered everywhere.
It is a fairly good one though.
Kinda nice to not give a crap about who wins today.
The food and commercials are what it’s all about for me.
Cripes, I’m still kinda numb from last years bowl.
Enjoy the game!
On most days my father wears a baseball hat.
Even when he was well if he wasn’t working he was wearing some type of baseball hat.
It was an intrinsic part of his daily get up.
It was usually the Red Sox, maybe the Celtics but NEVER the NY Yankees, God forbid, he would rather die than to be caught wearing one of those.
He still wears a hat these days although he would be hard pressed to tell you which hat he was wearing.
Truth be told, on any given day lately I’d have a tough time telling you what hat I‘m wearing.
I was talking with my sister Moe the other day and
she told me a very interesting story about our father and one of his ‘hats’.
She came down last weekend to see ‘Dad’ and wheeled him down to the quaint chapel in the nursing home for Sunday morning mass. She had called ahead to ask that he be cleaned up and shaved and dressed nicely, the proverbial cherry on the sundae, his baseball hat.
They got to the chapel where I’m assuming my sister knelt and said a prayer or two (thousand) . . .
As she sat back she noticed that Dad’s hat was sitting in his lap.
She swears she did not take it off, she was sure of that.
He took it off himself.
My sister took it as a sign that our father still acknowledges the fact that he is in a place that’s sacred and taking off your hat is something you do out of reverence and respect.
Maybe she’s right.
I took it more as a sign that says she and I will never be alone in this shattered ordeal that’s slowly nearing its very blue end.
Either way, I know that I wanted to remember the moment even though I couldn’t be there.
And though it’s doubtful that our father said one single prayer that morning, I’m confident that he left the chapel with more blessings than anyone else in the place.
And I’m positive he put his baseball cap right back on as he left.
The blog will be closed for a few days.
Congratulations to the New York Giants.
Great game on their part.
As for the Patriots, 18 – 1 ain’t so bad.
Overall, a very disappointing night . . .
The hype, trash talking, whining and ad nauseum analysis is over.
Time to play the game and quit talking about Spygate.
Cameras don’t win games, players do.
And my favorite number?
What else could it possibly be?
You didn’t think you’d get away without something about my Patriots, did you?
I’m not going to jinx them by saying the game will be a blowout or that Eli Manning will choke or that Tom Coughlin will gag on his Motorola headset microphone.
No, I’d never say that.
I will however say, how cool is Gisele?
I can see why Brady loves this woman.
I saw this picture online and immediately fell in love.
Pretty face, awesome smile, flat tummy, blue jeans, blonde hair, and a Boston Red Sox shirt.
How in God’s name do you improve on that?
You just can’t.
Whatever happens, I pray it’s a great game.
And I pray the Patriots silence, for one and for all, those that say the G-Men will prevail.
G-Men? Sounds like a transsexual metal band.
On the menu? Chili, shrimp cocktail, chips and dip, Guinness, cigars . . .
Wanted to take care of a tag as well.
I’m not a big tag guy but Deanna has asked and I’m delivering.
She’s a favorite commenter here at S&M and has a nice blog herself.
Without further ado . . .
Name seven famous people you’ve met (or weird facts about yourself)
I’m going with the famous people but there’s more than seven so I thought I would just list them. I would usually be a bit more creative and tell you a bit about each encounter but I’ve been riding too many single level trains this week making writing virtually impossible.
In no particular order here’s my personal list of “brushes with greatness” . . .
Robert Cray, Billy Joel, John Hiatt, Peter Cetera, Joe Cocker, Steven Tyler, Joe Sample, Steve Gadd (Musicians)
Lenny Clarke, “Bobcat” Goldwaith (Comedians)
Carlos Fuente, Litto Gomez, Rocky Patel, George Padron (Cigar makers)
Dwight Evans, Rich Gedman (Boston Red Sox)
Stephen King (author)
Ethel Kennedy (non-classifiable for many reasons. There may be a future post on Ethel)
There are more but I’ll stop there.
Google any name an prepare to be amazed.
I’ll be far away from the blog for the rest of the weekend.
Have a great Super Sunday, folks.
Talk to all of you next week.
I pray to God I’m smiling.