Blue View
Do you think LSU is the real national champion?
Let’s see, they won the All State/Dr. Pepper/Tostitios/Trojan Bowl Championship Series National Championship Game. They were ranked No. 1 in the final AP poll of the year. They got the crystal ball trophy. So why do I have such a feeling of longing, incompletion? Probably because this year was so turbulent, jarring and troubling that I’m left with a sour taste in my mouth. I’d like to see a battle royale between LSU, Georgia and USC. Not a football game between the teams, just a mud wrestling battle royale with female cheerleaders from each team. Just a thought.
Pick your final four in the NFL.
Jaguars. Colts. Packers. Cowboys. Oh … you don’t see the Patriots? I’m not crying, but Tom Brady will be after being ground into dust by the Jaguars’ big, mean defensive line. The exclusion of the Pats is a product of a blinding, hateful rage I have for the Patriots, but I really do think Jacksonville has the best chance to beat the evil empire. It’s like “Star Wars.” Just think, with the hood up on his sweater, Belichick resembles the emperor. Brady could be a young Darth Vader. Maurice Jones-Drew is short, but badass, so he could be Yoda. Too geeky? Agreed.
What was June Jones thinking?
June Jones must want to bury his head in shame after Hawaii’s embarrassing performance in the Sugar Bowl. Instead of returning to a sunny beach near Honolulu, Jones has chosen the tail end of a mustang for concealment. The equine option seems more apropos, because he’s a horse’s ass for leaving Hawaii. I’m not sure June realizes the Southern Methodist University-note the religiosity of the word Methodist-won’t be too stoked about his kicked-back, Hawaiian-shirt sideline garb. The “-ist” on Methodist also suggests a level of formality not conducive to colorful leis.
Do the Jazz make the playoffs?
In a perfect world, sure, the Jazz make the playoffs. But in a perfect world, Logan isn’t a barren, white, frozen hell scape. In a perfect world, there are midgets bringing me fresh beverages and a variety of smoked snack foods. In a perfect world, I’m awakened by the sounds of the Swedish bikini team playing volleyball in my living room, instead of by my buzzing alarm. The Jazz can’t defend. It’s that simple. Maybe they need a few more cast members from “That ’70’s Show” to get over the hump. I bet Wilmer Valderrama is free-and I hear he can ball.
Best NFL head coaching position currently open.
To be honest, they are all a bunch of turd sandwiches. Yeah, that’s a “South Park” reference. A defense filled with full-time geriatrics and part-time players. A quarterback, Steve McNair, who has taken more hits than a bus load of freaks at a Pink Floyd laser show. The Baltimore Ravens are out. The Falcons are still too busy sucking up to PETA to be an effective running, throwing or defensive team. So all birds are out. That leaves Miami. The addition of Tuna to the rotten canned Dolphin makes it just appealing enough to pick up on clearance for 15 cents.
Rant
“American Gladiators” is back and more overblown than ever. I feel responsible. For those of you who remember, last spring I wrote about the unbridled awesome that was “AG.” I imagine the column created a swelling of grassroots support that hoisted “AG” back into the minds of mush-headed network execs, who rightly feared for their plush lives, and unleashed “Gladiators” to assault the American TV-watching public. For those of you who missed it, you are terrible Americans, Ross Perot voters and conspirators in the death of the American Dream. Wise up. This time, “Gladiators” has more steroids, more fire, more explosions, more Hulkamania. Yeah brother.