Roll With Brady

The pick for the big silly game is coming later in this stupid blog post. Don't worry gamblers, I expect my spotless Super Bowl picks record on this not so spotless blog to continue (I am 5-0 the past 3 years on Super Bowl picks...). Before that, we need to break down the teams scientifically, as always. This year features New England and New York. Except that it doesn't feature New York. The G Men don't play in New York. They play in Jersey. Hence, I was all prepared to give a myriad of reasons why NYC is vastly superior to Boston. But it doesn't matter that Gotham kicks Beantown's ass - not in the least. Because when you start delving into the merits of northern Jersey, there's not much to like. Granted, my man Paulie Walnuts hails from Jersey. And they tape Jersey Shore in Jersey from time to time (JWoww...). But that's it. Let's delve into this as best we can considering that New York isn't really involved in this game at all.

I was sitting in the Newark airport back in 2001 with a colleague of mine named, ... well I can't remember the guy's name at the moment. I forget names. I'm bad with names. Anyway, we were knocking back a few pints of Sam Adams in this bar at the airport. We had just finished a pointless week of work at some conference center off the Jersey Turnpike somewhere. So, we were relaxing a bit. And by relaxing a bit, I mean we were getting hammered. I just remembered the guy's name. It's Ted Lyons (and I was always a fan of the guy, he was a professional drummer at one point in his life {he played with the dB's for a stretch}). So, Ted & I are getting loaded at the airport. Then suddenly we hear our names being called over the PA system. The airline was requesting that we get our asses to the gate. The flight was about to take off without us. I didn't particularly wanna spend the night at the Newark airport. So, we bolted for the gate. When we got there a few minutes later, some airline lackey informed us that we had just made it in time for takeoff. This airline worker asked me why we were cutting it so close in boarding the plane. I was feeling it a bit at the time to be honest. I was in the zone. I told this airline worker that the reason I was cutting it so close was that I was busy in a darkened recess of the bar nailing Adriana La Cerva. Alas, only Ted laughed at that...

The thing about New York that would be important to remember if the Giants actually played there is how expensive everything is. Did you know that a Big Mac is like $17 in Manhattan? Did you know that getting like 6 beers and 2 shots will set you back like $110 at a run of the mill watering hole? Did you know they don't even have grocery stores in New York? If you wanna stock up on the typical crap like 40's, prune juice, & rubbers you gotta drive all the way out to Connecticut? And those pesky Connecticutters don't like to see grimy New Yorkers strutting their shit in the suburban morass that passes for the good life. Believe me on that. I have it on good authority. I talked to someone once. It's true. I really did. Anyway, this whole deal with New York being super pricey is a real issue. One that Barry is working hard on alleviating, to no avail I might add. But all that doesn't amount to a hill of Lima beans in looking at the big game in Indy. Not one fucking bit.

When we turn our attention to the northeast of New York, we can see clearly that Boston is a terrible place - full of flaming liberals, Irish thugs, and ex-hippies. There's the People's Republic of Cambridge for one thing. The best that can be said for Boston is that Bill Spaceman Lee, Oil Can Boyd, Manny Ramirez, and my main man Pedro Martinez played for the Sox. Other than that, Boston is all Ben Affleck, Larry The Hick From French Lick Bird, and the endless menace that is the Kennedy Dynasty. It's probably best to leave it at that. If you don't have anything nice to say, blah, blah, blah...I was raised with some decorum. Some. A little. A teensy bit. Maybe...

Coincidentally, not speaking of Geilfuss, I got a text from him yesterday in which he informed me that Creech has been hanging out in gay bars recently. I immediately forwarded the info to both Luke of Jacoby fame and Andy. And the consensus of the 3 of us on this Creech going to gay bars deal was that we are not the least bit surprised. Luke said it best in his reply to me, noting this development was inevitable. Now, I'm all for Creech delving into the dark world of the anal arts with skinny, young men (Creech would be a bear in the gay world, I believe). I want Creech to be happy (actually, I could give a shit about it entirely, but...) & if shooting his load all over some dude's butt-crack accomplishes that, well good for him. Rock on, Creech.

I was sitting at my current fake job the other day, chatting amiably with an irate drunk woman on the phone, when she demanded to know my name. I replied in a very calm and steady voice, "Madam, I'm Harry Balsac."

Enough of the silliness, on to the Super Bowl pick. I am of the mind that Tom Brady has revenge on the brain. Take the Patsies -2&1/2. It's that simple. No further analysis is necessary.

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