Jittery Falcon Fan Talks A Little Life

I was out the other day at the infamous Kicken Chicken for Sunday Ticket when I ran into a guy I've mentioned before on this blog, yes, Jittery Falcon Fan. He's been in the bar every Sunday this fall, jittery as ever, nervously moving his hands up and down his legs for hours straight. His standard approach to viewing his Falcons remains unchanged - he shows up alone, wearing his fake #33 Turner jersey tucked into black slacks, leeches on to some too friendly group of fans, sips iced tea, and babbles on and on with these retarded factoids to people about the Falcons. In a nutshell, he's still annoying as all hell. I avoided talking to Jittery Falcon fan for over 2 months. Wherever he was in the bar, I stayed away from like the plague. Then the inevitable happened, I found myself sitting next to him Sunday right before kickoff. I wasn't too mean. I actually just nodded my head and mumbled "yeah" as he rattled off these inane stats about Matty Ice and whatnot. But then the conversation turned in a different direction entirely. Jittery Falcon Fan asked if I had any kids. I told my same stale and stupid comeback to that question that I've been using for years, "None that I know of, no." Then Jittery Falcon Fan went on a 5 minute rant about how it's really important to have kids. His rationale was that if you have kids you'll have someone to look after you when you're old and decrepit. I'm not making that up. He informed me that he had 3 kids so that when his body starts to go south, one or more of them would be around as some kind of caregiver or nurse or butler. I got very interested at that point. I wondered what woman would procreate with Jittery Falcon Fan to the tune of 3 offspring. So, me being me, I went ahead and asked where he met his wife or whoever had bore the fruits of his crazy loins. Then Jittery Falcon Fan told me his wife was from the Philippines. And that yes, if I was curious, she was a mail order bride. Instead of laughing uncontrollably, I agreed that it would be tough for someone as socially awkward as him to score some American babe and that I couldn't really fault him for going the mail order bride route. I asked him, right as I got up to go out and smoke, "Did you order her postage due?" I came back in and kickoff was underway at that point. I paid no attention to him, as my focus was squarely on the dark world of 11 to 10 (I had particular interest in City of Tampa against the Bolts). Fast forward about 4 hours to 5 o'clock. I was walking towards the men's room in the main part of the Kicken Chicken, having long since lost contact with Jittery Falcon Fan. Then, in one of the booths, I see him. He is sitting next to an Asian looking fat kid, sharing a plate of the inedible cheese fries that the Chicken specializes in. This Asian looking kid had to weigh 2 bills. Did I mention the youngster couldn't have been more than 10? I was super excited. I got to see Jittery Falcon Fan's flesh and blood, one of the 3 people who will care for him when he's on the proverbial deathbed. I ran back to where I was watching Sunday Ticket (the back bar, same as always) and told Brandon he had to go see what I'd just seen for himself. Brandon ran over to that part of the place fast. When he came back after a minute or two, he said, "Damn, that kid's fat." I begged Brandon to take a picture of Jittery Falcon Fan and his behemoth of a half-Asian son. Alas, Brandon wasn't sure how he would broach the idea to Jittery Falcon Fan of taking the proposed photo. I couldn't come up with one either, which is rare for me. I can generally figure out how to talk anyone into almost anything. So, I wish I had a picture for this post of Jittery Falcon Fan, his enormous kid, and the repulsive looking plate of cheese fries they were sharing. But I don't. And I 'm sorry about that.

Those Pesky White Voters...

Which do you think Paris should have chosen???

I was sifting through more news about the big election that was held earlier in the week, and came across some startling information. At least it was to me. Our freshly reelected leader, Barack Hussein Obama, got clobbered by Willard Mitt Romney among white voters. White dudes who wasted time voting Tuesday voted 62% to 35% for Romney. That's right, barely a third of all the white men who voted chose old Barry. White gals voted similarly, 56% to 42% for Romney. I read a few articles by various lefty leaning columnists that used this data to assert that white voters are racist scum. I'm sure some white voters are, but all of them? Even a majority of them? I find that a little hard to believe. What these same columnists fail to mention is that black folks voted for Barry 24 to 1 (96%). Using the same logic, these columnists would have to come to the conclusion that black voters are vastly more racist than white voters. Something that isn't true either. When political pundits throw out that cliche about America being a deeply divided country, is this incredible racial gap in voting pattens what they are talking about? Maybe it should be. I know a number of white folks who voted for our dear friend Barry. They are genuinely liberal for some irrational reason that has always escaped my limited mental faculties. But some of them are pretty good friends of mine too. I hope they don't think a vote against Barry meant that the person casting it was a David Duke supporter. I know many more folks who would never, under any circumstance, not for a second, consider voting for any candidate the Democrat Party ever nominated. Not Barry, or Kerry, or Albert Arnold Gore. That has nothing to do with race. They simply disagree with the Democrat Party. And to paint all of those folks as racists, as folks like Michael Moore, Bill Maher, and most everyone at the MSNBC and Comedy Central are doing, is just wrong.

I mentioned in the last post that I won a little wager on the election, taking Romney -1.5% here in North Carolina. Not only did Romney win here, but the GOP managed to gain control of both houses of the NC State legislature & the Governorship for the 1st time since, hell I don't even know how long, maybe Reconstruction. So, as I was looking through the Faceshit earlier, I noticed a number of my liberal Faceshit friends here in the Old North State were expressing delight with the election results. Which puzzled me greatly. I'm not sure how delighted liberals could be to have Republicans in complete control of the state government. Maybe they like Pat McCrory, but I doubt that...

I was gonna write something about a recent occurrence at a local dive bar, but I gotta run today. I'm going to see The Who tonight & I need to start pre-gaming. Pete Fucking Townshend.

A Barry Awesome Election Night

Just a friendly polling place reminder of who our messiah is...

I'm not sure how many folks were aware of this, and I sure as hell wasn't until last night, but Roseanne Barr ran for president. She really did. Roseanne, the TV icon best known for her breathtaking rendition of the National Anthem at a San Diego Padres game in the 90's, managed to come in 6th place last night. I'm not making that up. About 50,000 voters chose Roseanne Barr to be our next fake leader. I'm guessing I've worked with several of these Roseanne voters over the years, as I've come across many fat women with horrendous singing voices who probably worship her. Granted, she probably would make a poor president. Although she couldn't be much worse than Barry, Mitt, the Libertarian kook, the Socialist kook, and whoever the hell came in 5th...

I wasn't following the big election results too closely last night. I had a much keener interest in what was happening at the Glass Bowl in Toledo, Ohio (and thank you to the boys from Muncie, as Ball State got the outright win). But I was strolling down to the end of the bar every so often where several brothers were watching the returns with bated breath (I'm guessing they weren't pulling for that Mormon). The reason I was doing so was because I had a bet on the election. I ran across some kid at RumbleForeskins last Saturday during college football. One of those tedious political ads came on one of the televisions at one point and I made some snide comment about it. Then I got to talking to this kid about the election. Turns out he was a big Barry lover. A huge Barry lover. As we conversed I expressed my opinion that Willard Mitt Romney would win North Carolina. This kid scoffed at me. I said, "I'm pretty certain. Don't get your hopes up." I thought that would be the end of my little political chat for the afternoon. But this Barry worshipper wouldn't drop it. Finally, the kid offered to bet me on the outcome here in the Tar Heel state. I jumped at that. I even told him I'd give him 1.5%. He jumped at that. We agreed on a $100 wager. I giggled and told Brandon that I was gonna make the easiest hundred bucks anyone has ever made. And I'll be damned, but I was right. Turns out old Mitt won North Carolina by about 2.2% (50.6% to 48.4%). And I wanna thank Mr Romney for doing me this one huge favor as he exits from the public stage and enters the ash heap of history. So, thanks there Willard. After the Obama loving kid took off from the bar, I asked the chick who helps my man Tommy out on Saturday afternoons if she knew the kid and did she think he's good for the dough. She said that the Barry fanatic is in the joint quite often and that he would pay up. I'll stop in Rumbles Saturday as always and see if the kid is in there. My guess is, being an Obama voter, the kid will try and pay me in food stamps...

Another interesting thing about the big election yesterday is that our dear leader, one Barack Hussein Obama, got about 8 million fewer votes this time around compared to the halcyon days of "chope" back in 2008. Barry received over 66 million votes last time and only 58 million votes this time. Where were all his people? We know only 50,000 of them voted for Roseanne Barr. What the hell happened to the rest? I would speculate that many of those 8 million voters from 2008 have either become disillusioned with Barry or they're in the can somewhere...

I also saw where half the people who showed up to vote, and you know who you are you poor suckers, blamed the dismal economic news that's crippled this country during Barry's awesome tenure, on old W. These folks gave Barry a pass for his failed turn in the old throne of power. Very interesting rationale there. Then again, no one ever went broke banking on the ignorance of the American voter. Kudos to Barry there. He successfully banked on sheer stupidity to get another try in assuming the position of power. I wish Barry and his merry band of socialist misfits the best the next term. And just think, 4 years from now, if I'm still alive somehow, I can write all about Joe Biden's landslide victory. Those will be great days. Tremendous fucking days indeed. I can't wait for that shit...

The Election Forecast

Somewhere, Heath Ledger Is Not Happy

The big silly election is just days away now. And I can't believe what I'm about to write, but Willard Mitt Romney has a very good chance of winning. Something unthinkable to me just a month ago. I have spent a number of hours this week looking into polling data in a number of key states. The fact is that Romney could get over 290 electoral votes. Even more incredible is this - Romney could win even if he loses Ohio. I'm not saying Romney will win. But it is somewhat likely. Somehow. Putting my general disdain for both candidates aside when looking at the numbers, here is how Willard Mitt Romney could become the 45th POTUS. If you start with all the states John Sidney McCain won in 2008 and assume all of them will go to Romney, a very safe assumption I might add, he has 180. He only needs 90 more to get to 270. The first thing that has to happen is easy enough, Romney needs to win back Indiana and North Carolina. That's 26 electoral votes right there. Romney then needs 64 more. It's looking like there's a great chance Romney will win Florida and Virginia from Barry. That's 42 electoral votes. Romney only needs 22 more. And he could get them a number of ways. These are the states in play in my opinion - Ohio (18 votes), Wisconsin (10 votes), Colorado (9 votes), Iowa (6 votes), and New Hampshire (4 votes). Romney could get those last 22 even if he loses Ohio. It would be unlikely, but it could happen. Amazing...

I haven't paying any attention to the actual campaign. It's more unwatchable than a Sun Belt football game between the FIU Golden Panthers and the FAU Owls (a game that will be played later this month by the way - set your DVR accordingly). This campaign has been depressingly stupid for months. Not that I expected better. These "debates" they held were farces. They weren't debates. They featured 2 terrible debaters screaming nonsense at each other and the poor folks in the audiences. The Vice-Presidential debate at least had a high level of humor thanks to Joe Biden foaming at the mouth while trying to keep his medically enhanced boner in his pants. The only candidate of the 4 that came out of this process looking respectable was the kid from Wisconsin. Barry, Mitt, & Joe are sad in various ways. No matter what happens I think the sentiment among reasonable people is that at least it will all be over. No more hearing, "I'm Barry Obama and I approved these vicious lies." Or "I'm Mitt Romney and I approved coming across like the most liberal Republican to run for president since Richard Milhous Nixon." At least we can get back to endless commercials featuring Lebron James hawking cell phones.

And please remember this, this is actually important, whoever wins next week, it's not the end of the world. I don't vote. Why would I waste a perfectly nice Tuesday evening voting??? But if I did vote, my premise for voting Romney would be as follows: the guy in there now has epically failed, now Romney might also epically fail, but he might not. Why vote for a proven failure when the other fella might do better??? It's a sad way to decide a president, I'll grant you that. But it would be the most compelling reason to vote for Romney. Because on his own merits, there is little compelling about Romney. He seems like a bit of a douche, to be honest. Now, if our dear friend Barry does win reelection, don't get upset. It's not worth your effort. Why? Because seconds after claiming victory, Barry will be a lame duck. He'll be fighting with John Boner and his crew same as ever. Nothing will change, just 4 more years of misery for everyday folks. There's always that to look forward to. Good times...

On a lighter note, did you know that the Washington football team of the NFL will decide this election on Sunday afternoon against Cam Newton? It's true. Every election since 1940, if the Washington professional football team wins their final home game before the presidential election, the party in power stays in power. When they lose their final home game before the election, the other party swoops into power. I'm guessing Willard Mitt Romney will be the biggest Cam Newton fan in the world Sunday afternoon...

Sorry for the lack of posts here recently. I've been super busy getting ready for basketball season, both NBA and college. That and having a very middling year betting on football thus far. Alas, ...

Orioles Magic

I don't know how many folks follow baseball anymore. It seems to be less and less relevant every year to the average American. And that's fine. As many of you know, I grew up in the middle of Ohio in a little town of right around a million people called Columbus. I was a die hard Cincinnati Reds fan as a result. I would sit and listen to the games on the radio just about every night when I was a kid. I'd pick up 700 WLW out of the Queen City and hear my man Marty Brennaman and the old lefthander Hamilton Joe Nuxhall call the games. This was back before every game was on TV. Way before that. When I moved to North Carolina in 1997 it became much more difficult to follow the Reds on a daily basis. But I kept up as best I could through 15 seasons with no postseason appearances. Then 2 years ago the Reds finally broke through and won the NL Central. They then proceeded to get no hit by Roy Halladay and then swept right out of the playoffs in the 3 games. It was certainly anti-climactic, to say the least. And a little depressing. Well, here we are again. The Reds are back in the postseason. They play a best of 5 series with the Giants beginning tomorrow evening in San Francisco. I'm not getting my hopes up too high. We'll see what happens. At least they have a chance. After going so long with no hope, the Reds have resurrected themselves like a phoenix rising from Arizona, to quote Frank Costanza.

I bring all that up in this context, the Baltimore Orioles are back in the playoffs for the first time in 15 years. I had the opportunity to live in the Baltimore area off and on for about 33 months from January 2007 to October 2009. I got to know many die hard O's fans during that time. Many of them are friends of mine. You can scroll through posts on this blog and find a number of pictures taken across the street from Camden Yards at Sliders. The pictures generally involve Geilfuss making an ass of himself or Andy sporting his Jesus Hates The Yankees t-shirt. Those were always fun times. I went to a number of games during my time in the Charm City. We'd sit in the seats just beyond the left field wall. Of note is the fact that the O's lost only 1 game of all those I attended (I'm sure that's a fluke considering how bad they were, but it's a true fluke nonetheless). The sense I got sitting amongst O's fans on those nights was that they were desperate to pull for a winner. I often thought "these people love the O's." And over time, I wanted so badly for those long suffering Baltimore fans to have something positive to get behind, something to feel good about, something to be excited about all summer and into autumn. And this year it's finally happened. I've spent many an evening the past 5 months or so at some awful bar watching the O's on one TV and the Reds on another. I always request that Cincinnati be on the TV to the right, because if there's one thing we know it's that Ohio is way more to the right politically than many of the loony lefties in Maryland. Bartenders have occasionally asked me why it's important to have the Reds on a TV to the right and the O's on one to the left. I never explain. They'd think I was nuts. Anyway, as I've watched the Orioles this season, I've been amazed at how well they play in 1 run games. They won them over and over. Timely hits from sometimes the most unlikely of heroes has been commonplace. Hell, Baltimore has won 16 straight extra inning games. Amazing. Orioles Magic.

Tonight the O's draw the Texas Rangers in a one game sudden death "playoff." On paper the Rangers have virtually every edge. I won't bore anyone with the specifics of why that is. But the game won't be played on paper. I like the O's chances. A lot. Let me tell you why. Now, I don't believe for a second in karma or what goes around comes around bullshit. That's all hippie nonsense. But I do remember a ballgame in August of 2007. It was a Tuesday night. The O's were playing the 1st of a doubleheader against, you guessed it, the Texas Rangers. I was out at some Italian restaurant in Linthicum Heights with my buddy and colleague Paul Katula. As we sat down we noticed the TV in the corner of the bar had the O's game on. They were losing badly. I think it was like 11 to 3. Over the next 90 minutes the Rangers kept scoring and scoring and scoring. It ended up 30 to 3. One of the worst ass kickings in the history of the known world. Later that night I was at a trivia game in that same area and ran into Andy (we had yet to join forces in the dark world of pointless trivia competitions at that point). I remember asking him, "Did you see that shit?" He said something like, "Horrifying." We moved on to other chit chat at that point. But, I think there's an important lesson to be learned from that brief exchange Andy & I had over 5 years. And that's this - horrifying can be undone. And it can be undone tonight. All I'll say to close is this - I am betting the O's. I will be pulling as hard for a baseball team as I've ever pulled not named the Cincinnati Reds. Orioles Magic.

And if it doesn't happen? Remember, next season is only 6 months away...

The Last Ounce Of Courage Steals Your Last Ounce Of Dignity

Last Saturday at RumbleForeskins for college football, talk turned yet again to good old Horseplay U. This time in a sightly unique context. During Saturdays, Rumbles runs specials on gourmet hot dogs. For 3 bucks you can get a Pizza Dog, Chicago Dog, Carolina Dog, and more. I think there are like 10 or 12 options. I've had the Pizza Dog myself a few times over the years and it's edible, whatever that's worth. With that in mind, a conversation got started between Tommy, the bartender, and a number of the barflies/degenerate gamblers that swarm the joint each Saturday in the fall. Tommy, as I've mentioned before, hails from Alabama. He wears Bear Bryant attire each Saturday afternoon, right down to Bryant's signature Houndstooth hat. Tommy says to me, "What would be on a Bear Bryant Dog?" I responded that it would be soaked in Bourbon. Tommy then asks, "How about a Milosevic Dog?" I said it would come with vodka and a side of genocide. He then asks, "How about a Penn State Dog?" It didn't take me long to come up with an answer. I said, "Oh that's easy. There would just be a little chili on the tip of one end." And that did it. Several barflies spit out whatever libation they were currently consuming. Tommy said, "I should never have asked you that. You are a terrible person." Which is true, by the way. But can you imagine engaging your taste buds with a Penn State Dog? A raw wiener with just a dab of chili on one tip? Doesn't that make your stomach churn in horror?

I ran into my buddy Phil Sunday afternoon before Sunday Ticket got started. He showed me something on his phone that was astounding. And something that many of you will think is poetic justice or just desserts or whatever. Phil said that earlier in the week he was trying to dial his Mom. Her phone number contains 669 in it. Well, instead of entering 669, Phil typed in 666. Yes, the number of the beast from the old Bible. And guess who comes up in his phone when he types in 666. That's right, my name. That's close to scientific proof that I may indeed be, as many of you have long suspected, the devil himself...



The only good thing about Last Ounce Of Courage

 In Tuesday's super post on this blog, I mentioned the film Last Ounce Of Courage. It caught my attention because it received a 0% fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes. I promised to go see this epic myself. And I did. I watched it yesterday at Regal Cinema by Friendly Center. Turns out, I had a private screening. I was the only person in the theater for the 4:05 showing. I'm glad nobody else was in there, because I was laughing at it throughout. It's gonna be difficult to describe what I saw, as I'm not a movie reviewer by trade. But I'll give it a shot. And whatever you do, trust me that what I'm describing is accurate. Because the last thing you want to do is endure the movie firsthand, only to find out that it's as bad as I said it was. The movie centers on old guy named Bob Revere. Bob is a pharmacist by trade. He's also the mayor of a small town called Mt. Columbus, located somewhere in the Rockies. Bob has troubles though. He son died in some unnamed war 14 years before the movie is set. His daughter-in-law has run out of town with his grandson, Christian. Yes, Christian Revere. I'm not making that up. Bob is hurting. You can see the pain in his eyes from grief and whatnot. His wife stands around looking at him with a forlorn face. Then the long lost daughter-in-law and grandson show up and move in with Bob and his wife on Thanksgiving. Christian, the grandson, is eager to learn more about his dead father. He rummages through a chest with old videotapes of his Dad and demands to watch them. Bob lets him. This causes 14 years of repressed feelings to float up in Bob. Meanwhile, as mayor, Bob laments that Jesus Christ has largely been removed from public displays during Christmastime. He watches Bill O'Reilly and learns that secular liberals are trying to outlaw Christmas. He gets angry. He decides to put up tons of Christmas decorations all over town. He even gets this Christmas tree and puts it up by town hall. The tree is bigger than the one in Rockefeller Center. Well, Bob's actions piss off some liberal group in DC. There's a gentleman named The Hammer, an Al Sharpton type played by Bill Williamson, who calls and threatens action against Bob if the Christmas stuff is not removed. That's the premise of the film. Bob has to deal with those damn liberals as well as come to grips with his feelings about his son's death, his grandson being around, his daughter-in-law, and, I forgot to mention this, the fact his daughter ran out on the family and hasn't been heard from in decades (don't worry, she shows up at the end of the movie). You can see the ending coming about 20 minutes into the movie. And it doesn't disappoint. As ridiculous as the premise is, the resolution is one of the stupidest, most implausible, poorly acted, poorly written, poorly directed, pieces of crap I have ever seen. Where the folks who came up with this idea that Christmas is disappearing from public in America is baffling. I went to the Christmas tree lighting in downtown Greensboro just a few years ago. There were thousands of people there. Bob and The Hammer get into these "debates" several times in the movie that center on this notion that there are liberals actively trying to destroy Christmas. Now, maybe there are some. But they aren't doing a very good job of destroying it. The political aspect of the movie is unwatchable as a result. Eventually Bob gets fired as mayor by the City Council after all the pressure from The Hammer. The huge Christmas tree is knocked over like that statue of Saddam Hussein. Then there's a silly Christmas miracle as folks wake up to the fact that Christmas is being stolen from them. Bob erects a cross on a building and gives an impassioned speech. Blah, blah, blah. Folks love him and the nasty liberals have been vanquished. On the personal side of things, young Christian comes to love his grandfather and fight against the local school banning Christmas. There's a whole part of the movie that involves the school Christmas pageant. Only since Christ has been banned from school, the show revolves around a space opera that's parallel to the story in the Bible surrounding Christ's birth. This part of the movie is even dumber than the part about Christmas being driven underground by liberals. Christian and 7 or 8 other tweens hatch a plan to high jack the Christmas show and put on the nativity story from the Bible. The plan is asinine. But it works!!! And at the end of the show, Christian has this screen come down on the stage and this A/V nerd play one of those videotapes I mentioned from that trunk with his Dad's stuff in it. The videotape Christian plays is the one of his father dying in combat. Really. His Mom is in the audience and everyone starts crying before they start standing one by one saluting. Bob isn't in the audience for the show. He'd been hauled off to jail for erecting that cross I mentioned. What law he was breaking was unclear to me. But Bob did get to hear the performance on a little transistor radio provided to him by this mysterious Jesus like figure that shows up in the film from time to time. He's then released from jail, walks outside, and the whole town is there! They sing Silent Night!!! That's how it ends. I have walked out on 2 movies in my life - Late For Dinner & The January Man. Last Ounce Of Courage is just as bad as those films. I only stayed so I could write about the resolution to all of Bob's issues. I'll tell you my favorite stupid thing in the movie. Bob rides a Harley from time to time. He's buddies with this biker club. They show up in the movie several times. Well, these bikers in the movie hang out at a joint called Knuckleheads. It's the most lame biker bar in the world. What I love about the scenes in the biker bar is that none of the bikers are drinking beer or whiskey. They're all drinking out of white Styrofoam cups. I think that tells you just how stupid and insulting the film is. Bikers in a biker bar drinking Cokes out of Styrofoam cups. What planet are the folks who made this movie living on?

Deaf Folks Descend On The Bar

I was looking through Rotten Tomatoes a bit ago and came across a film that got a 0% fresh rating. That's right, 0%. I'd never seen a movie with a 0% fresh rating before. Even the unwatchable Lindsay Lohan epic I Know Who Killed Me received a 9% fresh rating. The name of the 0% fresh rated film is Last Ounce Of Courage. I read up on it. Evidently an extra from the unwatchable movie Roadhouse plays a small town mayor who fights against a perceived assault on American values by liberals. Or something like that. It sounded like a whole lot of religious propaganda by bible thumpers. So, I checked to see if the movie is playing in Greensboro. And by God, it is playing at Friendly Center. I'm gonna make it a priority to get over to watch this Last Ounce Of Courage in person soon. It might be the only chance I ever get to see a movie so bad that it didn't receive a single favorable review in the entire known world. I'll let you know how bad it is later in the week. I am pumped.

Speaking of Greensboro, the City Council passed some harsh new ordinances last week regarding panhandling around town. I've mentioned my run-ins with hobos before on this blog. They stand at virtually every busy intersection up and down Battleground every day. I'm all for bums doing whatever they need to do to make an easy buck to buy the much needed 40 and pack of Newports. I really am. But I don't like to actually see them standing there with their little cardboard signs that say something like - Down on my luck. Any help appreciated. God Bless. Granted, the word appreciated is rarely spelled correctly, but you get what I mean. The City Council has made all these guidelines about where these derelicts can beg for change. I'm just waiting for the next City Council meeting when all the hobos show up to gripe about how the new ordinances are cramping their style. Hell, I'd love to go that City Council meeting myself and take notes on the complaints from these panhandlers. I may try and do that. The only problem is that I'm not sure security would let me in the meeting. I've mocked just about every member of the City Council in the past on this blog and imagine my name is on some Do Not Let Enter list. You can't really blame them for wanting to bar me from the meetings, as I'd laugh and laugh and laugh.

Speaking of laughing and laughing and laughing, last night I almost keeled over dead with laughter. I had a bet on the Seattle Seahawks on the money line at +150. Seattle was down 5 points. I needed a touchdown to win. Seattle's quarterback, noted Rockies' 2nd basemen farmhand Russell Wilson, heaved a ball into the corner of the end zone as time expired. A Green Bay defender jumped and intercepted the weak pass. Then noted Golden Domer Golden Tate grabbed some of the ball from the Packer defensive back as 4 or 5 players toppled to the ground. The back judge, some brother, starts waving his arms signalling a touchback, Packer ball. Game over. I lose. Then out of nowhere another official runs toward the pile of players from the pylon and signals touchdown Seattle. After several seconds of utter confusion, the referee decides to go ahead and call the play a touchdown. That's when I started giggling. Then I went outside to smoke. Then I really started laughing uncontrollably. It's the first time I have ever covered a bet on an interception that awarded 6 points to the team that just threw the pick. Many NFL fans seem all bent out of shape about that call and the officiating in general to start the season. I say, keep using them. I love the replacement refs. Those are my main men. I'm not sure how many 10's of millions of dollars changed hands on that call last night. All I do know is that a losing bet became a winning bet for me. And how could I possibly be upset by that? It even got a little better for me when I remembered that one Matthew Dammann, the noted homophobe at the Maryland State Department of Education I mentioned a few weeks back, was a Packer fan. You gotta love unintended consequences.

Speaking of the NFL, I was out Sunday at the infamous Kickin Chicken for Sunday Ticket, same as always. Only things were decidedly different during the 4 o'clock games. Why, you may wonder? Because the back bar area was filled with deaf people. Seriously. At the friendship table near the bar I noticed about 11 or 12 folks waving and making odd hand gestures to each other. Being that I was at the Kickin Chicken and the Steelers & Eagles were playing at the time, I didn't think anything of it. After about 10 minutes Brandon tells me he thinks the folks making the hand gestures and flailing their arms around are deaf. And that had a ring of truth to it. Then I noticed that a handful of other tables in the back bar also were packed with deaf people communicating through bizarre hand gestures. There were 3 or 4 guys at the bar to my and Brandon's left. They were mainly there following their fantasy "teams." But were okay guys nonetheless. Well, as you can imagine, I had these poor fellas falling over laughing and spitting out their iced teas mid gulp. I noted that now I finally know what it's like to be a minority because we were surrounded by deaf folks. I kept asking everyone if they thought the deaf people were making fun of us and we were clueless because we didn't know what all the crazy hand posturing meant. I asked how long they thought a fantasy football draft would take if the deaf people had a league. My guess was all night. I mean, can you imagine that? 12 deaf people trying to draft and all the confusion over the Johnsons in the NFL? One guy thinks he drafted Calvin and another thinks he drafted Chris and the confusion, arguing, and inevitable fighting that would ensue as the communication problems deteriorated into mayhem? I kept telling Brandon and the 3 or 4 other fellas that if you ever wanted to do a deaf chick that you'd better go for it now, because this might be the only time in your life that there are more than a dozen deaf babes all in the same place as you at the same time. I wondered aloud if the deaf babes express an orgasm using hand gestures. Then I started speculating what an orgasmic signifying hand gesture might look like. One gentleman, sporting a #43 Steeler jersey told me I was going to hell. But he was laughing as he said it. I told him, "Hey, man. Don't worry about it. It's not like they can hear me anyway."