November, 2012

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Warm up the pimp hand

Monday, November 26th, 2012

“Shares of Research In Motion are rebounding since falling to a nine-year low this past summer. The BlackBerry maker’s stock has rallied nearly 70% in the past three months…”

The namesake of such, i.e., my reverse fantasy football team, has pulled off a similar turnaround, losing (losing) the last 4 games. Research in Motion, you’re fired.

RIM is fired

Time for a Karma douche (Who says that?).

When things are trending this way, there’s no choice other than to release every member of your team and rename the squad. RIM is dead.

But hold up, before we break a bottle of champagne over the new quarterback’s head, I’ve got a major bone to pick. Someone very near and dear to Suckleague was wronged, and I will not let this go without a fight. If you’ve ever read the Suckleague rulebook:

1.) You’re not the adversary (Zing!)
2.) You know how much I dig Alex Smith

The “Spirit of Suckleague” (also an obscure Rush song) was benched this week, and all he did wrong was get hit on the head. This prompted me to visit his head coach, the transcript of which is provided:

Me: Are you the one that coaches the 49ers or the Ravens?

Jim Harbaugh: How did you get to California so quickly?

Me: DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT.

Jim Harbaugh: Look, I love Alex Smith

Me: Didn’t you work out Peyton Manning when the Colts released him?

Jim Harbaugh: Look, I love Alex Smith

Me: Did you not start Colin Kaepernick this week?

Jim Harbaugh: Look, I love Alex Smith

Me: What’s the square root of 196?

Jim Harbaugh: Look, I love Alex Smith

Then I challenged him to an arm wrestle, Jim Harbaugh challenged me to a rap war, and frankly it deteriorated from there. However, I didn’t leave without issuing my STRONGEST INSISTENCE that Alex Smith be given his starting quarterback job back. Let that gnaw at you Jim Harbaugh.

So back to team me. It’s been a horrid streak, and it’s time correct the ship. I need some serious reverse fantasy Karma and I know exactly where to get it. I’ve got to go old school. It’s no secret that for a time in my past, my dark ages frankly, I indeed owned a 1996 Pontiac Firebird. Let’s recall some of the highlights of that experience:

    - If I turned the volume knob on the radio in either direction, the speakers would output audio at a random decibel. This was very disconcerting.

    - One of the headlights, and just one, was permanently stuck in the up position. You’d think this would produce some kind of relatively cool “my car is winking” effect, but in reality it just produced a “my car is a huge piece of shit” effect.

    - Going over any speed bump, regardless of speed, would elicit a squeak identical to that of any cartoon mattress sex sound affect.

    - The shift boot had a plastic surround that shattered into several pieces because I was foolish enough to change gears from time to time.

I could keep going but you get the idea. Yes, I’m digging deep. This is the Suckleague Juju I need. There is no choice. RIM is dead. The turnaround begins now.

The Chicken Apocalypse is upon us.

FireChicken

– J

Pain. Old pain.

Monday, November 19th, 2012

For dinner this evening I had the following items: 6 frozen PF Changs chicken and vegetable dumplings, and a bowl of Peanut Butter Crunch. Suffice to say I didn’t feel like cooking, or thinking about, or spending any time whatsoever on dinner. However, each of these items delivered about at the level I expected. Nothing gourmet, but dinner was achieved and I’m reasonable satisfied. If I had to pick, the Peanut Butter Crunch clearly outperformed the dumplings.

Which brings me to Byron Leftwich. Byron Leftwich played like crap last night. He threw for 201 yards, was sacked 3 times, fumbled, threw an interception, and completed 46% of his passes.

That’s terrible by any measure.

However, Byron Leftwich also did this bizarre, hard to intentionally forget impression of some sort of middle aged bumble bee, lumbering past several clueless Raven defenders, “scrambling” to the most pointless touchdown I’ve ever seen, with all the grace of Frankenstein’s monster, provided Frankenstein’s monster had a 2×4 stuck up his ass.

Byron Leftwich Frankenstein

It was dreadful. It resulted in both a tweet and an email to the adversary with the same single word title – “Seriously?”. (He did promptly reply to both with absolutely nothing that made me feel better.) It was tragic. Like tragic in a really Greek way. Tragic like in a your grandson gets decapitated then your family gets exiled kind of way. (I said really Greek, that’s a valid comparison)

It was the only bright spot in a performance that would have had the whole of Athens circa 2500 years ago making up new awards:

  • Matt Cassel: 1.46. Throw for 93 yards, get sacked, fumble, then get benched.
  • Oakland Defense: -7.00. Surrender 32 points. Do not record even one sack or fumble.
  • Indianapolis Defense: -14.00. Give up forty seven points.

In the end the adversary pasted me, -12.54 to 2.72. But I’ll defend my choice of Leftwich all day long. Why? Well I was present for, and had to endure, the greatest offense to human competition ever. In late 2008, Jon Gruden was fired as the head coach of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. His replacement, Raheem Morris, having served as DC at Kansas State University, wisely had some input in drafting Josh Freeman. However, in his first decision as head coach, he chose to sit Freeman for a bit and allow him to, uh, “learn” (I assume learning by observing what not to do) by having a highly publicized, and frankly a blatantly horrifying competition of who would be the starting quarterback, between Luke McCown and Byron Leftwich. (I’ll save you the time, no typos on this page, Luke McCown and Byron Leftwich).

It was a painful preseason to say the least. I’ll spare you the gory details, but suffice to say, one would be awful, the next would be awful, on and on, ad nauseam. By mid-season, both had been taken out behind the barn and shot, and Freeman has led the team since. I don’t know who the professional football team is in your city, but that experience left a mark. The competition was an affront to sport. It made my tandem of PF Changs frozen dumplings and Peanut Butter Crunch look like surf and turf at Peter Luger (thought I forgot about the dinner transition, didn’t you?)

OH, and so either I fired the adversary and there’s a new adversary or the adversary changed the name of his team. I’m not going to speculate. I figure he / she / they will let me know. But I’ll close by saying I witnessed Byron Leftwich do things in a Buccaneers uniform that I’ll really never be able to totally erase from my memory. Remember that year the Browns couldn’t figure out if their starter was going to be Derek Anderson or Charlie Frye? I wish I was a Browns fan in 2009.

The only image I can think appropriate for this post is a 1986 Ford Escort EXP John Kerry. He competed for starting president once. Perhaps you will know even a small part of my pain:

Not a good QB or candidate

– J

An Apology

Wednesday, November 14th, 2012

I have no desire to reveal my true identity. Why? I could NOT deal with the Suckleague paparazzi camping out on my driveway every morning. However, I will say I work in information technology. I do a fair amount of database and software engineering and, wait… Dammit, I may have said too much already.

WHOSE GODDAMN HUMMER KEEPS TURNING AROUND IN THE CUL DE SAC?

Anyway, as such I’m active on many geek newsgroups and blogs, and at any given time have several online pet projects going to assist my techno brethren.

OH SO WAIT, before I go anywhere with this, I have to apologize for the Adversary and really Suckleague as a whole. I found his last series of posts disturbing and frankly disgusting. All the talk of bathrooms, gravy laden “French fries”, and Mexican food stuffed in condoms, this has no place at Suckleague. This is a family friendly site, and if you and your children gathered around the monitor during the last few days, I wholeheartedly apologize for his lewd conduct.

I’ll now quote from the Suckleague by-laws which, of course, once the adversary signed on as the adversary, he was required to memorize:

Section 5.2: Content Guidelines

Suckleague.com, as a family friendly reverse fantasy football website, strictly prohibits excessive vulgarity. Examples of this include, but are not limited to:

- Bathrooms and leaders of men mentioned in the same sentence
- Combining any reference to a “quagmire” with the future release of a Blackberry operating system (?)
- Any commentary on pirating an internet connection for the sole purpose of viewing explicit images of cheese, bathrooms, Tom Brady, or foods rich in carbohydrates used to fill prophylactics.

I’ll admit, I don’t recall writing any of that, but the by-laws don’t lie. SO CLEAN IT UP.

So back to what I was talking about before all the filth. Recently I put a quick utility online that automates some specialized code generation and today (I swear I’m not making this up: http://www.buildmystring.com), one of our friends from India left the following comment:

“I find very kind your tool. Thank you. With best regard”

See? WHOLESOME! Not that difficult, is it?

As foul mouth indicated, he won week 10. I’m still in shock. Buffalo’s defense was flawless for me, scoring a -13.00. Negative fucking 13. (It’s ok, it’s after 10pm and most kids are asleep, so I can use the F word.) I could have started just about any other quarterback and won. Naturally, I chose Sam Bradford and his stupid 21.70 performance leaping me ahead of team profanity by 3 points.

Looking ahead, make no mistake. RIM’S JOB is clear (RIM was possessive in that case, get your mind out of the gutter):

1) Reestablish the integrity of Suckleague.com. Your family deserves the trust, credibility, and values it’s come to expect here, and I WILL strive to bring them back.

2) Tear the adversary a second asshole next week.

- J

Chimichanga

Week 10 Make-up pix

Tuesday, November 13th, 2012

Since my computer crashed on Saturday morning, I had to wait until today (and my return to work) in order to upload the pictures I intended to post in my most recent entry. I hear it’s up for a Pulitzer, so I better get these online right away.

My only regret, and one I’m sure I’ll remember on my death bed, is that I was unable to find an image of a chimichanga inside a condom. Although maybe that will be easier now that it’s required in LA County. (Don’t worry, I feel completely secure in my job while doing this at work.)

Also … HOLY CRAP, I won the week. I was certain last night that I didn’t because Buffalo was so atrocious and the Steel-belted Radials only scored 16 on KC. I don’t have cable, my pirate internet was inaccessible, and I was hosting a “guest” who would not stop talking, so I had no idea what happened last night except for occasionally checking the score when I “had to go to the bathroom.” Thanks, Sam Bradford, for showing up–I don’t think you’re worthy of the Blackberry 10 any longer, but that’s not my call to make.

–Chief Wipe

The return of the return of the return of the Chiefs

Monday, November 12th, 2012

Big Daddy is back!!! And by “big daddy,” I mean our on-again, off-again Suckleague hero villain Romeo Crennel. And by “back,” I mean trapped in the barren, talentless quagmire that is the 2012 Kansas City Chiefs roster.

When you hear the word “Chief,” you think of the top dawg. The big enchilada. Best cheese. (??) Número uno. Five star general. Leader of men, inspiration to us all, alpha mutt.

When you modify that noun with “Kansas City,” you don’t think any of those things. This team hasn’t led any NFL games in regulation this season for even one second. You automatically make such majestic associations as: runt; wet, flaccid chimichanga; number 32; fans’ self-hatred. There is a “Save the Chiefs” Twitter account with 72,000 followers, and it’s legitimate, for Akin’s sake.

Which makes them the Suckleague gold standard!! In recent weeks, Blaine Gabbert and Ryan Tannehill have let us down with respectable performances. But like the General Petraeus biography co-authored by his mistress, we’re ALL IN on KC this week. Especially with this Monday night’s battle looming against the Pittsburgh Steelers–an actual professional football team. Due to some sort of “head injury,” we’ll have to ride bareback this week without the production prophylactic known as Brady Quinn–and metaphorically move to Colorado to legally smoke all of our Matt Cassel weed.

Speaking of pot and condoms, score Week 9 for team ass wand.
(SO forced and poorly written, but challenge met!) Last week, buoyed by emergency Red Cross distributions of Arizona Cardinals defense and Christian Ponder ineffectiveness, Comfort Wipes was able to rise above the damage inflicted by Superstorm Sandy to take a victory from the electricity-, public transit-, and gas-rich Research In Motion organization. May the recovery continue! It’s on! Poutine, Canuck, eh!

–The Kansas City Comfort Wipe Chiefs

Hail to the Chiefs, eh

Saturday, November 10th, 2012

So, the 2012 election is over and it’s time to celebrate the beauty of America. If you noticed both that I used the word “beauty” in that sentence as well as started it with the word “so”, you’d think I was Canadian. That would be understandable as Canadian and bad grammar can be a challenge to tell apart at times. However, as it’s yours truly writing this, obviously it was bad grammar. So, back to what I was talking aboot, eh (that was me intentionally trying to sound Canadian), election 2012 is finally over and the results are in: The president is, well the same guy. The senate is, um, still controlled by the democrats. Finally, the house of representatives is, uh, yet again controlled by the republicans. Our votes sent a clear message to Washington; as a nation, we’re obsessed with gridlock and we’d like to see more of it. Other notable achievements: pot is now legal in Colorado and California. However, if you’re a porn star in California, you must now wear a condom in all sex scenes. But feel free to smoke as much marijuana as you’d like while wearing your government mandated condom.

Speaking of pot and condoms, score week 9 for team ass wand. (I defy anyone to use that sentence even one more time before you die.) The adversary completely quashed my effort, leaving John Skelton unemployed and the Bills defense on double secret probation. His duet of Christian Ponder and Arizona’s defense handily handled team RIM by over 20 points.

So, to week 10. The adversary set his lineup early this week and he’s going all in on the Chiefs. All in. All in on Matt effing Cassel, our generation’s Scipio Africanus. (Then go look it up. Suckleague may not do much, but it WILL make you think). Against the Steelers, the KC defense is also a strong (utterly anemic) grab. All in is a huge risk but could also have a huge payoff, and boy the Chiefs sure do suck.

Research in Motion is reluctantly sticking with Buffalo’s “defensive” unit. As they face the wicked sweet chowd offense, I’m willing to give them another shot. Sam Bradford vs. the 49ers rounds out my dyad of horror. It is, as they say in Canada, ON, like french fries covered in cheese curds and gravy.

So, I ended up thinking I’d go one of two directions in closing:

  • Some tie-in to the Charlton Heston classic “Soylent Green” as a commentary on the dangers of a government that isn’t accountable to its people
  • OR

  • More silly Canadian words

So, mounted police, hockey, snow, toques, round bacon, and Rush.

– J

Soylent Green eh

Don’t eat that

Saturday, November 3rd, 2012

I was standing in line at 7-11 the other day making a purchase. I had a solid 30 minute drive ahead of me so I needed the bucket of artificial sweetener and caffeine known more commonly as Super Big Gulp. I was then amazed, startled really, that someone was making a food purchase. Let’s talk about 7-11 food for a moment.

Now by “food”, I don’t mean a candy bar or any other packaged product, but the actual prepared hot “food” in those little plexiglas oven-like concoctions. Maybe I’m too introspective, but when I’m presented with an “oven” where food and paper and cardboard can all survive, I can’t help but wonder, are bacteria dying or merely getting a tan?

I believe the patron in front of me purchased a slice of what appeared to be “pizza” and something else, “wings” I suppose if you used the term loosely. Nonetheless, clearly several of some appendage from some mammal under a considerable amount of fried breading (And yes, I’m awfully tempted to stop talking about this because it’s really creeping me out. However, there isn’t a path I won’t brave in the name of reverse fantasy football).

The real kicker to this story is there was a McDonalds right across the street. Now I’m not a fast food eater except on rare occasions, but clearly McDonalds’ food has to be cheaper than 7-11 food, I assume tastier, and certainly just as bad for you, right? So let’s enjoy some of the prepared food items that 7-11 offers, and see if I’m missing something here.

Here’s something called a Buffalo Chicken Roller: Buffalo Chicken Roller
This is the kind of post that writes itself. Real quote from the site, “actually made of chicken”. I don’t, can’t believe you.

This is what those “wings” looked like: Spicy Wing Zings
Alleged bonus, “now they’re 50% bigger”. Olympic athletes would love to know the secret to that. Was the chicken simply allowed to live longer before you lopped off its wings? My prowess for observation is both a gift and a curse; you don’t have to tell me that.

And lastishly, dare we omit the Taquito: The Taquito
Ok, I can’t, don’t keep doing this.

On to my week 9 Chicken Roller / Taquito combo, with endless breadsticks and sadness. I’m going to keep driving the John Skelton bus one more week. It’s misfiring something fierce and I’m betting on Green Bay’s defense to cause it to throw a rod. Defensively, Buffalo is heading to Houston so Buffalo is headed to Research in Motion. As to the adversary’s lineup, he’s been building his team at the last moment for the past few weeks, and I’ll not be attempting any ESPCA tonight.

I’ll freely admit I’m glad this post is over. It was surprisingly challenging to get through and I apologize if I disturbed anyone with images of convenience store food. I know my mommy always said there were no monsters – no real ones – but there are.

– J

Newt taquito