Humor – Page 5 – Chewing Glass

This Week in Sprots

The less said about B1G football the better.

The less said about Chicago baseball the better.

So let’s turn our attention to the NFL, shall we?

NFL Commissioner Roger “Don Fanucci” Goodell is a hypocritical jerkass intent on strangling the goose that laid the golden egg. Way to go Rog.

Say, maybe Buffalo is better than we thought, huh?

Dear Mr. Head of NFL Officiating, Calvin Johnson caught that ball for a TD. Get a TV for cryin’ out loud!

Since we’re on the subject of the Loins: Let me quote Morgan Freeman in the movie Glory, “When? When O’ Lord is gonna be our time?”

Okay Bears fans, fess up now, how many of you yawned and turned the TV off at half time? Bear Down!

Is Drew Brees suffering from sleep-deprivation because of his new baby? Is he too tired to play football? For $10 million even I could complete one pass to my own team! Geez. Take a nap Drew!

Hats off to Drew Stanton for his journeyman performance for Arizona in relief of Carson Palmer. Eat ’em up!

Brian Hoyer leads the Browns to victory, despite having “Johnny Football” nipping at his ankles for the last four months. Eat ’em up!

And last, but not least, Kirk Cousins was a stud in relief of RGIII in Washington’s win! The fact that the Jaguars’ QB is from that little school in SE Michigan is just gravy. Rah, Rah, Rah!

But more important than their play on the field is the way they handle themselves off it. Humble, grateful, gracious, and sharp. SpartanNation is proud of all three of you!

And speaking of which…Hey Don Fanuch! There are lots of young men in the league who aren’t murdering, dope-smoking, wife-beating, child-abusing, dog-fighting, philandering, gun-toting thugs. They are smart, articulate, hard-working pros, who take care of their families and give back to their communities.

Why don’t you let them be the face of the NFL? Please. Or pretty soon, all we’ll have left is cricket and kickball.

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Duck Season

Go Green!

I am a Horrible Person

So I let the blog go dark for a couple months, only to jump out at you with two downer posts in a row. Ya know? I am a horrible person after all!

Let me lighten the mood a bit. From the City of Lights, we have such artistic geniuses as Zola, Monet, and Debussy. There’s great architecture, such as the Louvre, Versailles, and the Eiffel Tower. Great minds, great music, great food, great culture. We owe so much to the French for all the wonderful things they’ve contributed to Western Civilization!

But this ain’t one of ’em…

Never let it be said that I’m above picking on a little girl. Damn! And this was top of the charts in France when it came out! People have covered this song, for the love of Lafayette! Merde!

I’ve got to say though: there’s something eerily familiar about Ms. Paradis’ dance moves…hmmm…

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By the Way…

To the dear lady in the black Cadillac yesterday, and truly, to all her kindred spirits, that stalk on the side of your steering column activates a device called a TURN SIGNAL.

It is not, as you seem to think dear lady, a retro-rocket turning aid to help you around the corner.

It’s intended use is to SIGNAL others that you are going to make a TURN up AHEAD. Activating this device while you are already turning would make sense were it a retro-rocket turning aid, but as it is meant to keep you and the thousands of people you share the road with SAFE, it really works best if you use it well in advance of the turn. I believe 100 feet is the minimum.

We can all pretty much figure out that you intend to turn after we watch you do it. So, dear lady, for the sake of your fellow humans with whom you share the roadway, kindly pull your head out of your [CENSORED]!

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Duh.

It seems not a day goes by when the media fails to trot out another ground-breaking study to confirm what any semi-sentient being already knows. I’m spoiled for choice in picking which to highlight, but this got my attention for many reasons.

There was a time, lonnngggg ago, when I was pretty fit. I have pictures to prove it. But now, unlike the guys in the Cialas ads, I am not an impossibly svelte 50-something, with full head of hair, and perfect teeth. To be honest, I have gone gently seedy.

So when someone talks about possible cure-alls for being a little, shall we say, fluffy, I grab my pryin’ bar, lever myself to an upright position, and pay attention. However, after about a nano-second of thought, my hope turned to month-old pickle brine.

Well duh!

So let’s break it down. Your fat is there a) to keep you from dying from lack of food—for awhile, b) to act as a cushion when you fall on your ass, and c) to keep you WARM.

The practical upshot of this article is that if you move to Chicago, live in a van down by the river all winter, with nothing much to eat, you’ll lose weight.

Their follow-up study discusses rapid weight loss accompanying the onset of death.

World What, Now?

There appears to be some sort of sporting event taking place in Brazil even as we speak. As usual, I can’t make out either the rules—or in fact the point—of this silly, silly game.

Before all you kickball aficionados reach for your keyboards and your Roget’s Epithet Thesauri, let me placate you with some highlights of recent action…

Wow! Non-stop action there. And they scored a goal! I can see why the underdeveloped world loves this, er, sport.

h/t rdbrewer

Timewaster for Writers

293758-wasting-time — Wake me if Spielberg calls.

As if writers needed more ways to waste time, but that’s beside the point…

Here’s a fun flash-bashed game for aspiring writers. I scored 92! I’m William Frickin’ Shakespeare!

In the “Color Me Ign’ant” department: I’m in the midst of re-reading Inside the Cup by Winston Churchill. Guess what? It’s not written by Winston Churchill! Not the one you’re thinking of anyway.

Nevertheless, Sir Winston was a prolific writer. In fact, that’s pretty much how he earned his living when out of favor politically. He used to write/edit at a stand up desk, that is, after rising late and breakfasting on scotch and soda in the bathtub. Well, I got that part down.

What do Marcel Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past, Beatrix Potter’s The Adventures of Peter Rabbit, and James Joyce’s Ulysses have in common? Using my patented INVISIBLE ELECTRON technology, you can view the answer here:

Highlight for answer –> They’re all self-published books!

Sorry for the link-baiting, but traffic is traffic.

Chewing Glass, R.I.P

Just kidding..although it is on life support. Sorry for neglecting you, but life ya know?

So, whacha-been-got-goin’ on?

Me, I’m all set for LitFest. Remember, if you find yourself in the vicinity of Dearborn and Harrison tomorrow, stop by the Chicago Writer’s Association tent from 10-2:00 and say, “Hey!”

We’re right across from the Hotel Blake.

But there’s so much more to do than seeing my pretty face. There’s music, food, books, books-complete-with-authors, food, and food. S’posed to be beautiful this weekend too! LitFest runs through Sunday, so if you can’t make it tomorrow, you can visit after church.

In other news, the Chinese have taken over my spam bucket. Knock-off Fauxlex watches, “Mulberry” designer bags, Nikeee shoes, and lots of half-assed Google Translate gibberish. Do you suppose somewhere on a desert island in the South China Sea, there’s a penal colony where the prisoners are forced to spam all day before their evening beatings?

I like to think so.

Continue reading “Chewing Glass, R.I.P”