The Midweek Meltdown

It's been a slow week of news, but we still need to shake our fist at someone.  Right?

That cloud knows what he did.

So today, I'm getting my fingers all flexed up to do some uninhibited balled-hand rattling at those all-powerful and controlling overlords.  You know the ones.  Corporate, government, it doesn't matter.  People call them "the man."  Pfft, we're not scared of some dude in a suit.  Do you see us?  Yeah, you see us.  We're coming for you, and we're going to make your life infinitesimally harder.  

Hope you've got exact change ready, 'cause you're about to get served!

I don't know how insults work.

• Boozy Bastards
• When city mayors make a wager over sporting events, they typically put up locally sourced goods as collateral.  Perhaps next time, Mr Los Angeles mayor, you should include something in your stack of chips not owned by a huge, multi-national company.  Just saying.  Although, it is LA, so here's hoping you don't need to worry about such bets for at least a dozen lifetimes.  Have I mentioned that I hate LA?  I hate LA.

• Taco Trent
• Aging pop starts are just the best for "back in my day" stories.  All these bands now are sellouts!  Ya hear me!  In the nineties, they would have lost all credibility if they sold out to some fast food company.  That's why they didn't!  Surely, Nine Inch Nails would have resisted a steaming mountain of hot cash if Arby's had come calling for the use of  "March of the Pigs" to sell their latest BLT.  For sure.  

• French Fried
• An awful woman behaved awfully.  Hey, let's all point and laugh!  Theoretically this drunk/high/ignorant/Trumpite is getting what she deserves by being mocked across social media.  So how is this corporate America's fault?  It isn't.  We're an equal opportunity blame-spreader here.  I can shake my fist at society too ya know!

Gosh this was a negative post.  Let's turn this bloggy frown upside down, hope for a happier Thursday, and...dance!

Cheese cheese cheese

The Monday Hat Trick of...Superheroes

This past weekend, the latest Marvel picture opened up to massive audiences.  It made, lessee, eighty kajillion dollars.  Hmm, these must be really well-made movies.

So......to the pants shop again?

Yup, I get the appeal too.  Whether it be Marvel, DC, or whatever, superheroes are always going to pull in the crowds.  The people love these guys, and I eventually get around to watching just about all of them.  These characters are, for the most part, pretty cool and awesome.

For the most part.

Let's talk about the not-most part.

Not all heroes are on the level of those beefy behemoths pictured above (nor their inferior modern day replacements).  In fact, some are quite remarkably awful.  Shall we see some of them?

Yes, yes we shall.  The tragedy, friend of friends, is that I can't paste pics of all of them here now.  This blog post would easily go on until doomsday.  Instead, I'll just display a few favorites, and allow you, the true believer, to poke around on the internets for more.  They're out there.  And I mean, out there.

Let's start with Comic Books. 

• There are a lot of listicles willing to give you the lowdown on some of the very worst in pen-and-page crime fighting.  Apparently, like the Trump white house, the comic world is completely littered with bad ideas.  Indeed, just this one link provided the likes of; 
• Asbestos Lady (like it sounds), 
• Bouncing Boy (inflates and bounces), 
• Matter-Eat Lad (he can eat through anything, which is good because...)
• Those are all winners, for sure.  The runner up for me?  
• Gin Genie.  Per the very mockingly written character description from the link, "she can create seismic shockwaves equal to the amount of alcohol in her system.  And she cries a lot."  Is it wrong that I'm slightly attracted to her?  Don't answer that.
• But she doesn't hold a candle to Vibe.  Because, when I need someone to come save me from a supervillain, I want someone who was also a gifted breakdancer.  Nobody else will do!

Moments before a Justice League beatdown

Onto the big screen.

• The trail of awfulness typically wanders through familiar characters.  Most of this list includes flicks you've possibly seen, or at the very least have heard of.  Bad sequels, cheap knockoffs, Nicholas Cage.  Really, you can't go wrong.  And, while it might be easy to point to a doughy middle-aged Superman and laugh, I think there's much more terrible-ness in more recent fare.
• Steel (starring Shaquille O'Neal)
• This runner up is about something...to do with...lasers.  I read the synopsis three times and still can't understand the plot.  And, maybe it's unfair, but I'm guessing master thespian Shaq didn't bring much clarity to the screen.  But to be fair, he's big.  So, you know, he should get a hero vehicle.  I think the thing that puts this over the top for me, is the poster.  Nice job, promotion team!

He has a moon scene painted on his belly like a 70's van?!?!

• The movie winner, though, only needs five words to convince you of its awesomeness.  
• Nick
• Fury
• starring
• David
• Hasslehoff
• Boom.  See it now!

And, finally, we end where you expect.  Hockey.

• Eh?  Wha?  Yes, that's correct.  I'll let Wikipedia fill you in.  "The Guardian Project is a fictional superhero squad created by Stan Lee for Guardian Media Entertainment, in conjunction with the National Hockey League.^[1] Each NHL Franchise is represented by one of the 30 heroes, titled "Guardians". They are all named in accordance with the name of the team (e.g. The Flame for the Calgary Flames)."
• I'd like to spend the rest of my days explaining the tremendous ridiculousness and epic failure of this concept from start to end (all within 2011), but others have done the dirty work for me.  That doesn't mean we can't still have some fun, though.
• I would really, really, really like to rank them for you, but I can't.  They're all number one.  Pick a team, it's absurd.  I will only select three at random to close out this entry, because of space constraints.  I beg of you, if you've never seen these before, go see them all.  You shall NOT be disappointed.  

How many cannons is too many Stan?  Not this many, apparently

He shoots maple syrup from his branches.  And he's not Groot.  Nope.

He communicates with sharks and computer software. Seriously, it says that.

Oh, did I mention that their's a video.  There's a video.

Excelsior!

Football Friday Fumbles

When I was a kid, there were approximately eleven channels of television to choose from.  Yes, you heard me you damn millennials.  And do you think we complained?  Hah!  It was a-maz-ing.

Nearly half of them static free!

In addition to the luxury of being able to cycle through the ENTIRETY of TV in one short commercial break, it also provided the opportunity to scour the television listings ahead of time to know what would be broadcast when.  None of this Info-button nonsense.  You want to know when Mama's Family is on?  Go get that newspaper and start moving those inky fingers.

Seriously, you don't need to know when Mama's Family is on.  Ever.  Nobody does.

The upside of minimal choice and allocated guide-scanning time was that you'd occasionally be handed a treasure to look forward to.  There, buried on Saturday afternoon, between Mutual of Omaha and the evening news, would be a gift to make a mental note about. 

4PM - NFL Football Follies

Yes, oh yes, I will be in front of the television then.  Thank you, broadcast gods!

It's funny cause its true!

I would laugh my tiny lungs off to the stumbles and bumbles of professional athletes, especially with some hijinksy music played over the top of it.  Oh, and don't get me started on the episode that included Looney Tunes voices.  Childhood peaked on that day.  Not just mine, childhood itself.  For everyone!!!

Simple pleasures, such as they were, can be hard to duplicate in adulthood.  But, fortunately, there's a path to some potentially silly escapades this weekend. 

You see, thanks to the twin pronged advancement of NFL greed and the medical community's insistence on some sort of safety (I don't care if there are literally little birds circling his head, get him back out there!), players are dropping at an alarming rate.  And, while this is certainly bad for them, it's good for our amusement.

Reason is, despite the overwhelming quantity of college-experienced players available, there is really only a very finite number of guys who are actually any good.  Beyond the starters and maybe a backup or two, a lot of the fellas who fill rosters are just there in case of emergency.  They're too slow, too small, or just without the ability to act/react during a full speed pro game.  Now, halfway through the season, the proverbial injury bug has decimated a lot of squads (some of which weren't any good to begin with).  Thus, we stand on the precipice of some truly awful, embarrassing, footballing.

Cue up the Yakety Sax.  Let's pick some games to watch.

Arizona Cardinals at San Francisco 49ers

• These teams have played fifteen games combined this year.  There are three wins among them (all by Arizona).
• The Cards regular starting quarterback is out for the year.  That means Drew Stanton gets to step in and take the snaps.  Is that good?  Well, lets look at his quarterback rating (which is some hopelessly complex math equation that takes into account every stat out there).  Drew's rating over the past few years is 32.  Is that good?  Hmm, "Mid-90s to the 100 range is generally considered a good rating...bad quarterbacks are in the 60 to 70 range."  No, 32 is not good.
• As for their competition?  "Some 49ers not feeling safe at 0-8."  You don't say.  I'm sure they'll be motivated this time.  

Indianapolis Colts at Houston Texans

• These two teams play in the same division as the Jacksonville Jaguars, and they're both behind the Jags in the standings.  Jacksonville!  They're the gridiron equivalent of a participation trophy.
• Both team's starting QB's were pronounced out for the season this week.  Thus I'm wagering there will be some serious cartoonery on the field.  Come for the (searching...) Tom Savage, stay for the (searching again...) Jacoby Brissett.  I'm pretty sure the internet just made those names up.
• Seriously, worse than Jacksonville.  They have fans that dress like this:

No guys, I don't want to paint my face.  That would be weird!

Oakland Raiders at Miami Dolphins

• Hey look, it's that team that I like versus the one from where I grew up.  Either way, I'll be proud.  You can take pride in disaster.  Look at Michael Bay!
• I made a point to watch Miami's game last week.  They lost 40-0.  I have a feeling I'll be referring to that as the "salad days." 
• Marshawn Lynch is back for the Raiders.  That's entertainment, right?

Yup

Have a fun weekend!

The Home of the Wing & 5 Ridiculous Things for Tonight's Game

Ah, Buffalo.  The word itself caresses the tongue.  Elegant?  Engaging?  Sure, all that and more.  Why else would it be the first stop on my voyage to marriage?  Should I explain?

I'll explain.

Nearly six years ago, my wife and I decided it was time to settle down for all of the sweet and wonderful reasons you might expect (she wanted Lazik surgery, my work has a family discount).  We talked about wedding options and came to the conclusion that we didn't want a "normal" traditional one.  Neither of us had any inclination to organize the ordeal, nor really to be the center of the spectacle (invite us to your next karaoke event, we hold up the walls nicely).

Like Buster Bluth, I excel at being neither seen nor heard

Above all, we didn't want to blow the cash on it.  Our preference, if money was to be spent, was to use it on a vacation.  So, planning began in order find an ideal place to take a trip in which we could allocate the better part of an hour (at most) to dealing with the legal formalities of wedlock, but otherwise enjoy the freedom of travel.  Yes, I'm quite a romantic.

Anyway, enter Buffalo.  Literally.

The final plan involved a jaunt into the hinterlands of Canada and its far superior side of Niagara Falls.  To get there, and to get home again, we needed an airport in which to start the adventure.  We picked good old BUF, due to its proximity to the border and reputation as a first class...something or other.

To jump to the end, we had a great time, got married, and still speak to each other to this very day!  Isn't that grand?  And, as a result of the escapade, I still have fondness in my heart for the great city of northern New York which welcomed us in as singles and sent us away all shacked up. 

Tonight, my (and your) Buffalo Bills are playing the New York Jets.  Strangely, this game between two NY teams is being held in neighboring New Jersey.  Why?  I don't know.  The east coast is weird.

Regardless, in celebration of tonight's footballing, I'm flashing back on my trip through the (looking...) Queen city.  Huh, that's much more majestic than what I thought it would be.  But, why not?  Cheers to them and their royal lineage!  You're way better than Rochester.  Trust me, that's a compliment.

• We landed in Buffalo and made our way to the car rental building.  Now, I've never been one to seek out some cool, high powered vehicle on my travels.  To me, for the most part, a car is just a means to get from A to B, and little else.  I figured we'd get some standard template sedan and be on our way.  That didn't quite happen.  In mid-November, we loaded into the auto-equivalent of an air hockey puck.  If there was any, ANY snow or ice on the ground (which thankfully there wasn't), I'm sure we would have pinballed right into the nearest waterway.   I mean, really Buffalo car rental people, you had this in stock?

Otherwise available on Matchbox tracks everywhere

• Soon we were on the road.  Driving from the airport towards the city, we scanned the surroundings.  I don't remember exactly what was said word-for word, but it was something to the extent of, um, "Wow, everything we heard about Buffalo is true."  I'm sure we meant that in a good way.  Of course we did.  Uh, let's move on.
• Into downtown we motored, checking out the sights.  There, in the center of it all, sat the home of the Sabres hockey team.  Did we stop there so I could strap on my skates and immediately find myself on the second line for that night's game?  No.  I could of, but had no desire to where that logo.  I do have some standards.

A slug with horns.  I think that's what the endtimes fortold

• A week later, after the wedding hullabaloo, a trip to Toronto and the hockey hall of fame, and more poutine than any responsible soul should consume, we hopped on the Peace Bridge back to the states.  It takes you from Niagara over to Buffalo.  But, on the Canadian side, before you leave, there's a duty free store. There, you buy your booze, and it is handed to you as soon as you're over the border and back in America again.  Basically, Canada is trolling us.  Are you guys leaving?  For Buffalo?  Here, take this.  You'll need it! 
• Finally, the wings.  Yep, the Anchor Bar is where "Buffalo Wings" became a thing, and we headed there before hopping back to the west coast.  I'd like to glamorize it and say they were the best things ever, but, well, meh.  I can't.  It's just chicken.  I felt pleased to have experienced an important spot in the history of cholesterol, but little more.  

There are other parts of the chicken, you know?!?

In the end, I came to Buffalo a single man, and left with a belly full of wings and a wife on my arm.  Being able to truthfully write that sentence trumps any wedding cake I could have possibly ever asked for.

Some Midweek Messaging

It's Wednesday.  So why are you here?

Good question.

Since re-jiggering this here blog in September, I've tried creating some sort of routine for the daily ridiculousness.  Recently, this has meant a strategy of oddball anything-goes posts on Monday-Tuesday, with tangential footballery on Thursday-Friday.  There wasn't any grand scheme to this.  It basically evolved, just like the gypsy woman said.

To date, I hadn't attempted adding a fifth day of entries for a couple reasons.  For one, I couldn't think of what else to talk about.  And, secondly, my work schedule had me working from home on Weds.  You'd think I'd be more productive creatively outside the office, but, uh, hey what's on TV right now and hey the dog wants to play and ooh look pretzels and oh what was I saying?

90% of inspiration is avoiding forced participation

Right, so, content.  It occurred to me that some of the stuff I originally liked to post had fallen out of the lineup.  Links to taco/burrito/booze news had withered away like yesterday's jam.  And, if you don't get that info from me, where will you have to turn?  Ruffians?  Hooligans?  Muppets?  I don't want you to do have to do that. So here I am, ready to provide a public service for you.  For you!  Five times a week!  Like a real job! 

You're welcome, planet earth.

• Booze Alert
• If you're a fan of tasty craft beer (and, you should be), you've likely heard about the gigantic beer makers who come in and buy up smaller, quality brewers. It's happened around our local beer mecca here in Portland (goodbye 10 Barrel), and has been occurring in many places around the country.  Worried about what this loss of independence and creativity will foist on us lushes?  Well, fear no more.  Just contribute to TakeCraftBack, a Kickstarter from a group who are working to raise funds to...buy out Anheuser-Busch Inbev.  Um, just under $213 billion dollars to go, and your pint of 10% Wee Heavy Scotch Ale will remain untouched by corporate fingers.  Seems like a worthy idea!
• Burrito Alert
• A $3 burrito (that's good) from Chipotle (that's bad) is available to anyone wearing a Halloween costume.  Yesterday.  Was available.  Oops.  Looks like you wore that sexy George Washington costume for no good reason at all.  Next year, when you're sexy Chet from Weird Science, try not miss out.
• Taco Alert
• Speaking of discounted dysentery, as previously ridiculed on the e-pages of this here site, Taco Bell is running their World Series promotion again this year.  In it, if a player on either team steals a base during the series, everyone in America can get a free taco.  Welp, thanks to the fleet feet of Cameron Maybin from your Houston Astros, a genuine order of crunchy food(?) is available to you for the low, low price of nothing.  

So, when can you get your free taco?  Let's see...Wednesday, November 1st, between 2PM and 6PM...that's...now!  Holy stomach cramps Batman, why are you sitting there reading this.  Go my pretties, go!!!!!

Whatever it takes, my friends.  It's a free taco!!!!!!!

Taco Tuesday - Special Commentary

Ah, writing contests.  Interested?  Of course not.  Just like those contests for eating, spelling, and rock/paper/scissors, it's basically only interesting if you're the one who entered.  And, yes, it is true that ESPN, the all *sports* network <coughexcepthockeycough>, has been known to broadcast "athletes" chewing, conjugating, and thrusting digits.  However, if you've ended up watching any of those competitions that neither you or your family were actually in, I dare to say your remote/television/life must be broken.  It is the only possible answer. 

And yet, failing to get praise of your story from some quiet corner of the internet is no less depressing then getting that twenty-first hot dog wedged in your windpipe in front of thousands.  They really are about the same thing, a confirmation of talent.  The lack of fame doesn't mitigate the bummer.  It just helps you avoid being mocked with wiener-in-the-throat jokes for the rest of your life.

Ok, losing in the dark is slightly better than failing on television.

Still, it can be embarrassing.  I once entered a contest that seemed like a fun challenge.  It was just about writing a very short story of 500 words or less, and I don't even think there was a prize.  I felt the need to push myself from a scribbling perspective, and wanted to try something new and different from my usual thing.  So, on a lark, I came up with an idea, put it together in one draft, and sent it in.  What was the worst that could happen?

I came in second.

Out of two entries.

Hmm, who's the wiener throat now?

Yeah, I'm the wiener throat.

To be honest, I didn't care too much, especially since I sort of purposefully tanked the contest.  Instead of a normal-ish story that I might otherwise put together, I decided to enter a sentence.  A sentence, as in one.  One 500 word, run-on, no punctuation, stream-of-consciousness, sentence.  Oh, I'm an edgy one.

The theme was to write something about a sibling's room, I think.  Or, um, something regarding childhood.  I can't really remember at this point.  I just know it was a crushing defeat, and that I'm sharing it with you now.  

It isn't taco related, and it barely scrapes the side of Halloween.  But, regardless, it is today's commentary.  Now give me praise.   GIMMEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

This pic sort of makes sense, but no it doesn't

Unless

by your TBW blogger

The door creaked and it doesn’t always creak and I don’t know why that is but it creaked this time and opened slowly to reveal not the typical scratched purple paint plastered with glossy black and white images of morose pop stars who really don’t make popular music but are still considered pop stars because otherwise you’d call them unpop stars which isn’t a thing but perhaps should be but anyway almost every other time those unpop stars look down on me when the door that occasionally creaks creaks open but in this case their sad eyes didn’t meet mine as instead mine were met by a pair of eyes that had looked down on me several times before and though these eyes usually shared a similar morose distinction with that of the plastered ones these eyes instead were in past instances somewhat livelier and occasionally angrier but in this moment right now contained mostly fear and confusion which also held some similarity to the unpop star pinned near the heating vent who appears quite upset at something despite being an unpop star which you’d think would make you happy unless you had your mind set on being a pop star which if that is the case maybe you should not be so morose all the time but anyway the normally morose yet lively and occasionally angry eyes before me now looked in my eyes and not anywhere else but my eyes and I felt uncomfortable as I don’t like so much eye-contact so I looked down which I often do when someone looks me in the eyes for too long as I find this intimidating and weird but when I looked down my eyes were met with the eyes of a glittery pony who had no fear or confusion in its eyes but instead had love and like in its eyes and this put fear and confusion in my eyes so I returned my eyes to look at the opposite pair of eyes whose frightened and confused distinction hadn’t changed during the time in which my eyes had met the glittering pony’s eyes but now as my eyes continued to stare at those same unchanged eyes rather than the eyes of the plastered morose unpop stars or the eyes of the upset unpop star near the heating vent nor the eyes of the loving and liking pony I heard with my ears the sound of a door creaking again.

The Monday Hat Trick of...Awful-dillas

If you hadn't heard, (and if you hadn't jeez what sort of chat rooms are you chattering about in?), there's a new Taco Bell atrocity in town.  Mocked/linked on this very blog last week, the Kit Kat Quesadilla has made landfall, foisting it's unholy presence on our great-ish nation.  Need more proof that this is a bad joke masquerading as food?  Check out this DIY version, provided by our friends over at Radio Blackout:

Its insides look like my insides!

Uh, yeah...thanks guys.  If that doesn't convince you to listen to their show, I'm not sure what else will.

To be honest, I don't think that the beef'n'sand-clogged hearts of Taco Bell executives are in the wrong place.  A dessert quesadilla can be a tasty treat.  I've made one with peanut butter, bananas, and chocolate chips that was pretty frickin' delicious.  And yes, I know that by telling you this, my taste buds have forfeited all rights to food mockery.

Nevertheless, let's take on this colossal drive-thru mistake and spin it into a slice of fried gold.  There is more than one way to build tortilla goodness out of Halloween candy.  In fact, you could say there are three ways. 

Today's hat trick takes a stab at building a better mouth-trap.  The fellars over at 538 have done an official Halloween candy ranking, and those guys usually do a fine and thorough job compiling data (president circus peanut, notwithstanding).  With that survey as the guide, we're creating something new and exciting and alarming.  These menu items are up for bid, fast food executroids!  Don't miss out and get stuck putting normal foods in your foods.  Nobody wants that.

• Sure, candy may be a Halloween thing, but there's no reason it can't be stretched out to the next pseudo-holiday.  Thanksgiving is less than a month away, so let's build something to celebrate!  I'm sure natives and immigrants can get along and support this dish.  They got together hundreds of years ago, and certainly nothing has happened in the interim to drive them apart.  Ahem.  Anyway, presenting the Cornucopidilla;
• Boston Baked Beans
• Candy Corn
• Tootsie Caramel Apple Pops
• 3 Musketeers (they have buckles on their hats too!)

• We've ignored the fat, intolerant elephant in the room long enough.  It's time to create a special meal just for those dispossessed souls who think the current commander-in-chief actually has a shred of humanity and/or intelligence.  After all, your racist uncle needs something to eat on his way back from the latest rally.  With a little luck, the sugar rush will force a few logic molecules to slam into each other.  Or, he'll crash and ask for Obamacare to cover his bill.  Fun times, either way.  Here's the Trumpledilla;
• Milk Duds
• Sour Patch Tricksters
• Air Heads
• Whoppers
• Dum Dums
• Lemonhead
• Warheads
• Sugar Daddy
• One 10-cent coin (to choke on)

• Finally, it's time to be a bit self-indulgent.  If you're going to get something made for you by the Taco Bell empire, it might as well be something that ticks all of your boxes.  Honestly, the only way this would be more on-the-nose was if someone converted beer, whiskey, MST3K, hockey, and Milana Vayntrub into sugar-based treats.  Of course, if they did, there would be lawsuits.  Delectable, sexy, lawsuits.  Bring on the Taco'BoutWhateverDilla!
• Reese's Peanut Butter Cups
• Reese's Pieces
• Reese's Stuffed with Pieces (have I mentioned that I like peanut butter?)
• M&M's
• Sour Patch Kids

Have a happy Halloween.  Or don't.  Just don't ring my doorbell, dammit, I'm busy Weird Science-ing over here.  

A Child's Folly & 5 Ridiculous Things for Tonight's Game

Nostalgia.  I'm done with it. 

No longer am I looking to relive moments of the past, regardless of the joy it might have brought in the first iteration.  We're moving forward here, and there's no room to just regurgitate experiences in order to simulate noteworthy occurrences.  It's time to explore new frontiers without being chained to the past.  There's no "I" in yesterday!  But, there is an "I" in tomorrow.  Er, wait, no, there's not.  But there is a...me...in...tomorrow...future.  Yes, tomorrow-future.  It's a thing.  It is.  You probably don't know because there isn't a "u" in the future. 

Wait. 

Dammit.

Fine, it's fine!  Regardless, I'm still not hoping to recapture my youth any time soon.  And, so you understand why, I'm going to now show a small corner of my childhood.  Indeed, I, nor anyone really, should ever strive to repeat any of the below. 

As I've mentioned previously, my football fandom was huge as a young boy.  Specifically, I was obsessed with one squad; the Miami Dolphins.  Despite my living on the opposite coast, I still consumed every bit of info I could about that team, which would often be a challenge in the pre-internet days.  But, I had clippings and posters on my walls, and even painted things in the abhorrent version of aqua and orange that adorned their jerseys.

Available at the Pro Shop

This evening, the Dolphins are playing against Baltimore to fulfill their contractual responsibilities. With such excitement to look forward to, I feel it only right that we also look back.  Ready for some football, 80's style?!?  I knew you were.

• It all starts with a time before teams felt that logos should be intimidating.  Now, everything is angry and all emo black and while.  But, a scant generation or two ago, you could show up to play a fierce game of football with an easy going mammal on your head.  

Hey, you wanna tackle me?  That's cool, maybe I'll tackle you too, right on!

• So, yeah, we didn't need to be show attitude on our helmets.  There were other ways to show it.  During that questionable decade, Miami had a couple of standout receivers.  They played a similar style, and both had the first name of Mark.  It was a glorious time to be a superstar.  Um, did I use the word style yet?

You'll see the white guy with the perm a bit later

• Obviously, I wanted to be just like a lot of the guys on the team.  At about the same time, for reasons only a bizarre child could conjure, I really didn't like my first name.  Nobody else had it, and I didn't believe it sounded cool enough.  I felt that I needed a name that sounded forceful and suave and intriguing.  My understanding of those words clearly lacking, I settled on the name I wish I had.  No, I never made anyone call me this, but I really wanted to.  Because, when you want to impress people, ESPECIALLY girls, you should only need to tell them your awesome name.  That name; Lyle.

Yes, Lyle.  

• The sickness raging, I pushed onward anyway.  It was a confusing time, obviously.  You see, Mr Blackwood of Lyle-dom was a part of a very strong, very stout Miami defense.  For a few years, they were a big part of the team's success.  And, as luck(?) would have it, the majority of guys on that team had a last name that began with the letter "B".  You see what's coming, don't you? 

The policy of "no intimidation" was clearly enforced

• Alas, among all the Lyles and non-Lyles, I always had one true favorite player.  One of the best quarterbacks of all time, and he wore the most righteous number, 13.  If you're going to root for one player, and needed someone to latch onto as you go through the rigors of youth, you need someone truly great.  How could I not look up to Dan Marino?

Oh yeah, that's how.

Zubaz and a corvette.  Finally, things are starting to make sense.

Taco Tuesday - Special Commentary

We return on this Tuesday for more commentary from our friend and occasional linemate, Dr Delirious (@deliriousdr).  He has opened up his doctor's notebook once more to share his words of wisdom with this synthetic universe.  His notebook, like a Taco Bell taco, is filled with all sorts of mysterious and curious things.  And, similarly, consumption of either is done totally at your own risk.

As with last time, the observations of the good doctor are his and his alone.  However, in the hopes of bringing light to the dark corners of his mind's eye, I have employed a dozen high-tech translator-bots.  Each is more powerful and sophisticated than the one next to it, which has unfortunately created quite a battle of egos.  Frustratingly, instead of helping me with this project, they have spent the last four hours techno-insulting each other.  Did you know robots tell "yo mamma" jokes?  I do, now.

Science proof!  Well, Mystery Science Theater proof, anyway

My Self is Always Someone Else, chapter two
by Delirious, Dr (additional content provided by an Ouija board hooked to my old Electronic Football game)

"You have to recognize life, or simply the creation of, being the nothing short of insanity.  When I was around four years old, I saw a werewolf.  I was looking out the front door of my grandma’s house because I heard something.  It was neither fast nor slow, it just was.  He was driving a Ford pickup truck, and he turned his head slowly at me and smiled.  And I thought to myself…that’s what a werewolf is."
---
If you understand the obligations and limitations of the undue responsibility we have as lifeforms, then you are undoubtedly nodding in agreement with our house doctor.  He, and we, is and are forced to assign titles and roles and rules to things, despite a fractional comprehension of the true nature of what we are observing.  The chaos puzzle that exists around us is filled with a maelstrom of illogical ideology.  It is a cornucopia of nonsense.

And yet, we must dig our hands into the metaphysical equivalent of a bathtub-sized jello shot and emerge with something firm and solid with which to hold up to society.  But we don’t want to hold something solid.  We just want the jello.  Why can’t that be enough?

If you look around, you can see the signs.

• The game of life
• A cereal named life
• An awful band from the 90’s named Live

Is this the world telling us to identify the werewolf as a werewolf?  Or, can we use our best judgement, which often only is enabled during our early childhood, to ascertain the reality of what we’re seeing. 

Perhaps it really was a werewolf driving a Ford truck.  And, perhaps life really is a game, or a breakfast food.  We can know things only if we accept it as knowledge.  If it is unaccepted, it is unknowable. 

Our path can logically move forward in three of four directions; if we are certain of certainty, certain of uncertainty, or uncertain of certainty. 

However, being uncertain of uncertainty is an illogical fourth option that will bring about an eon of existential flexibility.  You’re recognition of vehicles and beasts and grandmothers will forever be unfocused.  A fog will exist before your eyes that will not allow you to make out the shapes of absolute-ism.   And, as we know from drive-thru experience, that is a place to aspire to.  

You should be sure of nothing.  Except for how bad Live was.  We are all certain of that.

The Monday Hat Trick of...Baseball & Booze

The week has just started, and already we're looking back.  How far are we going?  Well, to the beginning of time itself of course!

"October 23, 4004 BC, Creation of the world begins, according to the calculations of Archbishop James Ussher."

Yup, that's right, six thousand and twenty-one years ago TODAY, it all started.  Humans, dinosaurs, tacos, proper nouns, juggling, crank-start cars, ambivalence, Chester Cheetah, my Uncle Ray, and hamdingers.  They all go back to that one, very specific, totally accurate day when everything got underway.  The 22nd?  Pfft, nothing.  And then, boom, the 23rd.  Egg-McMuffins and slow jazz suddenly fill our lives.  Remarkable.  

Did I mention sarcasm?  Yeah, we got that too.  

I do like to imagine, in this totally plausible world that Ol' Jimbo invented, what sort of conversations must have taken place.

"Hey Carl, what did you do last night?"

"Nothing.  You?"

"Nothing."

This amuses me to no end

Anyway, let's move a bit ahead of this quick-boot of the universe to explore some other important October 23rds.  With the World Series starting tomorrow, it would appear to be a good time to focus our hat trick on some moments from baseball's past. It is America's Pastime, after all!  And, as a chaser, I've included tangentially related connections to America's other favorite time passer, drinking.  I mean, baseball and alcohol!  It goes together like the beginning of existence and pumpkin spice.  It's science. 

• October 23, 1884, the start of the first "World Series."  It's commonly known among most baseball folks that 1903 is when the World Series really began.  However, some twenty years earlier, a world championship took place between the Providence Grays and the Metropolitans of New York.  The story of this matchup, located here, is an interesting and in-depth summary.  My favorite bits;
• At that time, fans were called "cranks."  So perfect.
• During the season, pitcher Charles Radbourn was suspended for "indifferent" play, and pitcher Charlie Sweeney was released for being an "incurable alcoholic."  I think that modern talk radio *might* spend a few hours discussing these infractions.
• Providence won the first two games of the best-of-three series, but they were contractually obligated to still play game three anyway.  Congrats on being champs guys, we'll see ya tomorrow! Summed up nicely in the story, "The game was nearly canceled as the Grays balked at playing a meaningless game before 500 freezing cranks."  Indeed.

• October 23, 1923, Babe Ruth hit a home run in an exhibition game being played to support destitute former New York Giant owner, John K Day.  As it turns out, John Day was an extremely important figure in the history of the game, as told here.  And, he was connected to not only the first World Series mentioned above, but also to my beloved favorite squadron.  He owned the Metropolitans, and then the same year, become owner of a new franchise in the national league, the New York Gothams.  This team eventually became the San Francisco Giants.  So, thanks Mr Day, for creating an entity that has absorbed more of my time and focus over the course of my life than everything except breathing, sleeping, and (perhaps) eating. 
• Oh, and of course, Babe Ruth and alcohol were pretty much BFF's for most of his playing days.  I mean;  

But the kids love him!

• October 23, 1979, I'll let the opening tell the story. 
• "Billy Martin floored marshmallow salesman Joseph Cooper during a barroom brawl.  Martin was promptly fired as manager of the New York Yankees." 

In the history of the world, counting every October 23rd that's occurred, I can honestly say that I've never, ever, EVER known such a person once existed as a marshmallow salesman.  Miracles do exist!!!  I believe, Jimmy, I believe!!!

Hello sir, I'd like to talk with you for a moment about marshmallows.  You see...

Friday Fantasy Forecast 2 - The Taco Strikes Back

Last week, in a bid to obtain a better result to my weekly fantasy football picks, I took a new approach.  Rather than blindfolding myself and throwing darts at my computer (hello HP customer service, yes it's me again), an actual strategy was implemented. That plan; using the power of tacos to form an unstoppable juggernaut.  I decided to only select players based on whether or not their names contained a sufficient combination of the letters T-A-C-O.  By doing so, I assumed they'd be infused with greatness and propel me to victory.  The result?

• Week 6 - Finished 94,757th out of 344,853 entries

Eh, the propulsion fizzled out a bit.  Don't get me wrong, it was an improvement over the prior week.  However, it seems that just having those four individual letters scattered all willy-nilly in a person's name didn't provide quite enough juice.  To use the pure essence of tacos, you need a true source.  You require, in fact, the chosen one.

Forgive me, sir, for my sins, it's been seven days since my last taco

That's right, we needed the real thing.  Previously anointed as this blog's spirit guide, I give you #97 (but #1 in our grease-clogged hearts), Taco Charlton.

That's right, T-A-C-O!

Yes, that's totally his actual, real name.  See?

"Vidauntae Charlton...his nickname "Taco" was given to him by his mother and grandmother."

Well, farts.  Still though, people refer to him as Taco, and that seems to be the moniker he goes by in every article I found.  So, I say, if it's good enough for Google search, it's good enough for me.  He's our leader!

However, there's an issue with converting our faith into fantasy gold.  You see, there's only one Taco (you can say that again!).  The problem with that is a fantasy lineup requires nine spots filled.  So, we'll need to expand our search to fill out our team, unless he wants to became a modern day cartoon character.

1st base, Bugs Bunny, 2nd base, Bugs Bunny...

Thus, we need a method to add players who, if not personally instilled with taco goodness, need to have been, at the very least, touched by taco goodness.  With that in mind, a way towards success reared its head.

This is Sir Charlton's first season as a defensive lineman in the NFL.  Since joining the league, his Dallas Cowboys have played games against the New York Giants, Denver, Arizona, the LA Rams, Green Bay, Indianapolis (Preseason), Oakland (Preseason).  So, from a certain (hopeful) perspective, you could say he has potentially tackled/pushed/slammed into the offensive players on each of those teams.  Therefore, in my eyes, they've all been touched by a taco.

Touched by a taco.  We should all be so lucky.

Based on this conclusion, I can select other players, but they will be limited to just those athletes available from that slate of teams (excluding Oakland, who unhelpfully played their game last night).  I'm also allowing myself to choose players from Dallas for this squad.  Certainly, he's touched all of his teammates by this point, right?  What else do you do in locker rooms, anyway?

I've made that face

So, without further ado (seriously, it's already been way too much ado), here is this weekend's squadron.  Now go out there and win one for the Taco!!!!

-Introducing, the TACO CHARLTON ALL-STARS-

- Quarterback - Brett Hundley / Green Bay (see this story for why)

- Running Back 1 - Todd Gurley / LA Rams

- Running Back 2 - Ezekiel Elliot / Dallas

- Wide Receiver 1 - Larry Fitzgerald / Arizona

- Wide Receiver 2 - T.Y. Hilton / Indy

- Wide Receiver 3 - Demaryius Thomas / Denver

- Tight End - Evan Ingram / NY Giants

- Extra RB or WR - Cole Beasley / Dallas

- Defense - Dallas, of course

I can smell victory already.  It has a scent of...cilantro?  Huh, it figures.

America's Pastime (Tacos) & 5 Ridiculous Things for Tonight's Game

Baseball.  I love it.  You love it.  Celebrities love it.  Portland may love it (though I doubt it).  Heck, even the Simpsons love it.  Next thing you know, even a major fast-food chain will want to show their love.

Nothing says taco promotion like spare black & white

That's right, fourth meal conglomerate and stomach cramp aficionado Taco Bell has a promotion all prepped and ready for the start of the World Series next week.  It seems like a really complex idea.  Let's see...

"Baseball fans can claim a free Doritos Locos Taco if a player steals a base."

Er, that's it?  One taco, and you don't even get to steal it?  Pretty lame guys.  I feel like you might need some advice on how to turn your idea from an error to a genuine hit!  Yes, those are baseball terms!  Yes, I can hold!

As a fan of the grand ol' game, I've got the experience to up the collective ante and make the promotion something that really brings in the patrons.  You want customers, don't you Taco Bell?

Huh, still on hold.  Oh well, guess they're busy.  But you're not, right?  No sirree, that's why you're reading this here blog.  So, for the benefit of us, and them eventually (if they ever pick up again), I'm providing some additional challenges for the upcoming series.  You want people excited, you need nine possible ways to win (There are nine innings in a game, and I didn't even need to look that up): 

• Blow a save, Blow your order - When the relief pitcher gives up the lead for his team, you give up your right to choose your food.  Taco Bell employees will get to decide what you eat and pay.  Enjoy that $20 Raw Naked Taco (the food is raw, the server is naked).
• Score!  - When the first player touches home plate, you get a free Crunchwrap Supreme.  These items are essentially the same in terms of size/consistency/health.  And, like the real thing, your crunchwrap will be covered in a thin layer of dirt and chalk. Wire cleaning brush not included.
• Double Switch - When two players swap spots, you get off the couch and replace a worker at the drive-thru.  That's right, you're an employee now!  Congratulations, this is your life until the series ends.
• Hit-By-Pitch, Hit-To-Win - A garbage pail full of Fire sauce packets await inside your local restaurant.  With the first HBP, you run inside and engage in a friendly game of sauce-based dodgeball with other customers.  Person who can still see at the end wins a free cup of ice.
• Intentional Walk, Intentional Win - When a pitcher decides to intentionally send a batter to first base, you go for a walk as well.  After midnight, put on your best umpire garb (mask, dark clothes) and take a quiet stroll through the nearest unlit neighborhood and into the busy Taco Bell drive-thru.  Make it alive, win free tortilla tourniquets!
• Hit and Run - Connected to the Intentional Walk promotion, but nobody wins.
• Passed Ball - You consume this.  Not a prize in any sense.
• Triple Play of Enjoyment - If a team manages to get three outs on one play, you get three items in one bite.  An employee will combine three different foods into one franken-thing.  Enjoy that Churrlupacho like it may be your last (it will be, of anything).
• NO HITTER! - NO SHI...well, you get it.  Really is the ultimate win for anyone eating at Taco Bell.

Fun, eh?  Those baseballers are crafty devils, what with their basic words to denote actions.  A walk is a statistic.  I feel that can't be overemphasized.  But what of football?  That's still a thing, I believe.  In fact, there's a game happening soon, certainly, in some district or another.  Shall you watch?  I dunno, I just spent an hour making up weird taco promotions.  Um, let's see if I can somehow make football about baseball.  That will help, somehow.

1. The Oakland Raiders are the home team tonight.  If you watch this (from a few years ago), you can see a two minute video of people flipping the stadium field from baseball to football in a mere 18 hours.  It's exciting if you like seeing people move really fast.  Like Benny Hill, but with worse music.
2. By the way, the name of said stadium where both teams play is currently the Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum.  Rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?  It's actually the name the place had when I was a kid.  Over the years, however, it cycled through a host of much more off putting names before returning to the original.  How bad?  Check out the corporate-sponsored list below, and pick the ones I made up.
1. Network Associates Coliseum
2. McAfee Coliseum
3. Overstock.com Coliseum
4. O.Co Coliseum
5. Actually, all of the above are real.  I couldn't even make up anything worse.
3. The Kansas City Chiefs are the road team tonight.  Know who else went on the road?  The Kansas City Athletics.  That's right, from 1955 through 1967, Kansas City was home to the A's baseball squad.  But they left the midwest and moved in 1968.  Where?  Yup, Oakland.  Man, these connections, it's just like Lost!
4. Kansas City's current ball team is the Royals.  There's an NFL player with the last name Royal.  He plays for the Chicago Bears.  The Chicago Cubs are playing a baseball game tonight!  Wow.  Does your head hurt to?  
5. Well, far be it for me to dispute George Carlin.  Football wins tonight.

Too late, friend, too late.

Taco Tuesday - Special Commentary

Here we are, another Taco Tuesday.  Today's essay is the result of a team-building exercise that took place here at TBW headquarters.  After sixteen hours and several hundred failed trust-falls, our group finally started to understand what being money-hungry corporate sharks really means.  

We all needed to pull on the same end of the rope.  Our cheese moving has to exist in synergistic perfection with every aspect of our mission statement.  There's no "I" in team.  There's no "you" in team.  There's only "us" in team.  Except, not literally.

Yes, our crew is ready to ATTACK the business world with reckless abandon, make big money at home, and live the life only true power brokers do.

His name is in ALL CAPS, so you know it's real

So, yeah, we came out chomping at the bit!  But then the new Black Panther trailer dropped, and we got a bit distracted.  So, there's that, and, well, right, um, what were we talking about?  

Chewy, is that you?

Taco 'bout Whatever staff column

It has been an exciting eight days for Star Wars nerds.  Today, in a reveal as epic as it was absurd, Ron Howard (yes, the narrator from Arrested Development) debuted to the world the name of the upcoming stand-alone Han Solo flick.  It is to be called…

Solo.

Thrilling, right?  This kind of creativity is why we go to the movies in the first place.  The announcement follows last week’s genius marketing move, which was embedding the trailer for the next installment of the Star Wars franchise during Monday Night Football.  The crossover exposure for both products was without a doubt a success well beyond all expectations.  

Sports bros learned of a place where a skinny, long-haired dork waving fluorescent tubing can be considered a bad ass.  And, self-proclaimed nerfherders became aware of a sporting event other than Quidditch.  Finally, the NFL and Star Wars franchises were attempting to market themselves to the masses.  It’s about time.

A byproduct of last Monday’s double exposure is that Star Wars fans are now aware of an ongoing silent protest professional athletes are taking part in to raise awareness of police brutality (boo), racial inequality (hiss), and the uninformed opinions of Donald J. Trump (throws souvenir cup onto field).  Since early 2016 they have been doing so by kneeling during the traditional singing of the Star Spangled Banner, a song written by America’s all-time best-selling one-hit-wonder, who also happened to be drunk at the time.

It would be apropos if this legion of Star Wars fans, now enlightened of the cause, are in full support of what these athletes are doing.  Or, at the very least, they understand and commend these actions.  After all, Lando Calrissian is the original trilogy’s only protagonist of color and he destroyed the second Death Star, thus ending an era of oppression and the tyrannical rule of a socialist class of space-jerks. 

This brings us back around to the man mentioned at the top of this screed, Han Solo.  And, specifically, a curious observation.

Why does Lando call him Han (rhymes with man) when everyone else calls him Hon (rhymes with lawn)?

Is this simply a dialect or an accent thing, or just laziness, like when someone pronounces Lara the same as Laura?  Maybe, maybe not.  Actually, definitely not.

Solo clearly introduces himself in the Mos Eisley cantina as Hon and everybody pronounces it the same way without question.  That is, until they land in Cloud City and Lando calls his old buddy Han repeatedly.  Even when Chewbacca is choking the shit out of him, his mispronunciation is obvious.

How do we know who is correct?  The answer is pretty simple.

Lando.

Lando Calrissian is the only character whose relationship with Solo predates the beginning of Episode IV. He has known Solo longer than anyone and certainly knows how to say his best friend’s first name.

The only possible explanation is that a young and insecure Han Solo wanted to be called Hon because he thought it cooler, more suave and dangerous sounding.  But the real truth is that his name is pronounced Han, and Lando knows that this gentle, more eloquent elocution drives Captain Solo absolutely crazy.  How many times do you think these two old pals have been at the intergalactic discotheque and ended up brawling because Han is like “Dude, call me Hon”, but Lando drunkenly keeps giggling and calling him Han out of spite?

Of course, after all these years, Han Solo is over it and no longer lets Lando’s verbal jabs get under his skin.  The truth is, Lando is his best friend and it signifies a lifelong bond.  They understand each other and respect their differences.  In a way, it’s not so different than the message being sent by the players you saw on Monday night. People need to stick together to defeat evil and summon positive changes. You can’t hear the national anthem when you’re alone in the vacuum of outer space. 

Well, Star Wars and football fans, I hope this nugget of truth helps you all realize that while we are all different, whether you are a Han, a Hon, a Solo or a Duo, there is a little Lando in all of us.

May we all live long and prosper.