You sure about that, Assistant GM?

Thanks Sportsline, your assistant GM feature has been very helpful this season. What's that? You have some advice as to how I might improve my roster? Well let's take a look!

Come here, Josh Freeman, and win me a fantasy title!

My priorities might be a tad off right now

Dreams are weird, I think we can all agree on that. What they mean, obviously, is up to interpretation. So, interpret this.

Last night, I dreamt that as a result of contact with what must have been some sort of time machine, I ended up ten years in the future.

Time travel! Awesome! So many possibilities, so much I could do.

In addition to having the ability to travel in time, I also had some sort of telephone that allowed me to still talk to people in present day (jealous?).

UN-BE-LIEVABLE. I could change the world, tell everyone how things were going to end up so people could maybe prevent disasters, who knows?

And what, in this dream state, did I do? I called my friend Joey in present day...to find out how my fantasy team was doing. And that was the only thing I realized in my dream, that somehow, being 10 years in the future, was going to be a HUGE advantage, fantasy wise.

I think I may have a problem.

Me in a nutshell

Take a look at the photo above. I realized tonight, this picture perfectly encapsulates me as a person. 

This picture was taken in Riomaggiore, Italy, the last and smallest of the five fishing towns that make up the Cinque Terra, a tourist destination on the Italian Riviera.

Take a look at this picture, and tell me what one thing is not like the other?

Three adults dressed relatively nicely - dressed like adults - having dinner with one guy dressed to watch Season 1 of Mad Men on DVD.

Now, there are a lot of reasons that explain why I am wearing a t-shirt in this picture. 

Like:

• We had just hiked seven hours from one end of Cinque Terra to the other.
• Our hotel was like a 1,000 foot climb above the town, and we'd have to walk up a steep hill to get back at the end of the night.
• Because we were packing for a week-long trip, we tried to pack as lightly as we could, which meant I didn't bring much "nice" clothing.
• I did have a polo shirt, but I wanted that to be clean(ish) for our anniversary dinner in Paris.
• Because I sweat at the drop of a hat, I worried that I'd sweat through the polo on the way home from dinner.
• Since it was late, and we were physically exhausted from hiking, I assumed everyone would be in their most comfortable clothes.
• It's cool at night in this part of Italy, and my most comfortable shirt is my long-sleeved Hawks tee-shirt. Perfect.

All of the above is true. But it's not why this picture so perfectly encapsulates me (though it does factor in). 

The first time I noticed that everyone else was dressed well and I looked like a total choad was when I posted our pictures to Facebook. I never once thought about it at the time. Instead I saw the picture and was like, jeez, who is this asshole?

Look at the picture again. Look at the smile on my face - it is the smile of a man who is completely unaware that people might think he looks funny. I might as well have a mullet. 

It never occurred to me to wear anything different. I was blissfully unaware.

And that's me in a nutshell, as I think my family and friends will attest at times. I am quite blissfully unaware.

Freedom of Speech!

Why does my text message service think there is no such thing as curse words? I tried to write the word shit in a text message, and my blackberry is like what? What word? Shut? Spit?

Don't act like you don't know shit blackberry! You know damn well what I wanted to write, and it wasn't "Running a little late, had to take a shin."

Sometimes that happens - you're in a hurry and you don't make sure all the words are spelled right, and you accidentally accept a word change that you didn't mean. You end up sending text messages that say things like, "What's up, motherland?"

Motherland is an actual suggestion on my blackberry when I type in motherfucker. Who is typing the word motherland in a text message, Hitler? 

"All aryans must return to the motherland! - also can you pick up some more tp, we're out"

It's incredible when you think about it how society's morals affect you in different ways. Society says it's not polite to call someone a cocksucker or a cunt, so your blackberry pretends those words don't exist. Actually cock sucker seems to be ok. If you write it as one word, cocksucker, it just suggests you spell it as two words. So I guess you can say cock sucker, just make sure you spell it right. 

I just don't want my blackberry to censor me, or judge me for what I text. And I want the word fuck to be acceptable in the middle of any word, any syllable. Fuck gets a free pass in my text messages. Wherever it is, it be-fucking-longs. It be-long-fucks.

By the way, want to know the suggestions my Blackberry gives me when I try to type in the word cunt? Count, punt, and Sarah Palin.

Is It Too Late To Make Jokes About Facebook?

I was thinking about Facebook tonight, and I decided to write down everything that flashed across my mind. Here goes...

- Most Some people don't seem to understand what is private on Facebook versus what is public. For example:

Work Complainers. I had a friend whose status update was, "Ugggh, I so don't want to be at work right now." Hey, Tammy - YOUR BOSS CAN SEE THAT.

Inquisitors. "How was your visit to Planned Parenthood?" Hey, cousin Angela, PEOPLE CAN SEE THAT.

Mothers. "Breastfeeding again..." PEOPLE CAN - you see where I'm going with this.

- Facebook is a great way to remind the world how little we care about anything that actually matters. The world economy is in shambles, millions of gallons of oil are spilling into the Gulf of Mexico every day, and on Facebook we're like, we have GOT to get Betty White on Saturday Night Live before it's too late. She's in her late 80's, if we don't make it happen now, we'll never get it done! Pat on the back for that one Facebook.

- Facebook puts way too much spotlight on people's relationships. I am married now, and thank god, because I would hate to have to deal with starting a relationship now in the age of Facebook. You start dating someone, and now you have a lot of pressure. When are you going to change your relationship status? If you change it, you better damn well be sure that's the future mother or father of your kids, because if it doesn't work out, someday you're going to have to change it back to single, and then the entire world is going to start leaving messages on your wall asking things that will really help you get over the break-up. And that's not even getting into how many pictures you're going to have to un-tag yourself from.

- We are so paranoid over our civil rights, all these worries about Big Brother, people tapping our phones and  listening to our conversations, meanwhile on Facebook we can't wait to let everyone know our business. The CIA is obsolete. It's only a matter of time before we're watching the news and some anchorman is saying, "The terrorism plot was foiled when authorities read the bomber's facebook status which read, 'Hey you guys, just finished packing my carry-on for my one-way flight to New York ;)'"

- Facebook is like a neurotic Jewish mother, always telling you what to do. You should really send a message to your friend Ivan, you haven't spoken to him in awhile. I hope it's not telling anyone to do that for me. I don't need your pity, Facebook. I want to know that all those birthday wishes are because people really care, not because Facebook makes them think things aren't going so well for me right now.

- Facebook is great when you want to find out what old friends are up to, but sometimes it can be too much. I find out stuff about people I really didn't want to know. I had a friend I could have sworn was married, but now when I look at their profile I don't see any signs anymore of a spouse. What happened? I must drop everything and find out. I'm like a Facebook private investigator, combing through all their old status updates and photo galleries to see if they got divorced or something. I will not rest until I know the truth!

How Dare You Ask A Pertinent Question, Congressman

I read on the Daily Beast today a report that several of the congressmen grilling BP on Capitol Hill asking the tough questions had taken large sums of money from BP in campaign donations.

This is supposed to be scandalous information, but I don't understand why. The guys who took a lot of money are going against their interests and calling BP out for the company's gross negligence.

So the problem is...they aren't giving BP their money's worth?

Exactly why is it wrong to take money from a lobbyist and then not do what they ask for? Isn't that what we claim is so wrong with our political system in the first place, that our Congressmen are in the pockets of their contributors?

The paper's headline is like, "BP's Biggest Hypocrites!", Like, yeah, you bastards, how dare you take money from big oil and then...not do what's in the best interests of big oil.

That's terrible!

I don't understand politics sometimes.

Baseball, Just Do The Right Thing

Sorry to dust off the ole' sportswriter hat, but I gotta get this off my chest.

Major League Baseball needs to rule that Armando Galarraga threw a perfect game. The guy threw a perfect game. From a technical standpoint, he did it. He got the 27th batter to put the ball in play and the fielder got to the bag with the ball in his glove before the runner. That, by rule, is an out.

Here's the thing - I get that you have to be consistent in your rules or chaos ensues, but this isn't deciding a pennant. No outcome that determines a championship is on the line with this decision. You're just acknowledging that something that happened happened. There is no gray area in this one - Galarraga got the 28th guy out too. The game ended either way.

He pitched a perfect game*. I didn't see it live, but based on the Sportscenter highlights it seemed like he may have pitched nearly the best game of all time. He was getting dudes out on 2-3 pitches an at bat, there didn't seem to be many battles or close plays. The Jackson catch to start the 9th, that was above average, but everything else looked pretty routine. It was a perfect game.

Galarraga should run for president someday. I can't believe how well he took this. That is some kind of compassion for your fellow man to let umpire Jim Joyce off the hook like that.

I like to think I'd do the same, but I'd say it's closer to 50/50 that I take the high road instead of unleashing a tumbling avalanche of profanity to the press after the game.

Bug Selig and company should just make an exception. Even if it goes against the rules. Nothing bad is going to happen, the universe isn't going to implode on itself. Teams will still play baseball tomorrow, life will go on.

Armando Galarraga pitched a perfect game, and there's nothing wrong with everyone just agreeing to say it was so. Because it was so. It was SO so.

No one is going to swear off baseball if you make this decree, and anyone who would, you don't want em.  Do you watch sports for the game or for the rules?

And did I mention this is a game? I know it's big business and we care about it deeply, but it's still just a game. It's a hobby. No countries are going to go to war over this decision. Congress isn't going to investigate. We'll all just collectively say, "Oh, that's nice" and move on.

And frankly, not to get all melodramatic, but doesn't someone's life kind of hang in the balance? Joyce, the umpire who blew that call, is going to be known for this for the rest of his life. He knows he made a bad call. He's not denying it or trying to pretend it was anything other than what it was. He said safe. He should have said out. He knows he messed up. Why make him carry that around?

I'm not saying we necessarily have to worry about Joyce's mental health, I'm just saying, in the movie version of this story, he'd have a drinking problem and gambling debts in about 45 seconds of screen time.

This is a victimless crime. Nothing else needs to be changed, we can all just pretend the 28th batter never happened. This doesn't have to set a precedent, we can just call it a one-off and call it a day. Or perhaps just create a new rule:

When someone pitches a perfect game, he pitches a perfect game.

A fitting tribute?

I apologize if this is too fresh for those of you who are huge fans of the band Slipknot (I'm looking at you, Nana). Today the bassist for the band, Paul Gray, was discovered dead in his hotel room in Des Moines, Iowa. Incredibly, foul play is not suspected.

To the right, you'll see a photo of Gray that the AP ran along with the story about his untimely demise:

Really? This is the image we want to remember this guy by in perpetuity? It's called google search, people, I found a picture of him sans-disguise in nanoseconds.

I realize this is the kind of thing Slipknot was known for (they are known for doing terrible things on stage, like pissing, vomiting, and singing Slipknot songs), but come on - let's give the guy a break* when he shuffles off this mortal coil**.

* I do have to say, I love the fact that he is sharply dressed in the photo while still wearing the mask.

** I have absolutely no idea what that phrase means, and I'm convinced no one else does either. Sounds like something Shakespeare would say. 

/Checks google, find's out it's from Hamlet

I can't help but wonder if this is a unique situation, or if this is setting a trend for the future. I guess we won't know for sure until Ace Frehley or Gene Simmons make their way to the sold-out KISS concert in the sky...

UPDATE: It appears the image above has been removed, which makes the above post a little harder to understand. Here is a picture of him I found via Google - just imagine this is what they ran with the obituary:

Getting Personal

I've been watching a lot of comedy shows lately. I guess I've always watched a lot of comedy on TV, but now that I'm trying it out I've been taking a much closer look at delivery and material.

One thing I've found lately is I really like the comedians who draw on personal experiences for their material. So far, I haven't really done much of this*.

*I have made one joke that allegedly draws on personal experience. I say allegedly, because it's the one time so far where I have lied stretched the truth for the sake of a joke. 


The joke is about people giving advice to get a dog before you have kids. I say, "People keep telling us to get a dog because it's great practice for when you have babies. I disagree - putting a diaper on a Golden Retriever is impossible. And my wife's breasts are KILLING her from trying to breast feed." 


We don't actually have a dog, but I think the joke works better if I say we do. Generally people have laughed at this joke, except for my friends - who all look puzzled, then want to know after the show when we got a dog. 


I want to start trying to draw on my life more in my act, but I have to say - I don't feel like I'm working with a treasure trove of material. I suppose I've had amusing things happen to me, but nothing too out of the ordinary. I don't think I'll be starring in any Dos Equis commercials any time soon.

Lately I've been pressing the rewind button in my head to think back on funny memories that could translate to the stage. Maybe writing something down will help jog my memory. Here is one to get the ball rolling:

Whenever you see a TV family discuss sex, it's always extremely awkward. The parent will usually try to come up with some kind of metaphor or gesticulation to describe the act, because godforbid they actually say the word "sex" or mention specific parts of the human anatomy.

Well, not my family. Or rather, not my father. Oh it was awkward for us kids, but my father loved having frank discussions with us about sexual topics. Nothing made him happier than announcing at the dinner table something like, "So, your mom found a Playboy underneath your bed today." (Or, uhhh, something like that.)

The funny thing was, as we got older, they grew more and more intrusive into my sisters' sex lives and less and less in mine. They knew when both of my sisters lost their virginity (because of birth control medication, you perves), but they never asked me about mine.

In fact, the only reason my parents ever found out I was having sex is because I was an idiot and wasn't careful with my laundry.

One day I was sitting on the couch watching TV and my mom comes in and was like, "You need to be more careful when washing your shorts."

I thought she was talking about a dollar I had seen on the washing machine. She was, but she'd also found something else.

She said, "You need to be more careful when washing your shorts...I found a rubber."

I don't know what could have made that conversation less awkward, but I'm pretty sure the use of the word rubber helped the awkwardness reach terminal velocity.

Now, no one wants to talk about sex with their parents, but I've actually experienced something even more mindfucking than that - and that would be the time I had the same discussion...with my grandfather.

I was driving home with my grandfather after a Mississippi State basketball game one time in college, and my grandfather asked me if I thought that today's young adults were more sexually active than previous generations. Terrific.

"Yeah, probably," I told him.

"Does that bother you?" he asked.

"No, not really - I think people are just more comfortable now." I responded.

"Well, what if it were your sisters?" he wondered.

Sigh. "Well, if my sisters are happy, then that's all that matters to me."**

**Translation: My sisters are sluts Poppie.

At this point, the conversation wasn't uncomfortable enough, so I decided to take it up a notch. I turned the tables on him.

"What about your generation, Poppie?"

"Oh no, we courted a little, but we respected the women we dated." he said.

"So you waited until your wedding night, to you know, seal the deal with Nonnie?" I foolishly asked.

"Of course we did."

Landmine sidestepped. Let's call it a night. But no, I had to ask one last question...

"So you were a virgin on your wedding night?" I asked.

And his answer, he gave with no hesitance, as if it was the most natural thing in the world:

"Oh no, we went to the whore house for that." OF COURSE HE DID.

"Oh. Good." I said.

Then I turned the steering wheel into oncoming traffic.

Interesting what qualifies as normal across the generation gap...

Reflections On Hell Freezing Over

I have never played football at any level, but I still feel qualified to make this statement after a lifetime of watching it - aggression is a key to winning football. If last night proved nothing else to me, it's that the teams that win are the teams that are willing to take risks at the right times.

I'll get to the onside kick in a minute, but in my opinion, the last two minutes of the first half are where I first really thought the Saints were going to win.

Sean Payton chose to go for it on fourth-and-goal in the second quarter, a decision I absolutely agreed with. This is the Super Bowl - you have a chance to put seven on the board, you take it. Having said that - I hated the play call. The Saints are not a running team - they run it well enough to keep defenses honest, but it's not their bread and butter. On any play where the Saints have to get yardage, I want the ball in Drew Brees' hands.

Having said that, the play still worked as well as you could hope if it was going to fail. The Saints defense held stiff, and the offense got the ball back with enough time left to get into field goal range and still put up the three points they eschewed taking in the first place.

Now compare that decision to go for it on 4th-and-goal with Indy's decision to play it close to the vest after they kept the Saints out of the end zone.

Whether he's the best ever or not, I think we can all agree that Manning is a master of the two-minute drill. The Colts got the ball back at their own one with 1:49 left to play in the half. Is that dangerous territory? Sure. But Manning had already led his team on a 96-yard scoring drive earlier in the first quarter. Why not trust him to see if he can make something happen?

Instead the Colts ran the ball three straight times, failed to pick up a first, and the ensuing punt gave the Saints the chance they needed to cut the lead to 10-6 at the half.

Just to recap how the Saints decision to go for it on 4th-and-goal changed the game - had the Saints taken the  chip-shot FG instead, they'd have kicked off to the Colts, presumably allowing them to start their drive somewhere in the neighborhood of the 20. If that happens, the Colts certainly allow Manning to go all out, and maybe they score again before the half ends (like they did against the Jets in the AFC title game, where Manning led them on a four-play, 80-yard scoring drive in just 58 seconds right before halftime).

But because New Orleans took the risk, even a risk that failed, they still changed the course of the game in a positive way.

Onto the onside kick - the first non-fourth quarter onside kick in Super Bowl history. That is exactly the kind of risk that is worth taking in that situation. Yes, if it had failed, the Colts would have been in excellent shape to score and extend their lead, perhaps paving the way to a rout and a second title for Manning.

That might have happened, and most coaches would have been too scared of that what if? scenario to have the guts to make that call. But Payton knew that to beat Manning and the Colts, you had to pull out all the stops. And getting the ball first (and eventually scoring to take the lead) was an outcome that was worth the risk, and clearly made a huge difference in this game.

And by the way, this wasn't a reckless decision either. The Saints saw in studying the Colts on kickoffs that their up-men (the players closest to the ball as it is kicked) had a tendency to cheat downfield as the ball was about to be put in play. They knew there was an opportunity there to exploit that tendency, and that is what they attacked.

If you watch the replay of the kick (scroll to about the 2:06 mark), you'll see Hank Baskett of the Colts take a couple steps back right as the ball is about to be kicked. Football is truly a game of inches and milliseconds, and perhaps those steps where what led to him not being in position to make the recovery, as well as give the Saints that extra split second to get in position to come up with the football. So not only was it a gutsy call, but a well-thought-out one as well.

Maybe it's easy to praise Payton for these decisions in hindsight, but I for one will stand by a coach who will grab his chance to win by the balls instead of always bowing to conventional wisdom and playing it safe. That's how you win titles.

Some other thoughts from last night...

- Going into this game, I never really understood why the Colts were deemed the obvious choice to win. I get that Peyton Manning is awesome, and in the conversation for G.O.A.T. honors. Deservedly so. But when Manning goes up against other great quarterbacks, the game is not fait accompli. When Manning plays Brady, people don't just assume the Colts will win. 

Maybe Brees didn't have a title before last night, but I don't think you can argue his stature as one of the two or three best QBs in the game. So the thought that Manning, just because he is Manning, would emerge victorious last night, seemed flawed to me. It's easy to say that now, but I don't know what else Brees needed to do before the game to be considered on par with the greats - he already owns the completion percentage record (70.6%, set this season), and fell 16 yards shy of the single season passing yardage mark a year ago. Rex Grossman he is not. Also, in his only other playoff appearance, he led the Saints to the NFC title game. It's not like he has a history of coming up short in big games.

- Speaking of Brees, it's worth mentioning that he was unwanted by any other NFL team when the Saints signed him as a free agent in 2006. It's poetic justice that he won a Super Bowl in Miami, the city that had the inside track to sign him but chose to go with Duante Culpepper* instead. Now that he has the ring to prove it, I think we can safely state the obvious now - Brees has been the best QB in the NFL the last four seasons.

*There are many things that are funny about the Dolphins decision to sign Culpepper instead of Brees, but the thing that always sticks out to me is that Culpepper was hurt too. He'd torn three ligaments in his knee the season before they signed him (and was cited in the Vikings infamous sex boat incident). You might excuse the Dolphins for choosing a QB other than Brees because of his injury risk, but to choose another QB who ALSO had injury issues? Thanks for that one, Saban.

It's also worth mentioning that Brees is a terrific example of just how hard it is to be even a good quarterback in the NFL. 

Brees was let go by the Chargers after the 2005 season in part because of his shoulder injury, but also because they had a QB on hand in Philip Rivers, whom they had spent a ton of money on after acquiring him as a top choice in the 2004 NFL draft (they drafted Eli Manning #1 overall, but subsequently traded him to New York in a deal that netted them Rivers, whom New York had selected fourth). That's right - Brees was so bad as the QB of the Chargers that San Diego felt compelled to take another player at his position with the overall number one selection**.

**A decision, I imagine, that San Diego didn't take lightly, considering their history with QBs and the draft. It's interesting how the Chargers fit into the narrative of last night's contest, now that I think about it. They lost out on Peyton Manning in 1998, forcing them to settle for Ryan Leaf, the biggest bust in NFL history, and their decision to cut Brees loose set him up to land in New Orleans and lead the Saints to glory.

The point is, for every Peyton Manning, who comes into the league and starts (and succeeds) from Day One, there are many more guys like Brees, who take a few years to blossom. What's my point? Don't give up on Vince Young and Matt Leinart, perhaps.

- A final thought on Sean Payton - you have to give the guy credit for sticking to his guns and playing aggressive football, because it hasn't always worked out the way it did in the Super Bowl. Payton was famously relieved of his play-calling duties as offensive coordinator of the New York Giants midway through the 2002 season by head coach Jim Fassel after calling a pass play in the final seconds of the first half of a game against the Cardinals that resulted in an interception and a pick-six the other way. He had every reason to dial it down after that, but he didn't, and that faith in his own football principles is why he slept with the Lombardi Trophy last night.

Well...that was interesting

So far all of my open mic experiences have taken place at the Laughing Skull Lounge in Midtown Atlanta. For the most part they've been positive, at least in the sense that the Laughing Skull is a small venue, and even if there are only 25 people there you still feel like you are performing in front of a crowd.

This past Thursday, I finally took my act to a new venue, the Funny Farm out in Alpharetta. It's an interesting set-up, to say the least. The club is part of a restaurant that is attached to Andretti's, a family fun-type place with the usual assortment of skeeball, pop-a-shot, and video game type activities.

It's different, I guess, is what I'm trying to say.

Anyway, for my fifth time up, I decided I wanted to try out a different style. Every time I've performed so far, I've done 2-3 longer bits, with smaller punchlines (at least, I think they are - the audience might disagree) building up to a larger finish.

This time I decided to do shorter jokes, without segues, and to see how it felt and how the crowd responded.

It was a good plan, in theory (or maybe it wasn't, what do I know?). I was able to see how it felt. As for how the crowd responded - therein lies the rub, as they say.

I would have loved to see how an audience liked my different approach - if there had been one.

I've heard that often at open mic nights the only people there are the comics who are performing, but I hadn't really seen that happen yet (which I suppose is a credit to the people who run the Laughing Skull). Man - it is something else when it happens. I might as well have been doing my set in front of a mirror*.

*My brother-in-law Will came with me, but he doesn't count. He is the most easy-to-amuse person I know. As long as there is a curse word or a reference to feces, he's going to laugh. You could give a sobering lecture about depression and drug addiction, and as long as you toss the word poop in there, he's going to chuckle.

All in all I suppose it was a good experience - if you can power through in a setting like that, I imagine it makes it easier to keep your composure when the house is packed. But if part of what I'm hoping to get out of each time up is a barometer reading on my material, well, I'm not sure I'll be able to glean much from this one.

Just gotta keep getting reps...

On Favre and Blame, or We Interrupt This Comedy Blog For Some Cutting Sports Commentary

Yeah, this blog is supposed to be about my attempt at stand-up comedy. But my other passion is sports, and I feel the need to get this off my chest after Sunday's NFC championship game. My Saints won the game and are going to the Super Bowl (OH MY GOD), yet for some reason all I can think about is how the Vikings blew this game and how mad I'd be if I were one of their fans.


With apologies to Joe Posnanski, the best sportswriter on the planet, for biting on his style. Here we go...

Let me be clear at the start that I am not a Brett Favre apologist, even though you may think me one because I am from Mississippi and have rooted for him for most of my life in the way that I root for success for all Mississippi athletes. I’m not saying this to help him avoid scrutiny, I just come to speak the truth: The Vikings loss in the NFC Championship game is not Favre’s fault.

Yes, that was a poorly-timed interception, and yeah, the pass probably was forced, and Favre has a history of doing that kind of thing in that scenario, so there is precedent, but he is not to blame. To blame him is to blame Obama for the War in Afghanistan. Yeah he’s made mistakes, but he’s not the one that put us there in the first place.

The Vikings lost this game because their coaching staff got conservative at the worst possible time. The Vikings lost because their coaching staff went against the first rule of winning football, as so eloquently stated by Herm Edwards: “You play to WIN the game!”

When the Vikings made it to the Saints 33 yard line after a 14-yard burst by Chester Taylor, they had 1^st-and-10 with 1:06 left to play and two timeouts in their pocket. Field goal range yes, but not a chippy. 50 yarders are a little better than a 50% proposition at best, and we’ve already seen several kickers get a case of the shanks during these playoffs.

You get the ball at your opponent’s 33 with a chance to go to the Super Bowl on the line, you gotta play to win. You gotta stay aggressive.

But that’s not what Brad Childress chose to do. On first down, the Vikings ran the ball with Chester Taylor for no gain. Ok, that’s not terrible, he’s played well, the Vikings have run well all game, and he’d just gashed the Saints for a nice gain.

But Taylor got stuffed, and now the Vikings are in second and long. Still, they’ve got two timeouts and arguably the greatest QB of all time at the controls*. Nothing is lost, Minnesota can still make some plays and set themselves up for a easily-makeable field goal and a Super Bowl berth. But the Vikings chose to let the clock run. That’s Childress Big Mistake #1.

Actually, that’s more than a Big Mistake. That’s a Giant Mistake. That’s, well, if not the Mount Everest of Mistakes, it’s still in the Himilayas of Mistakes. Everything that comes afterward is partially a result of this original blunder, in the same way that every run that scores after a two-out error is considered unearned. If the Vikings don’t make this first gaffe, the rest of the mistakes don’t happen and maybe Favre and his Wranglers saunter down to Miami**.

*You can argue Favre’s merits if you like – all I am saying is if they’d won this game and gone on to win the Super Bowl, he’d have an awfully strong argument to that claim. I don’t think he’s the best, but a Super Bowl win at the age of 40 would be a mighty nice bullet point on a resume.

** I’m not saying other mistakes might not have happened, especially given Favre’s history. I’m just saying the specific ones that did were all a result of the Vikings letting the clock run after running the ball on first down. I’ve said mistake a lot. Mistake.

The Vikings let the clock run down all the way to :25 seconds before they snap the ball on second down, a run this time with Adrian Peterson for another no gain, and now the first down run doesn’t feel so defensible. Now we have a pattern. I’ve read this script before. These are the two running plays you run when you are playing to kick a game-winning field goal. You run the ball, try to get a couple yards if it happens, but most importantly you hold onto the pigskin and then put one through the uprights and it’s time to pop champagne. That’s Childress Big Mistake #2.

An aside: As a Texas fan, I watched this exact scenario play out during the Big 12 title game against Nebraska, only the mistakes of the Texas coaching staff will be swept away with the tide of history because Hunter Lawrence made the game-winning field goal.

The Longhorns got the ball back trailing 12-10 against Nebraska with 1:44 left at their own 40. They got a completion to Jordan Shipley over the middle and an additional 15 on a facemask that put them at Nebraska’s 26 with over 1:30 to play in the game. That’s a 43-yarder. Not a gimme, not the hardest FG in the world, but certainly with timeouts remaining a place on the field where you’d like to get it a little bit closer to make it easier on your kicker.

Texas ran three unsuccessful plays without ever taking a timeout, even losing three yards in the process to make the final kick a 46-yarder. Only by the grace of God and instant replay did Texas even get to kick a game-winner after Colt McCoy threw the ball away and nearly let the clock run out to end the game.

In many ways, McCoy and Favre are the same. Each made a bad mistake on third down with the fate of the game potentially hanging in the balance. But while Favre’s legacy may hang for his interception, McCoy will instead be known only as the guy who missing out on a national title because of a pinched nerve. And he had a roommate.

The point is, Texas got lucky that their field goal kicker came through for them, because the coaching staff’s conservative strategy in an end-game situation was ill-advised and could have cost them dearly.

/Aside

Back to the Vikings. Childress should have called a pass play on 2^nd-and-10 if he wanted to stay aggressive and play to win. He chose to play it close to the vest though, and as a result the Vikings now faced 3^rd-and-10 at the Saints 34.

The clock is still running, and the Vikings are forced to call timeout to stop the clock with only :19 seconds left.

Here comes Childress Big Mistake #3, and in my opinion, the timeout here is what makes CBM #3 ***so inexcusable. A timeout should be, if nothing else, a chance for a team to discuss exactly what to do and then send the personnel out to go do it. So how could the Vikings let 12 men go out to the huddle for third down, drawing a 5-yard penalty that made it 3^rd-and-16 and pushed the Vikes back to the 39-yard line?

***If it turns out it is someone other than the coaching staff’s fault that the Vikings had 12 men on the field, then I will shift the blame for this mistake. But it seems to me there are several assistant coaches for each side of the ball – surely someone is responsible for making sure the right guys are heading out on the field. If this isn’t directly Childress’ fault, it’s at least on his staff. But again, if Childress doesn’t choose to go conservative, maybe they never put themselves in this situation in the first place.

With a 56-yarder looming**** now the Vikings have to get some yards. Now they must pass, to give themselves a decent chance at a field goal. And now Favre drops back, heads out of the pocket to his right, and throws back across his body looking for his tight end Visanthe Shiancoe but finding Saints CB Tracy Porter.

*** Let’s say Favre throws incomplete on third - could Ryan Longwell have kicked a 56-yarder to win it? It’s possible. It’s been done. Pete Stoyanovich famously made a 58-yarder in a Dolphins-Chiefs playoff game, though it wasn’t a game-winner.

Longwell has been a good kicker for a long time. His career long is 55 yards, and he made at least one 50-yarder in all but three of his 13 NFL seasons, and in two of those seasons his long was from 49. According to his bio, he’s been perfect from 50+ over the last two seasons (a total of 8-8). Plus it was in a dome. Still, I wouldn’t have bet on him.

Did Favre’s interception cost the Vikings? Yeah, it did. He had a little real estate there in front of him, and had he tucked it and run he might have picked up 3-4 yards and gotten it back to a 51- or 52-yarder. At that point, maybe Longwell makes the field goal, and Vikings fans start looking for hotels on South Beach. Favre’s interception cost them that.

But Favre’s gunslinger mentality never comes back to haunt them if Childress don’t lose his nerve there instead of circling in for the kill, starting at first down with 66 seconds left to play and two timeouts in hand.

If I’m a Vikings fan today, if I’m mad at Favre I’m mad at him like I’d be mad at a friend who knew my girlfriend was being unfaithful and didn’t tell me. Yeah he did me wrong and I need to address that, but I've got bigger fish to fry.

Maybe you need to avoid Favre for a few days and not answer his calls. But Minnesota, Childress is the one you need to break up with.

When 900 Years You Get, This Good You Look

I realize that the vast differences between men and women have been explored ad nauseum over the course of our existence. Nevertheless, the events of last night compel me to again tackle this topic and how incredibly easy it is for us to butt heads from time to time.

First a little backstory:

Last night, my wife Hilary and I went bowling with a few of our friends, my sister Hannah and her husband Will among them. My brother-in-law and I are very competitive, especially at sports. As per usual, we decided to place a wager - winner of the most games would win a free movie and snacks the next time we visited our local multiplex.

Will was hot early, bowling a 171 to take the first game. It was much closer the second game, and as we hit the final frame I needed a mark and at least two pins to tie it up*. I got a seven on my first roll, then got the spare I needed to set up the gimme win.

*We were only rolling two games, so if I won we would have had to figure out a tiebreak of some sort - presumably rock, paper, scissors, though we discussed 1870's-style fisticuffs in the parking lot as well.

So sure was I of victory, I decided to let my wife take my last turn. I realize she isn't the world's greatest bowler, but generally speaking she is capable of keeping it out of the gutter, and I thought she would enjoy being a part of the victory.

Apparently not. For God knows what reason, Hilary ran up to the line and flung the ball with all her might down the lane, like a person trying to throw a ticking time bomb off the side of a boat, after which it traveled perhaps three feet before heading straight into the gutter. Game over.

Now, I knew that by giving Hilary my final turn I stood the chance of losing and owing Will a ticket to the movie of his choice. In theory, I can't be mad at her for my losing the bet.

However, Hilary never bowls like that (In fact, this exact scenario had occurred a couple weeks earlier when we went bowling with them, and Hilary had knocked 'em down like a champ. If it ain't broke don't fix it!).

Normally, she walks up to the lane and gently flicks it down the lane, slowly enough that sometimes you wonder if the ball will knock the pins over or bounce backwards on contact.

So why the sudden change, I wondered?

Here is where the difference between the genders kicks into play.

Were Hilary a male friend, I probably would have inquired about her performance with a question somewhere along the lines of, "What the @#%&?"

But because Hilary is a woman, and in particular my wife, not only did I have to let it go, but even the initial "What was that?" drew enough ire from her that I felt compelled to apologize for making her feel bad for missing the shot.

Now I am a reasonable enough person to realize that the outcome of a bowling bet is rather insignificant in the grand scheme of things**. Yet at the same time, are you kidding me? That roll was terrible! If I didn't know any better, I'd think Will promised her half a box of Milk Duds for that roll!

** Or is it? Movies are pretty pricey these days. It used to be a movie was what you did when you wanted to take it easy and avoid an expensive night out. Not anymore - a movie plus popcorn and drinks for two is like 40 bucks. Next time I want an inexpensive time out with my wife, I think we're going to have to go to Ruth's Chris.

She deserves at least a little grief, but I cannot give it to her unless I'm interested in sleeping on the recliner.

Which brings me to my overall point - how is it that women can do something that upsets you, yet somehow you end up being the one who has to apologize?

And that was when I realized it - women are Jedis.

It all makes sense now - the hard to decipher logic, the bath robes, everything. A tampon may as well be their light saber.

They do something we don't like, but before we can tell them about it they wave their hand and say, "This is your fault, not mine," and now you are buying them tickets to see Lady Gaga as a peace offering.

I must remember this for the future when dealing with the opposite sex - the force is strong with this one.

When In Rome

A thought I just had while watching a commercial break during Late Night with The Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien...

I just saw a commercial for the new romantic comedy "When in Rome" featuring Kristen Bell and Josh Duhamel. At the very end of the hilarious trailer, there is a voice-over that recommends that you "Discover why people are falling in love with When in Rome at facebook.com/wheninrome."

And I thought to myself, that is an excellent suggestion, commercial. I am very curious to learn why people are raving about the movie When in Rome. I believe I'll do some investigating!

So I went onto Facebook, and went to their home page, and what I saw on their Wall stopped me dead in my tracks:


Carrie DeIuliis 2 of my FAVORITE actors in one movie!! its TV/Movie addict's dream. I have been dying to see this movies since I read last year that it was being made!!!! I can't wait 2 more week aghgh...


Wow. I for one am stunned. There is a tale of real emotion and tragedy here.

Here you have Carrie, the heroine of our little tale. It's been her dream in life to see a match of the female lead from Veronica Mars with one of the stars of NBC's Las Vegas in a romantic comedy, and finally, that dream is coming to fruition. Everything is finally going to be ok.

She is so excited. But then tragedy strikes!  The movie is still two weeks away, but the stress of waiting that long was too much for her heart to bear. She said she was dying to see it, and cruelly, from what I can gather from the final sentence in her post, it appears she did.

And so that is why people are falling in love with the movie - to pay tribute to Carrie DeIuliis - her dream shall not die in vain!

An exercise in writing

As I continue upon this quest and attempt to document my experience, part of what I am trying to do to motivate myself to write is to try to write when I'm feeling inspired. This is not the easiest task in the world for me, as I find myself inspired most often while I'm laying in bed, and I am nothing if not too lazy to get out of bed and write down what I'm thinking.

But I am trying to change that with this blog.

So, with that in mind, here is what happened when this little routine started playing in my head tonight when I was trying to go to sleep.

Do you want to hear what is the single greatest job assignment in the history of the world? Great! Cause I'm going to tell you.

But first, before I get there, we have to go back a little ways and talk about Michael Vick. Ever heard of him?

That's right, disgraced former QB for the Atlanta Falcons, and no lie, winner of the Philadelphia Eagles sportsmanship award this season, Michael Vick, I have to start with him.


Cause see before Vick was a puppy-strangler, he got in trouble a few other times, once for getting caught with weed at the airport - nice - and another time, for giving a girl herpes.


Now how do I know he gave her herpes? Was I there, filming it, is that what you're implying? No - I know, because she filed suit against him in a court of law alleging that he gave her herpes, and the proof against him was that he tested positive for it at a health clinic, which he checked in for a test under the alias Ron Mexico.


Now at this point I know what you are thinking - Michael Vick may not be the world's most accurate NFL quarterback, but he is really good at picking out cool names for aliases!


If I had to pick an alias, mine would be something really lame like John Wilson or Jason Silverstein if I wanted to give it a little Jewish flavor.


But Vick chose Ron Mexico, who sounds like a bad-ass pimp trying to put one over on the man in a 1970's blaxploitation films.


Now, word of Vick's use of the name Ron Mexico gets out on the internet, as information of that kind is wont to do, and us sports fans, we love a good joke, so people started getting personalized Atlanta Falcons jerseys with the name Ron Mexico on the back.


The NFL, if you must know, turns out to be slightly uptight about it's reputation. They aren't really excited about the prospect of fans showing up at games wearing Mexico jerseys, reminding the populace that in their spare time, some of their athletes like to spread venereal diseases.


So the NFL bans apparel shops from selling fans personalized NFL jerseys with the words Ron Mexico on them.


This, by itself, is funny.


But it's not the end of our story, which I promised you would end with me telling you what the single greatest job assignment in history is, even though I told you I hate hyperbole!


As it turns out, because the news about the banning of selling Ron Mexico jerseys was leaked on the Internet, some enterprising journalist managed to find out that Ron Mexico isn't the only thing you can't get on the back of a personalized NFL jersey.


No, as it turns out, there are, and I swear this is true, 1,159 things you can't get written on the back of a personalized NFL jersey.


Which brings us to, that's right, the greatest job assignment in the history of mankind - the committee that drew up that fucking list.


Can you imagine how amazing that must have been? Imagine you are an employee of the corporate arm of the National Football League.


One day you come into work, and you get a cup of coffee, and you respond to a couple emails, and then you head into your 9:30 am meeting, just trying to make it through another day, and your boss drops this on you:


"Yeah everyone, we've received a memo from upstairs, apparently people are trying to put the word FUCK on a personalized NFL jersey, and we can't have that happening. They aren't happy about it, and as usual, we're the ones who are going to have to fix the situation. So what I need is just a few of you to chip in on this and help us develop a list of things we won't allow people to put on the backs of jerseys.


Bonus time is coming up fellas, so I'm really going to need this list to be thorough, we want to nip this thing in the bud. Get I get a few volunteers?"


Who in here would not have signed up for that committee? I'd have done it for free! I'd have come in on weekends, and not taken vacation days I was due, whatever it took to be in on that committee, to just sit around all day and say things like, "Now, what if someone comes in and wants a jersey with SPERM HERDER written on it. Now SPERM HERDER could be written as two words, separately, but it could also be a compound word and just be jammed together as SPERMHERDER. We should probably ban it both ways to be sure, right?"


1,159 terms that can't be put on a jersey. That is a job well done, committee.


I have the list right here, and I have to say - I am not sure I think too many people are coming in asking for some of these terms.


Like how many people were out there really going into a store and saying, yes, I'd like a Randy Moss #81 Pats jersey, but instead of it saying Moss on it, can I have it say GAYMUTHAFUCKINWHORE, one word?

That's all(!) I got so far...

That's It For Me, You've Been Great!

Wednesday was my fourth trip up to the stage at the Laughing Skull Lounge. Overall, I was pleased with my performance. I thought my stage presence was the best yet - I do seem to be gaining confidence with each time up, which is encouraging for the future. I'm by no means "there" yet, but hopefully as I continue to perform (and repeat material, something I haven't really done yet) I will keep getting better.

It's a funny thing, confidence. Some people have it on stage but have terrible material. This guy who performed Wednesday night was loud, aggressive, arrogant, and didn't say a single funny thing for five minutes. But he believed in himself, and even though no one was laughing, he never gave in throughout his entire set. In a strange way, I feel like I learned more from him than any other comic that performed. I want to be that guy but with better jokes (or any jokes, I guess).

Anyway, the big disappointment from my performance was my continuing inability to accurately assess how long my routine is taking.

From what I can gather, the worst thing a comic can do is go over his allotted time. Especially in an open mic setting when tons of people are going to perform, the last thing you want to do is overstay your welcome and piss off not only your fellow comics but also the show host and/or club manager.

As someone who wants to build a good rapport with the guy who runs this thing (there are very few open mics in Atlanta, and certainly none as convenient as the one at the Laughing Skull, which is just minutes away from my house), I am terrified of committing this faux pas.

The way it normally works is, the host will flash you a sign when you are getting close to your limit, and then it's up to you to wrap it up in a timely fashion.

I think I'm overcompensating.

Wednesday night my set ran only 4:10, well shy of the five minutes each comic is allotted. I didn't realize that at the time - all I remember is seeing the signal, and upon getting a good laugh 10 seconds or so later, deciding spontaneously to pull a George Costanza and go out on a high note.

Was it necessary? Probably not. And for the third straight show, I cut myself off well short of the end of my material. I suppose that's not the end of the world, but at this stage of my journey I am in search of information more than anything. I am doing new material each time out and I'd like to see how a crowd reacts to as much of it as I can before I start trying to decide on my best material to use.

I'm sure I'll get the signal again if I really start to go over; meanwhile my premature evacuation of the stage is only hurting myself.

As far as my material goes, I've gotten different reviews from different people. Some thought it was my best stuff to date, while others thought my previous sets had been better.

From my perspective, I was relatively happy with the crowd reaction while I was on stage, but my mood soured a bit as the night wore on and several other comics touched on similar topics.

I often wonder how likely it is that my material is original. Is it possible to come up with something in this day and age that hasn't been covered yet without being a genius like Patton Oswalt or Sarah Silverman? As badly as I don't want to overstay my welcome on stage, I even worse (even more badly?) want to avoid stealing someone else's material, accidently or otherwise.

The laughs were good, but overall I left the night feeling like I need to work on coming up with more original material than what I've been writing of late. Or maybe the trick is just to understand that there are so many comics out there you are bound to overlap with someone else's take eventually.

I wonder if there is a right answer?

Allow Myself To Introduce Myself...Again

So as per usual, I never managed to keep up with this blog when I started it, much like every other blog I've ever been associated with. I truly do wonder what it would take for me to actually keep up a blog, like what would actually entice me to do it. Would a million dollars work? Would I update a blog for a million dollars? Or what about a threesome? The promise of a threesome seems like something that would motivate just about any man. I'd actually love to know what happens next in that scenario.

In fact, if anyone who ever reads this has been promised a threesome as motivation for doing something and accomplished that goal, I'd like to know how that turned out. Was it worth it? Could nothing ever motivate you again afterwards? Or would another threesome still be a gratifying reward and not fall victim to the Law of Diminishing Returns?

Anyway, I don't have any carrot at the end of a stick for myself for this blog, so I have no idea if I'll really update it often, semi-often, rarely, or never again. But I hope sincerely that I do - I have a lot of nights where I sit up with nothing to do and all the time in the world to think, and sometimes I think things that I find amusing, but am always too lazy to write them down.

As a spectator of my life, I would love to see what that would look like - if only the hypothetical me could overtake the actual me and make that happen.

So should you read this blog from now on? I guess that's up to me. The past would say no, this is probably the last post of any significant length, or maybe I'll get a few more in before I fade into oblivion, but it would be really cool if I kept up with this and actually put my thoughts down on paper. Maybe it will help me write new material for my hypothetically-burgeoning comedy career, or maybe it will just be like a little online diary of my thoughts to someday show my kids (to help explain to them why they're now in therapy). Or, let's be honest, maybe this is a one-time deal.

So, with that spirit in mind, here is what I was thinking about tonight...

We may have a lot of issues in this country, but it's days like today that make me realize how truly lucky we are to live in the United States. Like way more lucky than we realize.

Today's example - in the midst of all the rioting and stuff going on in Iran, where people are rioting for their freedom and simple human rights, in the United States there are videos from Knoxville, Tennessee, where students are hanging Lane Kiffin in effigy for leaving after one season as head football coach to take the same position at USC. People were yelling, cursing, the police were even called.

That's right - that's what we're fighting mad about here in the US - who is going to coach the 5th or 6th best football team in the Southeastern Conference? Kiffin, you BASTARD!

Can you imagine what a person living in Darfur would give to devote some time to complain about a coaching scandal?

Darfurian: "The nerve of Kiffin! What about his promise to return the Tennessee program to its former glory? I'd love to hold a picket sign up about that, but the local warlord cut off my arms at the elbows."

I've seen a lot of people outraged over Kiffin's behavior today (and for the record, this has disaster for Pete Carroll and Kiffin written all over it), but I feel blessed to live in a society that can afford to waste its time worrying about such matters.

And I can probably understand a little bit better why a lot of the world hates us too.

By the way, this post is partially inspired by Conan O'Brien, who may be leaving the airwaves it seems, or at least NBC. I realized that I am 31, and Conan was 30 when he first got the gig hosting Late Night. I don't mean for this to be that stereotypical, I've accomplished nothing and and look how old I'm getting sort of thing, but at the same time, damn - that's impressive. If he can do that, the least I can do is write this post.

Tomorrow night will mark my fourth time up on stage. Once again, I will be debuting all new material, save for one joke I'm bringing back from my second set. I am proud of myself for continuing to try to expand my repertoire, but I guess at some point I should try to start honing some stuff and putting together a consistent set. How I do tomorrow night with the new stuff could go a long way in helping me make that decision, I suppose.