I don't mean to get everyone so excited that they quit their jobs so they can stay home and hit reload on their browsers nonstop. That's just the way it gets when I start up a project. And today, I started up one dill pickle of a project. One of those projects that will either get me arrested, or get me free gravy for life at Chicken Express. Watch this space for more details.
In other news, it looks like I'm going to be going away for a long time. Ha ha ha, that's not really me. It's a guy who looks disturbingly like me who happens to share my DNA, but he is definitely not me. I think that is probably my favorite crime story of all time. Does the criminal here have prison bitch written all over him or what? You just know it's not going to well when you get tagged as the Snuggler before you even make it inside. Here's how I imagine his first meal in the big house going.
Hardened Con #1 pokes at his mashed potatoes. He told the cook last week that if he found any more lumps in his potatoes, the cook would be raped and then set on fire, then raped again by another man who is also on fire.
Hardened Con #1: So what are you new guys in for?
Fresh Meat #1: I killed a man, ate half his remains, then used the remaining half to commit mail fraud.
Hardened Con #1: Pussy. (Hardened Con #1 pokes out Fresh Meat #1's eyes with his spork and uses it to choke a white supremacist.) How about you?
Fresh Meat #2: I kidnapped an entire monastery, made them steal puppies from the area's pet stores, then forced them to train those puppies to attack any religious persons they saw. Then I turned the puppies on the nuns. Then I used the puppies to commit mail fraud.
Hardened Con #1: What is this, amateur hour? (Hardened Con #1 cuts off Fresh Meat #2's genitals with the mashed potatoes and trades the genitals to the black panthers for last month's issue of Hustler.) What about you?
The Snuggler: Well, I broke into women's apartments, then I snuggled with them, folded their clothes, and arranged their shoes.
Hardened Con #1: Then you beat them up and killed them?
The Snuggler: No, but one time, I made nachos when I was done.
It was widely speculated that after the triumph of hitting #1 on google for goulash, I would kill myself immediately so as to go out in a blaze of glory. You better think again, turkeys. I can't give this up while the competition is hot on my trail. While we're at it, I forgot to say thank you yesterday to those bastards for warming up the #1 spot for me. But anyway, as promised, today I will relate to you how I was molested by the belly dancer at Cafe Istanbul on Saturday night.
I'll set the scene for you. It's Saturday night, I'm back home in Arlington visiting the fam, and my mom suggests we hit up our favorite turkish hotspot. It's not that we're too good for American food, we just know our way around the Tavuk Sis Kebap, know what I'm saying? So my mom, step-dad, and step-grandmother (if such a relation exists) load up in the family truckster and move it on over to Dallas, intent on kebabing our butts off. I am wearing my eating pants; I am ready to get down to business. Before I leave, I place a call to Nunchuks, who lives in the area and relates to me that on Saturday nights, Cafe Istanbul has bellydancers to entertain the crowd. I am intrigued, but I do not reveal this to anyone.
We get there, we chow down, we talk endlessly on the merits of the dewey decimal system. Towards the end of the meal, I get up from the table and place a scathing call to Nunchuks, full of insults and slanderous limericks, due to the fact that I'd seen no bellydancers. I had been tricked, and I put her down on my Enemies List (she and Hank Williams Jr. are the only ones still alive on it). As soon as I sit down, some really loud, Arabic soft-core porn music comes on over the speakers. Suddenly, the belly dancer bursts through the door and starts shaking her unmentionables. I am chagrined after calling Nunchuks out as a whoreface, but I sit and enjoy the show.
Immediately after the belly dancer came out, she made it clear that she was going to get the audience involved in this whole thing. She went around, doing little belly dancer jokes with everyone, including me. I was okay with that; I can take some manufactured tough love from a belly dancer. After she had made the rounds, I thought she was going to get into the act and leave everyone alone. I was mostly correct there, as she was only planning on bugging one more person. She looks around the restaurant for a moment, and then runs over to my table like a Samoan chasing after the ice cream man. She begs me to get up and join her act. Nevermind my Doner Durum was getting cold! Nevermind the fact my mom and I were in the middle of our Best of 11, Intergalactic Championship Thumb War. But who am I to deny the people a show of a lifetime? I get up there with her and play along.
She wants me to dance with her, sort of in a dance off fashion. Obviously she doesn't know the lethal mistake she's just made, so I give her a taste of the dance dance inferno that I bring to most indoor establishments. The crowd roars with envy, and she decides to make me stay up there with her and place things on her stomach so she can do belly dancer tricks. They were things like two glasses on her stomach, with one full of water, and pouring the water from one glass to another using her stomach muscles. Impressive. Lots of different crap like that, and I play along, having a good time with the whole thing.
Finally, she lets me sit down. I get back to my food, happy that this deranged Turkish woman has given me a moment's peace. About 2 minutes later, I hear her coming back. I am a little apprehensive, but then what are the chances of her screwing with me for a third time? That's probably against the rules of the Bellydancers Union or something. Evidently, she saw in me some kind of diamond in the rough, because she navigated her way to my table again and started up with the harrassment again.
I tried to ignore her, but she wouldn't have any of it. She kept bumping my seat with her rear end until I turned around. I've never had a seat whacked so hard; it was like being attacked by a rhino. I made it clear that she would be lashed until she dropped if she made me get up, but it didn't stop her. She wanted me to take some money off the floor and stick it in her bellydancer pants. Fine, whatever, I pick up the money and try to place it delicately in there. It's not happening, due to her gyrations. I try again, but she starts jiggling away. I have to chase her around the restaurant before she's cornered and I stuff the money down there like it's covered in monkey pox. At this point, I beg my family to make a hasty escape. They agree and we beat it to the door, real sneaky like.
As we're leaving, one of the waitresses comes up to me and says, "I've never seen her that nervous around a customer!" And that was all it took to change it from a bizarre, frustrating encounter to the highlight of my life. I am Cody Powell, #1 result for goulash on google, and Turkish bellydancers everywhere long for my sweet caress.
There's really only one thing I have to say today.
IN YOUR FACE, http://www.fsz.bme.hu/!
We finally did it; this page is now the #1 result for goulash on google. Go ahead, take a victory lap around your office/home/prison cell, because you deserve it. It's been 3 long months of fighting in the trenches, trying to spread the good word about the only thing that matters: the crown jewel of Hungarian cuisine. My quest ruined my marriage, killed all my pets, and got me banned from all the Luby's in Texas. But you know, now that we've made it to the top, it was totally worth it.
For those of you who are worried the success is going to go to my head, you are right. I will no longer talk to anyone who hasn't been on Entertainment Tonight. I will travel with an entourage of fellow glamorous people (Don Johnson, Ed Asner, and Terry Bradshaw). I will refer to myself as The Cody. I will not, I repeat WILL NOT, stop spreading the good word about goulash, though. To prove this, I will give you a few goulash secrets.
Tomorrow, a rehash of my Saturday night with the bellydancers. And of course, more goulash.
Good news: I got the jar open, thanks to some good tips left in the comments by some of the leading jar-opening luminaries of our times. When I finish with the jar, I don't know whether to throw it away or give it a Viking style funeral. We were like Apollo Creed vs Rocky for the past few weeks. He won the first bout, but I didn't give up. I trained like a demon, running on the beach in my underwear and wheeling senior citizens around in a wheel barrow to put on the muscle. And then this afternoon, we fought again. Blood splattered those at ringside, and he hit me so hard I peed in my pants multiple times. It was tough, but I triumphed in the end, thanks to my curmudgeonly corner men. Tragically, after my victory, the salsa jar got killed in the ring by Dolph Lundgren. Alas, "Calvillo's Original La Fogata Salsa Casera Since 1978", we hardly knew ye.
Speaking of all of this, wouldn't it be cool if, when the Internet recognizes me as its favorite son, I get to box Rocky's opponents from all of the movies? Maybe for charity or something? Here's how I think the fights would break down.
Me vs Apollo Creed (Carl Weathers) - Doesn't Carl Weathers read off the Lotto results somewhere now? I'm not scared of him. I'd punch him so hard, he'd poop his Dockers and then start lactating.
Me vs Clubber Lang (Mr. T) - Mr. T has slowed since the days of Rocky III and the A Team, and is prime for the picking. He's still strong, so I'd make sure he only hit my rock-hard abs for the first few rounds. If he hits me in the face, I lose my meal ticket, as simple as that. But after he's tired from that, then I will do one of those things where I spin one hand in circles like I'm winding it up to sock him, and then I hit him with the other. Yeah, I like to put on a show for these charity things.
Me vs Ivan Drago (Dolph Lundgren) - I haven't seen Dolph Lundgren in anything in a long time, but I have no doubts he'd beat the crap out of me. This is why I must get him before the fight starts, perhaps in a questionable manner. I could pretend like I'm a damsel in distress on the side of the highway, and then when he stops to help me, I could bonk him in the head with the tire iron. Hopefully we could fight immediately thereafter, when I might stand a chance.
Me vs Whoever the dude was in Rocky V (Tommy Morrison) - I don't really remember this guy, I so can't comment. I will venture to say that if he's anything like Jim Morrison or Van Morrison, I could probably take him. I'm hoping for the physique of Van with the mental acuity of Jim. I think that would favor me.
I must've been cursed by some mean old gypsy or something because I bought a jar of salsa almost two weeks ago that I still cannot open. I'm no momma's boy; I can open the hell out of just about any jar. But this one just isn't happening, even though my hands are as strong as a robot's. I've tried everything at my disposal and now my efforts have devolved to just me hitting the jar with a hammer and seeing what happens.
It's times like this where I wish I wasn't a moron when it came to science, because it seems like there'd be a scientific solution to this problem. I have some vague suspicion that hot/cold temperatures causes stuff to expand/contract, but I have no idea how that works. And I'm not going to just try and risk getting either scalding salsa all over myself, or getting Sub Zeroed in the face with it. What about friction? Does friction have anything to do with this? Could I buy a can of Anti-Friction, spray it on the jar, and open that bastard up? Magnets maybe? Could I go to one of the Poles and open this thing up?
I wish this was something I could complain about to the company. I just think if I were to do so, this would come back to bite me on the ass when it comes time to elect teh board members for Salsa Afficionado magazine. It's a shame I told Lou Ferrigno he couldn't be my roommate, because this would probably be a done deal if he were here. If anyone has any ideas, let me know.
Today was the day of the semi-annual hair cut. Even though I am a huge fan of the clippers and barbicide, I just can't handle the small talk. I need to take some course on how to talk about dumb stuff with people you don't like, because I can't engage anyone in small talk. I'm liable to get stabbed in the eye with car keys whenever I try to carry on one of those conversations. Is there a place where the hair cutters are mute (obviously deaf mutes wouldn't work)? Or maybe where they pipe in a crapload of white noise? Or where all the hair cutters are so terrorized by their husbands, that they're afraid to speak to males? Whatever the case, let's look into it.
As a matter of fact, if I were to be detained and interrogated by some shadowy group (think the YWCA), small talk could probably do me in. I could stand them yelling at me or tickling me until I weep; stuff like that would never get me to give up the goods on my comrades. However, if some guy were to sit next to me and say, "Are we having a heat wave or what?", I would sing like a canary. It'd be all, "The bombs are in the tortilla warehouse, please make him talk abuot something relevant!"
So Pro Cuts, if you're wondering why I returned that monogramed poncho you sent me, here you go.
Well friends, we're still stuck as the #2 result for goulash on google. Obviously János Mohácsi and Imre Szeberényi made some sort of deal with Google to get their stupid page on top. If that's the way it's going to be, then that's the way it's going to be; I can bribe with the best of them. So, here's an open offer to the good people at Google: Let me be the #1 result and in return, I will arrange a date for you with Bryant Gumbel. What you and Gumbel do on the date is up to you, but I will arrange a lovely suite at the Ramada for you two to kick it at afterwards. Help yourself to the Hot Pockets and RC Cola in the mini fridge of the room.
I had a large, large time at the Austin City Limits Music Fest this weekend. Almost too large of a time, like an inordinately mammoth time. There's one rule of life I keep bumping up against that I'll just share with all of you now: if you're going to be out in the Texas sun, sweating like a monkey at a track meet, alcohol becomes a dangerous, deadly proposition. It's a fine line between, "Yay, I'm having fun outdoors" and "Oh dear lord, who set my pants on fire?" In this situation, as in all others, I'd recommend going for the horse tranquilizers over alcohol.
Well, no response yet from this dude. Sandile Nogxina, if you happen to be reading this, I was serious. Let's make some money! Luckily, Mr. Lioi has joined me in my fight to anger the scam artists of the third world. Please don't call us heroes.
Folks, take a look at this. That's right, this site is the #2 result for goulash on google. Every day, about 15 people mistakenly get this site while looking up a recipe for their favorite Hungarian treat. I don't know about you, but I think it's a wonderful system when I can pick a random food as the name for a weblog and just a few months later, I am recognized as the world's 2nd leading authority on that food. Of course, maybe my google ranking has nothing to do with this site and is just a reflection on my goulash making skills. Skills which, may I remind all of you, are freaking fierce. My secret? I put fritos and Olde English in every pot. Don't tell anyone!
Back to business. Yes, I find the #2 ranking to be immensely satisfying, but it's not enough. This site is destined for #1 and all of us know it. The current #1 result will undoubtedly result to bribery and smear tactics to keep this from happening, but it's just a matter of time; you can't stop fate, János Mohácsi and Imre Szeberényi. I'm going to take your spot on google and then rub your stinky Hungarian faces in it. Abandon your site and now be spared.
Assuming that János and Imre don't abandon their site, I am going to need some help from you people. We need to get this baby to #1, pronto. How do we do that? I have no idea, but I will look it up. Okay, what I need you people to do is replace all of your links to the goulash page on www.fsz.bme.hu with a link to here. I know, it'll be hard and your visitors may come to resent you. Tough cookies! Your visitors will come to appreciate you for more than links to goulash recipes. If not, they're a bunch of assholes and you don't want them there anyway.
This message brought to you by the world's leading expert on things called goulash that have nothing to do with the food.
When my sister first saw me last weekend, she asked if I had been working out. Of course not, I said, as I am scared of the gay people at the gym. Truth be told, I had noticed some increased strength. The past few months, cinderblocks have crumbled in my hands every time I've tried to pick them up. I tried to pet a dog last week and ended up knocking it through the floor. Something was definitely going on here, and I was going to get down to the bottom of it.
I decided to step on a scale and see what the deal was. Maybe I had been adding muscle without knowing it. What popped up on the scale was very enlightening: 170 pounds, my heaviest weight ever. Yes, it was quite a milestone, and I did a victory lap around my apartment to celebrate the achievement. To think of all the scoffers who thought I would be forever stuck at 160; in your face, jerks! Subsisting on fatty foods and beer has shown another benefit, and no one's taking my 170 pounds away from me. I am now a strong and heavy man; form an orderly line, ladies. As some people have warned me that I may be headed down the slippery path to morbid obesity with my new weight gain, I have decided to list the Pros and Cons of my new weight.
Just one day ago, I begged you readers to let me know if any of you received one of those African money scam emails. Well, low and behold, I check my inbox this morning, and what have I received? That's right, my very own African money scam email. It just goes to show you, good things happen to good looking people! In any event, I have decided to play along with this in the interest of web funnies. Here's the good parts of the email I received.
From: "Adv Sandile Nogxina"
To: Cooter Powell Subject: Adv Sandile Nogxina
I write to seek your cooperation as my foreign partner and your assistance to enable us to own properties and invest in the stable economy of your country. I apologize if this mail does not suit your personal or business ethics. My names are Adv Sandile Nogxina .We are making this venture proposal to you in strict confidence. As senior civil servants in the South Africa Government, the South African civil service laws (Code of Conduct Bureau)forbids us to own a foreign accounts.
The money we have in our possession is an overdue payment bill totaling Eighteen Million, Five Hundred Thousand US Dollars (US$18,500,000.00) which we want to transfer abroad with the assistance and co-operation of a company/or an individual to receive the said funds, via a reliable Bank Account. If you will like to assist us as a partner, then indicate your interest after which we shall both discuss on the modalities. All other information to facilitate the remittance of the funds will be revealed to you in due course. For your assistance, you shall receive our share of the entire sum will be 30% amounting to Us$5.55Million of the US$18.5Million, 60% amounting to US$11.1Million for us and 10% amounting to US$1.85Million will be used to settle taxation and other miscellaneous expenses in the course of transferring the funds to your account.
Thank you and God bless you. Best regards,
Adv Sandile Nogxina
And here is my response:
Sandile, your proposal intrigues me. I have long heard of the fantastic sums of money that the civil servants of South Africa deal with, and as a tireless supporter of the Code of Conduct Bureau, I think it's about time I got my piece. That being said, I volunteer my services immediately to help you in this critical mission. I have been looking to get into international finance and it seems to me that an anonymous internet based scheme is the perfect way to do it.
But first, a few questions. What all do you need from me? I hope you need my social security number! Can I have my $5.5 million in half gold bars, half Sacajawea dollars? What's your astrological sign? I hope it's Taurus because I work well with them. Is that enough money to buy my own ostrich farm? How much do you think that costs? Would you be willing to work at the ostrich farm if we hit it off? The hours will be long and the pay will be low. Yes, the birds will bite you and it will hurt. That'll all be in the back of your mind the first time you see the ostriches mate, though.
Let me know what the next step is, I'm ready to make some money!
I will update everyone as soon as I receive a response.
Well, I'll be honest. There's not much point to a football preview when most teams have already played 2 games. Not to mention the fact that I'm tired as hell of writing about that crap. So, in order to free up some space, I'll just say that all the teams in the NFC East, NFC South, and NFC West will win the Super Bowl as the NFL suddenly embraces a "share the wealth", USSR-like mentality. They celebrate with a bowl of borscht and then a snugglefest with a babushka. Okay, let's move on to more pressing matters.
Last week was a tough week to be a celebrity named John, eh amigos? The egg is really on my face as I stormed into my apartment complex's office earlier this month and said that if someone didn't fix my water heater pronto, John Ritter would mysteriously die. Damn my vague, ad hoc threats! But really, I liked both those guys, and since Johnny Cash has already been eulogized a billion times, I would like to point out that John Ritter made some incredibly funny movies that never got their due. Case in point? Real Men. Check it out if you local video store is having a Ritterthon/Ritterbration/Ritterospective. If your local video store isn't having a Ritterospective, then check out Space Jam and weep uncontrollably whenever Charles Barkley comes on screen.
There are two things I would like to start doing that I can't do by myself, so I call out to my readers, which essentially means I'm calling out to myself and the people who stumble upon this place looking for Salute Your Shorts fan fiction. First, I would like to start a regular advice column on here. Whether it be advice on relationships (dump the bitch)or the proper diet for a basset hound (10 ham sandwiches a day), I am here to help. So, someone ask me a question, either in the comments or in email.
Also, if anyone has gotten one of those Nigerian email thingies where they say need your help to get some money out of their country, let me know. I have a response I've been waiting to use, but no Nigerians are interested in my services. How do you say "Big Mistake" in Nigerian? That's probably not their language, but they'll be sorry one day.
Before we get into part 5 of the NFL Preview that shall never end, I would like to announce that I've revamped the zinger generator, so check it out and pick up a few insults with which to crush all your enemies. It just might be the most intelligent piece of software ever. All of that being said, today I'll be taking a lookie at the NFC North, which was collectively voted "Most Likely to Be Arrested for Impersonating the Mail Man". I have decided to compare all of today's teams to TV shows.
NFC North Preview
Chicago Bears - The Chicago Bears are like the last season of the Cosby Show. The last season of the Cosby Show was a real stinkeroo and mainly because it was all about some little girl named Olivia who was Denise's daugher or something. The Cosby Show's loyal fans didn't want Olivia; we wanted Theo, Rudy, and Cockroach, preferrably ruffling the Cos's feathers. Did we get them? Hell no, and the show went on to its pathetic end. The Bears this year is full of Olivias, cute little girls of undetermined ethnicity who are determined to make us love them. But we don't want to love you, Bears. We want to love Rudy, and maybe Cockroach.
Detroit Lions - The Detroit Lions remind me of Charles in Charge. Offensive linemen Stockar McDougle is Scott Baio, keeping all the goofy-asses together with his patented brand of tough love. And defensive end Kalimba Edwards is his sidekick Buddy, always playing second banana to crowd-pleasing results. The teaming has never failed to stir America's cocoa in the past, but there's a gleam in Kalimba's eye that tells me he's tired of being the Stockar McDougle's Willie Aames. Kalimba's going to do something drastic to assert himself as the true Charles in Charge, whether it be stealing Stockar's woman, filling Stockar's locker up with donkey manure and sour cream, or accidentally peeing on Stockar in the shower. Whatever it is, look for a hilarious battle of wits between these two.
Green Bay Packers - The Green Bay Packers are like Magnum PI, with Brett Favre as Tom Selleck. The only thing is that instead of a ferrari, he has a Toyota Prius. And instead of a gun, he has a box of stale Cheez-Its. I don't see any crimes getting solved here.
Minnesota Vikings - The Minnesota Vikings are like Mad About You. Daunte Culpepper is the Paul Reiser character and Randy Moss is Helen Hunt. Nothing points out the gentle humor of everyday life like the constant pickles these two keep getting themselves into. And romance? You bet your ass. Yeah, they have their ups and downs, and some times things get a little dramatic, but there's no denying the passion in the bedroom between these two. This marriage is going to last, folks.
Now for Part 4 of the NFL Preview. Today, we're looking at the AFC West, which, just like the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and Dick Cheney, doesn't actually exist.
AFC West Preview
Denver Broncos - Their season looked promising until the RIAA began filing lawsuits earlier this week. The Broncos, unashamed downloaders of anything having to do with Justin Timberlake, got served with one of those bad boys and promptly went underground. No one has seen or heard from them since, but they made it clear they will still be playing their games. I imagine them with a series of dramatic and unexpected entrances each week as they try to elude the police. One week, they all parachute from helicopters onto the field. The next week, they disguise themselves as security guards and enter the stadium, only to tear off their costumes right before kickoff. The police will be so impressed with their moxie from all these stunts that they refuse to arrest them after the game.
Kansas City Chiefs - The Chiefs gave up all hope of making it to the Super Bowl this year as soon as they heard about the California Governor's recall election. They had a team meeting and collectively gave the NFL the finger, saying they were going to devote the fall to winning the election. They will still go to their games, but rather than suit up and hit each other, they will hold lengthy talks in the stands with fans about the budget crisis. They won't win many games, but they will win our hearts.
Oakland Raiders - This has been a big summer for pirates, and that got Raiders owner Al Davis to thinking. To capitalize on the fact that the Raiders mascot is sort of a pirate looking guy, they are going to totally ride Pirates of the Carribean's coat tails and go all out with the sea rover crap. They will pull up to every game in an enormous schooner and fire cannons at the opposing teams. Most of the guys on the team will have scurvy, and during half time, they will dig up the entire field searching for buried treasure. Definite play-off material.
San Diego Chargers - It's been a rough couple of years for the Chargers. They have been working their tails off, playing the football, and most of America couldn't give a crap about them. So, this year, the Chargers decided they were going to give the American public a show we couldn't miss. How did they do this? They went out and signed America's two favorite bad boys to their roster: Corey Feldman and Corey Haim. Presumably they will alternate at quartback, and they promise to strut, preen, and juke their way into the hearts of millions. Perhaps you laugh because you think they can't play. I'll have you know they shared the MVP award in a touch football game played featuring the cast of the Lost Boys versus the cast from Blue's Clues. Can you say "Super Bowl Champs"?
Today, we're doing Part 3 of the NFL Preview. We'll be taking a look at the AFC East, whose teams won the NFL Talent Show last year with a brilliant lip sync of the Beach Boys "Kokomo".
AFC East Preview
Miami Dolphins - Miami Coach Dave Wannstedt pulled a ballsy move this offseason in letting mad scientist Ludwig Von Plutonium be in charge of all training. Ludwig Von Plutonium decided that he would bombard all players with intense bursts of radiation on a daily basis to make them superhuman. It's too early to determine how this will affect the team's play, but they certainly look different. Dolphins star running back Ricky Williams is now 9 feet tall with 17 arms, and quarterback Jay Fiedler can shoot laserbeams from his eyes, although he is now confined to a wheelchair. Things ought to be interesting.
New England Patriots - Following a disappointing '02 season, Patriots head coach Bill Belichick decided that he'd bring his team back to prominence by taking a hands-on approach. He built an elaborate set of bunk beds so that all of the players could sleep over every night, and he assigned chores to every single member of the team. And if they don't do their chores, then no Fig Newtons for them, it's as simple as that. He asked everyone on the team to call him Uncle Billy, and even though they do have some fun, he's not scared to deal out some spankings if someone breaks the rules (see Tom Brady breaking curfew). Even if this season doesn't go well, look for the WB to turn this into a sitcom called That's My Belichick.
Buffalo Bills and New York Jets
Capitalizing on the popularity of TLC's Trading Spaces, the NFL decided to do a Trading Spaces type thing with these two teams. All of the Bills players are Jets for this year, and vice versa for the Bills. While these teams are switched, players can go as wild as they want to in their temporary surroundings. Former Jets coach Herman Edwards' and TLC super designer Vern are planning on doing a medieval theme in the Bills locker room, complete with stables, an apothecary, and chain mail all over the place. Upon hearing of that, former Bills QB Drew Bledsoe was heard to remark, "How gay is that?" He then begged Laurie the Designer to allow him to put sparkles on the Jets' uniforms.
Today, we continue with Part 2 of the NFL Preview. We'll be taking a look at the AFC South today, whose teams collectively have won the past 270 Super Bowls.
AFC South Preview
Houston Texans - It was about time that an NFL team adopted the Texans as their name. And everything about this team from Houston is Texas all the way, from their Alamo shaped stadium to their coon skin, Davy Crockett style helmets. Sadly, the lack of normal football helmets has led to a disturbing amount of concussions and brain aneurysms. What they lack in modern day equipment though they make up for with the oil derricks that litter the playing field and the armadillos that run freely across the end zones. Look out for their trick play, the San Jacinto Shuffle. Provided their horses don't die, this is their year.
Indianapolis Colts - Looking to revive their dying franchise, the Colts made a long-term sponsorship deal with the popular malt liquor Colt .45. From now on, they will be referred to as the Indianapolis Colt .45. Half-time will feature each player guzzling a 40 and then pouring a little out for the teammates to injured to play. It is widely expected that the half-team drinking will lead to some ugly 4th quarters and undesirable hook-ups after the game. Watch for an appearance by Colt .45 ad man Billy Dee Williams should the team make the Super Bowl.
Jacksonville Jaguars - Just like their namesake, the Jaguars are expensive English pieces of crap, prone to breaking, and operating at the disposal of rich old guys. Not only do they insist on playing only English style football each game, better known to us capitalists as soccer, but they are reviled around the league for throwing scalding tea into the eyes of their opponents whenever they fall behind. A force to be reckoned with 300 years ago, they can't expect anyone to fear them until they stop taking Custard Breaks during their games.
Tennessee Titans - Rather than follow up on last year's winning season with a summer of work outs, instead everyone from the Titans just went over to coach Jeff Fischer's house and played a crapload of Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. It was a daring strategy and we already saw it work this pre-season when quarterback Steve McNair stole Brett Favre's car before the game and then ran him over with it. If any looting breaks out mid-game, it is expected the Titans will put on a truly awe-inspiring display of mayhem. Warning to the other teams: they know the cheat for unlimited ammo. You want to stay on the Titans' good side this year.
After countless emails, calls, and holograms, I have ceded to your wishes. What I'll be doing the next few entries is a complete NFL preview for every team. Today, we start with the AFC North, also known as the dandylion division. Why dandylion division? Whenever a team in the AFC North loses a game, they must go and put flowers in the winning team's hair. It sounds weird, but in person, it's beautiful. That being said, let's get down to it.
AFC North Preview
Baltimore Ravens - For years, the Baltimore Ravens have been the laughingstocks of the NFL. Why? Because, unlike every other team in the league who considers their mascot to be simply a mascot, Baltimore really gets into the whole Ravens thing. They don't even have human players; they're all actual ravens with shoulderpads and helmets. It's quite a sight to see 11 ravens take the field versus a steroid ravaged, human opponent, even though there has been a real problem with opponents eating the birds. Nevertheless, the Ravens have heart and they're looking to surprise some people this year.
Cincinnati Bengals - Well, after years of resisting the inevitable, Cincinnati finally changed their name from the Bangles to the Bengals. No longer will they take the field looking like the fashionable lady rockers of the 80s, or sing Manic Monday during their huddles. After rejecting the Cincinnati Duran Durans and the Cincinnati Hall and Oateses, they selected Bengals, which is some sort of a big kitty. Even with the name change, the players insist on wearing make-up for the game, saying it makes them feel pretty. Looking pretty, feeling pretty: the Cincinnati Bengals.
Cleveland Browns - The Cleveland Browns are leading the way to curb the gross injustice of the NFL's pay scale. No longer will million dollar paydays be common in the Cleveland lockerroom. Instead, every player will get a bag of Fritos for every outstanding play they make. They can then barter these Fritos for goods and services in the greater Cleveland area. Before you get in a huff, did I mention these are gold plated fritos? And that every player of the team gets half off the MSRP of a Toyota Prius just for wearing the Cleveland uniform? They are the envy of all their opponents in those handsome automobiles.
Pittsburgh Steelers - Pittsburgh, a town best known as the birthplace of acting legend Cheech Marin, apparently fields some sort of football team. I had a sneak peak into Pittsburgh's playbook, and let me tell you something, this forward pass is for real. Not only will Pittsburgh be utilizing this "forward pass" like a house on fire, but also the sideways pass, the backwards pass, the caddy corner pass, the indian style pass, the nacho cheese pass, and the feared french tickler pass. The only pass you won't be hearing from these guys is "Pass the butter!" because butter churns have been outlawed in their locker room.
The RIAA continues to earn high marks from its customers related to its latest legal moves. When reached for comment, one of the latest defendants said, "To be honest, I was a little worried when I heard that the RIAA was going to be suing hundreds of more music fans up to $150,000 for every song they share. It just didn't make sense, coming from such a forward-looking group. But now that I've experienced it first hand and paid them $15,000 to leave me alone, I see they're just taking customer satisfaction to the next level. If I had any money left, it'd all go towards new CDs to support this bold new campaign!"
An RIAA spokesperson elaborated on their new tactics. "We're referring to it as our 'fear and awe' campaign. Think about it, what business doesn't want its customers to regard it with both fear and awe? It's a radical new business idea, something we came up with while watching a documentary on Laotian prison camps. There was a moment on that show where the guard was getting ready to hook the prisoner's testicles up to a car battery, and the camera zoomed in on the prisoner's face. You just knew that poor guy wasn't going anywhere and we paused it right there, trying to dissect exactly what that guy was feeling and how we could replicate something like that in our own customers. I think we came pretty close to that with 'fear and awe'. And hey, who's ever heard of a customer complaint from a Laotian prison camp?"
The RIAA spokesman continued. "We're already looking for ways to kick 'fear and awe' up a notch to make it both more fearsome AND more awesome. I don't want to give too much away, but we're looking at ways to give Hepatitis to file traders. It'll be a little harder to shake your booty to your illegal Justin Timberlake MP3s when you have cirrhosis of the liver. Also, we're not sure yet, but we definitely want to do something with killer bees. I don't know if we're going to sting the file traders or just chase 'em around, but definitely something with killer bees."
I just used the following items to open up a jar of salsa: a belt, some pliers, a hammer, and a shower curtain. It was the shower curtain that did it. It's a good thing it opened when it did, because I was about to try shattering the jar in the bathtub and then scooping it up with a spoon. It'd be kind of like bathtub gin like they had in Prohibition. Not only would it still be a good snack, but I imagine it would also have soaked up some left-over shampoo or something, creating a powerful double threat. You could eat the bathtub salsa and then rub it in your hair to restore volume and manageability. If you think the chicks dig you now, wait until they see you delicately massaging salsa into your scalp.
This leads to an idea I've had for some time: someone should make edible soap. It doesn't make sense to take a shower early in the morning when you're all hungry and not have something to eat. Soap looks kind of edible too, so why don't we just put two and two together here? I'm always reading how all of America's jobs are going abroad, and I think edible soap could give our economy a kick in the pants. Imagine it, all of us coming in to work every day clean and well-fed, a full 10 minutes earlier because everyone ate in the shower. No one can compete with that.
In my mind's eye, I am seeing edible soap being kind of like astronaut ice cream. We'll keep it simple at first, a few flavors and no toppings. But as more and more people harness the power of edible soap, it's going to get wild. Razzleberry flavored edible soap? You never thought you'd see the day, but it's coming and there's nothing you can do about it. Things will only get better when someone comes up with an edible soap algorithm to calculate (mathematically) the best flavors. We get a few supercomputers on that thing and suddenly, it's like Thanksgiving dinner in the shower everyday. It's coming, friends.
Well, I hope everyone had a laborious Labor Day weekend. I did, doing a little bebop up to Baylor to see my sister, where luckily the basketball team didn't attempt to kill me. That'd be a cool new tagline for Baylor as a school: Come here or we'll kill you (we mean it). And then after that, I went down to San Antonio where I got some quality time with Willy Ed and his band of delinquent slubberdegullions. For everyone who thinks I made up the word slubberdegullion, stuff this in a sack and boil it. I don't know why I'm writing any of this because it generally bores my butt off when I'm reading about what someone did over the weekend. So, I'll spice it up a little bit and say that Will and I killed a unicorn while I was down there. We're still arguing over who gets to keep the horn.
Back like two years ago, there was this Super Nintendo game that I was really into called AeroBiz, where you simulated running your own airline. It's a game that would only appeal to autistic children and myself. That's not a knock on us as a game playing group, but you don't see lots of 9 year olds gathered around the Super Nintendo, exclaiming "I need some runwyas at the Cairo airport ASAP or Aero Booty is screwed!" Anyway, I was playing it today some on my SNES emulator and it's just as good as I remember it. But if you're to do a sim game based on being the CEO of an airline, why not do it for all sorts of stuff? Here are a few scenarios I'd like to see played out in games for the Super Nintendo:
If people thought Grand Theft Auto was good, just wait until those blockbusters come out, especially if you could get some super immersive 3d crap going. Also, those games would need a game pad, kind of like Dance Dance Revolution or Track and Field for Nintendo. I don't currently have the resources to make these games a reality, but I'm sharing them so all of us will know what's up when Microsoft comes out with Corndog Tycoon or Sim WigFactory.