NEW YORK, NY – Writing a column for New Year’s Day is a labor of hate. It’s like a Christmas column (which I also had the pleasure of writing this year) but with even fewer people reading due to waves of nausea and crippling headaches. I mean more nausea and headaches than usually associated with visiting this site. Anyway, how is that I got saddled with these thankless holiday tasks? I thought my friend West Coast Craig had dibs on these. Eh, whaddaya gonna do. When it’s your turn, it’s your turn… especially since Short Matt bought lunch the other day. Hope you like your Baby New Year a tad angry.
Odd Job. First things first. If you live in the Metropolitan area and are just rolling out of bed on New Year’s morning, you need to find your clicker. No, not there. It’s probably under that dried out hunk of Italian combo sub and rancid macaroni salad. Anyway, find it and then figure out what channel TV 55 is on your local cable shyster. It’s an Odd Couple Marathon all day long. Nothing but Oscar and Felix and Murray the Cop and fondue forks and Let’s Make a Deal appearances and Bobby Riggs and Pigeon sisters and Bolivian chickens and, of course, Oscar Madison dieting tips like mixing Chinese and Italian and favorite dining spots like Hesch and Heidi’s Nautical Nosh and April Fool Taco. Seriously, kick back and enjoy.
No Job. Finally the NFL’s unemployment rate is starting to mirror the national average, helped by the fact that five head coaches were fired Monday and most of the candidates being looked at for those vacancies are retreads such as Lovie Smith, Josh McDaniels, and Jack Del Rio. Also looking to hit the unemployment lines, once-great running backs like Maurice Jones-Drew and Chris Johnson. On the bright side, Tim Tebow finally found a job, but at ESPN not the NFL. Still, Timmy could be a Jackie Robinson of sorts for the Worldwide Leader in Sports, being the first non-womanizer hired by the network.
Harphy Nyuh Yearggh. Congratulations to those of you lucky enough to have received late-night phone calls from Short Matt last night. Now that Dick Clark is dead he’s my favorite person to hear slur in the New Year.
Rexiest Man Alive. I don’t know about you guys but 2014 would not have been near the same had Jets owner Woody Johnson (heh) chosen not to bring Rex Ryan back. In a lot of ways Johnson and Ryan are the Jets’ version of The Colonel and Jack Horner from Boogie Nights with their whacked out roster–Cromartie, Sanchez, Holmes (not, that Holmes)–being the stars of their ongoing filth reel.
Finally, I’d like to thank Matt McCarthy for the semi-annual MTM Christmas Party this past Sunday. While we’re sorry that some of our luminaries were unable to attend, it was still a good and spirited turnout with the likes of Cookie (who of course brought cookies), Junoir Blaber and his lovely fiancee Jackie, Diff, Cheesy, JG Clancy, and Time Magazine’s Mensch of the Year for the 8th year running, Sam’s-A-Fan, who once again successfully smuggled in some Pappy Van Winkle 20-year-old bourbon. Thanks again, Sammy. Signed, your imaginary friend.
Come back tomorrow for Wally Pipp, also been known to keep company with 20-year-olds.
