?????, NY – Just awoke from a NyQuil-induced fever-dream. Before regaining whatever you would call this blurry state of consciousness, I imagined a movie “concept” where a guy slipped on a sheet of ice, landed square on his bum, and unfortunately found his smartphone embedded in his left ass cheek. The good news is, this freak accident renders him a half-man/half-machine super genius. I reached for my pen (yes I still use pen) and scribbled the title, “Smart Ass” across the jacket of a book I’ll never finish reading. I’m sure I’ll soon realize that this is a monumentally stupid idea. But for now, it’s mine!
Anyway, what do you write about when your head feels like it’s floating three stories above your body? I guess we’re about to find out.
Paging Dr. Belichick. Hey, did you read the recent story about the teenager in Florida who underwent the world’s first penis reduction surgery? (And hear I thought Fred Willard already had one.) Turns out the young would-be Lothario was upset that he couldn’t close the deal with his girlfriend because the circumference of his penis was such that it resembled a football or rugby ball (depending on your sport) when “fully inflated.” Apparently this condition made it virtually impossible for him to punch it over the goal line, so a team of surgeons, ably aided by Doctors Belichick, Brady, and Kraft, granted the lad’s wish to have his junk shrunk. For his part, NFL commissioner Roger Goodell looked into suing the boy for impersonating a football without the express written consent of the NFL, but suspended the investigation when his crack security team assured him that there was absolutely no video backing up this claim of crotchyright infringement.
Tweet Jesus! Out of absolutely nowhere I all of a sudden find myself doing management’s bidding on Twitter. I seriously have no idea who I am anymore. They turned me into a Corporate Shill! I find myself sending out promotional bon mots like: “Don’t miss Junoir Blaber‘s mother play the race card today on Meet The Matts!” and “DJ Eberle will burn your house down if you don’t read his Five Takeaways from the Scouting Combine over at MTM.” It’s really a sad state of affairs. Though there are some opportunities to poke fun. When Adrian Peterson announced that he was “uneasy about returning to the Vikings” I wrote: “Peterson’s son on returning to Dad? ‘Ditto.‘” And I was quick to liken the Chargers and Raiders sharing a stadium together to the cast of ‘Three’s Company” moving in with the “Sons of Anarchy.” I think next up will be an open challenge to James Dolan and Phil Jackson to guarantee at least one more Knicks win this year. Finally, I like Mr. Met and all, but he really has to stop his carpet-bombing twitter campaign to have David Wright voted “The Face of Baseball.” David Wright is barely still the face of the Mets. Besides, everyone knows that the face of baseball is our own West Coast Craig.
For Your Consideration. Finally, now that the Academy Awards are behind us the buzz has already started for 2015’s most-anticipated films. Topping everyone’s list is Marshawn Lynch’s biopic. If you can watch this entire 4-minute, I-guess-you’d-call-it, “trailer,” you are a machine. But do yourself a favor and at least join it in progress around the 2:15 mark when real Marshawn takes over playing himself. I see this one in a double feature with “Hard Ticket to Hawaii” in WCC’s backyard in the not-too-distant future. Save some skittles for me.
Come back tomorrow for Grinding Ax Walter Hynes, who’s always in Beast Mode.