NEW YORK, NY – Happy Wednesday, from the greatest city in the world! I am corresponding with you today from our posh MTM offices located high atop The Chrysler Building, in the space formerly occupied by The Cloud Club. From this beautiful vista comes great clarity. This weekend, I discovered a few things about sports and myself. Pull up a chair, if ya got a sec.
I Still Very Much Hate the Dallas Cowboys.
Let me tell you something, when you’re a diehard Minnesota Vikings fan (no team dies harder) and you find yourself rooting for the Green Bay Packers (*just threw up in mouth a little*) in a playoff game, you just know they can only be playing one team: The Dallas F**king Cowboys. Watching this game Sunday proved just how easy a choice it was for me between these two teams. Even JG Clancy texted me from his Pigs-in-a-Blanket feast: “Let’s Go… Green Bay?” I responded affirmatively and added: “It would be much funnier if Dallas lost.” And, dear readers, lose they did.
If you’re not a Cowboys fan and you don’t find “America’s Team” getting bounced decisively in the first round at home in a game in which they were heavily favored and DON’T find that hilarious, then you might need to go speak to someone/get on some serious anti-depressants. As I commented on Sunday: There is no schadenfreude quite like Cowboys schadenfreude.
Ladies Love Thrifting. This past weekend my wife was away upstate and my 15-year-old daughter announced that she wanted to check out some thrift shops in Manhattan.Sounded like a worthwhile plan, so off we went to the Union Square/14th Street area and then St. Marks Place. The kid has a good eye and made some solid finds while Dad stood idly by watching people try sh!t on. A couple of observations from this trip:
1. The Men’s stuff in these stores always seems to give off a faint stale odor that women’s stuff doesn’t. If it were a perfume scent it would be Eau de Locker Room.
2. There are a surprisingly (at least for me) large number of attractive women who enjoy shopping for secondhand clothing. Look alive young single guys (I’m looking at you Jackson and Jacob Sternberg) and girls—for that matter—you could possibly meet that special someone in between the racks of vintage dresses and old bowling shirts.
Jason Garrett is Hot Garbage.
So, it turns out I got to watch the Miami/KC game Saturday night after all. And, no, I didn’t subscribe to Peacock… I’ll leave it at that. Anyway, for my effort, such as it was, I was treated to a cold, lackluster game made much, much, much worse with the added color commentary of Jason Garrett. If you thought Jason Garrett was a bad football coach, you really need to hear him broadcast a football game. It’s like someone took the many annoying things about Howard Cosell, made those annoying things far less interesting, removed any micro-hints of TV announcing acumen, and sandblasted away all traces of personality. Now you’ve got Jason Garrett. Listening to Jason Garrett makes one long for a white noise machine. Speaking of white, Jason Garrett makes Pat Boone look like an “ethnic type.” Jason Garrett needs to be left behind the Peacock paywall and never heard from again. Barring that, Al Capone’s Vault.
Okay, time to shut the door on another Wednesday offering. Come back tomorrow for a pinch-hitter for Big Buddy Diaz – who is in Puerto Rico relishing rum this week, conveniently flying south as his Eagles flew the coop.
