Monthly Archives: December 2008

Football, Pundidiots, The Funny

The New York Douchebag Sportswriters Guild Decrees Eric Mangini’s Fate

lupica.jpgAs chairman of the New York Douchebag Sportswriters’ Guild, I, Mike Lupica, call this meeting to order. First item of business, all praise and worship be due to Gorlaqk the Dread.

MurrayChass.jpgHail Gorlaqk!

lupica.jpgIndeed, Murray Chass. Second item of business, it looks like Eric Mangini might have a job interview with the Cleveland Browns. Do we think this is the next best move for him? The floor recognizes Phil Mushnick.
mushnick.jpgNo. Not only did he lead the Jets to a disastrous end, but he didn’t heed a word of our invaluable advice!
lupica.jpg
Shall we cut him any slack because that advice varied wildly among all of us from minute to minute?

MurrayChass.jpgSurely you jest! There is only one honorable thing for Mangini to do: take his own life.

raissman.jpgMy mustache and I agree. To go on living would do nothing but bring shame upon his ancestors. It would also make it seem as if our pointed barbs did no damage to his fragile psyche–which surely cannot be true!

lupica.jpgI concur, Bob Raissman. So we’re agreed that Eric Mangini can only truly find peace in the icy grip of the grave. The question follows: What would be the best method?

Continue reading The New York Douchebag Sportswriters Guild Decrees Eric Mangini’s Fate →

Football, Media Morons

Stop the Presses – With Horror!

“Hey chief, this just came over the wire: Bill Cowher has no interest in Jets job.“

“This is definitely going on tomorrow’s back cover. Now, we just need to find an appropriate photo, something that will convey the contempt and disgust we have for a man we desperately wanted to come to NY just yesterday.”

“I got one here, chief. This was snapped right after he bit into a meatball sub and got it all over his shirt.”

“No, we’re not going for embarrassing! We’re going for nauseating! This is the first picture millions of people are gonna see this morning when they’re having their breakfast, drinking their coffee, riding the subway. We want them throw up in their mouths when they see this thing!”

“I think I got one, chief. Check it out–he looks like a cross between Hitler and an orc.”

gal_back_12_31.jpg“I can barely contain the vomit churning in my stomach. And you can totally see up his nose, too! This is gonna sicken millions–I love it! Take it down to the art guys and see if they can widen his nostrils in Photoshop, add some more hair up there.”

“Do you want them to add some stink lines, too?”

“No, we got in trouble the last time we did that. The Dalai Lama was not happy. But I like the way you think, kid!”

Pointless Nostalgia

My Brain Hates Me, Part 8,143

I don’t get tunes stuck in my head. They burrow into my brain like ticks, and it takes some serious countermeasures to lodge them loose, like extreme zen-like concentration, or dynamite.

But even worse is when I get a tune stuck in my head that I associate with a particular visual memory. 99 percent of the time, that visual memory is an old TV show or commercial. It’s a bizarre sensory memory, almost Proustian–in that it makes me want to lock myself in a cork-lined room and never come out again.

Since I seem to be the only idiot who remembers the bygone TV fare of yesteryear, there’s usually no point in explaining the whole Madison Avenue spectacle going on in my head. All it does is make me appear more insane than usual, like I’m starring in my own private version of Gaslight. Except I’m not being tortured by a sadistic husband, but my own steel-trap memory (if steel traps only clamped down on pointless garbage).

Why, for instance, can’t I simply get “Celebration” by Kool and the Gang stuck in my head? No, it has to be accompanied by an endless loop of Kool and the Gang dancing with Wendy’s Chicken Nuggets.

Regardless, I want to give you a glimpse of the hell that has been my brain for the last few days. Over the holidays, I heard “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” more than once. So it got stuck in my head, right? Oh, if only t’were so simple!

Continue reading My Brain Hates Me, Part 8,143 →