Before human piece of white toast Pat Shurmur is inevitably fired following a 2-14 season, the best thing he could do for the Giants franchise is to put measures in place to keep Saquon Barkley as far away from Odell Beckham Jr. as possible. Put their stalls on opposite sides of the locker room, keep their interactions limited to a bare minimum, spray Barkley with a water bottle if he comes within 20-feet of Beckham…anything to keep one of the worst teammates in the NFL away from one of its best young talents.
Beckham is an awful teammate. He is a black hole of shit. He sucks teammates into his gravitational pull and crushes them under the weight of his diva attitude, molding them into less talented, just as disgruntled clones of himself. Sterling Shepard has already circled the drain, sucked into the Beckham maelstrom; suddenly imploding on the sideline during games and fighting inanimate objects while the Giants find themselves down by two touchdowns yet again.
Yesterday, I found myself struggling to keep my head above water at work and I took a deep, deep dive into a Don Rickles YouTube wormhole. There’s nothing better than watching old talk show clips of Rickles tearing celebrities to shreds as a delighted Johnny Carson or David Letterman look on, unable to stop the hilarious carnage as he barrels over flustered guests and ugly audience members.
I came across a web series produced by the AARP called “Dinner with Don,” released in 2017, featuring a 91-year-old Rickles having dinner with a different celebrity each week. It’s a blatant rip-off of Jerry Seinfeld’s “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee” and Rickles looks like he can barely keep his head up through the entire taping, but he’s still Rickles and the guests are all interesting, so it’s a great time waster if you’re a fan.
In an interview with Rich Eisen, Rickles drops a gem about the only Super Bowl he’s ever attended, the 1981 Super Bowl XV featuring the Eagles and the Raiders.
According to Rickles, he was in the Eagles locker room before the game and took offense at the VERY Catholic prayer circle, as you can after the jump:
Vontae Davis told the Bills he was just stepping out for some air, before the screeching of his car tires echoed through the locker room as the former pro-bowl cornerback weighed his options and decided fleeing the premises was the best course for his professional career.
In easily the best highlight of the young NFL season, the Buffalo Bills are so soul crushingly awful that former pro-bowl cornerback Davis told the team he was retiring at halftime. The Bills are so terrible Davis couldn’t even bother to pretend to care about the game anymore, he couldn’t bother to pretend to even be hurt and hang out on the sidelines for the rest of the game before announcing his retirement later on this week.
The very thought of strapping his pads on again and squeezing his head into that Bills helmet made him so sick to his stomach that he just said fuck it, I’m leaving.
If you’ve never seen the 1998 Gwyneth Paltrow classic “Sliding Doors” you’re doing yourself quite the disservice. The movie focuses on a woman rushing to catch a train in the London tube (because this movie is so very properly British), and follows separate realities of the woman based on if she had caught or missed the train.
SPOILER: She dies in one of the realities and lives in the other. I don’t remember which one, but despite what you’re all thinking she is not hit by a train in one of the realities. That would have made for a better movie, but who am I criticize the creative choices of Ms. Paltrow?
Either way, it explores an interesting wrinkle I’m sure we’ve all thought about. What if we had taken another career path? What if we had stayed at that party for another 15 minutes and met our soulmate instead of leaving early to go home and drink by ourselves and pass out on our couch at 1 a.m.?
Watching Marcus Mariota bumblefuck his way around the field on Sunday against a piece of garbage Miami Dolphins team and throw bad pass after bad pass made me stop for a moment and consider the path of the Eagles franchise if chubby, no-huddle guru Chip Kelly had actually pulled the trigger on a deal to bring Mariota to the Eagles before the 2015 draft.
Chase Utley put it best, booing Eagles fans.
“Boo? Fuck you.”
This wasn’t Chip Kelly running sweeps with DeMarco Murray out of the shotgun for a 2-yard-loss every first down. This wasn’t Andy Reid blowing another NFC Championship. This wasn’t the Eagles losing 42-0 to the Seahawks.
No. This was the defending Super Bowl champions getting booed by a smattering of morons (just a smattering, but an AUDIBLE smattering on the broadcast) after just one half of regular season football seven months after the franchise finally won us a Super Bowl.
No. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
Have you ever heard a cat puke? It’s truly horrifying. They begin by making a wet, shrieking gagging noise that reverberates through every inch of your home. It’s followed by a tremendously loud and moist “HORK HORK HORK” noise of the puke physically making its way up their gullet, capped off by a delightful “YEHHHHHHHHHSHHHH” as a days worth of cat food, hair, and licked shit from their asshole is spilled all over your throw rug that is NOT 6-INCHES AWAY FROM THE HARDWOOD FLOOR.
I’d much rather listen to my cat puke his brains out than ever hear this piece of shit Eagles music video ever again.
Go ahead. Give a listen to Go Go Gadjet’s newest hit, “No One Likes Us / Fly Eagles Fly.”
It’s Christmas morning in the City of Philadelphia. The Eagles unwrap one of the huge, festive boxes at their feet and squeal with glee. It’s a PS4. It will go perfect with the XBox One. The 76ers scream in happiness as the city presents them with a new 52-inch flat-screen television for their room.
The Phillies are gifted a nondescript, manila envelope containing a $50 check made out to cash.
Nobody even remembers to wake the Flyers up. Nobody cares about the Flyers.
Oh those poor Phillies. A game out of first place, already eclipsed the win total from 2017, and it’s like it doesn’t even matter. Why lavish any attention on the runt of the litter when the golden boys, the favored children, the HEIRS to the Philadelphia empire, are around?
It’s not fair. The Phillies are talented. They’re competing. They should be loved and adored. Instead, they’re asked to take care of “this mess” while the Eagles and 76ers get to play with their new toys.