We Put Power To Your Pants...

Blackout period be damned, we're back. And you know what? It feels nice to be back. The offseason saw the purveyors of this drivel taking the road show to Minnesota for a week of fun in the sun, drag races that bring the power to your pants, poker parties immitating hockey style fisticuffs and broken hands to boot. You want details? Of course you do, but you won't be getting them on the cheap. You want to know who Larry Dixon is? Google it fool. Cause I already know. Get with the times man, there is a whole lot of world your missing out there outside of our dear home town. You wanna know what happens when a Chicago Hockey team runs nonsense speak at our enforcer? I'll tell you what happens. People get their hands broken. Don't fuck with us. You been to the awesomeness that is drag racing? I have. Break loose of your chains you sheep, and go outside. That's all I've got to say.



Here we are a mere two weeks from the beginning of what will be a most difficult season for one of us here. You thought that I was prone to naysaying in the past? You have no idea. The Team, your team, is still quite dead to me with very few exceptions (LTD, you're cool). But, no matter my feeling towards the convicts that we no longer call Chargers, nor those whose mental mistakes (of which were plentiful) ruining yet another of my birthdays, I'll do my best to remain objective. By objective I mean a tyrannical level of criticism until I feel that something has been done well. How I've missed this so...

John Wayne was at it again this draft period and has further cemented his lore within the overmoistened loins of Mr. Canepa. The Godfather himself has already put his 2008 Super Bowl XLII trophy on his mantle and is busy furiously pounding his manhood in front of it. Apparently, this, and not last, is our year. We'll John Wayne Corleone, I hope you have that correct, cause the taste that is lingering from last year sure as shit hasn't improved. Nick might not blame you, but I do. You can't hide your failures with a new coaching staff or a few new draftees from me my foe. I've got my one good eye on you.

Now that the familiar weekly felating of our G.M. is out of the way, an old feature that does not appear to be losing any steam, you'll see some new things around here this year. From the aforementioned tyranny from my viewing perspective, you'll see some familiar bits, as evidenced by the first "Cut" of the year below, as well as the continuing berating of the "Inside the Suckitude of Analysis of Goodell the Gladiator's League", as well as the new "Madden '08" season long magic video game 8 ball predictor. We'll be playing out the schedule on a weekly basis starting with September Nine's opener against the Cubs. We'll play the game weekly, and report the findings and see what kind of prognosticator "Madden" really is. You don't like it? Ask for your money back and I'll be happy to refund your subscription fee. You still don't like it? Go take a leap into a firey drum of monkey semen, I don't give a shit what you think. File that away for posterity.

How 'bout some bullet points to round this post out in style...

*This Michael Vick thing is old. Michael 'Ookie, Ron Mexico' Vick is not the habadasher of evil the world of PETA would like you to believe. Criminal? Yes. Face of the changing NFL? Perhaps, along with many, many others who have commited heinous deeds in recent past. From Pac Man to Leonard Little, Rae Carruth to Ray Lewis, Chris Henry, and a laundry list of others, Mr. Herpes is merely the latest to fall prey to the temptations of the almightly dollar. Yes, killing dogs is inexcusable, and quite very wrong, but let's not sit here upon our high horses and cast stones at the indignity of others. I wonder how Mr. Herpes is going to like jail when Adam Jones walks free after biting a stripper for taking his money. All the while one of his boys paralyzes a bouncer with a 9MM handgun*** for reprimanding him for his actions. Strippers sometimes enjoy the biting I know, and sometimes apparently not. And don't get me started on Chris Henry and his underage drinking and vicodin binges with schoolgirls. If I have to hear Keith Olberman play the role of Moral Police one more time, I'll make it my purpose to choke on my own vomit. Now I'm getting off my soap box before the lightning strikes me retarded to death.

*It's Fantasy Football Masterbatory Management time again. Good lord it gets worse every year. I'm inundated with Dungeons and Dragons and it's fucking suffocating me to the point of nausea.

*Shifting gears, the Padres and Eric Byrnes can suck it. Beat it Byrnes, you're a tool. If I thought I could get away with it, I'd drown your stupid all star dog, but as we know from above, that would be wrong.



*I too will be admiring a trophy this offseason with the look of a prisoner with a vat of vaseline and a future copy of Scarlett Johansson's inevitable Playboy spread. The difference is I already got my trophy, and it only cost me one day of fun and debauchery in Minnesota. Hope you like jealousy Mr. John Wayne Corleone, cause my trophy is going to need an alcohol based high pressure steam cleaning when I'm done with it.

For now I'm out. I'll be back. We are all back, some of us more at half mast than others. Leave your mark, let us know what you like and keep all your dislikes to your fuckin' selves. It's going to be a long season, and we're more than ready to leave our familiar stink wafting from this pile.

*** May or may not have been a 9MM handgun. Sue me or look it up, I've got Scarlett open in another window and my 'date' is all naughty looking.

The First Cut Is The Deepest.

So I was going to Cut that kid from High School Musical, only there were two problems with that. First off, most of you probably have no idea what the fuck High School Musical is because you aren’t maladjusted whack-a-doos like me that actually tune in to Disney Channel from time to time. I only do because the sitcoms are much more like those I grew up on where the humor is not uncomfortable, the sexual commentary is not overt and the endings are always happy with a heaping helping of whacky. A simpler time, really. It's really no more childish than fucking Entourage. The other problem is, how can I Cut that kid without Cutting this kid?



Not only was this kid in High School Musical, he was in a freaking jump-roping movie. No shit. And what’s up with that hair? That’s an entire Cut unto itself. How is anybody taking that haircut seriously? I keep expecting that kid to step on, like 50 rakes.

Too easy. I’m digressing, regressing and depressing right now so I’ll just get to the real Cut.

For the first cut of the season, I’m going to go ahead and put the Kibosh on guys who insist on backing into parking spaces. Fuck you guys! I say “the guys” who do this because only guys do it. Only fat guys or guys who aspire to be like their fat guy fathers. Now I understand that backing your Ford F-150 into a compact size parking space is supposed to show the world that you have supreme control over your vehicular domain, but seriously, it hardly ever works out that way.



The other night I listened to my dipshit fat guy neighbor spend 15 minutes trying to back his brand new Nissan Titan (which also deserves a Cut because it’s a truck for douche bags) into his parking space. I seriously doubt it would have taken him 15 minutes to back out of his parking space if he had just pulled it in the right way in the first place. I want to call him a fucktard, but I feel that the word “fucktard” is way overused on blogs the world over. As is the word “blog.” In summation, fuck you if I and 50 other people spend 10 minutes waiting for you to back your poor excuse for a truck because it’s got a super king cab so the bed is only three feet long into a parking spot at the Murph on Sundays during football season this year. Fuck you in the goat ass.



Since I’m here, I’m going to throw down some Charger talk for a second. I know a lot of people have been wondering, if not worrying, about how Norvert Turner will do at the helm of our great footballing squad. Well, I’m here to alleviate your apprehension. From CBS Sportsline:

"Everyone is interested in a couple of other guys, but I really am impressed with Malcom Floyd," Turner said. "Because I think he is taking steps to be a complete receiver.”

I’ve been saying for a year that Malcolm Floyd is the shit. For one thing, he sure as hell would have dragged his toe in the end zone against the Patriots in January. I’m looking at you Big Vin. Anyway, if Norvy is nearly as insightful as yours truly, whoever wins the NFC probably won’t even bother showing up to face us in the Super Bowl. You know who definitely won’t be showing up for the big game? Arizona. Just ask their starting QB. Yep, that’s right, Matt Leinart has already planned a big Superbowl party in Arizona for the night before the game. That must just warm those Zony hearts. Way to go, Matt, at least your not buying into that “Sleeper Team” bullshit.



That’s pretty much it, but before I go, I ask you not to judge me too harshly. This chick got her start on the Disney Channel for Christ’s sake.



Also, Jesus was gay. Go Bolts!!!

Let's Get This Party Started.

Well, I suppose it’s time to dust off the cobwebs and get this little Charger football blog warmed up. Seeing as I’m the only contributor here who still enjoys football, it seems I would have my work cut out for me.

What I Did This Summer

This summer my friends and I got drunk on the beach. And we got drunk in bars. And we watched the Padres not hit well. And there was this one time where we totally played some video games. And CJ played baseball. And I totaled my car. And then I totally bought a new car. And I married this chick:

And by “married” I mean “masturbated furiously to pictures of.” Seriously, though, Lingerie Calendar? The Eagles are light years ahead of the field on exploiting their hot cheerleaders. All in all, pretty sweet summer, and while it’s not over yet, it seems that way because football is in the air. Annually, football mania resumes after that one signature hallmark event. No, not that pointless Hall of Fame Preseason Extravaganza that was fought between the New Orleans Whack-A-Moles and the Pittsburgh Team Of Players. I don’t know why I called them that, I’m kind of hung-over (see paragraph above) and it seemed like it would be fun to give the teams different names than that which they are normally known. And you know what? It was fun. Anyway, the event that signifies the imminent approach of the NFL season is, of course, the unveiling and release of John Madden football.



I know some of you are still pining for NFL2K, and I’ll admit that there was a time back in waning years of the last millennia when I switched for a brief 2 years over to NFL Gameday, but seriously, Madden’s developers had gotten lazy from a lack of solid competition and really just stopped trying to do anything more than change the rosters and the game totally sucked shit. Seriously, I’ve never had anybody come up to me and say, “Madden 99 was the greatest incarnation of Madden football I’ve ever had the pleasure of playing for thousands of hours rather than socialize with my friends and family or go to work or sleep or pay my bills.” I’ve also never stabbed anybody in the jugular with a letter opener either.



I’m not saying there’s a correlation between the two, but we’ll never know for sure unless somebody drops the aforementioned statement in my general vicinity. Wouldn’t it be weird, though, if it happened the other way around. Like I go crazy homicidal and stab some guy in the neck and as he’s bleeding out he’s all, “Madden 99 forever…” I think that would really cheese me off.

Anyway, my whole stinking point is that Madden in its present state is simply tits. 2007 was awesome. The Chargers were awesome on it, and they’re only going to be better, assuming the programmers didn’t include a fumble and go batshit crazy in the playoffs setting.



I look forward to humiliating my friends to the point where I’ll have to play online with twelve year olds because no one will sit in the same room with me anymore. And yeah, I’ll admit that a couple of my friends were able to, on occasion, steal a victory from the kid by plying me with a half a handle of Jim Beam, but it ain’t going to happen this year. August 14th is the release date and I’ll be living the lake life in Minnesota, so I’ll have to wait a couple more days, but then I’m totally getting it on with Veronica Vaughan. Well, maybe not, but you can imagine what it would be like if I did.



In other football happenings, Mike Vick allegedly shot, drowned, strangled and electrocuted something like 80 bitches. I think that would likely make him the most prolific known American serial killer if it turns out to be true. Take that, Juice!



As I’m sure you’re all aware, the Chargers did not bother to acknowledge that such a thing as the free agent market exists, and instead relied on the drafting abilities of GM and John Wayne/The Godfather Maestro AJ Smith. According to the local papers that should be just fine. Not only will our first three draft picks be three of the finest players to ever don the lightning bolt, the are three of the finest all around people with the most fabulous dedication to their craft and the most levelheaded approach to the game of football and the game of life. I’m not saying that the Chargers pretty much own the San Diego Union Dispatch Intelligencer Tribune, I’m merely saying that Canepa and Acee eat kibble out of little bowls on AJ Smith’s patio. I am optimistic about the new additions, and especially about the linebacker, Waters, we took in the third. This was another case of a guy who was projected to go much higher before injuries hurt his status. If he turns out anything like Luis Castillo or Antonio Cromartie, we may just have the steal of the draft there. Speaking of Cromartie, it seems he is giving Drayton Florence some serious competition for the starting corner position opposite Quentin Jammer. I hope he gets it, cause maybe if Florence isn’t starting CJ will stop being such a cocksucker about January’ playoff loss.



I’m kicking around the idea of getting a Chargers jersey this year. I’ve never owned an actual Chargers jersey before, and the time seems right. New design, good team. Heck, our QB looks good enough that I won’t even look like too much of a racist for buying the white guy’s jersey. I’d get Tomlinson, but I’d be afraid I’d lose myself in the bar on Sunday. The thing is, I don’t know if I’m a jersey guy. I think I might want a helmet. The new white helmet is dope.



And I wouldn’t be one of those pussy fans who displays their helmet in a case or some bullshit. I would wear the fuck out of that helmet. I’d be at the bar going, “Dude, you can totally throw a beer bottle at my head, I’m motherfuckin’ Shawne Merrman, bitch!” And then I’d run through a plate glass window. So, pretty much business as usual, but with a totally kick-ass helmet! I’d wear it to work Mondays and Fridays so everybody would know I was the most bad-ass Super Chargers Fan going, and my boss would be all, “I admire your dedication to your team, Maximum Colossus, here’s some money.” Sweet, I’m getting the helmet. Unless they’re more than about $40. I could probably get one of those inflatable ones dirt cheap. How much is one of those hats that holds 2 beers? Maybe I’ll just get one of those and draw a lightning bolt on it with a Sharpie. I can get a Sharpie from work, so it won’t cost me anything.

That’s all I have for now, but I’ve got pretty good cuts in mind (I’m looking at you kid from High School Musical!)



so maybe I’ll get another column up before the weekend. Then it’s off to the great Northwest for a week of boating, boozing and lying to Minnesota chicks about how much money I make. Sweet. Oh, and in case you haven't seen it, this could be some locker room fodder for the Bears, but it rules anyway:



Go Bolts!!!