Tony Fucking Romo? No Way!

Maybe it was the first time I saw an ad for the new season of Inside the NFL and the prospect of watching that shit festival shut down my barely serviceable to begin with brain in a hot minute. Maybe it’s the fact that Friday Night Lights has somehow managed to last nearly a full year after I Cut it and continues to get rave critical reviews despite the fact that last I heard ( I swear I don’t watch that crap) somebody had murdered somebody and dumped their body in a river. Ahh, high school football, it never changes. Maybe that’s why I didn’t begin to post to this mess when the season began. Maybe I figured a good old-fashion schellacking of the Chicago Bears would wake up my thirst for half-assed football punditry.



Alas, it didn’t come, and in fact it left me wondering what would the future bring for my Chargers? I was stumped, but surely we’d come out strong against the hated Boston Patriots in a revenge match-up for the ages. Who fears Randy Moss? Didn’t we knock that guy out for eight games just a couple of years ago? This game would stoke our fires and begin TBE’s march towards back to back MVP awards. Still, the word around town was that this Pats team was tougher, faster, stronger-basically bionic-so I steeled myself for the worst imaginable outcome. A close loss. I could handle that. We’d fight them tooth and nail, and they might come out ahead in the end, but that would just give us deadly motivation to return the favor of an early play-off exit a few short months from now. Then, the unthinkable happened.



Twenty minutes into regulation the game was far out of hand. We had been dealt our shit early and it never got any better. Two games into a season is hardly time to give up or toss oneself to the side of the road before the bandwagon careens off a ten thousand foot cliff, but certainly that game sounded an alarm. In fact, that game was surely the most ultimate of football clichés. The eye-opener. The fucking wake-up call to end all wake-up calls. Somebody had to pay. That somebody, through a cruel twist of cheesehead fate, would surely be the Green Bay Packers. So sad. I like Favre. He’s a guy who truly loves the game and plays it like a kid playing Pop Warner. He didn’t deserve what was coming. To be the nearly expired cheddar in a Merriman-Phillips grilled cheese sandwich. He deserved a more dignified send-off, but the National Football League can be a cruel mistress. Or can it? Oh, cursed twist!!!



Where art thou, Greg Jennings? Oh, there thy art. Right where Donnie Edwards used to stand. But surely a linebacker by any other name would cover so sweet. Nay, fuck you AJ. So what? Green Bay is off to a hell of a start. Favre is a crafty veteran. There is no shame in losing a hard fought battle against a grizzled veteran determined to take one last earnest shot at the promised land. Good game to you, Sir Brett, you are a feisty geezer, and we shall vacate your lawn post-haste. 1-2 and it’s time to right the ship. And what is this layed out before us?



The lowly Chiefs on an ornamental silver plater. Nay, a fucking alter! A sacrifice to our underachieving football machine. It’s time to grease the wheels with this bountiful offering. Thank you Lord, for this gift we are about to receive. Get out the carving knives this is going to be brutal. Surely, we can afford to leave some players at home. TBE and First Down Gates can watch live via satellite from Hawaii while they pick out the best bikini learing beach digs for Pro Bowl weekend.



Fuck yeah! I mean, that’s Damon fucking Huard out there and he’s no Rex Grossman. Oh shit, he’s really no Rex Grossman, but Dwayne Bowe might be Greg Jennings. Okay, fuck this shit, I still can’t write about it. Norv Turner is what we thought he was, Ted Cotrell wears a hockey helmet, and why didn’t anyone tell me that Ron Rivera was a lazy Mexican? So that’s it. 1-3 and we’re headed to Denver. Fucking Denver sucks, but you just fucking know that they’re going to jam it up our collective ass, because they’re fucking Denver and we suck and next week we can all start doing our laundry on Sundays and show up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to work on Monday. Football is a lie. Girls are better than boys, and cats have our best interests at heart. Dogs are the real villains and they are fucking untamable beasts I tell you.



And then it happened. Finally the true Chargers MVP stepped up to the plate. Or, more accurately, the mound. That’s right, I’m talkin’ ‘bout Trevor Hoffman. The Denver Rockies beat him up bad, and it’s seems the Bolts didn’t take it too well. The Padres are like their kid brother. Sure, he’s annoying, and always trying to tag along and not living up to his potential cause mom and dad spoiled him too much, but God damn it, he’s still their little brother and nobody fucks with him but us!



So the Chargers proceed to beat the bully to a bloody pulp, finally sort of showing the dominance that’s been expected all along, but really more exposing how shitbox Denver is. Fucking Shit Ponies. Now the Chargers head into the final week before the bye to battle the…um…Raiders? For first place in the West? Seriously? Hold on, lemme check this out……………..Wow. That’s right. I don’t think the Chargers have played the Raiders in any even remotely meaningful football game since the very early 80s. That’s crazy. We’re going to fucking destroy them.

Anyway, the real reason I chose to start writing again actually has very little to do with the Chargers at all. It does, however, have everything to do with a certain Tony Romo. That’s right, Tony Romo. I can only imagine that if you walk into a room where Tony Romo is holding court, and you are wearing a press badge, Romo will give the most you the most amazing blow job you ever had in your life. How else can you explain the fact that he has been more or less canonized by the media following a performance where he threw 5 picks and fumbled the ball away one more time for posterity? Yeah, I know they came back and all, but this wasn’t some great football team a la the Kansas City Chiefs or the Green Bay Packers, this was barely a football team at all. It was the Bills. You know, from Buffalo? Yeah, those guys. The ones who play a wide receiver at corner. And not like a Troy Brown, I’ve played in the NFL for 25 years so I’m pretty good at football wide receiver. I mean, an I don’t recall this guy ever actually playing a down in professional football wide receiver. Turned DB. So, my question is, does anybody really think the Cowgirls are going to “hang” with the Patriots this Sunday? I guess ESPN and everybody else have to play it up like that, but they really have me convinced that they believe it. What they don’t have me convinced of is that Tony Romo and Terrell Owens are capable of preparing Tom Brady and Randy Moss’ jocks for gameday. What with Gold Bond medicated and whatnot. I do, however find it hard to believe that the Patriots can keep scoring in the 30s. Patriots 45, Cowgirls 17.

That was hard. That was definitely something close to praise of the Pats and I am not proud of that. But, really, I was trying to point out that the NFC has a bit of a way to go if their saviors are eeking out comebacks against the Bills.

So, there it is. A post. I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope that appeases those of you who’ve been kind enough to request the return of my presence here. Now, quit calling me. Here's some Charlize Theron in a bikini. Totally underrated hotty cause she made herself ugly for that movie where she made herself ugly.



Go Bolts!!!

What's this? Victory?

Holy fucking shit. Send out a Goddamned email, text message, fucking note strapped to a carrier pigeon, the Bolts won a fucking game. Convincingly. A game mind you that they were supposed to win. WHAT THE FUCK. I, for one am shocked. Shocked I tell you, not in that skateboarder falling down a staircase and busting his balls on a rail shocked, but mildly surprised nonetheless. Is the apocalypse upon us? Nah, the football team just looked like the team of yore...

I wanted to take a few days to process this as my goal this season was objectivity. Could I nitpick and find numerous errors during that non-debacle performance in the Mile High Shittown? Sure. I could point out some shortcomings, but out of fairness I won't. I'm also not going to climb back on to the overly crowded and way to emotional bandwagon and demand a spot in the fellatio line. It seems as if you aren't allowed to be objective and criticize wins in this town. Wins, are supposed to shut your mouth and have you fall in line. Surprise, surprise when I open up
Nick's page to find yet another fluffer (that's not a typo) piece. It's almost as if the directive came from the Lord Sith himself, "Nick, get the minions in line. Get the fools back on board this ship." So sayeth the sith, so does the Nick. The comments are a particular cheap thrill as well. (read them, they are awesome!)



I swear to Christ, there's a reason we aren't a good sports town. People here don't know shit. One win, and now Norv is immune to criticism. GO BOLTS!!! They say. Well, I for one am not buying it yet. What I saw on Sunday was an enjoyable beat down of a tremendously inferior football team. Yes, we trounced them on their home turf, a place where that feat is notoriously difficult to achieve. All the breaks went our way and our mistakes were not magnified. Good for them. Hopefully, this is just what is necessary to take this squad to the next level. I for one, want to see it. You are still going to have to do some proving to me fellas...Sorry if that is contrary to the beliefs of the masses.

And so of course, one of the new features, the Dejection Photo of the Week, is blown. There was no mass dejection, no obvious displays of sadness and frustration. I'm glad to put that feature to bed with a heavy dose of ether, wait... perhaps I spoke to soon...


Ahhh, Dejection at the hands of Jamal and the rest of the gang. Hey, I know it's not some dipshit backwards ass Colorodan crying in his watered down Coors, but hey, the stadium was empty in the third quarter. They don't stick around there when the team sucks shit, they leave. We emptied that bitch. There were a few, "Jay Cutler is God!", sounds emanating from some far off corner. Sure, if you substitute "God" for "Anal Worshiping Ass Whore". Yeah, that sounds right.

There were a few 'Conversations From the Heart' this week as well, but most of them had to do with the waitress, dammit again, 'server' in our area who looks like she was put toghether with plastic by the hands of horny angels. Good Lord is she hot. If I can get a photo next time without getting arrested again you all will see her. Be patient. And no, none of those conversations were fit for print. Use your imagination and think massive quantities of nudity, honey and barn animal style fornication and you won't be even close...

Madden Prediction Delorean Vehicle


The Flux Capacitor malfunctioned this week and the game was not played. We will be one short of our complete 16 game season. Fuck off if that matters and or bothers you. It'll be back this week...oh, and if you have spare time, and I know you do, Google "malfunction", that's a kick...

Wrapping this up right, a cheerleader...



And yes, it's Raider Week now as well.

Circling the Drain...

Sweet Fucking Jesus Pete impaled on a popsicle stick. Each week comes with high expectations and each week ends in utter disappointment. I'm at a loss to even be able to quantify disappointment at this point, expectations be damned, there are no more expectations. I'm trying out a new feature, the Dejected Photo of the Week, or DPW from here on out...



This debacle, this utter failure on every level of the playing field, throughout the clubhouse, up into the coaching ranks and as far as the higher ups sitting on their golden thrones is a reality. This is not a small blip on a radar screen that can be easily wiped away with a victory. No. This is a sinking ship. This ship is burning, horrifyingly exploding on every level, and all of those in the Captain garb are sitting calmly asking us to be patient. The life boats will arrive, and there will be a plenty, plenty for all, but the ship isn't sinking. No it's fine. Ignore the flaming exploding shrapnel and toe the line. A 12 point favorite, the Bolts were destroyed by 14 points on their home field by a team that is widely regarded as a cellar dwelling, Strahan mouthed, troll whore who'd sell her soul for a Marlboro and a Natural Light. If you told me I could have KC and Hermy Edwards -13.5 in San Diego, I'd have kidnapped and bet Tom Cruise's Super Cult Baby on it. I'd be taking on the entire Alien World at that point so you'd figure it's a lock. Apparently not so much.

The crowd on Sunday so much as chanted Marty's name as the curtain was a raging flaming, falling catastrophe. To them I say, fuck you cocksucking idiot assholes. Don't try to convince me you weren't the ones calling for his severed head to be displayed on A.J.'s regal sceptor. And now, now you want him back? Go fuck yourselves.



Where is the failure mostly falling? Nick sure as shit doesn't know. He has some ideas. Clearly, the defense is partially to blame, so Ted, you're on fucking notice. Obviously the players aren't doing the job with defending the goal line, so again, chalk that up to the players, and perhaps the new system. The corners are doing their best Travis Henry impression and couldn't cover their dicks with a condom of late. And there is still that matter of the missing linebacker who seemed to be all over the fucking place wearing red on Sunday. I'm looking at you on that one A.Jenius. Top to bottom, fucking failure.



Offense? The quarterback has played slightly less than inspired football. I'd say he ranks right between "Sucks Shit Out of Prisoners" and "Rex Grossman". Let's not let that overshadow the smiting of The Best Ever by the Pockmarked Offensive Guru.

And then there was the enigma that is Vinny Jack, where this guy has gotten all of his credibility is beyond me, he and Termel Sledge must have naked pictures of both Kevin Towers and A.J.'s daughters involved in some slutty girls gone wild threesome.



Since we are working on new features, we're also going to have the new, "Conversations From the Heart". These are actual musings heard during the course of the game. Overheard on Sunday when Norvy grabbed a cheekful of pits after yet another calamity:

"Sweet fucking mercy, once a loser, always a FUCKING LOSER."

Kind of hard to debate the merits and accuracy of that statement as the record column became yet another point richer in the Loss line.

Madden Prognostication Station


This week, the Madden Game Generator had this thing pinned right on. Kansas City came out throwing and in the later stages never looked back. Final score 26-10. Who'd have fuckin' known?

And finally. Without any reason or necessity except for consoling those around here mourning the potential collapse of a Super Power, CHEERLEADERS GOD DAMMIT!!!



And now it's Donkey Week as well...

Shit Creek. No Paddle, We're Fucked...

Far be it from me to sit here in my objectivity throne and rain down hellacious tyrannical musings about the abject lack of effort being put forth by the entirety of the footballing squad. Sunday morning brought yet the next disappointing chapter in what was widely known as "Our Year". But yet at this very moment, our inflatable that is currently drifting down shit creek is steadily taking on fecal matter and the hand powered bilge is tired from all the bailing. And to be honest, it pretty much just fucking stinks like shit in here.

Some select quotes overheard during breakfast on Sunday morning:

"It's the fucking Green Bay Packers for Christ fucking sake! The Green Bay Fucking Packers."
"Holy shit. Holy Shit. Holy Shit."
"Sweet Fucking Jesus! Would you fucking do something already?"
"I'm going to punch you in the fucking face Norv Turner!"


There were many more of that sort audibly echoing through the chosen establishment yesterday. One of the more meaningful conversations that morning surrounded the absence of what may or may not be the key cog in the football winning orgy that we no longer have weekly admission. Could it be the piece of the puzzle that is now lacking in the overall picture? If it is, only a select few have been overheard discussing it (read: us, shitheads.) the absence of one Donnie Edwards. Is this the final piece of A.J.'s master plan that has led to the utter failure of the squad to date? No difinitive answer shall be known, but I've yet to see any of our linebackers in coverage dropping back into the lanes of the indefensible slant patterns that have helped serve our doom to us for breakfast. The ancient one, Mr. Favre regained his youth and buried us using a very similar formula that the Bastards from Beantown seemingly perfected the week before. Up until late in the fourth quarter, after the interception return inside our five yard line, the Pack had attempted 9 rushing plays. 9. Fuck. Seriously? 9?



With the defensive line accomplishing the undeniable feat of not being able to pressure a quarterback who thrives on interceptions when forced to shift his walker in the pocket, the defense was steadily picked apart. Perhaps there was a reason that Ron Rivera and Ted Cottrell were so easily dismissed from their positions within a very successful organization. Combine this with yet another lackluster offensive performance, and a brief return of what some in this town, and nation, referred to as "Martyball" squatting with dive running plays with a four point lead, and the eight penalties for seventy yards (may have been more I stopped counting after that many) another tally in the column known as "loss" was registered. Another uninspired, unimaginative, and utterly pathetic performance dominated the landscape. Perhaps losing a great linebacker, all of your coordinators and replacing them with folks who have never known winning, with a "Don't fuck it up and we'll win the Super Bowl" attitude isn't exactly that awesome recipe Lord A.J. thought he was cooking with.

Yet here we sit, one win against two losses, a coach that is doing nothing to change his reputation as a loser, and yet another, dismissed after a 14-2 season sitting at his home seemingly sipping Crystal on his birthday laughing maniacally with strippers bouncing on each knee. God Dammit. I'm not sure I'll even be able to enjoy topless cheerleaders until this turns around.


Madden Sunday Preview


The Madden Prognostication Eight Ball Machine had this one pegged on Friday night. With one minute remaining in the fourth quarter and the Bolts clinging to a 6 point lead, 44-38 (Shorter quarters, no less offense) The Pack failed to get to paydirt from the Bolts three yard line. This was seemingly the formula on Sunday, until the entirty of it fell apart and the Pack went in on a simple slant from 57 yards out. Madden Prognostication Machine had this one chalked up perfectly, it was the true team that let this one slip away.

What's next? Who the fuck knows? We were supposed to win on Sunday, this was supposed to be our year. Right now, we've got a boat steadily filling itself full of shit and I'd be remiss to suggest that this will repair itself. Load the gun folks, the "Bullet for Norv" Watch starts soon...

Week Two Surprises...

Ask and ye shall receive. Week Two Ballyhoo comes and goes with little a fire in the belly of the beast called revenge. Anticipation was running high as we embarked on the epic battle that was supposed to be January early. Saturday freak accidents brought early morning appointments with crutches and a prelude to another Bolt collapse. Well, not really a collapse per se, as at some point you must be in a football game in order to crumble in such monumental fashion. Am I disappointed? Not as much as I would have expected.


What happened on Sunday Night on National Television was not completely out of the realm of possibility. You see, when the team killed me (yet again) this past January, I was looking for any positive branch in the proverbial happy tree to grasp ahold of as the ground came rushing warp speed at me. To no avail, there was none. Ask and ye shall receive, first we rehired the Elder Statesman that no one in San Diego apparently thought was completely competent to run the football team. Go elsewhere said Lord Sith A.J. and a month after his rehire, "The Incompetent One" was given his outright release. His replacement, a perennial underachiever who just hadn't managed to play shitty cards properly during the tenure of his career. No matter decreed Lord Sith, "He will obey." When the prevailing reasoning behind the new hire is, "Not even he can fuck this up.", you might find yourself wanting in the future.



Thus brings Sunday. What went wrong? Besides 'everysinglefuckingthingunderthelights' of Beantown? I'm not here to breakdown every single bust of the game. That would take far too long and I'd sprain eight digits typing all of the expletives. What I saw, from my casual, and most objective chair, was a pathetic display of a tremendously outcoached, outmatched, outplanned and outexecuted Pop Warner football team. Ask and ye shall receive people. Ask and ye shall receive. As Joe SuperBolt turned to me as the clock struck zero and the light bulbs were burning out on the New England side of the scoreboard from overuse, and declared how much better off we were without ol'Schotzy at the helm, all I could do was choke back the tears. Tears of laughter. Not even ol' Norvy can fuck this up huh? Good Work A.J. I can see where this road leads. And no, I'm not jumping from the top rope of the sofa to land on the panic button like some are. In two very significant football games in our pre pubescent season, there has been no semblance of the former Superpower of a football team shining through. Same players, new bad as ass unis, recycled shitty head coach with no plan.



How can one person ruin my Tuesday? Conversation with Long Time Raiders Fan led to this exchange**:

LTRF: "I think the Chargers might be in trouble."
Me: "Why?"
LTRF: "I've seen that system before in Oakland. It sucks."
Me: "Oh fucking great."

I never thought that I'd long for a day of Schottenheimer coached football, but damned if Norvy's little program here is sound. I'm not writing it off as it is week two, but, much progress needs be made and quite quickly or this will not in fact, "Be our year."



Compounding all of this was the first loss of the Madden '08 Prognostication Wagon. In a defensive struggle, the Bolts prevailed on Saturday night by the squeakiest of 96-85 Margins. Antonio Gates was unstoppable, as well as Randy Moss' 19 catches for 598 yards and 7 touchdowns. Madden be damned there was no fortune telling this night as the season now stands at 1-1. Hey Norvy, Video Norvy has you drummed in coaching skill, watch a tape and learn how to run an offense that is fronted by LaDainian Tomlinson, Antonio Gates, and has a rather functioning quarterback.

So Norvy, fuck this brand of football and get your shit together, otherwise as LTRF put it so succinctly, "Ol' A.J. will have to put a bullet in him." I wholeheartedly agree.

**Conversation with LTRF may not have been verbatim.

And finally, cheerleaders without scorn...

Week 1 Under Your Belt Fatty...

An uneventful week one came and went with what some call a "football" game being played. The Bolt faithful were out in full frontal nudity attack against the Cubs from Chicagoland. As predicted by many, the defending SuperBowlers were unable to handle the sustained attack of the defensive unit in their fresh new unis. Victory be ours in the virgin weekend of Footballing.

As it were, emotions flowed forth from many of those donning the yellow and blue in the greater San Diego area. Despite the attempts by many in our town, the alcohol ban had not yet gone into effect, and a riot free weekend was had by all. I watched as an objective observer, emotions in check, while others appeared slightly concerned at times. Although not a picture perfect performance, the rookie coaching staff persevered throughout as the Cub defense stifled the offensive attack of TBE and the gang. Antonio got first downs with the same frequency that U.S. Senators procure hookers while the rest of the offense remained rather stagnant. The backbreaking moment coming late in the game with LTD throwing yet another football to paydirt, and running for another to effectively execute the NFC Champs. Clock strikes zero and the win column is richer by a tally.

Although not entirely pleased with the week 1 representation by the home squad, I'm reserving judgement for now. It was not the day of the most polished footballing troop that I've ever seen, but rust and nerves can effect a young squad with new clipboarders, and well, they won. What the hell kind of tyrannical criticism can I levy during a win? Answer: None. My message to you: You are one win less dead to me. Hopefully this apathy will rinse away like sand from your tingly parts, and not require more serious antibiotic treatments.


Madden '08 Update

Thursday Night saw the debut of the season long Madden '08 Magic 8 Ball Prediction Machine, and a fierce battle was fought. Defense was at a premium as the game was never actually in doubt. Video Bolts armed with the General Max Colossus at the helm jumped out early and never looked back. Were it not for the explosive return power of Devin Hester, the 84-48 final score would have been more telling than the lightbulbs on the scoreboard indicated. Bolts cover the 7+ point spread and the over fell with little difficulty. Video Madden Magic 8 Ball Prediction Machine is running on all cylinders and is a perfect 100% for the 2007-08 season to date. Next up on the schedule, Thursday night, September 13th, New England at home v. The Bolts. Results posted shortly thereafter...stay tuned. There are still VIP box seats available for the price of box of High Lifes for those who wish to view the game in person. Hit the email link at the top for details...

Madden Bolts 1-0

Week 1 Report Card

Chargers: B-. That's not harsh, the defense was stellar, the offense was up against a formidable NFC foe, but needs to shake off the rusty nerves if they want to extract revenge on the Beantowners who had a hand in ruining my birthday.

CJ's Emotional Attachment: F+. Hey. Hey! That's better than the F-- defcon four level of hatred that was coarsing through my veins prior to Sunday afternoon. It's called progress people, fuck. Give me a God Damned break all right?

And now, cheerleaders...

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!!!

Congratulations, LaDainian!

Even though I think the ESPYs are about the silliest awards going, TBE got some big love from the voters. Are there voters? I don't even know how they decide those stupid things, but rock on anyway, TBE!!! We didn't need them to tell us you're the tits, though. You already let us know every year.

The State of the Union...

After a prolonged hiatus filled with frustration, I'm back. It's time for the 'State of the Union' address here at the homefront. Since it's been a while and I know you've missed it.... it's Bullet Point Time!

* Entering today, the punchless Padres were a half game out of the top spot in the division. Friday marks the return of 'Dinosaur 24', bum knee be damned, he's back. What is he bringing back to the punchless offense of ours? .276, 1 (!) home run, 12 RBI. According to the Lord Sith powers that be, we'll have a better handle on the offense upon his return. I for one, cannot fucking wait.

* Michael Barrett has brought his incredible punching prowess to San Diego. People have been critical of his defensive abilities. After witnessing a few games of his in our home unis, I'm of no remorse to say, the guy can throw. Can't call a game worth a shit, I've seen it in person, but, let's look at the positives here: He can throw, and punch like a champ. I'll take it. Sarcasm is a bitch.

* Scott Linebrink has done his best to devalue himself on the open market over the last three games entering today's contest to ensure his long term future here in our town. I'm sure he loves the weather, but that Sunday to Tuesday run of his was one for the fucking ages. Thanks Scott, you used to be worth an outfielder, one with excessive speed (Carl Crawford) or one with exceptional power (fill in the blank), yet now you have reduced yourself to a corner bat boy and cash considerations. Thanks man. Please report to the coach's office to turn in your hat. Go sit in the corner, you're about as valuable as a feather paperweight to me right now.

* For those of you keeping track, and I know there are at least two of you, the footballing squad is still quite dead to me. I'm waiting for the resurrection, but I'm sure ol' Norvy is anxiously awaiting taking direction from Darth Smith directly into the headphones during the pending games. Oh, and there's that whole stadium and quite mobile team issue still stinking up the table. I'm sure ol' Sunroad will concede to the walking lawsuit Mr. Aguirre at any moment... what? That actually happened? Dammit. I'm sure I'm next on the docket for Deputy Sue Happy any minute now... great. Time to hide the guns I guess.

* Contrary to popular belief, the Red Sox fans were quite cordial this past weekend. If by cordial you mean, absolute fucktards, albeit with an apologetic tone after shitting on our town. And to the guy that was from Clairmont, donning his freshly unwrapped McBastard Town jersey, eat shit pal. I couldn't care less if you ignored the Padres growing up for the Red Jerx, there's no excuse for your existence in this town. Quietly pack up your shit and get out. You are useless here. Eat mule balls and put it on youtube.

* Switching to the positive gear, no one on the above mentioned footballing squad has been arrested or caught ingesting (accidentally, of course) illegal substances. There is still some time until training camp so I'm still holding out hope.

* To all of the media types (yes, I'm still harping on Canepa) who think that the Padres have turned the corner and that last weekend's series against the Bastards from Beantown was a 'World Series' preview..... .....


..... sorry, got stuck with uncontrollable laughter there... the Friars might want to prove they can win a first round playoff series before we start whipping it out and yanking it over the thought of the World Series. I'd rather think about something else. So I give you, Miss Megan Fox... Thanks, I'll be back soon.




... try not to care that she's currently letting David Silver of the 90210 years touch her naughty crumbs.

Huh. Weird.

You know how there are things you don't think you need or even want until you have them? Like, one year my aunt sent me one of those Sharper Image hotdog and bun toasters and I totally thought what a goofy contraption that I'll never need or use. How could I have known how wrong I was? Well, maybe the following will turn out the same, but I just can't see how.


I just can't figure out how some dorky wiggah is ever going to make me happy with an embarassing rap video about my team. I guess it's kind of cool if you turn the sound down, but as it is I can feel my disappointment turn to disgust. And when that happens, CJ has truly won. Go Bolts!!!?

Yeah, We're Still Around.

Hey CJ, suck on this!