Out, Out, Damn Book!

Yes, it’s ready for your booby prize gift. This is the one book to give to anyone who hates Boston.

The collection of the best, if not all available, stuff you see on Ossurworld’s site.

Available at Amazon, in paper and ebook, but nowhere else.

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A Winter Classic in Miami?

Belichick rid himself of Joey Iosefa—and this one never cracked a joke. That’s the price you pay when you land on Sebastian Vollmer and render him DNP for the rest of the game.

For every mistake there is a harsh and counteractive effect in the world of Bill Belichick.  He is not singing Christmas carols after his team sang the “Christmas Can Can” with the same funky style of Straight No Chaser. Yet, when Iosefa cleared waivers, he was back on the practice squad.

Right now the Patriots have no home. They have been evicted from Gillette Stadium as New Year’s approaches. It seems the field has been touched by an ice maker in preparation for the Winter Classic.

For those who never venture beyond a Sunday football game, the NHL has a classic game played outdoors every New Year’s Day. This season the jolly game will be held at high noon at Gillette Stadium.

The venue is simply not as romantic or stunning as the game at Fenway Park a few years back with the snow gently falling and Bruins gently winning.

In the meantime, Patriots in Miami could end up flip-flopping away while the Jets will roam the range over Buffalo. We don’t give a plug nickel for the Rex Ryan Express’s chance for a winner.

We hope the Patriots game does not run into overtime, as we have a date with the Downton Abbey playoff roster as it heads into television history.

San Francisco and St. Louis can play on without us. You will find us at PBS.



2015 Chuckleheads: Dozen Half-Baked Donut Holes

 DATELINE: Worst of Ossurworld


At this point in the year we have been asked to review our humor tales and come up with a top dozen of our top 100 blogs.

We certainly noticed certain topics overrun the humor meter: Deflategate, anything Tom Brady, something Tom Brady, Aaron Hernandez, Rajon Rondo, and Tom Brady Against the World.

Though we hate to rank our satires, here are 12 you thought you had successfully avoided:

  1. Andrew Luck: Please Read Our Books!

Andrew Luck has now topped Tom Brady and Peyton Manning on the New York Times Book List.

In a post-literate world, Andrew Luck is bringing back the old fashioned values of a bookworm. He reads books. He recommends them to his teammates. Usually his mother recommends them to him. Does anyone have her email address?

11. Sports Media Exaggerations

Buffoons of sports, better known as media insiders of the NFL, have embarrassed themselves with imperfect metaphors.

  1. Celtics Play Hair Ball

We have been scratching our heads over Jared Sullinger and Marcus Smart. We haven’t seen such a hairball since the cat got sick.

They remain #36 and 7 in our programme, but there is a hint of Mini-me and his master in their demeanor.

  1. Rondo Returns from Dead

We returned to the thrilling days of yesteryear by watching Rajon Rondo in Mexico City.

We never pictured Rajon as the new Fred Dobbs, but there he was in the land of Gila monsters and Federales. And he was just as crazy as ever.

  1. Billy the Kid as the Croquet Kid

You probably have seen the newly confirmed photo of Billy the Kid.

He was the sociopathic killer and dime novel hero of the great American West.  As a dangerous desperado who shot 21 people down, at his minimal serial killer standard, he may have taken a hit to his image with the discovery of his picture playing croquet.

  1. Hernandez Shoe Size Revealed to World

Move over Bigfoot! For those using metaphor to measure life, the appearance of Aaron Hernandez’s sneakers at his murder trial may be an exciting moment.

Yes, prosecutors actually publicly exposed Hernandez to the big number. His shoe size is now a matter of public record.

  1. Ortiz 502, Brady 401

We haven’t made enough of the record setters this month.

First, David Ortiz passed 500 home runs in his career. It is unexpected since everyone urged him to retire when he had about 400 round-trippers. Ortiz never listened to his critics. On the same level playing field, Tom Brady was urged at the start of last year to call it a game. He came back with a vengeance—and is now on a Revenge of the Deflategate tour.

  1. Tom Brady for President!

With more nitwits running for the Republican nomination than we can count on two hands, we now feel the time is ripe for Tom Brady to throw his deflated football into the ring.

Look out, GOP wannabes. Here’s the real article.

  1. Souvenir for Sale: Deflated Football

Now you can buy a piece of history. Of course, any time you buy history, you have to deal with inflation that sent the Weimar Republic into the arms of Adolph Hitler.

  1. Our Hunchback of Gillette Stadium

Of all the grave injustices done to Tom Brady, we never suspected that the worst of the worst would come from a court-deigned sketch artist with delusions of Picasso and Munch.

  1. Tom Brady’s Plastic Surgery

Tom, we hardly knew ye. There may be many ways to deal with one’s 38th birthday—or Deflategate fallout. Take Tom Brady for instance. He apparently accompanied his wife to Paris sometime this summer for a secret rendezvous with the best face workers in the business.

  1. Tom Brady Trumps Truman Capote

Leave it to GQ Magazine to set up Tom Brady in a way that Roger Goodell wishes he could. We are almost agog waiting for Tom’s next act in the swim suit competition.


How can 2016 ever compete with this list of horror tales?

At Long Last, Miami Ices the Season

DATELINE: End of the Line

As bad as it looks for New England with its coins tossed into the fountain, the Charles River, and now into the Atlantic Ocean, things are worse in Miami.

One Dolphin wife has head-butted stadium security and sends out incendiary emails about the quarterback. As far as we know, Giselle has not tweeted out profanities about Julian Edelman.

Of course, media buzzards are now circling the Patriots wagon train, circled against another attack, and noting that Belichick is likely to play the Foxboro High School football team to spare his regulars from any additional injury.

The new coaching staff of Miami already looks old and temporary, like a recycled Depends. Though the Dolphins have home field advantage over the Patriots for the final game of the regular season, we expect this game to look like a reprise of all the guest stars on Downton Abbey in the final season.

The regulars will be no more than a peanut gallery, though we expect Tom Brady will stay on the field until the half-time show.

One supposes there are worse fates than losing home field advantage in the playoffs—half the teams will start that way.

The real issue is whether there is time for healing. Shall we resort to titanium bracelets, voodoo dolls, and kineosin black duck tape, to help the maimed Patriots walk?

Baking in the sun has been a tried and true recipe for recovery for oldsters for decades. Miami Beach is well known for old millionaires taking in the rays. So, we are presuming Tom Brady will bring his sun screen and tan up.



Black Tape Tells the Tale

DATELINE: Tape Worms


Beckham is Tapeless

Kineosin is a Japanese form of duct tape, not to be confused with a tape worm, or videotape.

Just call it Quackery.

The Boston Celtics groaners, notably Isiaiah Thomas, seem to be wearing black duck tape all over under his tank top. It is a form of therapy for what ails you.

Houston’s problem during the Apollo missions to the Moon were well-served by black duck tape. Now Coach Brad Stevens has adapted its use on his Boston Celtics players, holding them together in defensive mode with sticky tape, far more preferable than Gorilla Glue.

In modern voodoo parlance, black duck tape is the equivalent of tossing an eye of newt into your boiling cauldron before making an incantation.

Celtics players swear by its success. They swear all the time, but not the way Rajon Rondo used to—and still does.

Putting black tape on your back apparently turns you around to face your ills you know not of. It also gives you your swagger back.

The black duck tape first won fame as the stuff used to build Godzilla models in Japan in the 1950s. After surviving dozens of sequels, prequels, and remakes, the NBA has taped up the solution.

Unlike HGH, the black duck tape is not banned by the NFL goon squad—and Peyton Manning can safely wrap this stuff around his neck and hang himself out to dry.

Tom Brady uses black duck tape to smooth out facial wrinkles. And, Odell Beckham has found it is a useful way to keep that mop attached to his head.

Like it or not, black duck tape is here to hold your stay in place.


Back to the Drawing Board for Belichick

DATELINE: Three Coins in the Fountain

Back to the Abacus

As Bill Belichick now must deal with the worst decision of his coaching career, he has taken to justifying it. Talk about making matters worse. He claims he was making a list and checking it twice when the infamous coin flip seems to have flipped him a bird.

The diabolical Hoodie of yore would never have stood on the sidelines, playing with his etch-a-sketch, which some commentators have mistakenly called an iPad.

Everyone knows Roger Goodell has made a $400 million deal with the famous toymaker to give coaches something under their Xmas tree. The blue bauble appears to have no Internet connectivity, let alone an off switch.

It was on this little blue tablet, often called a Surface at Microsoft, that the New England braintrust seems to have drawn up one of the worst plans of the regular season.

The NFL Etch has no memory, no statistics, and no known reasonable function. Yet, Belichick used it to decide to kick a ball to the Jets in overtime, thereby giving them a chance to score instantly.

Technophobes like Belichick then could use the device to prove that Steve Jobs was a bad movie about knock-offs.

Since Belichick’s defensive schemers were unable to stop the March of the Jet Toy Soldiers, the Etch-a-Sketch turned Tom Brady into Betsy Wetsy. Matt Patricia, the erstwhile Defensive Coordinator, was degraded to using #2 pencils to work it out.

It seemed like the Jets took the old-fashioned Slinky hop and bounce over the Patriots D-men.

It appears that the motto, “In Bill We Trust,” has been deflated.

Tossed Out by a Trick Kick Call: the Pats Lose

DATELINE: Asleep at the Switch

Belichick Plays Dumb at Coin Toss

The Jets played like they had an extra pot of coffee this morning, and the Patriots were sleep walking. In this deplorable effort, our Patriots were the original sleepy time gals.

Pats fans probably could not believe their eyes at some of the half-baked mistakes, culminating in Coach Bill Belichick’s truly mammoth error in judgment: he won the coin toss for overtime and elected to kick to the Jets.


Yes, Brady and Belichick agreed after the game that was their decision, no mistake about it.  Well, it is one of the major errors of the Belichick error-free era. We cannot recall anything quite so significant at this point of seventeen seasons under the Hoodie King.

The overtime loss was merely icing on the slumber number of their mattress. We could feel a pea under our tush, but the Pats had a numbness that ranged from skulls to backsides. We were astounded at how they seemed a dollar short for the ferry fare as the creek rose around them.

If you believed the Pats wanted to deliver this game to the Jets, they made it a Christmas to remember. Everything was on the line, except the big red bow on the gift wrap.

We can take solace that Carolina Panthers also lost, despite carrying big black bats.

Yet, the nagging feel remains that the NFL referees are influencing those under the influence, whether they are Browns players coming home from too much spirit at the party, or coin tossed captains who don’t know whether their heads are screwed on.

Tom Brady’s Jiminy Xmas!

DATELINE: Man in Red Suit


Who knew the Jolly Old Elf was bigger than a breadbox? Who knew Santa Claus had clodhoppers on his feet? Who knew Santa drank protein shakes?

Tom Brady, that’s who.

We are a little late this year for the holiday, but found our investigative skills put to the test with this Christmas Eve edition of stolen identities.

Tom Brady hosted Saint Nick for cookies and protein shakes before the long journey into day.

Skeptics started assessing the shoe size of Tom’s Uggs next to Santa and came to a conclusion that is usually reserved for DNA evidence at trials. And, that indicated Santa was bigger than a Polish sausage—pointing fingers in one direction:  Gronk.

We know that, after years of playing together, Tom has grown accustomed to Gronk’s face. He likes the tune Gronk whistles at noon. His smiles, his frowns, his ups and his spikes are second nature to Tom now.

Now Gronk is playing Santa on Christmas Eve to Tom’s kids.

Tom can never be serenely independent. He’s grown accustomed to that voice and that face, its highs and lows.

We recall the first season when Tom would make a sarcastic comment to Gronk—and Gronk would be dazed, mouth agape, unable to speak.

Now, they are sharing milk and cookies. It’s like breathing out and breathing in.

Gronk has become a habit hard to break.



Patriots Lost on Revis Island?

DATELINE: On Gilligan’s Island Before Playoffs

The rats are abandoning the Good Ship of Lollipop Brady. You can swim to the nearby island belonging to the good Dr. Goodell Moreau of sports where you will be hunted down like a deflated ballboy.

As the game time clock is about to strike, the hickory dickory media is running down the clock before the bell tolls.

Predictions for a Jets victory over the Patriots is the latest fad. And, some are accusing the Patriots and Belichick of, you guessed it, cheating to lose. The game’s score will be within the FanDooDoo boys’ range of betting.

A Patriot loss would throw the wild cards up in the air for a game of 52 Pickup.

So, media defenders of Brady and his teammates are now looking for portholes and exits out of the cargo hold.

We have held firm to a Patriot victory as de rigueur in the scheme of NFL shenanigans. And, we subscribe to the new theory that Revis Island is the new Riker’s Island of New York.  Your huddled masses of semi-talented players will be housed there in overcrowded and teeming tenements.

Like Kong’s Island during a storm, Revis Island is on the downswing. Islands tend to sink eventually. Just ask all those survivors of Atlantis, or Santorini.

If you think you will survive a Patriots juggernaut by pulling a Robinson Crusoe on Revis Island, you are living on Fantasy Island. And, Friday is not a game day.

As John Donne would tell you, no man is an island, but the bell is tolling for the New York Jets.

Sly Accusation Becomes Peyton’s Pain in Neck

DATELINE:  Pizza Pie in the Face


A rock from outer space just landed on Peyton Manning.

After having besmirched Tom Brady at every corner of the universe, the NFL suddenly had been caught in the outhouse with its premiere star. Some pharmacist named Sly has accused Manning of using human growth hormone to recover from his neck surgery in 2011.

This verboten substance may be miraculous for anyone with a medical problem, but the NFL has made a point of banning it.

Now they are facing the love of their league in a situation where Manning voided the banning.

We suspect that, if this vile story is true, Roger Goodell will hit Manning with a one-game suspension because he has pity on a suffering human being, desperate to cure his pain.

Tom Brady, on the other hand, in the alternate universe of Goodell, has merely caused pain to 31 billionaire owners.

Manning, of course, denies that he ever heard of someone named Sly and never had any illegal substance delivered to his wife at their various addresses.

We tend to agree that Manning is too smart for such a plan of action. If he had the substance sent to his various addresses, it would go to the butler. Yes, the butler did it.

No, Patriot fans, we don’t mean Malcolm Butler.

Peyton’s places are sundry. He has homes all over the country and his wife remains a woman more private than Greta Garbo. So, any investigation will simply cause anguish to people wanting to stay above or below the fray in elite zipcodes.

We refuse to believe the story is true, just as Patriot fans refused to believe ugly stories about Brady are true. Does this put the shoe on the other foot?

It likely means that sticky dirt has to be scrubbed off, whether Peyton is innocent or guilty. This is worse than a pizza pie in the face.



Rajon Rondo Plays Kick the Cameraman

DATELINE:  Mercurial Garbo/Rondo at Work


We never let thousands of miles separate us for too long from our dear nemesis, Rajon Rondo.

This week, as a follow up to slurring a gay referee, Rondo took on the media itself in the form of a baseline camera confrontation.

Kick the camera seems to be the operative phrase. However, a few intrepid souls who saw Rondo’s sole insisted he nudged the camera with his foot.

The usually soulful Rondo played Garbo again, perhaps out of a sense of sentimentality, or maybe because it is the season to be jolly.

The kick-start was meant to force a ground level, baseline cameraman from NBC Sports to stop showing the pain and agony of defeat, as one of Rondo’s teammates was down on the court with injury.

De feet caused de sole to rise up in Rondo’s wrath.

Rondo may suffer from bunions and they kicked up on him.

We suspect that the oft-winner of the Garbo Temperament Award in Boston was not ready for his prime-time close-up in Sacramento.

It could also indicate that Rondo is considering a second career in soccer. We would advise him to use his head more often in that case.

Rondo may also be jealous of the attention now being afforded a new, younger star in another sport. Footman Oddsmell Beckham of the Giants would have used his helmet on the offending camera.

But, we want to assure Rondo: he still has it– from headcase to sole.

Black Bats and Burning Crosses: Symbols of Victory?

DATELINE:  Panther Rallying Cry!


Bring on the Black Bats?

The Black Bats of the Carolina Panthers now have been revealed as an elemental part of their winning season. It’s a good luck charm used to intimidate the opponents.

We have never seen Bill Belichick’s teams resort to black bats. One wonders if black bats trump deflated footballs as a black eye on the integrity of the game.

The NFL prevents players from wearing any article of clothing that they deem detrimental to the game: like a pink shoe to honor a mother who died of breast cancer.

However, Goodell’s NFL goons and goose-steppers will gladly allow the crypto-Nazi symbol of a black bat. If we had gangstas doing this on the streets of New York, the police would have their tasers at the ready.

You may well ask how a baseball bat fits in the uniform policy of the NFL, which generally does not allow the swung bat to stop the receivers.

Panther apologists include their coach who notes that it is merely a symbol or a metaphor that the players are swinging for the fences—again a baseball reference to hitting a home run.

Why not carry a lacrosse stick? They are longer and have a more deadly reach. Why not drive a tank onto the field to fire up your team with Patton’s blood and guts as a symbol?

The notion that a black bat is an innocent article of sportsmanship is nearly as ludicrous as the notion that calling Oddsmell Beckham a ballerina is all part of the fairness of love and war.

Where is your overbearing NFL, fans? We think wearing white hoods and holding burning crosses might also intimidate other teams or their star players, but we haven’t seen that in the pregame rituals–yet.

NFL Blames Brady for the Ills of World

DATELINE: Goodell’s Growing Paranoia

NFL Seeks Tom Brady’s Head

The NFL’s latest brief against Tom Brady in a court appeal of their Deflate-gate catastrophe is shocking.

With each legal step, the NFL seems to change the charges against Tom.

In a regular judicial proceeding, this would be unconstitutional. In the NFL it is in the best tradition of Adolph Hitler and colleagues at the local concentration camps.

Now the Roger Goodell kookoo bird contingent feels Brady has undermined confidence in the game and eroded public goodwill. They stop short of accusing him of poisoning the water supply of every team in the NFL except New England. If you believe the hyped up and hopped up attorneys on retainer for the NFL, then you may begin to think conservative Tom is on the payroll of some radical Islamic terrorist group.

Next, we expect Brady to be nominated by the NFL for the no-fly list. That would effectively stop him from playing in most games of the season.

Yet, on the same day, the public whom the NFL says is jaded and disenfranchised by Brady actually made him the biggest vote getter of the NFL for the Pro Bowl.

It smells distinctly like the media campaign against Donald Trump. The more the public supports him, the more the media disparages him with false charges, accusing him of being unfit to be president. It sounds like the same people who hate Brady also hate Trump.

The Wells report originally charged Brady with being “generally aware” of deflated footballs, but now the NFL feels he is orchestrating one of the great conspiracies in the history of the world. Move over, John Wilkes Booth and shooter on the grassy knoll.

The NFL is soon to reveal a magic bullet that Brady used to deflate balls by means of voodoo and paranormal influence.

Save us from the maroons of the NFL.

This Year’s Smell-o-Rama Star!

DATELINE: Smell-a-Fop Beckham


Okay, we are finally being forced to deal with that odd smell called Odell.

The NFL took notice of the Giant who shrinks before your eyes into a midget. Oddsmell Beckham is the name.

But, that would be insulting to Little People. Beckham is a Giant bully with a titanic ego and a big set of footballs for brains. He wears tight white pants for the same reason that motivated Aaron Hernandez.

It would appear that the flashy Beckham with his one handed catches will soon be a flash in the pan. We would like to see him fricaseed after his helmet crash into an opposing player.

As Cam Newton astutely commented, we have a field full of alpha males on a testosterone bender. It’s the NFL where the last vestige of manhood is not a mask of facial stubble.

Yes, these giants are behemoths among men. Yet, good sportsmanship is the sales pitch on the marquee. That too is laughable when the same week the Commissioner seeks to hang his biggest Pro Bowl vote-getter as a cheater detrimental to the game.

Tom Brady allegedly deflated a ball. Beckham tried to kill another man on live TV.  Brady should receive a four game suspension, and Beckham should receive a one-game suspension. Go figure, Roger.

We have taken a giant step backward in evolution if Roger Goodell has his way.

As for the Goldilocks of the NFL, Beckham is looking for a game just right—not too hot and not too cold. He thinks his medium is the message, and his pants are hitched just so.

According to one reputed victim, Josh Norman of the Panthers, Beckham is puerile, infantile, and full of guile. Big babies are the norm for football Giants, as we have seen from gunshots to the groin.

Yet, this story grows curiouser and curiouser; Beckham allegedly reacted to gay slurs about his character: was he a diva about this, though the Panthers deny any fop slurs were used?  or did the words cut too close to the pantywaist bone?

This week the NFL took a giant step backward. Next year’s humor already has a jump on us.


Titans Tetter Totter Against Patriots


Ball After Hicks Falls on It

If Brady suffered from some unknown malady, he used his wizardry to overcome it instantly. Brady made the Titans ill.

We saw more of Akiem Hicks than we ever expected in this game, as he teamed with Chandler Jones for the latest Abbot and Costello comedy. “Who’s on First” had nothing on their “Who’s on Mariota?”

Hicks needs a bigger jersey. He seemed to look like a giant puff ball with the goo oozing out from under his jersey. We love overflow, especially at Christmas. Hicks is our choice to play Santa at the Patriots party.

We would not want to be a football after Hicks falls on it. Talk about deflation.

The Patriots continue to turn every unknown Eliza Doolittle into big stars. We never thought of Belichick as Professor Henry Higgins, but he came bring all these discoveries to the Super Bowl and pass them off as superstars.

Lately we came to see Hicks, White, and Sheard, as the new law firm—replacing Lawyer Milloy and Ty Law of yore. Now you may want to add another impressive junior partner in Joey Iosefa who took on the bull in china shop role.

Yet, the game was lost in ways we have become used to: both Danny Amendola and Patrick Chung left with injuries.  If Belichick has any unknowns left in his arsenal, he needs to pull them out and have them ready for the despicable Jets next week.