NDA Day in NFL!

DATELINE: Brown’s Grade, AB Positive

sample! Not for Player Use!

Quiet!  Shhhhh!  The big secret of the NFL is the notorious nondisclosure agreement, aka NDA. You may remember that little bitty from Donald Trump crying about Stormy sex crimes. Your Non-disclosure agreement puts you in the high chair.

if you molest someone by grabbing genitals, you simply pay the victim a large sum of money to keep his or her mouth shut with a small stocking stuffer. NDAs are the ways to go.

That’s how you play footsie with a wide receiver.

Grabbing genitals is congenital in the NFL. But an NDA saves the day!

If you cry havoc, cry rape or cry wolf, you may have an x-rated Xmas while the gridiron is hot!

Short of murdering people on the streets of Boston in the manner of Aaron Hernandez, you could probably get away with quite a few garden-variety crimes with a few golden nuggets in your pocket party.

Don’t be stopped at a red-light zone by police for soliciting sex at a massage parlor!  If you keep the bare rumpus in your home, you can keep the victims quiet by throwing large wads of cash on their bare bodkins.

Your signing bonus is primarily a tool for legal expenses in pro football.

Fear not, rapists or child abusers, there is a kill-fee awaiting at your favorite David Pecker-run tabloid.

We know NFL players are paid beyond normal pay-scale and most have water on the brain, so quantitative quantum finance means loads of non-disclosure agreements. That way the NFL never can hear about what might cause suspension, investigation, or exempt status.

Your next super bowl will be held in the toilet bowl.

 

 

 

 

Put Out APB Fashion Police on AB!

DATELINE: All Points Bulletin on Antonio Brown!

 AB & NDA in NFL

If you thought the New England Patriots were immoral and unscrupulous, you surely are not surprised that Antonio Brown is laying on a thick residue of scandal on the beleaguered franchise. Even worse, he wore a notorious short suit in hideous design to the game.

Brown’s goop is knee-deep—ranging from Kraft’s massage parlor problems to an artist who came to paint a mural in Brown’s home and found the star walking around in his short suit birthday suit.

Is anyone shocked nowadays? How quaint that must be.

Only a Victorian throwback would find the Bill Belichick approach a shock to the system: money & ratings move the team’s off-field antics.

Yes, the Patriots have found a way to rekindle interest in their boring team. They had grown into old-hat, like the Yankees in the 1950s, standing too pat, losing interest even from fans. They were your grandfather’s bowler hat and Fred Astaire’s top hat.

Now, they have enlivened up the entire NFL season, which is built on the sandy castle of money. It shifts, and it is a porous foundation for anything permanent, except a gaudy Super Bowl ring around the toilet.

Football games are violent, scandal-ridden and off-limits to normal human civilizing influence. You may break an arm, have you clavicle broken, develop water on the brain, but it’s all for the entertainment of men with testosterone deficiency that undevelop every Sunday afternoon.

The Patriots have found a sure-fire formula to bring in fans and more money than ever: Gronk may be gone, but long live the boorish mean-spirit of AB. From A to B, you will have more alphabet soup than any spelling bee deserves.

We begin to wonder how many non-disclosure agreements there are in the NFL among players: Start singing the ditty: “you’ll never know.”

You can pour your soup into a saucer in New England, as long as there is no chowdah involved. Sip slowly with adequate slurps: with other teams collapsing all around, New England is on the road to the Super Bowl.

Move over, dead spirit of Aaron Hernandez

 

 

Trump’s Mantra: “Off with their heads!”

DATELINE: Trump as Queen of Heartless

If you remember your literature, you know it was the queen of Hearts that constantly solved all royal court problems by shouting, “Off with their heads.”

It’s now the mantra of the Trump administration.

If you cross the President, he wants you fired. There’s nothing new in this as he made it his tagline on TV where he starred as a buffoon in an American business satire.

Now he has taken the royal pledge of vindication to new heights, or depths. He has now started to emulate the Queen of Hearts, sending out his Mad Hatter, Wilbur Ross, secretary of commerce, to threaten to fire weathermen for saying a hurricane is not imminent.

Imagine! You are fired for doing your job. “Off with their heads,” and their paychecks. It is nothing new under the rainy reign of Trump.

Thousands of Bahamians have lost everything in Hurricane Dorian that nearly missed Alabama, but Trump won’t give them aid or assistance. They have lost their passports, and now he wants their heads on a silver platter. Let them die in misery is his motto.

“Off with their heads,” we expect that slogan to echo through his campaign rallies to come. Political opponents? Off with their heads! Musicians wives? Off with their heads! Media journalists? Off with their heads.

We can hardly wait for the worm to turn, and have the Congress vote for impeachment while shouting, “Off with his head!” That would make us a wonderland of a banana republic, which seems to be Trump’s fondest wish.

Halston: Fashionista with Un-Common Touch

DATELINE: Clothes Make the Woman

 Halston, Taylor, Minelli at Studio 54!

Fashion designer extraordinaire, Halston was part of a generation that self-immolated by 1990. Most of them were gone: trend-setting, pop culture icons:  notably Halston (he only needed one name, like Liberace). A fascinating documentary aptly named Halstontells the tale.

The 1950s gave young talents like Halston and Warhol a youthful connection to fame, but it was by the 1960s they took charge of their lives. Halston was a gypsy of America, living in no true fixed abode. So, he was likely to be self-made.

He was ambitious and flamboyant, ready to take his energy and ideas into all kinds of creative realms. He was the pioneer who made Europe take note of American fashion, though he was later given rivals like Perry Ellis and Calvin Klein.

Halston tried to stay ahead of the curve, branching out into aesthetics like perfume with bottles as arty as popular. He melded movies and fashion together, finding that his association with people like Liza Minelli and Elizabeth Taylor were ways to grow socially and artfully.

It started to go wrong when he splurged into Studio 54 with Warhol, Capote, and the raft of disco dollies. It was, some said, the beginning of a dissolution.

The documentary never says much about his aging, but it’s there: clearly losing youth to something harder. He became as hard as his looks, or perhaps his looks took on his personality: moody, bossy, self-centered.  It wasn’t pretty, when he started to be less pretty.

Others thought his greed was the deciding factor that led to his destruction: he sold out to J.C. Penney, going from class to mass appeal. It alienated his well-to-do friends and undermined his name. He actually sold his own name, and lost control of it.

The end featured more intrigue that Ancient Rome, as he was pushed out (literally locked out) of his own empire by locksmiths and Playtex bra people who bought his name. A few thought it was drugs that did him in, if not promiscuity.

It was the 1980s and the deadly virus that swept through art circles in theatre, fashion, music, especially in New York, took him too. Andy Warhol once said that he’d want Halston and Elizabeth Taylor as his chums because they were so nice.

This celebrity name-dropping documentary may stir memories in a generation grown old. Halston was loved by many people who felt he epitomized tragedy by the end.

 

 

 

 

Dorian to Visit Oak Island

 Trump Can’t Find Nova Scotia on US Map!

DATELINE: Hurricane Dorian On Schedule to Hit Oak Island!

 Expect a special episode of Drilling Down on Oak Island, and additional footage on Curse of Oak Island when the series begins in November.

With all the celebrity visitors to the treasure hunting Lagina brothers, it seems only natural that in their seventh season they become interrupted by an unwanted visitor. A storm is brewing out in the Atlantic, west of Greenland.

Yes, tourism is a big business on the little island, and they are making the most of it with the TV series inspiring a renewed interest in the Nova Scotia properties. It’s just a skip and hop from New England to drive up there.

Property values have never been higher, and with Americans ready to bail out on a crypto-Nazi takeover of the government, you may find that a couple of small islands are paradise. After all, during the American Revolution, the colonists spent time there.

Unlike today’s tourists, Dorian is going by sea. A direct hit. Put two lanterns in Rick Lagina’s steeple. We heard that Trump wants to send a crew to help with any cleanup—because he thinks Nova Scotia is part of Greenland.

Down from his Cat 5 angry self, the hurricane now denuded into a tropical storm will stay out in the North Atlantic, passing over the area where Titanic rests two miles below the ocean, unfazed by the churning waves above, and the storm will lash out at Alex Lagina and Gary Drayton if they haven’t gone back to Michigan looking for gold bricks under the lake.

The Laginas have run out of places to dig by now, and they have tackled draining the swamp, but are keeping their boggy findings to themselves, lest it hurt the ratings. However, if Dorian dumps another five or ten inches of water into the swamp, it may be a hopeless delay resulting in another season of tedious pumping out of the area.

There is a ship down there in the muck, perhaps about as rotten from wood eating bacteria as the Titanic is from metal-eating bacteria.

Of course, gold coins cannot be eaten by bacteria, if ever there were any treasure to begin with. After all, why build an elaborate tunnel system if you’re leaving the treasure in a sunken ship in a swamp?

 

 

Dorian Blows Trump’s Mind!

DATELINE: Hard Blow to Blowhard

With Hurricane Dorian threatening the United States, we have had political opportunist Trump leading the charge to show his humanitarianism. Talk about fake news!

After denigrating the hurricane when it seemed about to hit Puerto Rico, he charged the political hacks of the island had willed the storm to hit them. Of course, it veered away, and so did Trump’s inane and malicious comments.

Now we expect Trump to request that a nuke be dropped into the eye of the hurricane—but only when it reaches Baltimore.

Next, Dorian was poised to hit Trump’s beloved Winter White House, the former Post estate, now labeled his golf course of choice.

This gave the President an opportunity to wax eloquent about the great people in Florida for whom he cared so much—especially since he needs the state and its voters for re-election.

Cynics may charge that his concern for the “average voter” corresponds to self-interest. That might be unfair until the Imbecile-in-Chief held a press conference and announced that Dorian was going to put the great Trump state of Alabama in harm’s way.

This caused some widespread consternation among meteorologists: the storm is nowhere near Alabama, but its voters are on the pea-brain of Trump. He was corrected about his geographic idiocy, but he managed to repeat the wrong assertion again later in the day’s tweets. He is, at best, slow on the uptake.

If that is not enough to roil your storm warnings, Trump said that he had never heard of a Category 5 hurricane before this week. However, enterprising reporters uncovered a half-dozen times he said the same thing over the past three years.

It seems you cannot teach an old dog much of anything.

Our Worst Fears about Gronk

DATELINE: Water on the Brain?

Gronk (retired New England Patriot tight end Rob Gronkowsky) gave a rather humorless presser the other day in which he made some fairly peculiar statements in layman terms.

He alarmed us greatly when he began to talk about liquids in his brain, caused by football injury.

In his own simplistic way, he may have spoken about a hideous condition that surely means he would be mad to return to football. He discussed the ways you may recover and find some balm for the body and mind after the cruel sado-masochism of playing a game that makes jousting in armor appear to be civilized.

Gronk used terms that reminded us of the old phrase, “water on the brian.” You don’t hear it much anymore. It was a misleading term about spinal fluids unable to flow out of the head region. Doctors mght have called it “hydroencephalus” many decades ago.

Today it might better be explained in terms of concussion sysdrome: that repeated brain injury that has led former players to die too young, too suffer too much, to kill themselves, and to become violent shadows of their pleasant selves.

We think of former Patriot Junior Seau. Some players have donated their brains to research. It is frightful.

Gronk admitted that his brain injuries have given him mood swings already. He is not yet 30. If anyone wants to encourage him to return to the place that is already making his future a nightmare, they are greedy, mindless fans of a bloodsport.

We hope it is still early enough for full recovery for Gronk, though we fear that damage to the brain has been done and even in healing there will be scars, both mental and physical.

Liquids in his head and water on the brain, the end product of hydroencephus or concussions, is the horror no one in the NFL wants to face directly. Yes, they are men paid handsomely for the privilege of being media stars and marvels of physical heroism.

The price, we fear, may be far more devastating. It might make young stars like Gronk a shadow on the Moon, like a werewolf or cursed creature of night.

We do not think his simple declaration about strange liquids in his head should be dismissed as a childlike and preposterous notion. It is deadly.

 

King of the What?

DATELINE: Jesus Express to Penthouse?

 A Wailing Wall!

There was a time in history when it was not a politically smart move to be called The King of the Jews. It could end your career, but Donald Trump is delighted to be given the title by a Jewish supporter: there is no word yet whether this guy is a Pharisee, or just an idiot.

Jesus found the title a little onerous when the governor of a local province took issue with it.

As for Trump, he has no worries that King Herod or his son Herod Antipas (no, not antipasto) will take umbrage. Trump thinks his political opponents are the antipastos.

 Herod, as you may recall from your history, murdered the Innocents, killing newborn babies. Trump merely puts kids in dog cages and denies them flu shots. How many die is yet to be determined.

Herod Antipas was the womanizer who like young girls, like Trump’s dear friend Jeffrey Epstein: you may recall that Antipas asked pre-adolescent Salome to dance without her seven veils—and then gave her the head of Barrack Obama, or someone like that.

So, the latest king of Israel would rather be a kingpin in Greenland where he denies he would build a gaudy skyscraper along the glaciers. He has even cancelled talks with Denmark because Erik the Red wanted Trump towers all over his island; sort of a thousand year old Green Plan.

We thought there was a law against American presidents accepting foreign titles of royalty, but no matter when it comes to Trump: he may not be president much longer if the insanity clause of the 25th Amendment to the Constitution is invoked.

Any Jew who votes Democratic is a traitor to God and Country if you hear the King of Jews in his latest tirade. Bernie Sanders, son of a Jewish immigrant, takes issue with the comment that all Jews who vote against Trump ought to be shot at sunrise by white supremacists.

Jesus denied he was King of the Jews, but Trump is not having any second thoughts. He revels in the notion that he can walk on water and change Greenland’s ice water into gold.

Trump Goes Green (land)!

DATELINE: More Folly from Trump!

greenland Look to the Top of the World!

If you haven’t heard of Trump’s Folly, you may be about to find the history repeating itself.

Abraham Lincoln’s Secretary of State was William Seward and John Wilkes Booth tried to have him assassinated along with the president, But Seward’s real claim to fame was Seward’s Folly:  he paid a couple of million dollars for Alaska .

As you might expect, the public went nuts like the participants of a Trump rally  because this didn’t make America great. You just wasted tax-payer money on an iceberg.

History has vindicated Seward.  The natural resources of Alaska more than pay for themselves.

Now someone in the Trump administration has the bogus idea that Dwight Eisenhower bought Alaska, which may be more telling about the history levels in the White House today; however, the president now wants to buy Greenland.

Erik the Red went to Greenland about 1000 years ago and saw the ice–and to market his new real estate, he gave it a fake name: Greenland.

In case you’re wondering, part of Greenland is under 2 miles of glacier, But Trump think it’s a good putting green.  For his game of miniature golf.

Greenland is presently owned by Denmark and Trump wants to make them an offer they can’t refuse .

Historians will tell you Greenland was the place where the Vikings met their end when a mini-Ice Age occurred in the 1300s.

A documentary called Secrets of the Dead tells about the lost Vikings.  Today about 50,000 Inoits live on Greenland.   There are no roads and no economy so to speak.

It’s not part of Canada but a separate island with the Atlantic on one side in the Arctic Ocean on the other .

It’s perfect for a Trump resort hotel.  If Jeffrey Epstein were still alive, he probably would want to build a little bungalow there .

So Trump’s folly maybe coming down the pike.  If we recall correctly, an iceberg broke off Greeneland over 100 years ago and hit the Titanic .

The next iceberg you see could have Donald Trump’s name on it .

 

 

 

Options Limited from Trump

DATELINE: AG Barr Will Offer Coverup!
choice crew What a Crew!
If you’re a Trump opponent, your options are fairly limited.
If you’re a Democrat, you’re screwed in the Congress. No matter what the House of Representatives does, the Republican Senate will undo: forget gun control or impeachment.
  Those are not big issues.
Trump opponents face assassination or bribery.  You can see why so many police, judges, and other people take the money . It is preferable to being thrown off the top of a roof, have your car brakes fail, or find yourself assassinated in federal prison.
 If you’re familiar with pedophiles in prison, you know that Jeffrey Epstein has reportedly committed suicide while in Federal care.  When it happens to Whitey Bulger, nobody cares.  If you’re a friend of Donald Trump in federal prison, federal care is a dangerous thing .
 As if to underscore the problem, Trump just tweeted that the Clinton’s were probably responsible for the murder of Epstein, which reaches a low ebb even for dim-bulb Trump.
 Now if you know anything about Trump guilt, the first thing he does is blame someone else for what he has done .
Oh, Jeffrey Epstein could have implicated Bill Clinton in some sex scandal, but Clinton is long removed from the White House. The present resident is a little nervous; these are the times that test men’s souls .
 Trump knows he faces a long prison sentence once he leaves the White House, and he certainly doesn’t want to go the route of Ebbstein or Bulger .
 We have learned this year how cheap human life can be.
 White nationalist Trump supporters tell you about it in their manifestos online.  Trump then deletes any word like “invasion” from his tweets. He thinks we’re as stupid as he.
 The rest of us face mass murder by Trump supporters .  Just this week a Tramp supporter who was sending bombs to everyone just a year ago has been sentenced to 20 years in jail. If we’re lucky, upon impeachment that slug becomes Trump’s cellmate.
The rest of us have to practice duck and cover (AG Barr already practices duck and coverup) for the next year and a half while we wait for the monster in the White House to be thrown out, if he ever intends to leave.

Aliens & Your DNA

DATELINE:  Latest Ancient Aliens Horror!

Nick Redferne Nick Redferne

There’s a whole lot of blood-letting going on in the latest episode of Ancient Aliens on season 14 when it comes to your blood type and those space creatures messing with your genetic code..

Those pesky aliens appear to be planning to create a hybrid race.  It’s like a bad flight out of that old chestnut movie Mars Needs Women.  Except there won’t be any marriages, just some splicing of your DNA .

The latest episode hits on familiar themes of animal mutilation, interfering in the family tree, and alien abduction to take your precious bodily fluids.

We see the catalogue and history of images of animals with human heads .  According to the shows experts, this is the work of experimentation thousands of years ago by nefarious space creatures. For good measure, they show presents evidence of Russian experiments  in the 1950s when they put two heads on one dog.

Yes, they have the hideous photos to prove this contention.

All this goes to show that those little gray men are green with jealousy over human evolutionary jumps. We may still be in the middle of a great experiment.

Heaven help you if you are RH Negative As they seem to be targeting your blood type. The experts seem positive about this.  Perhaps 50% of all kidnapped victims by aliens have that blood type. And nearly all of those seem to be Basque descendants.

Nick Redferne and Linda Moulton Howe are ringing alarms, like hero Paul Revere. Only they are coming by air!

King Tut’s Fireball

DATELINE:  Dots Around History?

fireball

If you want to connect the dots of Schumacher-Levy comets hitting Jupiter, the first atomic bomb in New Mexico, King Tut’s jewels, the Great Siberian Explosion of 1908, and turning southwest at the pyramids, you ought to tune in to this documentary: The Fireball of King Tutenkhamun.           

 Three experts—one from Egypt, one from the United States, and one from Vienna—travel to the remotest part of Egypt looking for a debris field where the lime glass objects litter a thousand miles.

It seems the scarab on King Tut’s tomb was carved, not from a jewel, but from some strange extraterrestrial rock.

And, the area is strewn with these objects all over the ground for easy pickings.

The area was underwater until a few thousand years ago, which is hard to believe when you look at the vast and beautiful sand dunes without any life. These rocks may have been spread about from water flow!

The scientists also believe these gorgeous glass items came from a meteor, which is not good news. There is no crater, meaning the explosion of a meteor over Egypt hundreds of thousands of years ago was a devastating mid-air blow up.

These rubble piles can exterminate anything near them. If they are big enough, we don’t stand a chance. Could these scientists be wrong?

Well, the American walks around the desert barefoot, which loses credibility here. If you ever walked hot sand on a beach, you know the bad idea it is. It’s like not coming in out of the rain.

Yet, the documentary is compelling and fascinating, despite the foibles of the scientists. Watch the skies.   

   

Tom Brady’s Cloudy Future?

DATELINE:  Tom’s Time Runs Out

bad bad bundchen Mrs. Tom Brady.

Reading Tom Brady’s tea leaves is pretty difficult, because he doesn’t drink tea!

Nevertheless, fans have requested that we look into the future of Tom Brady, as we have written several books on him and his general flakiness (See Tom Brady Swinging on a Deflategate, Amazon, paper and ebook).

It appears first that he has signed a large new contract extension with a raise that makes him the sixth highest paid player among NFL quarterbacks. Not bad for a GOAT.

Once again this year Brady gives the Kraft team more money to spend on other players or massages.

The big news is that he has put his house in Brookline, Massachusetts, up for sale for under $40 million buckeroos.  Well, it is up and down.  It appeared to be for sale, then it wasn’t. There’s no hurry as he intends to play for at least one more year in New England.

Patriot fans, who have come to think Brady may be a mere mortal  after all, believe he may play just one more year and move to New York where he has bought a high-priced condo for his wife and children.

Like former teammate Gronk, Brady has loyalty to New England only as far as he can play as the team is concerned.

Gisele, one time model and actress, his wife, a billionaire in her own right, has other interests in the big city of the Big Apple .

These two are a Met gala power-couple with international ties who belong only to the money they have: no teams, no countries, no political groups .

Tom and his wife Gisele can do anything they want, and they will.

In the meantime, Tom has admitted that one of his great frustrations is that his second son doesn’t want to be an athlete like dear old dad. This young man is independent and wants to follow his own star, which may not be his father’s star.

All in all, the tea leaves say Tom, star of Tom v. Time, is headed for big changes in his ticking biological clock.

Ossurworld has written several books on Brady, including Tom Brady Swinging on a Deflategate. Available on amazon.com in print version or e-book for smartreaders.

 

 

 

Alien Infection: Pan-Spermia on Comets

DATELINE: Sick of Influenza?

Hoover teaching moment

Hoover teaches Giorgio a Lesson in Life Matter.

When we heard British author Michael Collins state that, “Viruses come from spice,” we were confounded until we realized that his accent actually meant “Viruses come from space.”

So, Ancient Aliens has reached the epidemiological conclusion that it is all astrobiology after all.

NASA scientist Dr. Richard Hoover takes Giorgio into a glacier to look for ice worms among the ancient DNA hiding in ice crystals. These likely arrived thousands, if not millions of years ago. They are waiting to infect us.

According to ancient alien theorists, these directed viruses are intended to alter us:  it’s the old Mathusian philosophy that what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. It seems space aliens may be weeding out the weaker, culling the herd. We are becoming more like them: androgynous, smarter, and with more brittle bones. Sounds like pan-sexuality, not pan-spermia. It all could be the same thing.

Why? Well, the bad news is that we are being made more compatible to some reptilian space race in order to blend us together at some point in the future of the planet. Your forked tongue may be genetic.

When they point out that in 1918 on the same August day in Boston and Bombay, the Spanish influenza struck and proceeded to kill millions, this was likely the result of the virus riding into the world on the tail of a comet that swiped across two hemispheres.

Through the microbes of the universe the war on DNA was waged.

In case you were wondering, it appears that every living creature in the universe uses DNA to build his living blockheads of seeded beings. So, next time you see a reptilian, remember that he is a cousin under the scaly skin.

 

 

 

Seconds & Second Chances with Rock!

DATELINE:  No Deal?

unbecoming Rock Unbecoming Rock!

We love Seconds, or even thirds and fourths of Rock Hudson in his best performance—ever.

We cannot say this lightly. The John Frankenheimer film of 1966 was a game changer in style and director controls. Here, you find something completely different in its stylistic attitude. Cameras may be strapped to the backs of the actors, and the entire feel is somewhat institutional hallucination.

Seconds is a tale of new beginnings, or at least the kind offered by impersonal corporations, if run by some Satan. In this case, the satanic figure is fatherly (and even grandfatherly) Will Geer, better known as Grandpa Walton. Here, he is in his early career roots as the bad guy with a smile that is malevolent. His lackey Jeff Corey is suitably irritating.

Many other familiar faces of the 1960s give this film a sense of been there—but not quite. Frances Reid later became a soap opera queen of Days of Our Lives, but here is the wife of John Randolph, a man in his 50s and unhappy.

He is about to have the chance to become a run-down Rock Hudson.

The deal, like all those offered by Faustian bargain, is never quite what you want. Here, Rock Hudson discovers a tad too late that the hedonistic life of an artist in Malibu is not all it’s cracked up to be with corporate spies (Salome Jens) and a butler/manservant that is all too obsequious.

The final moments of the film are chilling and provide Hudson with something he never had in movies: a real juicy acting gig. This is something to behold and admire, and it holds up for the baby-boomers who might have scoffed in youth, and now look askance at the aging process.