Work for Tom Brady! It’s Cheap!

 DATELINE: File Under “Help Wanted!”

tom-teddy Tom Hugs All Employees!

Yes, your golden opportunity is smiling down on you. Well, perhaps not so golden, as the pay is paltry, but TB12 in Patriot Place, Foxboro, is looking for a receptionist. In Tom’s bright world of euphemism, the job is Front Desk Associate.

You don’t need a pesky college degree (Tom barely finished with General Studies), but you do need all your teeth for smiling broadly no matter what happens. And, apparently, much stuff happens.

You will work for a “global company”, according to the description, but you do need to be an American citizen. Tom is a Republican, after all.

It’s a company with health issues, so you had better have super human strength to lift 50-pound bags of mail and answer it too. You should have a diligent work ethic—because you have to do it all part-time, including multi-tasking, fixing the computer, have a knowledge of health terms and bogus health issues, serve a diverse clientele that wants to meet Tom.

You need an iron ability to work with Giselle who probably doesn’t want Tom meeting any women. That likely includes any massage experts recommended by Robert Kraft.

Oh, yes, there are lots of interruptions at the front desk, according to the job description: like fending off crazed fans who want their money back. That’s probably why they’d like you to have a para-military or police background. Kung fu is not on the list of talents, but it may help.

TB12 is rapidly “evolving” as the ad states, because Tom is on the verge of retiring and may drop into the office more frequently. It also helps if you have an interest in transforming global health and botox treatments– and dealing with Julian Edelman and keeping Gronk out of Tom’s hair transplants.

Among the talents required: “Proven working experience” and “Exceptional verbal & written communication skills.” So, that GED will help after all.

If you want Tom’s autograph, it will only come on the paycheck.

 

P.S., YES, THIS IS A REAL JOB POSTED ONLINE!!!!

Julian Edelman: Bachelor of Something!

DATELINE: Bachelor in Paradise?

beastie-boy

Tom’s Beard

May is here and rose blossoms are being tossed at the most important people who are deserving this weekend for congratulations.

No, we are not talking about motherhood. We mean college graduates.

And, here in New England the biggest college commencement is occurring in Ohio at Kent State. Julian returned to the scene of his undergrad daze to complete his program.

Heretofore, Kent State’s claim to fame was a massacre of students in 1970. Now, it’s an overhyped degree recipient. No one gave Julian Edelman the third degree, only his first.

Yup, over a decade after he dropped out of his mysterious academic program in crypto-something, Julian Edelman has finished his degree requirements and will be graduating. Whether this is criminal justice, or online learning, we can only speculate about adult learners.

Wearing a robe is old hat to Julian but is time we hope he wears something underneath.

Better late than never for pomp and/or circumstance. We wondered when Jules found time to finish up a year of classes. He left after the third year to pursue a career of making big bucks behind Tom Brady’s curve balls.

Maybe Kent State gave him life experience credits.

Edelman has never liked to play second fiddle to anyone, apart from his big brother advocate, Tom. So, when Tom laughed at the quarterback skills of Jules, he became Tom’s go-to pass-receiver. Now his GPA is still half his reception quota.

Yet, Julian has always felt inferior to his taller, more handsome pal. After all, not only does Tom have a wife who is a billionairess, Tom has a bachelor’s degree in general studies. Julian is more focused.

Yes, that marketing skill is the envy of English majors everywhere. Edelman won’t reveal what his area of expertise is in terms of a bachelor of arts or science, but he is unmarried.

We suspect his plays the field generally, studying Tom Brady most of the time. Indeed, this year, he went as Tom’s beard to the Met Gala.

They also shared some fun at the “Kentuky” Derby (according to Trump spellcheck) where Tom won and Julian didn’t.

We now can give Jules the respect he is due: for managing to do online course work (well, someone did it) to achieve his parents’ dream of a well-educated lunatic for a son.

Trump’s Handiwork in Palm Beach

DATELINE: Massage is the Medium

Yang & Trump Party Another Happy Ending!

A funny thing happened on the way to the Trump Super Bowl party. Another funny thing happened at the Palm Beach massage parlor. We don’t mean funny in a humorous sense. It is distinctly odd.

Now it seems that Robert Kraft, owner of the New England Patriots, could not attend the Trump Super Bowl party because he actually was at the game, as part of putting the sixth championship below his belt.

Cindy Yang attended Trump’s shindig where she showed him a good time. Yank, oops, Yang founded the massage parlor game in Palm Beach, a kidney stone’s throw from Mar-a-Lago.

Joining Mr. Trump at his party was the one-time creator of the self-same parlor where Mr. Kraft was handed his arrested development warrant. You guessed it! Cindy Yank has the pull for an invitation.

You have got to hand it to Trump and Kraft. They know how to grab headlines. When you have billions, you can do fairly much whatever you want. The problem is that these handsome seniors have enemies. Yes, there are patrons of the law who blanch at women doing sex work for money.

We eagerly await the visit of Kraft to the White House where he will hand-off a MAGA jersey to President like it’s a Handi-wipe who will hand-out fast-food with and without pickles.

Trump likely feels this massage perk is owed to the super-rich who are now political kingpins, making immigration policy that allows Chinese women to be held prisoner, not in a fortune cookie factory where they might send out a message, but in a massage parlor where the medium is the massage.

The party-goer who owned the massage parlor is a big donor to Trump. She gives freely and often. The little lady deserves a big hand, but we aren’t sure if Trump or Kraft can afford to pick up the tab.

Septuagenarians are worse off than sexagenarians.

If you think there is something funny going on here in Palm Beach, we think the police agree and have a hands-on policy when it comes to a handshake and a smile.

If you think Congressional committees will put their paws on this one, you will have another Jussie Smollett moment on your hands.

Sex and politics are never strange bedfellows. Just let the Stormy days pass—you will have a big hand for the little lady.

Funny like a toothache.

 

 

Brooklyn Bridge to Serve as Mexican Border Wall

DATELINE:  Trump’s New Solution!

untitled

In the great tradition of American business, President Donald Trump will follow in the footsteps of Mae West and Bugs Bunny and will sell shares in the Brooklyn Bridge. He believes that, if enough Republicans buy shares, they can charge Democrats a large fee to use it.

At the least, he believes the Bridge can be shut down to keep undesirables out of Manhattan. He believes most of those who use the Brooklyn Bridge are illegal immigrants.

The idea was said to be floated by Sean Hannity and Lindsay Graham at a dinner with the President who noted during dessert of Baked Alaska about furloughed government workers: “Let them eat cake.”

Trump tweeted that “Number A, this is a great idea with a chance to make a huge profit for the American people.”  Trump went out to cite the purchase of the London Bridge by American investors some years ago. They moved it to Arizona.

Trump believes this is a template for the latest effort to take the Brooklyn Bridge, stone by stone, and move it to the Mexican border. Trump believes this will kill two birds with one stone.

Sean Hannity reportedly told the President that the Brooklyn Bridge was a boondoggle, built by corrupt Democrats and that his legacy will be affirmed when he tears down the bridge and makes it bigger than the Berlin Wall.

 

 

Yes, It’s Over, Over There!

DATELINE: Do You See What We See?

Laird Cregar

For those who have trouble understanding the definitive moments of history, science, and world politics, you witnessed on a hot afternoon in Miami in December the Fall of the Roman Empire.

Lest our metaphors shock you with their doomsday scenario, we will say it more simply: the New England Patriots have met catastrophe. Humpty Dumpty has fallen off the great wall and the Patriots cannot put him together again. Atlantis just sank into the ocean.

There will be those who say it is merely one loss on a long road of successes.

The cognoscenti will recognize that Tom Brady’s career will never recover. The team on which he plays has imploded. Its vaunted brain-trust has just been eaten by viral amoebas. You have just seen someone cough up his lung and his guts. King Kong has fallen off the Empire State Building. Satan has been cast out of Heaven.

A game that might have been won anytime in the past 20 years by the Patriots, was lost.

It is the end of the story when Cinderella loses her glass slipper, and the clock strikes midnight. It is the time you see a small, insignificant man behind the curtain who resembles Belichick in whom all New England fans trust, and he says he is not the Wizard of Oz and to ignore him.

Robert Oppenheimer said it best when the bomb when off and the clock ticked away: “I am the Bringer of Death.” Bring on a new generation of football stars and dynasties.

You cannot exaggerate too much what has happened in the world. Sometimes matters are puzzling and frightful. Here they are as clear as you can ever hope to see. Donald Trump stole the election and now you know.

Ding Dong, the Witch is Dead. The New England Patriots just sang the Swan Song of Football.

Queen Latifah, Jimmy Fallon, & Gisele Bundchen Star!

 DATELINE: Bad Bad Bundchen

 bad bad bundchen.jpeg

Mrs. Tom Brady Did It!

Hail a Taxi in a New York minute! This is a must-see movie classic.

Well, okay, it isn’t exactly Citizen Kane.

However, the 2004 movie called Taxi impresses in so many ways. First, its cast includes Queen Latifah, Jimmy Fallon, and Giselle Bundchen. Unlikely and perfect casting?

Yes, the future Mrs. #TomBrady is in her movie debut with third billing. There is not even a hint of “Introducing….” She is the star. Having a billion bucks can do that.

She is top of the game as the villain, a tall model-type bank robber, heading a gang of shoot’em up women. What? You were expecting Anna Magnani in Open City? It’s enough to convince us that, if she teamed up with Tom Brady, for a movie career, we’d have another Burton and Taylor, or at least a potential Laurel and Hardy.

The movie is about a New York cabbie with a penchant for speeding (Queen Latifah in her patented sassy tough girl role) and an inept New York copper (Jimmy Fallon with a run-off at the mouth speed).

Luc Besson directs and writes this stuff to guarantee there is plenty of car-crashing action. He is the Fellini of the urban circus movie. Yeah, we give this one 8 and a Half.

If you expect to see Downton Abbey, you took a wrong turn at Antonioni’s Blow Up. Gisele rivals Vanessa Redgrave here.

We mainly stayed agog during the entire film because it is fifteen years old, and the three principal stars look exactly the same today. They have not aged one whit. #Latifah, #Fallon, and #Bundchen just stepped out of The Time Machine.

Who among us can make that claim? You might start to wonder where the Fountain of Youth is located in Central Park. Is it Tom Brady’s avocado ice cream that tells us the proof is in the pudding?

Yes, the cute strawberry blonde playing Jimmy Fallon’s mother is that Viva Las Vegas girl and Elvis co-star, Ann-Margaret. Talk about ageless

This movie is a Manhattan cake-walk.

Tom, Giselle, Boris & Natasha!

DATELINE: Met Gala Stun Guns Again

Tom, Giselle, Boris, Natasha

Yes, right after the Kentucky Derby “and they’re off—” comes the notorious Met Gala in New York where the show horses and would-be celebrities fall all over themselves on the red carpet.

Yes, on the heels of the bizarre nature of Westworld’s second season comes Evan Rachel Wood, Kim Karadasian, and Elon Musk, on the red carpet.

Our favorite had to be Tom Brady, erstwhile ageless quarterback and his wife (the billionaire), looking like refugees from 1960s Gilligan’s Island. Indeed, you had to wonder if Jonathan Nolan had produced the glitzy extravaganza as a means to publicize his TV HBO weirdo series.

You can’t tell the androids from the guests.

What Tom Brady has had to do to cause his wife to agree to let him play for two more seasons? You have only to look at his outfit as the twosome cavorted with other Barbie and Ken dolls.

Yes, Tom is wearing nail polish. You can’t see the multi-colored nail polish on his feet. And he looks like he is storing botox in his cheeks. Yet, the rash comments that he and wife look like James Bond villains is a tad off-the-mark.

Tom is not auditioning to play Dr. No, nor Goldfinger. He is acting like a friendly Russian that would charm President Donald Trump, whose hair would have fit right in on the red carpet.

Tom and Giselle came across as Boris and Natasha, those 1960s spies who gave Bullwinkle Gronk and Julian the Flying Squirrel fits.

Halloween comes early. However, we did see Patriots owner Robert Kraft and his young Baby Mama. To our shock, Kraft was NOT wearing his blue collar/white shirt. He did have de rigueur tennis shoes with his tux.

You have to love insanity with money.

 

 

Sketchy Brady & Stormy Weather

DATELINE: Say It Ain’t So, Tom!

While Tom Brady is away in Arabia, playing at Lawrence of Best Buddies, on a charity junket to Qatar, riding camels, the home-front is afire.

It’s not bad enough that Bill Belichick is playing the Gunfighter from Westworld, trying to do a robot kill on Brady, but now Mickey Spillane Avenatti, the nightmare attorney who is giving Trump a nervous breakdown, has set his sights on Tom Brady lookalikes.

It appears that a criminal sketch artist has come up with a picture of the man who threatened Miss Stormy Daniels about revealing too much detail about Mr. Trump’s strumpets.

The last time a sketch artist did in Tom, he started to look like Quasimodo in a bad bell-ringer mode during the Deflategate trials.

Today, of course, he looks like a man whose TB12 method means he never had or needed Botox. The latest picture is supposed to be a young thug from 2011, back when Tom wore his hair askance and before the hair-plugs for men settled in.

It would seem that Tom’s one-time support for President Trump will go a long way to ruining his life now and forever. He is paying a dear price for having a MAGA hat in his locker for one enchanted evening.

Tom is so hated in some circles that concussed football fans think he is capable of approaching a porn star with a threatening glare.

We feel being out of the country at present may be the best strategy for Mr. Brady. He also ought to consider hiring a better public relations agency to handle his press junkets.

Yellow Brick Road Leads Out of Foxboro

 DATELINE: Patriots in Munchkinland

bosch Gillette Stadium?

Something has happened to the New England Patriots in the past month. You may not be in Kansas, but it sure doesn’t look like New England.

Less than kind Patriot-haters might say the rats are leaving the sinking ship.  Whatever your thoughts, the good ship SS Belichick is listing badly after hitting an iceberg in the Super Bowl.

Key players have opted to leave in free agency—and teammates remaining are wishing them good luck and happy voyage, almost as if they are envious.

Foremost among the congratulations on social media are coming from Tom Brady and Gronk.

Gronk still has not dispelled rumors he is going Hollywood on New England, and Tom Brady dropped a hint that he is a man of his convictions in his TV autobiography series—and he appears to have switched convictions in mid-stream.

Life begins at 40—but not in Foxboro.

These key Patriots (Nate Solder, Amendola, Butler, Lewis, and who knows who else) have talked among teammates. If you don’t realize that, you don’t know what’s happening.

It’s like a bad Bob Dylan song: the mattress is now balancing precariously on Bill Belichick’s head. Someone is ready to drop a house on Wicked Witchy Belichick. His former coaches and underlings are picking up the pieces Belichick has shed. And they are happy to have them.

During the season, opposing players attacked the Foxboro as being as unpleasant under the control of Ebenezer Scrooge Belichick before any ghosts haunted him. It was worse than Hieronymus Bosch’s depiction of Hell.

We see the end as coming in a whimper, not a bang. Brady and Gronk are packing their bags, and everyone else is cashing in their chips.

Oh, my. Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh my. The gold brick road is leading to ruination for the Kraft family of marshmallows.

Wherefore Art Thou, Roger Goodell?

 DATELINE: Friend of Tom

 roger-brady Half & Half

After spending a couple of years and millions of dollars trying to ruin Tom Brady’s reputation and destroy his own game’s integrity in an extended courtroom fight, Roger Goodell is now singing a different tune.

No one dares say the name Goodell and Deflate-gate in the same breath.

Nowadays, Goodell gives an interview and notes how astounded he is by the Patriots longevity and marvels at their ageless quarterback.

Wow. The times have changed all right.

That’s show biz, and that’s hypocrisy.

This year Tom is back in the Super Bowl and Roger Goodell is back with egg on his face. He keeps a low profile and exhorts his enthusiasm for Tom being back in a championship like a man beaten by legend and crushed by myth.

Roger Goodell is now a footnote in Tom Brady’s life, a mere laugh spot in his miniseries Tom Versus Time, a name not mentioned, a suspension too far away in the rear-view mirror.

After a brush-up with Jerry Jones who tried to keep him from an extended contract and more wasted money, Goodell now slinks around the NFL, trying to be inconspicuous.

Oh, he will hand out the Lombardi award and the MVP trophy, but he is an afterthought, the dinner mint uneaten, the pillow candy that falls off the bed. He is more like a cracker crumb you have to brush off the bed-sheet.

His face on a T-shirt with a clown nose is now a collectors’ item. It did not have the value of Tom Brady’s stolen Super Bowl jersey. It may not have the value of a faded T-shirt from a Milli Vanilli concert used as a dust-rag.

Roger who?

CNN Tapper All Tapped Out on Patriots

DATELINE:  Another Strange Bedfellow

 tapped out

Foxy Tapper and Friends

If you wondered about the objectivity of CNN reporters and on-air personalities, you now have more evidence of “Fake News.”

Maybe Donald Trump is on to something when he dismisses the journalistic integrity of CNN’s stable of political assassins.

CNN’s host with the least, Jake Tapper, after taking a paid trip to the Minnesota-Philadelphia playoff game, as a gift from the Eagles organization, then gave an interview in which he accused the Patriots of being “cheaters.”

Pardon us for asking if this is cricket, let alone football.

With an expensive bribe in his pocket, Tapper took his pediatrician father with him to make even a wannabe Dr. Spock complicit in his crime.

If you wondered whether Jake Tapper was dropped on his head as a baby, you now have evidence.

Can it be the outburst by Tapper is motivated by the fact that Patriot owner Bob Kraft, Patriot coach Bill Belichick, and Patriots star Tom Brady, are all friends of Donald Trump?

You may now seriously question CNN’s integrity, as the pot calls the Patriot kettle, black.

Interviewed on his own network, Tapper showed his innate idiocy by proclaiming on national TV: “The Patriots are cheaters, Brooke. The Patriots cheat,” Tapper said. “This is just a fact as established by investigations. They’re a cheating team … The facts speak for themselves.”

As if it were not self-evident about this truth, Tapper shamelessly labeled himself a lifelong Eagles fan, and he criticized the strategies employed by the Patriots.

We might ask the same about the strategies used by CNN.

Is it time to fire Jake Tapper?

Catastrophe Averted in Pittsburgh by Pats

DATELINE:  New England Confounds Critics

brady mirror

Tom Brady proved he still has it.

Alas, the rest of the team does not, but Lady Luck proved to be fickle.

The Patriots started to look like losers early on.

You can start with bungled tackles, a missed point after, and an inability to stop Big Ben, as long as you finish with Fate kissing your Super Bowl rings.

It rained cats and dogs and the deluge seemed to leave Bill Belichick without an ark to his name. The Patriots looked like passengers on the Andrea Doria about to hit another ship of destiny off the coast of Cape Cod.

If you hate the Patriots, you saw come-uppance coming ‘round the bend. If you believe in superstitions, you saw how a broken mirror in the off-season has led to catastrophe. Then, it was the Steelers who lost Antonio Brown and seemed cursed by the man who owns the copyright to the Fountain of Youth.

If you hate the Patriots, you shouted, “Curses, foiled again!” as the boys of Deflategate and Spygate gave the Steelers the ultimate gate.

Earlier in the week Tom Brady posted a poem about the lonely tree in the Michigan forest that wanted to be more than kindling.

Tom broke the bough of the poetic holiday tree the week before Xmas.

We almost feel like Marley’s Ghost showed up at Tom’s bedside. He has seen the light of success. You might think of Jacob Marley at Christmas as some bad luck omen of the past come home to roost. He actually saves Tom Brady’s bacon.

Yes, the Patriots did the unthinkable and unbelievable by pulling their bacon out of the fire just in time to win another big one.

Destiny’s child may now be unstoppable and repetitive when the Super Bowl draws near Groundhog Day.

 

Keep the NFL Out of Mexico!

 DATELINE: Belichick’s Complaint

Belichick

It was bound to happen after a grueling jet lag victory in Mexico City. The Head Coach of the Patriots, Swami Belichick, found his tongue. We need a wall to keep the NFL out of Mexico.

On a local radio show, upon his return from south of the border, he fired off that it was a long trip and a logistical nightmare, requiring too much manpower—and blatantly unfair to players.

In Oakland, the losers of the game, they dealt with jet lag from Mexico by firing their defensive coordinator. To each his own.

However, implicit in Belichick’s harangue was the fact that the NFL stacked the deck against his championship team. It’s done in the name of parity: you make sure every disadvantage in Roger Goodell’s arsenal is dumped on the best team in the NFL this century—from Deflategate fake news to Montezuma’s Revenge.

Belichick also threw into the mix that they were lucky there were no earthquakes during the game or aftershocks. We had noted earlier in the year that the NFL made no comment after the terrible, tragic earthquake about sending a team into the breach, ready or not.

It is reminiscent of the Trump administration returning temporary immigrant visitors back into places unprepared to house them.

Critics jumped all over Belichick for his ignorance, though we had no problem with saying that a trip to Mexico, with its thin air, was not helpful in preparing for the next game up.

Indeed, Belichick referenced Monday night games as having a similar jet lag issue when travel required cross-country trips. We’d have thrown in Thursday night games as being far worse.

Accusers have a bad habit in this country of being disbelieved and mistrusted. When Belichick accuses the NFL of their bad decisions, it is reminiscent of Alabama candidates for the Senate: as Mr. Trump would tell us, nothing is proven about accusations while he cloaks himself in the flag attacking football players who protest their treatment at the hands of nutcases.

But we digress again: sports is like that in the world of politics. Mexico ought to build a wall to keep out the NFL.

Montezuma’s Revenge on the Patriots?

 DATELINE: Over Trump’s Wall

 smashing mirror

All this week the New England Patriots have been in Mexico City, preparing for the big game on Sunday. Coach Bill Belichick is in heaven: he has avoided the New England media all week while in Mexico. For all we know, he may have been in Puerto Viagra, enjoying the sites.

It’s possible but coach Bill Belichick is worried about Montezuma‘s Revenge, which bears a strange resemblance to Roger Goodell’s Revenge. At the very least the Oakland Raiders, the opponents of the Trump Patriots, have played in Mexico City last year and may have a very large fan base among those on the wrong side of the Trump Wall.

We look with great expectation to see if the enormous crowd is that greeted Julian Edelman and Danny and Mendola this summer in the public relations video movie are indicative of Patriots’ support south of the border. Edelman felt like one of the Beatles, but he will not be on the field and has not made the trip.

As far as eating the local cusine, we know the Patriots bring their own boxed lunches wherever they go. You can never predict when the locals or illegal immigrants will poison the Trump supporters.

We hope none of the players and brush their teeth with tapwater. That’s only one of the problems when you’re 7500 feet up in the air.

We do expect Tom Brady to throw a lot of long balls There’s no need for deflation of the ball because it will go further even fully inflated in the super light air.

By flying in their own private jet, we have no worries that ICE troopers and Homeland Security Nazis will be bothering the Patriots. On top of that, you can count on the fact that they have a presidential pardon to escape customs and over those Trump Walls they will fly.

No wonder Jerry Jones is jealous of Robert ‘P***y’ Kraft.

Fill in the Blanks for “P***y”

 DATELINE:  Vocabulary Lesson for Jerry Jones & Media

3some

This week Jerry Jones has tested our ability to play both Scrabble and do crossword puzzles. The owner of the Dallas Cowboys, mired deeply in a feud with Roger Goodell, reportedly called fellow owner Robert Kraft a mysterious name in regard to the Patriots owner’s inability to stand up to Goodell on Deflategate.

The media has given us a maddening clue by leaving out key letters of the word.

The media has also plastered the word over the airwaves, cable wires, and water-cooler discussions for men who live dangerously around women nowadays.  For those who are fans of President Trump, the word may ring familiar, as he used the epithet (if that’s what it is) during his campaign against women.

In case you are wondering what the cryptic word is, we have gone to our cryptologist’s handbook to discern “P—y.”

In some more colorful stories the spelling is “p***y.”  We always opt for the asterisk over the hyphen as part of our training as a literary critic.

We didn’t have to run to our crossword puzzle dictionary for the Sunday New York Times to be able to figure out what Jerry Jones and President Trump have said.  The options are clear.

It is likely that Mr. Jones called Kraft “pasty.” This is ironical, if only because Jones is even more sun-deprived than Kraft, playing as it were mostly indoors at his stadium. We think Kraft is fairly pasty on his own too.

Another option is “puffy.”  We have heard Sean Combs has discarded this sobriquet lately—and it is available to be put on Kraft who takes a paternal interest in his players, hence “Puffy Daddy.”

However, we realize soon enough that the best likelihood is another word: “Putty.”  Yes, Kraft was putty in the hands of Goodell, and is pliable to the whims of the fans.

You say tomato, and we say “tomahto.” You say “P***y” and we say, “Putty.”  Let’s call the whole thing off before our vocabulary descends into the tone-deaf style of NFL fans in general.