DATELINE: Finger of Choice?
In case you were wondering about Tom Brady leaving his “home” of 20 years, he told us: “I’m not the nostalgic type.” Goodbye, Gillette. And rotsa ruck.
The sound you heard is Jim Morrison singing “This is the End,” from a vandalized cemetery in Paris. The cacophony of noise is the Flying Elvis fallen from Graceland.
Tom Brady is gone.
We keep wondering how Boston sports media can twist this heartless slam into something not negative. We know fans are imbeciles and won’t see the insult, but you do have to recognize that the media birds eat the crumbs left by the management of the Patriots and the NFL. Bill Belichick has won: he will unload Brady and Krafty will let him. That kiss on the cheek is right out of the Judas Iscariot playbook.
They also have to make “friends” with those athletes who hate their guts to make it seem like it’s all a fun game. It isn’t. You hear it more nowadays: it’s a business.
And with that, Tom Brady basically told New England fans to go and shove it. He never was a Bostonian or a New Englander: this was the place he worked, and now that he may not work here any longer, he’s headed for a better place.
May he rest in peaceful retirement.
But we think he is returning to the circus of the West Coast where Hollywood is a leap-frog away—and his model wife can bask in the limelight with her billion dollars. He may finally earn enough in the next three or four years to buy the franchise of his dreams.
Tom Brady has no love for the Patriots anymore: the affair is over, and you likely can blame Belichick for making it a most unpleasant few years. Those six Super Bowl rings were never meant for New England. They are worn on his fingers—not yours.
He is leaving you only one finger. Pick-six indeed.
DATELINE: Back to the Future?
Tom Prepares for Saturday!
Tom Brady believes he’s found a way to send himself back to his glorious youthful past with a new fangled Time Machine!
Two UMass graduate students from the Giselle Bundchen Fountain of Youth Foundation have built the contraption.
A prototype device to send Tom back to his best days as a quarterback will be ready for Saturday’s game against the Titans. Gronk claims. “It’s like eating cumquat ice cream. There’s no spike of taste.”
Fans need to know the basics of Albert Einstein’s theory of special relativity, which states that time accelerates or decelerates depending on the speed at which an object is moving. Tom will be faster out of the pocket, claims Julian Edelman.
Essentially, the Tom Brady could zip around Josh McDaniels’ game plan, and when they returned to the bench, 21 points will have been scored. Fans may miss it if they go to the bathroom. Brady would seem to have traveled to the future.
But while the Boston sports media accept that skipping forward in time in that way is probably possible, time traveling to the past is a whole other issue — and one Belichick plans to use with laser beams and hidden cameras.
As NBCSports commentators explained to NASA, Tom’s idea for a time machine hinges upon another Einstein theory, the general theory of relativity. According to that theory, massive objects bend space-time — an effect we perceive as being the GOAT — and the stronger the GOAT is, the slower time passes.
“If you can bend space, there’s a possibility of you twisting space,” Tom Brady told teammates during practice this week. “In Einstein’s theory, what we call space also involves time — that’s why it’s called space time, whatever it is you do to space also happens to Tom and time.”
Brady believes it’s theoretically possible to twist time into a loop that would allow for time travel into his salad days. A few skeptics claim he will never return from such an adventure and may end up as QB for the Oakland Raiders.
Even Brady concedes that his idea is wholly theoretical at this point. And that even if his time machine does work, he admits, it would have a severe limitation that would prevent anyone from, say, coming back in time from beating the Titans.
“You can send information back,” he told CNN, “but you can only send it back to the point at which you turn the machine on.”
DATELINE: Shot Down at the Not-Okay Corral
Many Patriot haters have waited 20 years for the moment. The parallel in history may be the Fall of the Roman Empire: the barbarians are at the gate, and Belichick and Brady are fleeing the chaos.
The Mighty Patriots have struck out. Cue Jim Morrison to sing “This is the End.”
There is no joy in Mudville or Foxboro. The Pats have lost their bye week—and probably their souls.
If anyone is stunned by the Dolphins beating the Pats, you have not been paying attention. For weeks now Tom Brady has been playing like a man who will be at quarterback until he is 50—in the sandlot league.
Bill Belichick is like one of the magnificent Ambersons: he is receiving his come-uppance.His vaunted defense looked like Swiss cheese and most of his players will leave in free agency. Even Brady is expected to go out with a bang elsewhere.
History runs in cycles, and the Patriots have been top dog for a couple of decades, but now they are heading back to the rubbish pile years of the 1970s. They may spend the next two decades as outliers in the AFC.
We expect that Josh McDaniels and Julian Edelman will jump ship. Already the Florida authorities are emboldened to file new felony charges against owner Robert Kraft for human trafficking, however preposterous that seems.
Now they will feel Miami is on a roll.
On the eve of an ice storm in New England, the New England Pats may be entering a new Ice Age. The berg has hit their flank—and the unsinkable franchise has sprung a leak.
Don’t cry for the Patriots, Argentina. Tom will be playing there next season.
DATELINE: End of an Era?
Football fans of the New England Patriots have asked what’s going on! Is it the zombie apocalypse? We have bad news beyond two feet of snow burying us.
After seeing Zachary Quinto discuss the fall of civilization and the end of empires on In Search of, has it come to the Patriots like the Rapa Nui and Mayans?
We can only add two cents, after ten books of blogs on the Patriots. No, it is not the apocalypse. It is more like the inevitable enemy of mankind: a bad case of the flu.
No expert dared to cite that nearly half of the team came down with the flu this week. The miracles of IV drips and antibiotics, and the prodding of Captain Bligh Belichick, made no man look at illness as an excuse.
There were two planes: one for the lepers who needed to avoid being cast out and cast off at 37,000 feet without a parachute. We can only imagine the Belichick cure-all.
We now have a view of the bleak future: based on the fact that on top of the plague, the Patriots have sent every decent receiver reeling out of Foxboro in a uniform of tar and feathers, with better contracts elsewhere.
Tom Brady is adrift and out to sea like the victim of an iceberg hitting the unsinkable Patriots. There was no room in the lifeboat for such a thing as Tom’s receiving corps.
Like the band on Titanic, the team played on while sinking with the franchise.
Can the Patriots recover? Not this year, and maybe not for another decade. This loss will hasten Tom’s departure to another team next year: one that will give him joy of playing for the few years he has left in this world of football.
As for the Patriots, the zombie apocalypse may be settling in at Foxboro. Remember the good old days when the Pats stunk up a storm? NO? Well, history is about to show you what it was like back before six Super Bowls, Brady & Belichick. Return with us now for the Keystone Kops aka Patriots.
It happened to the New York Yankees of the 1950s & 1960s, and now it is the Patriot turn of events.
DATELINE: Dangers of Dance Fallout?
If you don’t know the fancy moves of Gronk by now, you need a lesson in Dancing with the Stars.
In one of his latest publicity hound antics, Gronk chose to cheer with the Los Angeles Lakers girls. Yes, He prefers gold to Green, you Celtic fans.
You might recall seeing Gronk at games watching the likes of Kevin Garnett and Rondo, but that’s ancient history. He has grown into a first-rate Laker girl.
Those cheers you hear are not from the Bronx, but from the South Boston where True Believers think the Earth is flat and Gronk will return to the Patriots.
If Gronk wants to make a comeback, it will be in movies. He expects his latest film with Mel Gibson will be out before you can say Super Bowl hype.
Though Gronk seems a movie mogul’s dreamboat, he seems more to prefer spending time on Madison Ave. Quicker paychecks, fewer lines to remember, and more fans at the social media.
Like Marlon Brando, Gronk requires one take only and someone to whisper his lines in his ear. That’s why he prefers scenes where guns are blazing.
Every few weeks Gronk tells us that he has a big announcement, but it turns out to be a new product endorsement.
We are on record to wish Gronk stays healthy, avoids concussions, and has fun with fans and media. He remains a loveable lug, and we forgive him for exposing himself needlessly to Los Angeles TV producers who attend Laker games.
If you don’t realize that he admires Jack Nicholson and wants a part in his latest movie, you may not know that Jack—like Gronk—is permanently retired
DATELINE: Better to Receive than Deceive
If you listen to the experts in Boston sports, apart from us, you have learned this week that Tom Brady is greasing the skids to slide out of town at season’s end.
Tom knows which way the wind blows: and it is blowing westward toward the San Andreas fault, where Tom can shake the earth on his own terms.
We must agree with the details that Tom Brady is done in Boston, though the bigger picture may be smaller.
It seems that Tom has two reasons to leave: and they are Bill Belichick and Robert Kraft, both of whom have left him stranded without a receiving corps in an annual denuding of first-rate players. Whenever Tom finds someone to his liking, that player is sent packing for reasons usually salary-related.
And Tom remains among the lowest paid superstars at QB position. Taking a hit for the team has grown tiresome for Tom.
It may be that Tom wants to prove, finally, in his golden years, that it is he, not Belichick, who won six Super Bowls. If New England wants a seventh, he may provide it on the way out. The door may slam on someone’s ass—but it won’t be Tom. Bill Belichick will stay on. Perhaps Josh McDaniel, beloved Babe, will follow out west.
Tom can win two or three more Super Bowls playing for the Raiders in his hometown. Fifty may be the new retirement goal.
Then again, Tommy—and Belichick too—want to show they never needed the other to win the next SB. Unfortunately, they both do need each other—and only will a final separation prove it to them and to the world. Belichick will hold on until his son can become the new King of the Patriots coaching corps.
For New England fans it will be too late and a bitter pill. Tom doesn’t love you anymore.
In the meantime, Tom snipes at the Boston press—whom he has grown to dislike more than ever—and he and his best friend-trainer, the Svengali of TB12 methodology—have put their Massachusetts homes up for sale in prep for the next season in Oakland.
Yes, you can go home, Tom. And Boston was never home, even after 20 years of suffering through fame and fortune, bad weather and a hundred-fold of receivers.
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
DATELINE: 2-Headed Monsters!
First Rosey Grier, Now This!
Once again, the New England Patriots have turned this blogger into Al Pacino in Godfather 3. Every time we try to get out, they pull us back in.
This marks the second, or perhaps third, season we will not do a Patriots book on the season: main reason is economic, mostly because Patriot fans can’t read and don’t buy books. The other reason has to do with personal sanity.
Not since Rosey Grier and Ray Milland played one man with two heads have we seen anything as horrific. It was 1972, and the movie was The Thing with Two Heads!
And now Bill Belichick and Tom Brady have done the impossible: they have doubled the combustion factor on their Super Bowl team. Perhaps they like challenges, or perhaps they are fire bugs. The horrid monster of Belichick & Brady has found a mate.
Tom Brady is about to pour kerosene on top of the two most flammable players in NFL: Josh Gordon and now Antonio Brown. These Bobsey Twins could bring down governments if they were involved in Brexit.
They would be hurricanes that would defy Category 5 and find themselves the objects of Trump’s madhouse White House sharpie.
Indeed, we expect a presidential tweet pardoning anyone writer who sets the tandem on a course to blow up records of pass catching and yardage.
Since Bob Kraft is owner of the Patriots, you might be a cynic and say this will permanently prove that there is no video of Kraft in a massage parlor, as it has been destroyed in an explosion of Tom Brady inflated footballs.
This makes Deflategate look like inflation pumped up to extremes that the football will look like the Goodyear Blimp in the endzone for Patriot fans.
We may now watch a few games after this Near Earth Object/asteroid crashes into Planet Foxboro.
DATELINE: Tom’s Time Runs Out
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.
DATELINE: File Under “Help Wanted!”
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!!!!
DATELINE: Bachelor in Paradise?
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.
DATELINE: Massage is the Medium
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.
DATELINE: Trump’s New Solution!
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.
DATELINE: Do You See What We See?
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.