Hunting for Zodiac Killer: History (s1) for Openers

DATELINE: Armchair Detectives

 zodiac killer Purported Zodiac Killer

Whether you’re hunting for Hitler or cursing Oak Island, you know you must have clicked onto the streaming History channel.

Their first season of Hunt for the Zodiac Killer delivers exactly what you come to expect from the cable TV’s pop history purveyors. That’s not necessarily a bad thing if you like your reality stars always self-congratulating each other for their brilliant detective skills.

If The Hunt for the Zodiac Killer sounds like one of those fake news documentaries, you probably would be right. Yet, it is a cold case and being insoluable should not mean it is not ripe for re-examination.

Fifty years after the legendary1960s serial murderer unofficially killed 37 innocent people and left a calling card of cryptological taunts with a unbreakable code, the network has assembled a reality show with a formula that can’t miss entertaining fans of psycho monsters running amok.

These researchers give Zodiac his due—and find even more victims to offer History Channel and history buffs.

When you put two retired homicide detectives in the field doing legwork like Sam spade and Philip Marlowe, then match them with a couple of cryptographical scientists and nerds with computers, you stir deliberately.

You have suddenly a fascinating show.

The gum shoes and the nerds play ping-pong with the clues. We keep telling ourselves that a supercomputer that has been programmed to think and act like a serial killer is not a good idea.

We keep wondering when the computer will turn into the Forbin Project supercomputer  or HAL from 2001. Then again, the Zodiac maniac seems even brighter than Carmel, the computerized serial killer finder.

Before you know it, you may be hooked on the revelations. Several police departments refused to cooperate, at their own peril. They look like impediments to the crime solving.

By turning the zodiac killer into a mad genius, the show has a winning formula – and a frightening one.

 

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Belichick’s Holiday TV Special Again This Year!

DATELINE:  God Bless Those Steelers Too

merry

Back like the Macy Parade or Peewee Herman for another holiday special, Bill Belichick will host the grandest Xmas party on the streaming web, as in previous jolly seasons.

Unfortunately, only those with access to the DarkNet will be able to download this journey to the dark-side of Christmas in Pittsburgh.

Past holiday specials have been about as much fun as watching Marley’s Ghost drag his chains.

However, Belichick’s Army of Zombie Fans cannot get enough of the best coach in the history of football singing his favorite Xmas carols, including “God Rest Ye Merry Steelers,”  and “Juggled Balls” with Gronk and Cooks.

This year will be even more special than his many past holiday treats.

Tom Brady will be on board for a stocking-stuffer not to be missed. He is expected to reveal that, as he grows younger every day, he has a portrait of Belichick in his attic that grows more sour-looking and ugly with age. You will enjoy it when he presents Belichick with a gift of a “Sock Slider,” for oldsters who need help putting on their shoes.

And you thought that was happening every game on the sidelines!

Another highlight of this year’s holiday show will be when Gronk puts Coach Belichick on his back and they run around the endzone, doing a turkey trot to celebrate the winning touchdown.

It has been a long hard audition this season to find whether the elves, Amendola and Edelman, will double as Tiny Tim. Giving them a hard run for the job is Matthew Slater who has been practicing his “God bless us everyone” ad nauseum.

Another annual moment of levity shall be when owner Mr. Robert Kraft opens his gifts to discover a lifetime supply of dress shirts with different color collars to go with his only white blouse. Some think Roger Goodell will re-gift Kraft with a draft pick.

Guest appearances by Roger Goodell and Jerry Jones are expected as players will try to dunk them into a big watertank by tossing footballs at them from a kneeling position.

President Trump will lie about producing the show and tweet that he was going to be extra special guest of the year, but turned them down. He will then fire Tom Brady.

Marshawn Lynch is expected to spoil the big holiday eggnog when he does a Mexican hat-dance with Belichick, and it brings a thunderstorm over Mexico City.

NFL Network, Roku, Apple TV, and Brit Box are clamoring for exclusive rights to show this annual extravaganza of joy and end-zone celebrations.

Don’t miss this once-in-a-lifetime, annual tradition (again).

 

Heads Up, Tails Down: Pats & Celts

DATELINE:  Twilight Zone Meets Jaws

With an ice storm on the horizon in Boston, the two championship franchises, the Celtics and the Patriots, were also out of town and out of luck. Every great team has its up and downs.

After our ill-timed braggadocio, life gave us a cold slap in the face with ice pellets. Alas, it was too cold to make lemonade out of the fiasco that befell the Patriots and Celtics on Monday night.

We could not imagine these were the same teams that had been so impressive game after game. What on earth happened to the bright lights?

Miami and Chicago laid the expected victors a harsh dose of reality. No one is perfect, not even Bill Belichick or Brad Stevens.

If ever there was a night for Tom Brady to yell at Josh McDaniels this was it. If ever there was a night for Jaylen Brown to keep wearing his goggles, this was it.

Alas, Brown discarded his glasses and Tom Brady made nice with Josh.

When Jayson Tatum is unable to hit three-pointers and Tom Brady throws an interception and only has a handful of passing yards in the first half, you have crossed through the looking glass. In this case, it’s the mirror Tom Brady broke.

The Chicago Bulls are the worst team in the NBA, and the Miami Dolphins are the toughest opponents the Pats ever face in Miami. Brady has his worst record in 18 years against the Dolphins.

We have to admit the Patriots were without Gronk, who was suspended, and the Celts were without Kyrie Irving who needed some rest.

No matter where Boston fans turned, they were on the edge of the Outer Limits.

Both teams, known for their defensive finesse, showed it wasn’t their night. It was reminiscent of On the Waterfront, when Brando’s boxer complained his brother told him to lose, “It wasn’t my night!”

At half-time we were ready to become fair weather fans for our two teams.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Monday Night Football, Basketball, and Ancient Aliens

Testy Fraternity of Brady & McDaniels

DATELINE: Patriot Arguments

I got you, babe 2 Bloody Brothers

Nearly one week after Tom Brady shouted at his boss, the Offensive Coordinator, Josh McDaniels, he has offered a full apology to the press, professing his undying love for Josh.

Of course, it took a week because Tom stayed away from practice for a couple of days.

Both men have worked together for two stints, amounting to a decade of years. Josh is a year older, as befitting a coach, or Irish twins.

Arguments like this happen in the best of families between brothers under the skin. Oddball Beckham, Jr., has been saying the media treats Tom differently when it comes to fraternal spats. Well, yes, Oddball, because Tom has won 5 Super Bowls.

As for the fraternal strife between Josh and Tommy, we can only point out there was a far worse argument between brothers Fredo and Michael Corleone in The Godfather sequel, and as we recall, that one ended badly.

We can also point out one of the earliest history lessons we learned as a youth centered on the situation in which Cain slew Abel for telling him he missed an open man.  Yes, there are some things you never say to your younger brother.

We have even seen the Hardy Boys, in the persons of Tim Considine and Tommy Kirk, have a tussle when the elder boy called the younger “stupid.”

We never actually saw Josh argue with Tom. He merely pointed out a flaw in the feet of clay of Brady.

You never say that to a man of such feats.

The two men did not quickly recover their senses, as has been reported, but sat apart on the bench between skirmishes on the field, offering a cold shoulder to the other, for about ten minutes.

Steam does finally evaporate, despite what happened to Cain and Abel, which we are told left a permanent mark. If this happened with Trump, he would have fired the offensive coordinator.

Trump, Moore Chased by Frankenstein Monster

DATELINE:  Trump Rally at Castle Frankenstein

 trump rally

Called Frankenstein by Trump, Al Franken is now going to run amok in the world of sexual harassment. The monster will turn on the Republicans.

A confused mob once gathered outside the Castle Frankenstein. They look suspiciously like Trump rally supporters who are confused by sexual harassment charges.

Franken‘s resignation is the worst possible news for Trump and his senatorial selection, Roy Moore.

By resigning, Al Franken has the sweet revenge of saying he is leaving the Senate to make America great again.

In the moment Trump or any Republican criticizes or celebrates Franken‘s resignation, he is dead in the water. After the sexual harassment charges against Trump and Moore, those two political hacks come across as lesser men for not having the integrity to resign, let alone offer a mea culpa.

As a result, you may have noticed that President Trump has stopped tweeting about Frankenstein. The monster has him by the throat. The first thing Trump says about it may be the last.

The worm has not yet turned on Trump. It will. He, McConnell, Hatch, and other senators who allow child molesters into the Senate for political purposes and expediency are hypocrites of the first-order without any redeeming morality as a shield.

Women who continue to support these men are either mentally ill or so cowed by their low self-esteem that they have no respect for honesty.

Trump created a Frankenstein Monster and now it is about to throttle him.

Celtic Jaylen Brown: Out with Bad Eyesight

DATELINE:  No Attitude Glasses for Jaylen

how smart is this guy?

Marcus Smart in Attitude Glasses

Boys who wear glasses seldom make passes in the NBA.

We’re not sure if we should tip our cap to Dorothy Parker or Ogden Nash.

The Green Lantern of the Boston Celtics, also known as Jaylen Brown, was unable to play basketball last night because he didn’t clean his contact lens properly. He can’t wear goggles like Kyrie.

It can happen to anyone, but sometimes your lens cleaning falls awry and the lens can result in redness and other problems. You will have to take out the lens and not wear it until the eye clears up.

The young Celtic superstar in the making has found that he must revert to his Clark Kent eyeglasses for the foreseeable future.

Jaylen Brown couldn’t play wearing glasses, knowing the last person to do that with some Los Angeles Laker 30 years ago.

So, Jaylen  had to stay in the locker room and tend to his red eye. As the resident intellectual of the team, we think he would look good in glasses on the court. Court

Jaylen, of course, reads voraciously, plays chess dress like a Grand Master, and plays a fortissimo piano.

We suspect that he uses eyeglasses when accomplishing great achievement in those fields. However, being a rock star celebrity of basketball is not in the field of vision.

Eyeglasses being anathema, Jaylen was unable to allow photographs of him with four eyes. We hope his eye clears up soon and he will be back out on the court with his fellow Hardy boy and basketball brother, Jayson Tatum.

Marcus Smart has worn fake eyeglasses to look smart, but Jaylen really is smart.

 

 

 

Say It Ain’t So, Gronk!

DATELINE: Rematch With the Pats & Bills Coming Soon!

say it ain't so

The good-natured bon vivant Gronk has transformed suddenly from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde.

Beloved by children, and deemed safe for children, he has now taken on the mantle of being dangerous and locked away from those supporters. He may find himself the object of parental controls on the cable remote.

On top of all this, he may lose $2 million in bonus payments under his Patriot contract.

Whether coffee chain, Drunken Dognuts will keep him as a spokesperson may be a bigger issue now on the breakfast table and a test of Gronk’s viability and survivability.

We do not believe he has reached the Kevin Spacey level where he will be CGI removed from future Patriot games, but Belichick may give him more distance in the off-season.

Gronk’s new sudden unpopularity may win him an endorsement from President Trump, a man who likes crypto-Nazis who go against the grain. He has now membership in the ICE-colored storm troopers of Trump.

In an age of racially charged tension, Gronk has gone from the great white hope to a man with a black hearted soul. He has become another white man assaulting a black man. He goes to the top of the Most Wanted List by Black Lives Matter with one pile driving splash.

Gronk has always had carte blanche from the Patriots, and they like to paint themselves as the victims of every scandal.

Like his best friend and teammate Tom Brady, Gronk is challenging the legal determination. Unlike his friend Brady, Gronk has already and quickly admitted his guilt.

Confession maybe good for the soul, but it may not help with followers on Twitter, Facebook, and other childish social media.

Gronk has always been perceived as a big dumb lout, but fun and likable. He has now crossed for thin red line in a year in which football fans are dropping like flies over trivia.

Like the NFL version of Scrooge, Gronk has given a concussion to another player during the season of giving. He’s liable to find himself the recipient of many unhappy returns.

 

Gronk & His $$$$

DATELINE:  Man & Myth

re-stolen jersey

Gronk Down for Count

Notable New England Patriot cheapskate Gronk will lose at least $280,000 if he is suspended for the next game. As you might guess, this is anathema to a man who never touches his salary and lives off his endorsement money.

Far worse, he is due for bonus money based on the number of catches and touchdowns. Losing a game means big bucks down the drain.  And yet, this may be the silver lining of a man who has now created a reputation for playing dirty.

Why suddenly did Gronk decide to pile drive a Buffalo Bill in front of his family and friends? They were all present to see the hometown boy and Bills fan of his youth.

Perhaps he thought it was in the tradition of being thrown onto tables during tailgate parties (a big, brainless tradition in Buffalo where friends throw a drunken nitwit onto a burning table to watch his back break).

So, as you might expect, Fiesta Gronk is making an appeal not to be suspended for pile-driving the man who intercepted the pass meant for Gronk. He put the Buffalo Bill 1 foot into the ground. The poor schmuck, number 27, now has a concussion. When King Kong steps on you, you are usually dead. He should count his blessings.

Whether Ebenezer Gronk will recover his money or will have to do more Dunkin’ Donuts commercials ad nauseum, only commissioner Godell and his Fair Play for Cuba Committee knows for sure.

Instead this gives ground got unpaid vacation, and it gives him time to prepare for the bigger game into weeks with the Steelers. We are sure smarter heads will tell Gronk to take the suspension.

Dare we say this to Gronk? It’s only money.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another NFL/Media Conspiracy on Our Reserved Seats

DATELINE:  NFL Flies By Seats of Stadium

Who's There?AP/Chiu

 

As we come down to the home-stretch of the NFL season of 2017, there is an obvious conspiracy afoot, and aseat.

The networks (both cable and airtime) have joined the NFL in deceiving the viewing public.

Though our Commander-in-Chief thinks he is smartly pointing out that football ratings are down because of kneeling football players, he once again has missed the key point:  there are fewer people at the actual games. The seats are empty.

Where once there were screaming throngs and sell-outs at every game across the NFL, there are now many teams faced with the embarrassing lack of din from supporting fans. The lung power of screams of support have turned to boo-bird calls—but the only way to make crowd noise is to fill the stadium with fake sounds.

Now, New England fans may not know what we are talking about. Their stadium at Foxboro is always filled. Indeed, Pat fans know no decline in support. They now are showing up at visiting stadiums where the home crowd is supporting the visiting Patriots. No wonder opponent team owners salivate when the Pats show up: it’s guaranteed revenue. Empty seats disappear.

No wonder the owners are happily taking their teams abroad. In London or Mexico City, language is no barrier to paying fans filling up every seat.

NFL Red Zone doesn’t have to avoid crowd shots of the stadium in a foreign land. Just the needed field goal kicks show the ball flying over empty seats as it hits the net for 3 points. The visual impact is that the viewers realize they are more alone than you might have thought.

Whether Trump is right that the politics of players and the national anthem issue have driven away fans is debatable. Perhaps we are just saturated by games of no importance, and seats of great cost.

Your owner greed has cast them into their own Twilight Zone of Red Zone: charging exorbitant prices for a day at the game has now created the effect of Roman emperors sitting in their luxury boxes watching the peons who paid good money for little entertainment.

Don’t get us started on the camera shots of owners, respectfully called “Mr.” billionaire by fawning broadcasters. That’s a conspiracy for another day.

 

 

Stone’s Throw to Consequence in JFK

DATELINE: Movie History Literally

 Kirkwood's Grotesque  

Twenty-five years after Oliver Stone’s conspiratorial extravaganza, with more Kennedy assassination documents released weekly, it may be time to re-consider JFK.

The movie has become legend—and now checks in at a length worthy of Ben Hur or Lawrence of Arabia. Yet, that still is not enough.

The movie is the ultimate docudrama, providing theory and re-enactments about the death of an American president in Dallas in 1963. Many of the arcane details that made Stone’s movie seem fantastic have become ingrained into the epitome of fake news turned into fake history. As Pontius Pilate once succinctly put it, “What is truth?”

Stone takes the same approach as Jim Garrison: he uses the system to present ideas, in some ways abusing the process and going outside the usual parameters.

Oliver Stone went for the sensational: casting the most minor roles with notable, famous actors. It gave credence to the view that many people, especially celebrities, agreed with his perspective of the facts. He believed Clay Shaw was an assassin’s conspirator.

On top of that, he even cast the aging Jim Garrison as Chief Justice Earl Warren interviewing Jack Ruby in his prison cell shortly before his fateful death from cancer. Tommy Lee Jones made a dandy Shaw, and Kevin Bacon sizzled as the ersatz Russo.

Garrison’s conspiracy case against Clay Shaw, New Orleans businessman with a salacious private life, was built on reports from Perry Russo, who died in 1995 shortly after the movie was released. But, the Russo character turned to stone, or a pillar of salt, suddenly called Willie O’Keefe, a gay hustler who put Lee Oswald into the maelstrom of New Orleans double agent gay life. Russo always claimed he was maligned, but not by his associations.

Whether the connected dots actually mean there was conspiracy, or just coincidental dots connecting, may never be known with witnesses wiped out by accidents, murders, illness, and mystery deaths over the decade after the Kennedy assassination.

We are far more likely today to accept a movie as our historical reference than ever before. With that, Oliver Stone’s well-produced film gains credence. The viewing public who won’t read history are clearly condemned to accept re-enactments in a movie.

Garrison’s case was a case of self-delusion, or invisible and secret government sabotage.

Our friend Jim Kirkwood covered the original trial and befriended Clay Shaw, but Jim always had a penchant and soft spot for killers and those accused of unsavory acts. He called his book on Clay Shaw and Jim Garrison by the appropriate title of American Grotesque.

When we tried to bait him over drinks about the Clay Shaw case in the 1980s, he wouldn’t bite. It left us uneasy then, and later when the JFK movie came out, we were confounded. Jim Kirkwood was gone to the undiscovered country and so was his insider knowledge.

Today, when the latest documents hint at deeper, uglier, unpleasant details, we wish Jimmy Kirkwood were still here to see us dangle on the hook of conspiracy.

Stone’s JFK throws us for a loop still.

Dr. William Russo has written two timely books: Riding James Kirkwood’s Pony, on Kirkwood’s life, and Booth & Oswald, on the assassins.

Matt Lauer: Latest Sexual Outlaw

DATELINE: Boys will be Dogs

Lauer Rabbit Lauer, Lauer, Pants on Fire

Whatever are we to make of NBC firing Matt Lauer for his sexual peccadillo?

We may start to see “Wanted” posters in the Post Office that depict men who are dogs. Come to think of it: most Post Offices already carry pictures of President Trump, the Commander-in-Chief of P***y Grabbers.

Lauer’s crime is singular. Only one accuser has come forward.  We now wonder about all those women co-anchors that Lauer had fired for being difficult.

However, he has gone where others like Moore, Trump, and John Conyers, survived with multiple allegations. Last count had Judge Moore up to 8, Trump up to 13, and Bill Cosby in the stratosphere.

What surprises us is that we always thought of Lauer as rather neutered, like one of the boy-band types like Menudo, for pre-pubescent girls.

If you had asked us to put money down on the chances of Lauer going sex mad, we’d have cruised down the gay side to say he’d be caught with a boy.

It just goes to show that we don’t know who or what we have invited into our living rooms through cable TV. We know the FCC airwaves are polluted and the GOP wants to keep it that way.

Lately we hear that Trump now thinks the tape on which he sexually attacked women’s genitals in his heart is a fake. Tell that to Billy Green Bush who was fired over the contretemps that catapulted Trump into the presidency. Or President Bush, #1, who has two charges against him lately.

Politics makes for strange bedfellows: and most of those are women voters who have no problems with being enticing and seductive. Of course, when Angela Lansbury laments women bringing on their own fate, she is pilloried. Make no accommodations for anyone over 90.

We have pointed out that, once you begin to shoot dogs with fleas, you will have a genocide on your hands.

 

 

Damn Patriots, Reversal on Damn Yankees!

DATELINE:  Calling Mr. Applegate for Mercy

memories

Lola never wanted this.

If you are one of those who believe the Patriots now have a clear shot directly to the Super Bowl, having a schedule of pabulum ahead, you may have missed some key curses.

Tom Brady’s smashed mirror struck again after the most recent victory.

This time, rugby star Nate Ebner gave it his all on a trick play, perhaps the best of his career, and went immediately to the Injured Reserve list. He did not even pass Go to collect his accolades.

Second, the man who jumped out of Frostbite Falls with a scheduled surgery to play two games for the Patriots, Martellus Bennett seems to have not escaped the fickle finger of fate after all. He too is now headed for surgery on the IR.

What do we have here? More next man up and down?

We are holding our breath and crossing our fingers. This seems like the work of Tom Brady’s blatant disregard for superstition during the off-season. We have seen a steady diet of stars gone for the year: Edelman, Hightower, and now Ebner and Bennett.

We trust that Tom Brady’s handlers are keeping him away from ladders and mirrors.

We applied the title of Agatha Christie’s amusing mystery tale to the Boston Celtics a few weeks ago, calling them the latest incarnation of And Then There Were None, as each star on their little band of teammates bit the dust.

Now, with more players, and more injuries, the Patriots have turned into Ten Little Indians—diminishing returns. It’s enough to make you feel that some sinister force, like Roger Goodell, has caused demonic incantations to run amok.

We were reserving our voodoo curses for Trump after sending Haitians back to their cursed isle, but perhaps someone with higher powers has it in for the Pats.

We recall the old tale, Damn Yankees, as an explanation for the baseball dynasty. Shall we start singing “Whatever Lola Wants” to explain this turn of events?

And then there were no Patriots left to play in a Super Bowl. Have mercy, Mr. Applegate.

Thanks, Tom, for the broken mirror.

Gronk & Turkey in the Straw

DATELINE: Too Many Cooks

 photo by Matt Stonephoto by Matt Stone

As rare as a 1916 Mercury-D dime, the Patriots had an impromptu TD celebration.  And, the star of the show was the only man who would dare to stand up to Head Coach Bill Belichick:  no, not Tom Brady.

It was the inimitable Gronk. He usually spikes the ball with great elan. We have been in awe of the fact that for his entire career, he is the only Patriot with the chutzpah to commit such an act within the view of the Scrooge-like coach.

The NFL has now allowed hare-brained celebrations in the endzone after scoring. We have seen leap frog played. We have seen Oddsmell Beckham doing his dog duty impression. However, no Patriot dared to speak the love of celebration.

We must call attention to the Turkey Trot of Brandin Cooks, who jumped on Gronk’s back and rode the Big Pony back to the sidelines in celebration. We swear that Cooks has a 26-inch waist and weighs less than 185 pounds. For Gronk it was like picking up one of those Victoria Secret models for a magazine cover.

You may have missed Gronk being ridden like Seabiscuit by Brandin Cooks, but Bill Belichick emerged like Godzilla from the depths to spit fire over this so-called celebration.

Since Brady never made him those biscuits for Thanksgiving, Gronk gave us his own version of The Original Biscuit Eater.

Alas, after the game Gronk was not allowed to talk about his venture into the realm of happy feet.  In fact, he admitted that the man who won’t allow office parties at Xmas with x’s and o’s, yelled at Gronk for his display

Don’t expect Gronk to join in any reindeer games this season. He won’t even be allowed to give thanks for a touchdown.

Not only was his nose red after the celebration, but his entire face was red. All the better to see inside the dark and gloomy dog house that Coach Belichick built for such players who go about with a Merry TD on their lips.

If Belichick had his way, such players would be buried in the endzone like Jimmy Hoffa, in cement overshoes up to his eyeballs.

So, the Turkey Trot of Gronk was not cooked up by Cooks in the backroom of the holiday luncheonette. It was spontaneous, but nevertheless, it was verboten.

Tom the Biscuit Eater, Thanks to Grandmama

DATELINE:  Doughboy

Brady the Biscuit Eater

Count’em

GOAT QB Tom Brady has a revolt on his flour-encrusted throwing hand.

Having bragged about his grandmother’s secret recipe for biscuits on the Internet, he has unleashed a problem as big as Russian election interference for Trump.

Tom posted a photo of him making dozens of these tasty morsels. Apparently, he promised Gronk that he would bring some into the office next day. However, Tom reportedly told Gronk they were so good that they were all eaten.

This did not sit well with the giant tight end who demanded that Tom make another batch and bring them in to his favored receiver.

If not, Gronk promised “serious trouble.”

This international incident may require the intercession of Giselle or some other neutral party.

Tom can’t catch a break, nor a biscuit.

We know that close associates of Brady over the years, like Troy Brown, and lately Julian Edelman, have also been denied the treat of catching a biscuit from Tom’s larder.

Gronk has come a long way from the tongue-tied rookie who was dumbfounded when Tom would speak to him. He is now demanding his share of the Brady secret recipe—and he is not willing to settle for avocado ice cream or any other item from the TB12 cookbook.

Baseball may have the hot-stove dealings of winter, but for the man who always comes to the Brady household dressed as Santa Claus, the price may be more than one biscuit.

Tom may have to trade off with Gronk, giving him three TDs instead of slaving over a hot stove this weekend making a fresh batch of doughboy biscuits.

Media Nitwit Claims Patriots ‘Too Boring’

 DATELINE:  Winning is Tough, Dumb Media is Tougher

dumbass felger Nameless Dumbass

Led by ubiquitous idiot Mike Felger, Boston’s version of a sports Trump, a number of media sensation-seekers are trolling the notion that the New England Patriots are boring.

Yes, all those victories piling up are sending people off to their nap-time a tad too early to suit radio/TV bombastic bonehead Mike Felger.

You have to turn to Soren Kierkegaard for an answer: boredom is a disease of the sexually maladjusted, according to the great philosopher of Superman theory.

We humbly ask Boston fans if the Murderers’ Row of the New York Yankees was boring?

Were Red Auerbach’s basketball champions for a dozen years too boring for the Bean Town?

Was Rocky Marciano too boring because he fought a bum of the month during his reign as champ?

Was Sandy Koufax too boring with all those strike-outs game after game?

The likelihood of danger and mystery in a sports-game renders it a gamble every time and every play. You could have disaster around the cornerback. Each week we see stars go down for the count: and not everyone can manage to send the next man up to stardom. How does that create boredom?

On and on we go with media desperation.

For those bored by the recent Celtics winning streak of 16, it ended—and now the Chicken Little types will find doom and damnation on the parquet. Even the Celtics coach called their winning streak a “mirage.”

We recognize that there is much sports airtime to fill on endless sports networks, but give us a break, please.

We are not bored by experts or excellence. Mike Felger is neither expert, nor excellent—and he is on the cusp of being boring to himself.