Shooting on Fifth Ave?

DATELINE: Outrage Unleashed!

 Garrett Needs a Roy Cohn?

Forget your Easter bonnet for the big Thanksgiving parade. Donald Trump and Myles Garrett are leading the parade of felonious media freaks.

On a day when Donald J. Trump intimidated a witness at a Congressional hearing, we recall his comment that he could shoot someone on Fifth Avenue and no one would give a fig.

Since then, the candy bar has come into Renaissance, and the New York mayor claimed that they would indeed arrest Mr. Trump. However, if you are a Republican in Congress, your job is to re-load the weapon, as if the POTUS were a shooter in your typical American high school. Trump likes to kick Sandy Hook in our collective faces.

Now, we have a case in parallel where Mason Rudolph, a QB of the NFL, has assumed that violence will be done unto him on the playing field. And now, Myles Garrett has taken that presumption and done a deed that is comparable to Trump’s boast. Lock and load that helmet, fans.

QB of the Steelers, Rudolph, did not die and was not seriously injured, though his vanity may be fatally overexposed. It is Myles Garrett who has achieved the ultimate notoriety: he is the Trump of football.

He can shoot a helmet to the head of an opponent and be guilty of felonious assault but get away with it. His action has been called “embarrassing” by some teammates and coaches. There will be no arrest and trial. This is not hockey, a sport of immigrants from Canada. Trump might threaten a wall to prevent those Canadians from bringing sticks to the game. 

Trump plans to continue to call for the ban of Colin Kaepernick but likely will call for amnesty and pardons for Myles Garrett.

Attempted murder on national television is more than embarrassing, and the Cleveland Browns are intimidating NFL fans with it’s “just a game,” mantra.

There is nothing just here. Justice died on Fifth Avenue, in Congress, and at pep rallies held by Trump.

More NFL Mayhem Considered “Inexcusable”

DATELINE: Kill or Be Killed?

 Mason Rudolf is red-nosed by Miles of NFL Violence!

In case you are still sitting on the fence about the thugs in the NFL, you have only to watch as a Cleveland Brown star player Myles Garrett rips off the helmet of his opposing quarterback and wallops him on the head with it.

Somehow, inexcusable seems a mild rebuke for assault and battery with a deadly weapon. He should have been removed from the field in handcuffs by police.

Nice guys finish last with a concussion or bleeding out of the ear.

Cleveland has been coached this year by a novice imbecile who has lost all control over his team. Earlier in the game another Brown player delivered the good on another Steeler, knocking him senseless. Well, that’s one way to win the game: knock out your opponent’s key players one by one.

Low-level QB with low IQ Baker Mayfield, in a self-serving condemnation of sorts, allegedly called his teammate’s behavior “inexcusable,” but actually he said that hurting the team  is inexcusable. Trying to kill your opponent is considered normal.

Mayfield may also start to worry that the crosshairs now are on his back: if you start to shoot the dogs, you go for the alpha dog first.

Coach Kitchens of the Browns has been cited repeatedly all season for his inept discipline of the team. If you want an example of a team out of control, this is it. We suspect you would never see a Belichick team play this way.

We can assume that Myles and Miles to go before the season ends. He is expected to be suspended for the remaining half-dozen games In all likelihood, he will be released by the Browns—but will also be picked up by another NFL team before you can say Colin Kaepernick.

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.

 

 

 

 

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.

 

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!!!!

Dead Again, Guilty Again!

DATELINE: Jussie on Steroids.

HERNANDEZ

If you want to know what makes a ghost return to his haunts, you only have to see another case of Massachusetts justice. It will give you the heebie-jeebies.

The Commonwealth Supreme Court has re-instated a guilty of murder verdict on Aaron Hernandez, the serial killer for the New England Patriots. His first trial had been overturned unceremoniously, and he was “not guilty” in his double murder second trial.

You are never declared innocent, no matter what.

The Hernandez conviction was overturned upon his suicide because in Massachusetts, if your appeal is unfinished upon death, you are declared free at last. It need not matter how heinous you were, or how and who you killed, you are no longer a convicted killer. Your jury has wasted its time. Your victim’s family is thrown into turmoil. You are released from prison for cremation or burial.

The evil you did lives on. The good was interred in the state Supreme Court.

So, the Supreme Court feels it has restored justice by playing ping-pong and pin-ball with the guilt of Aaron Hernandez. The law was called archaic and insensitive to modern victims. Hence, Hernandez is back in the eternal prison cell of ghosts like Jacob Marley.

We presume such a finding is enough to send the dead scrambling back to their previous haunts: like the mansion in Attleboro where Hernandez lived his rococo lifestyle. It remained empty for years. No one would dare stay there overnight.

If you want to guarantee that the spirit of Hernandez remains housebound to the place where his victim often visited, you have restored the dead zone. It is likely that Odin Lloyd, the victim, may also be there.

What a cozy arrangement: killer and victim stuck together for eternity. When you play ping-pong with fatality, your fate may be hell on earth and re-living what is never dead.

William Russo is author of the notorious book, The Strange Case of Aaron Hernandez. You can buy it in the old-fashioned print style, or a version designed for you if you are a smartreader.

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.

 

 

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.

New Book Vindicates Ossurworld…Again

DATELINE: Aaron Hernandez Revisited

Laughing Cavalier

When given the choice between staying silent or beating a dead horse, you know what side we fall on.

Once again, vindication and bragging seem to have paired up in our blog. We were an early source to call out and simply out Aaron Hernandez, New England’s Billy the Kid cum Jack the Ripper.

Now his common-law wife has written the introduction to lawyer Jose Baez’s new book on Hernandez:  in it, she admits that Aaron likely maintained a secret gay life. He also wrote a suicide note to his prison gay lover. And more.

Other tawdry revelations likely will follow.

Of course, even in liberal Massachusetts, prosecution teams would not go forth with the gay angle for murder motives. We went there, tastelessly and fearlessly, during earliest moments of the trial of Hernandez.

Police felt investigating a gay lifestyle of an NFL player would boomerang against the case: jurors and NFL fans would never accept that notion about one of their gladiators of the gridiron. Backlash even hit us.

Never let it be said that “gladis” is a Latin term popular in gay circles way back when gladiators roamed the athletic arenas.

So, what comfort do we take from our book The Strange Case of Aaron Hernandez? Not much. Mostly we take royalties as it continues to sell.

In our book and original blog entries, we took the tone of outright indignation over his crimes: revealed that he led one victim to a sexual tryst that turned into a shooting a mile from Hernandez’s home at 3am. What does it all come-down to now? A cheap TV movie? Sensational  books by lawyers and hack journalists (such as we are)? Fake news?

It’s all info-tainment. We used to say that our professorial lectures in college classrooms were nothing more than an exercise in edu-tainment. And blogs are merely the tease, as performed by any self-disrespecting fool or cheap-shot blogger.

We stand by our book on Hernandez. It depicts what is akin to what passes for truth nowadays when Rudi Giuliani tells us that truth is not necessarily truth.

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.

Hernandez Doc Part 2, Revisionists’ Whitewash

DATELINE:  Innocent at Last Laugh!

 

scary

It only took 24 hours before participants began to regret their roles in the documentary Aaron Hernandez Uncovered. Several Boston media people expressed concern that their words were misused or taken out of context.

Former Patriot and one of the experts cited, Christian Fauria, disdained the “shady” nature of attorney Jose Baez’s production. Two conservative radio personalities also expressed the concern that the final product did not come out the way they expected.

So much for cogent experts and their insights, as Jose Baez faces the camera, in consulting producer’s hubris, to state he could have won the verdict in the first trial. He felt that Hernandez was one of three potential killers—and the prosecutors wanted to fry the big fish, Patriot star Hernandez.

We hate to tell consulting producer and blowhard Baez, but jurors can find someone guilty of murder without a weapon because they decide what “reasonable doubt” is.

Shayanna Hernandez certainly celebrates her obtuseness by expressing disappointment that Robert Kraft, owner of the Patriots, who was always so nice to Hernandez, had the temerity to tell the truth, even if it did not help the murderer. She never married the player, and did dirty work to protect his income, and lists herself as Mrs. Hernandez in the credits.

Re-enactments also showed all three stalking Odin Lloyd before Hernandez shot him. Of course, two of those present insisted that Lloyd and Hernandez went off into the dark together for whatever purposes Lloyd presumed.

Baez insists that there was no motive for Hernandez to shoot people, but that he was merely the victim of his concussed career. This ignores the ends Hernandez would pursue to keep his gay sex life from being revealed—and alienating his cadre of semi-macho fans and media sycophants like Kirk Minihane.

Baez managed to win an acquittal for the double homicide charge, which likely makes him accessory to something.

Some might call the Hernandez tale a Greek tragedy, but it more likely is in the sham tradition of a Fox News special.

 

 

Hernandez: The Brain That Would Not Die

DATELINE: Examining Aaron’s Brain

brain slices

Like a murderous zombie, Aaron Hernandez comes back repeatedly from death.

The latest news story deals with the findings of another pathologist Dr. Anne McKee, head of the Boston University CTE Center, who makes the case that the damage done to the New England football player by repeated concussions is enough to create a Frankenstein’s Monster.

The apparent shrunken and withered frontal lobes to his brain were even worse than originally feared. They had never seen anything quite like it in the brain of a 27-year old physically healthy young man.

There is no doubt that Aaron Hernandez had a magnificent body, well-taken care of. He had no idea that it encased the worst case of damaged goods you could find in the NFL.

Roger Goodell and his partners in crime ought to be cringing.

When doctors reveal it is the most severe trauma they’ve ever seen, you have reason to be freaked out. Those three murders may well have been the result of a mind that had no control over his impulses. He could not make decisions in any normal manner. He suffered a lack of judgment that had nothing to do with his intelligence.

Knowing he felt smart, Hernandez must have been repeatedly puzzled and baffled by his own twisted logic. Doctors insist they have never seen such a condition in anyone under 46 years of age. That is scary.

The doctor said: “…we can say collectively, in our collective experience, that individuals with CTE, and CTE of this severity, have difficulty with impulse control, decision-making, inhibition of impulses for aggression, emotional volatility, rage behaviors.

In other words, he was a perfect Type A personality for the NFL. He had the right genetic marker to make him vulnerable to the condition.

Researchers believe he had deteriorated to the level of someone in his 60s, “the most severe case they had ever seen in someone Aaron’s age.”

It makes you wonder what they might have found in the brains of Billy the Kid, Jack the Ripper or Lizzie Borden.

Dare we say it?  We feel sorry for poor Aaron Hernandez.

 

 

 

We Won’t Stand For It Much Longer

DATELINE: Anthem Anathema

 4th at great barn

Call us a legal novice, but we think that suing all 32 NFL team owners for collusion will not help Colin Kaepernick find employment in the NFL.

This is despite some high-profile openings in the position. For example, Aaron Rodgers is out with a broken collarbone. Would the Green Bay Packers be interested in a QB who won a Super Bowl as a stand-in who promised to stand up for the National Anthem? or any team that lost a quarterback to broken bones lately?

Not really. Green Bay, Wisconsin, is next to Frostbite Falls when it comes to political tolerance. You might find yourself a target of moose hunting, as Bullwinkle often noted.

The former 49er probably can blame President Trump as much as anyone for the damnation that Kaepernick is experiencing with sports fans and extremist flag-wavers who think John Phillip Sousa wrote the “Star Spangled Banner.”

If we recall, it was Philip Nolan who cursed the United States in 1812, and was made the Man Without a Country for the rest of his life by the United States, not the USFL or NFL.

Nolan couldn’t play football, and he was mostly fictional from the mind of Edward Everett Hale, whose uncle was named Nathan Hale, and was hanged for his patriotism by our long-time friends, the former British Red Coats.

All is forgiven now, after 250 years when Brits shot Americans at the Lexington-Concord Green.  We fear that Kaepernick’s career will be on the downslide after a wait of 250 years for national forgiveness.

We believe in non-violent protest. Call us an old-fashioned Goldwater Republican because we don’t recognize the people who have hijacked the GOP and the Presidency.

Don’t dun us: our military DD214 allows us to enjoy malpractice at a VA hospital and we can be buried under a flag in a VA cemetery of our choice.

We don’t even like Colin Kaepernick or his wild hair. However, we believe in his right to protest the fear of being shot down in the street by some rogue police officer.

 

 

 

What Price Glory? Bees’ Knees Have It

DATELINE: Trump’s Magical Misdirections

trump apron strings

The NFL anthem protest is a tempest in a teapot. Trump is dealing with more Teapot Dome tempests than any president since Warren G. Harding.

You might think there is no possible resolution to the knee-jerk reaction of Donald Trump to NFL protesting players. Forget them not: Basketball of the NBA is on the horizon where the lives of black players matter big.

When Trump notes that NFL owners are afraid of their plantation slaves, we are reminded that such a mentality was quite prevalent in the early 19th century among cotton-picking businessmen. Like any good magician, Trump is misdirecting his audience away from his sleight of hand, like a Mississippi riverboat charlatan.

So, the NFL has called in team captains and owners for a meeting of the minds. Fear is a great equalizer.

Roger Goodell met on Thursday with Devin McCourty and Matthew Slater, two New England Patriot leaders—and with owner Robert Kraft. Tom Brady seems to have taken a powder with his MAGA hat.

Powers that be may well be worried over the few knuckleheads who have burned their team jerseys with blow torches and have sworn never to watch another football game.

We don’t believe it. These followers of social media are like junkyard dogs, barking up a storm, but in the heady days of Super Bowl hype, we feel they will find their mettle melted.

Perhaps football Sunday should be immune from politics and inflammatory rhetoric. Fat chance with the Lord of the Flies Donald Trump tweeting out with presidential flair and Dumbo abandon.

Arm-in-arm, solidarity against racism would seem to be a no-brainer, though some conservatives feel the venue is inappropriate. Yet, their message is lost in a blinding white-out storm.

Anticipated more than victory may be the pre-game anthem, a place in America where black men have risen to fame and fortune while the majority of their peers face daily worry that a stray bullet may end their black and bleak lives.

If Russian agents exploited ‘Black Lives Matter’ to win a national election for the Lord of the Flies, you can bet your bottom dollar that, as that Fenway Park sign told a few weeks back, racism is as American as football and baseball, not to mention basketball.

 

Stranger Bedfellow: Peyton Manning

DATELINE:  Super Bowl Hay Woven into Political Gold

At one point during the heyday of Tom Brady, way back when he was young, everyone thought that the future for Tom Brady, Donald Trump’s quondam friend would be a career in politics. He had the red hat and he had the swagger.

Trump even lobbied him as a husband for Ivanka a dozen years ago. Tom’s certainly a better catch than Jared Kushner.

There was inevitable talk he would seek a role in political office in Massachusetts, though the state is probably a tad more liberal for him than his actual politics. Tom doesn’t need deodorant because avocado ice cream smells better than it looks.

However, the Trump people may be more delighted with that pizza-slinging huckster-cum-politician Peyton Manning.

The man who plays more golf with Trump than Brady is a rank conservative icon. Yes, word is out that Tennessee may be needing a new senator next year–and Peyton Manning has a “Hail Mary” chance and pass in his future.

Considered highly popular among those who never kneel except in church, and well-known not just for his on-field antics, but his off-field commercials, he knows something about sound bites.

Jingles and jingoism are not alien to Peyton. Nationwide Insurance and health care are up his passer rating. Just ask him to hum a bar or two.

We wait to discover whether his conservative ultra-right positions will sit well with the American public in general.  We know they will likely sit quite well in Tennessee, where the Beverly Hillbillies originally hailed—and where bluegrass is unusually red around the neck.

Politics makes strange bedfellows, and nothing could be stranger than to find Tom Brady still playing in the NFL– and Peyton Manning in the United States Senate.