Brady Humiliates Belichick

SuperTom’s botox image

DATELINE:  Botox Notwithstanding

You cannot put any fancy spin on this: Tom Brady has willed himself into another Super Bowl, his tenth, while his nemesis coach will be sitting home watching on TV.

On a bad team, the Buccaneers, where everyone claimed Brady would flounder, he took his TB Tompa Bay mentality to the limits. He raised the dead and cleansed the lepers. Tom is heading to Super Bowl LV at age XLIII. He sounds like the ultimate pope to poop on the Patriots.

There will be no nachos and parity party at the Belichick house where his fake coach sons and he will stew in their own juices. Brady will adorn himself with youthful passing whilst bypassing Belichick.

Belichick had no use for Brady and threw him out with the trash. He refused in the final few years in Foxboro to pay any receivers or keep any that Brady liked or preferred. He had a hit list, and the last name on it was Tom.

This is not to take any humiliation away from Robert Kraft, the baloney-ridden owner of the Patriots and his awesome and legendary (in his mind) franchise. With the lowest payroll, it finally bit the dust.

Maybe we will hear that Kraft has taken solace in some seedy massage parlor and Belichick has hired new videographers for next season.

New England looks like a frozen tundra next to Tompa Bay.

It doesn’t matter when the New England Patriots said Tom Brady was ready for the knackers yard.  It appears the tables have turned, and the Russian roulette bullet chamber is squarely spinning on Belichick’s brain-trust. “In Bill we trust”  now seems to be the mantra of idiots.

Tom Brady at 43 has turned Belichick into a man who might well consider his Social Security as the soft landing spot to blow out his overblown legend. This has not been a good year for Trump supporters, rioters, or Patriot coaches.

 

 

 

Ivanka’s Wacky Future

Next Door Neighbor and Political Ally?

DATELINE:  Like Father, Like Daughter 

Where will the President’s First Daughter go after four years of delusions? She said she won’t go to the Biden Inauguration. She has that right: she wasn’t invited.

She has burned the New York Brooklyn Bridge to her former home.  She and hubby Kushner have bought property on Indian Creek Island, a billionaire playground in Florida.

She plans to build a new mansion, worthy of her. What’s interesting is that she purchased the land within days of Tom Brady also buying into the 30 manse island, with security that US Capitol would envy.

They both will build as neighbors. In fact, Brady once was the marriage partner choice of Daddy Trump, but Brady knew better. His wife is a genuine billionaire.

And, Giselle has social contacts that will open up the private golf course for Tom. It seems the residents are rather cool to Trump and his family. Ivanka and hubby Jared are not golfers, and they likely will be shunned by the community.

However, Ivanka is thinking politics. She may be on a crash course with Tom here too. Rumor has it that she wants to be a US Senator, and will challenge Rubio in 2022.  

Tom will have to wait for the next seat. They both will feel more comfortable with the conservative, senior voters of Florida than anything in the Northeast where bad weather and bad politics go hand in gloves.

By the time Tom Brady is ready to venture out from his Indian Creek luxury life, Ivanka will be running for president and Tom can step into her senate seat.

Poor Marco Rubio. All that loyalty to Trumps will end with ashes in his mealy-mouth.

Trump’s Alamo Visit

Cheaters United

 DATELINE: Taking Belichick Down with Him

All metaphors are imperfect, and nothing could be more imperfect than the notion of Trump at the Alamo. It’s the ultimate union of insanity and patriotism.

The fighters who died to the death at the Alamo wanted to have a separate country in Texas. They were the original Republicans.

In movies and TV, you saw John Wayne and Fess Parker play their careers to the hilt of martyrdom on the screen. And, now the disgraced POTUS who instigated sedition and high crimes on a level with Aaron Burr wants to play himself as the end closes in.

He makes it worse for his supporters when he decides to give the Ultimate New England Patriot, Bill Belichick, a gift for his support; the Medal of Freedom as one of his last disgusting acts. It’s typical for a man who started his political rise by bashing Mexicans as rapists and drug dealers and ends with the symbol of a wall against Mexico at the bastion where Mexican soldiers  killed Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie.

Belichick intends to visit the White House as the Congress votes a second impeachment of Trump. Who is the mad man here? We count Belichick among the NFL cheaters with Spygates 1 & 2 and Trump with Impeachment 1 & 2.

And, now, the Patriots should fire Belichick, sacrifice to the cause of a coup d’etat,the supporter of Trump and coach of historical arrogance and now hostage to his own hubris.

Losing the season, losing Tom Brady, and losing his mind, Bill Belichick now will regain infamy by going to the White House and accepting honor from a man who has made honor a badge to kill legislators at the U.S. Capitol, and claim he was a victim of voters.

If the owners of the Patriots do not fire Bill Belichick for this egregious act, then we have the demise of a franchise, self-perpetuated by the Kraft family (Trumpists too and big lonely New England supporters of the American Hitler) in the most of antithetical states standing against Trump: New England went overwhelmingly for anybody but Trump.

We are watching the spectacle of the last gasp of a political movement and the gasping greed of a sports dynasty. America never had it so wrong and may be sinking into its own miasma of Nazism, white supremacy, and stupidity.

Kardashians in Green

over the hump?

DATELINE: Butt, butt, butt…

Tristan Thompson is in our hearts and minds lately. So, we may ask you if you are over the Hump.

The Boston Celtics now have signed their second Kardashian husband. Those fans of the Hump may well recall the time Kris Humphries played in Boston.

It’s not enough they have reached a new bottom line.’

When the Hump stepped on the court in his first few games, he was largely booed by the Celtic crowd, which puzzled coaches in Green. Then, someone told them to watch TV and read the tabs.

Oh, it dawned on them that they had just stepped into reality that is surreality. Tristan wants to know if there are good eateries near the Boston Garden. He is planning to feast on chicken.

Now, we have again a crack in the Celtics Under-armor.

Society has hit rock bottom when pro athletes now are being tossed out of games—and arrested—for going for the formerly acceptable cheeky assault.

Thompson, you may have forgotten, was hit with a butt-slapping penalty during a low-blow  in his career.

We cannot recall when butt-touching originally went public in our sports arenas. It must be a carry-over from hauling ass around the gym. Once upon a time, it was considered a means of expressing male “affection.”

We are unsure if we have ever seen this activity in a gay bar, but we believe that it will now be forbidden even in the inner sanctums. Queer as Folk avoided such behaviors.

A pinch on the cheek used to be quite continental, but continence has reached a new plateau when it comes to below the belt buckles with knuckles.

Another Kardashian news tidbit: he will be coming to Bean-town with his wife.  We predict they will love Boston as much as Giselle and Tom Brady who couldn’t escape fast enough before another winter hit.

A few years ago, Tristan Thompson was in town with the Cavs and shocked Celtic Jae Crowder with a tap to the butt. It nearly disencombobulated the Celtic. Love taps to the buttocks are reserved to close locker room pals.

Whether Thompson will be arrested for assaulting good taste again with a tap to the keester will be under the microscope when he reaches Boston.

In the meantime, ain’t we got fun?

 

 

Celtics Choke Again.

DATELINE: Once More With Feeling

Boston Celtics used to be a subject we could write about with amusement. Not now.

Since the Great Bubble Experiment of the NBA where home court is a myth, you have the Celtics not playing home games on their notorious parquet floor. It used to give them a superstitious advantage.

Nowadays, home court is somewhere in Florida where alligators await being made in a sow’s ear. The Boston Celtics have fisticuffs in the locker room, and their vaunted stars (Kemba, Smart, Brown) are proving to be lesser lights.

Long live the Celtics. The team is dead for this year. There is one word you never hear in the Boston media: choke.

 We hear the strangulation gasps for air. We hear the air leaving the bubble.

The Celtics have epitomized the concept of choking under the pressures in big games during a series against the Miami Heat.

There is no other way to describe a team that is fighting amongst itself more than against the opposing team.

You have the great Kemba Walker not exactly performing well. Maybe there is a reason why he never played in playoffs all these years. Now in the playoffs, he is choking. He does not know how to play big games, with no experience.

Marcus Smart is dumb, and his insanity now is the noose choking the team. Jaylen Brown is playing chopsticks on his piano most of the game.

Jayson Tatum, Bird in waiting, is now proving that he knows not what a dagger to the heart means.

Bird did.

So, we have a team in disarray, in stress, playing poorly when they need to be their best. Something’s gotta give, folks.

Wait till next year may mean more than the Curse of Kyrie Irving.

Nobody gives squat about the Celtics anymore.

 

 

 

 

Trump’s Sports Liaison

DATELINE: Last of the Ninth?

 Golf Duffer & Liaison.

Trump just canceled throwing out the first pitch next week at the Red Sox-Yankees game at Yankee Stadium. Is it going to be too hot? Or did Secret Service say that they couldn’t protect him? Trump joked last year that he needed a suit of armor for such an appearance.

Who is setting up these faux sports events for Trump?

You may be surprised or not: according to Abigail Hess, intrepid CNBC reporter, it is none other than Rudy Giuliani’s 32-year old son.

Yes, if you are puzzled  why Trump has had more sports involvement lately, you could look no deeper than Andrew Giuliani whose job, as special sports liaison, is to ferret out aging, dumb jocks who support Trump without question.

So, Bob Cousy of the Celtics receives a Medal of Freedom. Some teams are invited to the White House, and others are disparaged. Blame it on a Giuliani advisor.

Daddy Rudy claims there is no pay-off or pay-back to hire the son of the President’s personal lawyer at $100,000 grand per year. Rudy notes it is a “nice” job  to locate aged in the wood sports figures for Trump to play golf with (Brett Favre only this week), and sound them out for public statements of support.

NASCAR is no accident for Trump. He knows all about the Confederate flags on race cars because of Andrew Giuliani, and there is a safe spot and sport for Trump to canoodle with unquestioned stars of the past.

Next time there is a loser in the White House, you know he will look for victory in former sports winners.

 

Tom Brady: Oh, Say, Can You See?

 DATELINE:  Charitable De-pants of Brady

 Splitsville for Tom? Pulling an Elvis?

Tom Brady’s golf game has brought a split decision. It was a new low for the Super Bowl man without a pocket.

The big televised charity golf tournament with Peyton Manning, Phil Mickelson and Tiger Woods, came apart at the seams during the match.

It seems Tom Brady bent over and found himself flying by the seat of his pants. How could a man so thin break the laws of physics? Or maybe he just broke the wind speed for a tee-off swing.

We haven’t seen such roughage to a wardrobe since Janet Jackson pulled her prank. Yes, Tom, we see you for all your worth. He needed his copper-infused pajama pants to play the rest of the game.

If we recall clearly, Elvis used to regularly split his pants in his final concert tour. Some believe it was sewn into the act.

Tom needed a diversion, and a pair of Sponge Bob’s pants fit the bill, harry, and tom. Underneath it all, there came a subpar moment in sports history. This seemed to parallel Spygate, Deflategate, and the general run of fake news.

Now this has nothing on Trump on Memorial Day, swaying in the breeze like the American flag. Supporters wanted to support the unsteady President who played golf the day before and showed his handicap: standing still.

In front of the Unknown Soldier during a ceremony, Trump looked like a man who had a few too-many swigs of Clorox before the game. He needed his club to act as a walker. We expect to see Trump split voters and pants, but never Tom Brady, his ardent supporter friend.

We gasped to see what color Tom’s undies might be: at least he wore undies, unlike some NFL players on Sunday games day.

Tom’s world tour of torn pants and broken promises will continue in Tompa Bay where the sea breeze will send a cooling cool to the Elvis stunt.

Trump Turns into Typhoid Mary

DATELINE: NBA Comes in Second! 

If you need a little coronavirus history lesson, we are here to oblige.

Typhoid Mary was a 19thcentury Irish woman who was Patient Zero of her day. She went around the world, dispensing typhoid to anyone within her earshot. She herself never contracted the disease.

She was put into quarantine and only went to the supermarket to pick up hand sanitzer.

In that way she was like Johnny Appleseed, going around the countryside, planting infection.

Nowadays, the closest thing we have to Typhoid Mary is Donald Trump. Corona Trump seems to avoid having a test to prove his diseased body, but manages to meet with other world leaders. If you believe he has been tested and is negative, you probably are a U.S. Senator.

We think it’s time he went to North Korea again.

As for the NBA, no one likes to kick a basketball when it is out of bounds, but we will kick the can down the road.

Another NBA player has tested positive. He was guarding Rudy Gobert last week. It takes more than three days to develop coronavirus, and a player on the Detroit Pistons was in Gobert’s shirt last week, as they say of good defense.. Oh, well, do your job.

No one is mentioning that two kids from Rhode Island met Rudy Gobert at TD Garden in Boston, received an autographed ball, and a case of coronavirus. It took almost ten days to develop.

Nothing like spreading goodwill, NBA.

So, we are back to Typhoid Donald: he only had dinner and shook hands with people this week while being an incubator. We expect to see world leaders fall flat on their test kits within the next week. He and his crony, the Brazilian president, love to say “Fake Flu,” before you can say, “corona.”

We think Trump would be a better candidate for swine flu.

As for Trump, he just keeps sailing on, spreading cheer and coronavirus wherever he goes.

 

 

Brady Tells Fans to Eat Cake

DATELINE: Well, shut my mouth!

What kind of guy fakes eating chocolate cake for a photo op with his wife and son?

Chances are it’s not retiring types like Philip Rivers or Eli Manning. No, we are talking about Tom Brady who eschews chewing on cake as a poison to his healthy regimen.

Well, chances what you have here is  a quarterback with a dubious history of truth-telling. Yes, this guy with his mouth shut tight and his fork pristine clean, is lying through his polished teeth.

Give us another shot of Botox.

He is pretending to munch on cake that would violate every precept of his TB 12 diet, whilst his wife Gisele and son have large chunks of chocolate cake heading into the mouth tunnel.

But wait, is that frosting on the cake? Or frosting on Tom’s moist lips? It could be his lip balm. There appears a residue of something chocolate on the fork.

You know if Brady will fake cake eating, he might be the sort of guy who’d let air out of footballs for an advantage.

He’d the kind of guy who’d post photos in cryptic poses of him coming or going out of a stadium, tormenting fans with a cheap stunt to sell cable TV.

You know Tom is capable of any action to further his career—even at the expense of faking fun with his family. We aren’t sure we buy his argument that they have a big say in his football future. Based on this, we think they have NO SAY.

Only in Boston and only with the Patriots would a harmless photo of eating cake be equated with the worst of Marie Antoinette.

We are tempted to say, off with his head.

 

Tom Brady Plans to Beat Time Saturday!

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.”

Waiters & Other High-Flying Panic Attacks

DATELINE: NBA Twits

 File Under Inept Waiters!

Now and then we follow NBA nitwits on and off the court. We seldom follow Miami Heat anywhere, but when Dion Waiters criticized coach Spoelstra and ingested designer drugs making for a panic attack whilst flying with the team, we took notice.

He’s coming to Boston to play after a suspension worth a couple of million bucks. Maybe he can earn the money back by waiting on tables and receiving tips.  We offer our tip right here.

Dion sang an apology to teammates and coaching brain-trust that sounds all the world like a statement from his agent/attorney axis. After all, fines and suspension took money and food out of their wallets and open mouths.

We know from the spellcheck that Dion Waiters never wrote that apology. Some low-paid minion earned his keep.

No one wants to provide real details about imbeciles, lest they be accused of discriminating against drug users and people with bad judgment. We are fearless in that regard.

When we meet a body walking through the rye, we know it’s a kind of Scottish whiskey on his breath.

We doubt that Waiters would be a winner on a team that contained players Bron, Wade, and Bosh. When you put a fly in the oinment, you mainly change the chemistry.

The rain in Spain does not always fall on the plain, no matter what apology/tune Dion sings, and we think as an ordinary waiter Waiters would spill our wry rye all over our spellcheck. Especially at 37,000 feet above the court at American Airlines Arena. It’s no slam dunk from outside the arc/ark.

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.

Josh & Kyle Allen, Twin QBs of NFL

DATELINE: Boys Will be Quarterbacks!

 Siamese Twins?

Are we seeing double? Are they separated at birth? Are they twins?

The Red Zone of NFL has given us a double dose of cutie-pie QBs. We are now in double jeopardy of wondering how the NFL can allow players to take the field before they can shave.

Josh Allen and Kyle Allen are among the new generation of NFL quarterbacks. They have leapt into the Internet social media and beefcake dreamboat category simultaneously.

They are not joined at the hip because we saw them in different cities on the same day. However, we still cannot tell them apart without a scorecard.

Of course, one is always a tad shocked to find out that the star players are so young that they look like teenagers who could play the Hardy Boys in a new cable series.

TeenBeat might be featuring them on the cover. They could play Tom Brady’s sons in a movie.

One of them plays for the Buffalo Bills and the other now has taken over the Carolina Panthers. They are not your average blue-collar city boys. They are fresh off the farm.

Gleaming smiles and boyish good looks are not the kind of tough guy image you expect from grizzled NFL leaders, like Troy and Peyton. This is the new generation following in the footsteps of botox Tom Brady, whose looks now try to defy the twenty-somethings whom he must play against.

Of course, there is a big difference between looking young and actually being young. We don’t know if the Bobsey Twins of Josh and Kyle will fall into the youth movement of 2040 and find silicone to fill their wrinkles and cracks.

Right now they are so adorable that you wish the time machine would hold still for a few years.

We wish them long careers and hope they never are able to grow a beard like Ryan Fitzpatrick and cover up those beautiful doll looks. Movie contracts are sure to follow.

Removing Another Satiric Barb

DATELINE: Un-wigged!

 Scalp Problem?

We see that a TV graphic headline has been called “racist,” and we thought how terrible. Then, we saw what the offensive words were: They alluded to the Atlanta/Boston/Milwaukee Braves and the situation of losing a playoff berth. Now, we have for some time thought that naming teams after Native Americans—or, as racists call them, Indians, whether they are from Washington, D.C., Cleveland, or Boston (where the Braves originated) is dicey.

We were never sure what Indians they referred to in Boston. It could be that Braves are simply people with courage, though young Native American warriors were called Braves. It was sort of like ‘grunts” or “GIs” in another framework.

So, Indian and Redskin are harder to justify. If this seems like a hairy tale, you will be forewarned to avoid head-hunters.

Back to the point of the racist claim: it struck us as a play on humor and defeat. It is known that some brutal Indian raids resulted in “scalping” of victims. This was not necessarily an action limited to Native Americans but was a kind of trophy hunting.

To say the Braves were “scalped” seems rather oxymoronic. Who did the scalping? People who sell tickets to games outside a venue?

We seem to have entered a world in which words have either lost their meaning or have become metaphoric bonfires of the vanities.

If this full lobotomy assault continues on satiric wordsmiths, we shall soon be de-fanged, de-clawed, and shorn of our satirizing locks. In a crew cut mode, we may not again use Scalpicine on our collective itchy head. Sign language could also be offensive to Native Americans, to which we raise a well-placed finger in response.

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.