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!!!!

Ten Conspire to Kill Ortiz!

DATELINE: Bounty Hunters Come Cheap in DR

ortiz-unleashed Bargain Basement Killers!

The price on David Ortiz’s head was reportedly only $6000 to be divided up by a dozen conspirator killers. Then, the number went up: no, not the bounty, but the number of plotters splitting the ante. The latest count from the Dominican Republic is there are ten co-conspirators. It’s almost like a county fair of killers. A few are still at large.

We are on our way to a baker’s dozen.

Maybe your money goes a lot farther in the Dominican Republic economy. If that cheap lifestyle is driving Americans to move to that crime-ridden country, they are living a cheapskate rich lifestyle.

We thought that assassination of Julius Caesar was a shoddy affair, but 2000 years later the attack on Ortiz is even more carnival-like. Instead of a forum, or even Fenway Park, Ortiz was shot in the back, a la Jesse James, in an outdoor bistro atmosphere.

No motive has been given for the crime. We cringe at the speculation. And none of it enhances Ortiz’s reputation as a moral paragon.

Friends now say that Ortiz counted on the general public to protect him from dangerous gang members or gangsters.

The best laid plans belong to mice, not men. No one could stop the bullet with Big Papi’s name on it.

If you think witness identification is a deterrent to crime, you have only to see killers blithely walk up to the large Ortiz and put the gun at gall bladder height. They did not care who saw them, or if they would be known.

What we have here is the polar opposite of the Aaron Hernandez case.

The motorcycle get-away driver was inept too. He skidded into the crowd, giving a mob the courage to beat him up. He professes to be a Big Papi fan.

Heavens, imagine what might have happened if the motorcycle driver had been a Yankee fan.

We come back to the low-ball price on Ortiz’s head. This was not the work of a head-hunter, but of a world where life is not only cheap, but it is on sale to anyone with a credit card limit under $8000. The killers planned to share the amount at a payoff of $1000 each, but as the number goes up, the slice of the pie drops to crumbs for a murder.

 

 

 

 

Red, White & Boo Sox

DATELINE: Trump Hits for the Cycle!

King John Henry & King Trump Kings: John Henry & Trump!

Donald Trump did not disinvite this team from his chicken-wing fast-food White House. That’s likely because the Red Sox self-determined that players of color (who actually were the heart and soul of the World Series) chose to avoid the ceremony.

Unlike other times, Trump did not blanch white at the idea that players of color showed him disrespect. He seemed pleased.

So, who did show up? The team insists that these winners are not losers in the race divide of America. Yet, we begin to wonder if the team we see on the field this season will amount to a hill of white fava beans.

Sean Spicer, Sox fan and former White House official, was stopped at the door for being a media member. So much for the goldfish memory of Trump’s team.

You cannot have half the Red Sox team in discord against the other half—well, you can, but these are not repeat winners. This year they appropriately stink up Fenway Park.

These are the whiter than white Red Sox from the town where black players have repeatedly complained about racist taunts from the fans.

The billionaire ownership has dismissed these failings in the fans. Indeed, one owner, named Tom Werner, was the man who hired Bill Cosby and defended him against all the charges made by women whose legal redress sent the Coz to jail. The other supercilious owner is King John Henry VIII whose elitism may rival Trump. You’ll never catch John Henry in a massage parlor like his fellow billionaire owner, Robert Kraft.

Trump did not breathe the name of Alex Cora, the Puerto Rican manager, who has lambasted the racism of Trump. You’d not find any White House credit given to the man whom Boston media and fans lauded as the reason for the World Series victory in 2018.

Red Sox white nationalist supporters claim that baseball is apolitical. The question is what exactly is an apolitical sport? As we recall, the origins of baseball were that it was a game for “white gentlemen.”

Black leagues were separate and kept unequal for 100 years. The Red Sox, we remind you, were the last major league team to integrate. Pumpsie Green was their first black player—and he sat on the bench for years.

Welcome to the White House, you white suck-up Sox.

 

 

 

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.

Ring-a-Ding-Ding for Tom Brady

DATELINE:  Bearing the Ring Bearer

scream up close Silent Screamer

It’s only been a year since Super Bowl LI. But for some Tom Brady palsy-walsy connection, the investment has been worth it in spades. No waiting for friendly profit when Tom Brady bankrolls you.

There are few things in life that return itself tenfold in value within one season.

Tom Brady’s authorized replica Super Bowl ring is one of them.

Like all Patriots, the players are allowed to have the team make slightly smaller, replica versions of the players’ ostentatious, tacky Super Bowl rings. That means it wasn’t quite as jewel-encrusted as you might expect if you played the game.

As a result, to hone this bejeweled ring took 10% off the original value. So, if you bought one of these items, or had it as a gift from Brady, it would only cost you (or him) about $30,000. We know from Tom’s video biography, that he gave one special ring to his mother.

We also know the ring-at-auction had Brady’s name etched into it: a dead giveaway of its giveaway.

We don’t know who, what, when, and where, other ring(s) may have gone.

We doubt that Tom’s mother’s the one who sold the ring for $350,000 this week.

We’ve been trying to rack our brains as to what Tom Brady connection or semi-close friend may have received a ring and sold it for 10 times its value. Parting is such sweet sorrow unless you make a quarter of a million bucks on it.

We keep coming back to the godfather of Brady’s child, Guru Alex Guerrero, Tom’s personal massage therapist and dietitian, not to mention Svengali And Mephistopheles.

If anyone has suggestions on which one of Tom’s friends sold his matching replica Super Bowl ring gift, please let us know.

We just don’t think members of the family would sell such an important memento. But, then again, Tom is out of the country. And those confounded mice will play while the Tomcat is away.

To make a quarter of $1 million profitability, we know we would sell it. But we are mercenary, cold-hearted, and ruthless. Can’t you tell from our blog?

Celtics Fight Each Other!

DATELINE: ‘Former Celtic’ is Always a Dirty Term

RondoLaughs

Two of our favorite Celtics characters were sent packing to other teams some time ago. However, that does not mean they are not still Celtics.

Case in point, Rajon Rondo and Isaiah Thomas. They bleed Green.

Both men were lively point guards, fun to watch and delightful off-beat souls. Rondo had a temperament that helped win a banner over seven years. Thomas never won a banner but played like a wounded warrior through dark days and dark events in his personal life.

This weekend was supposed to be a video tribute to Thomas’s few years in Boston, but it was not meant to be.

It was Paul Pierce’s retirement ceremony. His 34 went to the rafters, and it was not a moment to be shared. The video tribute to Isaiah Thomas (then of the Cavaliers) was postponed indefinitely.

Before it happened, Rondo said Isaiah didn’t deserve a tribute because he never won a championship. Rondo insisted he knew Boston better than Thomas. That might’ve meant an interesting game, watching Rondo sitting right near the Cavaliers bench waiting for a turn to honor Paul Pierce.

Oh yes, though he plays for the Chicago Bulls, Rondo returned to Boston for Pierce’s retirement. That in itself was marvelous. He joined his former coach Doc Rivers and his best friend Kevin Garnett. Once a Celtic, always the Celtic.

Abruptly traded to the Lakers, Isaiah Thomas faced Rondo within the week as opposing players Laker versus Bull.

If you were surprised by the next part, you never watched a Celtics game. The two former Celtics went at each other in the first quarter several times, nasty words and physical pushes nearly turning into a brawl.  They both were ejected from the game.

Thomas insisted that Rondo was giving him a hard time for the tribute video that never happened and likely accused him of being a fake Celtic.

A true Celtic comes back to the Boston TD Garden even when he plays for another team for a ceremony because he has never shed the Celtic Green inside.

We love our former Celtics. They are never former.

Tom Brady Not Ready for Prime Time

DATELINE: The Arrogance Game

Rodin's thinkerThe Thinker, Fan-Version

If you are among the throngs (yeah, millions for defense, but not one fan for tribute) who await the final episode of the Tom Brady self-congratulatory TV series called Tom Versus Time, you have to wait longer.

It appears Tom and his producer Gotham Chopra have to scrap the final episode and come up with a new one. They finished the series with Tom winning the Super Bowl. Reality bites. His team lost, though he came close to pulling it out, but horseshoes is not football.

You may see a pattern of arrogance in the series that denotes Tom Brady as a wise, old philosopher, on the lines of another problematic Bostonian, Henry David Thoreau.

Gotham Chopra self-admitted their problem with a statement that puts a smiley face emoji on the situation. “Everyone keeps asking me about Chapter 6 of ‘Tom vs Time’ and when it’s going to be ready. The truth is we had a plan, but unconsciously, it was tied to the Pats winning the Super Bowl and, when that didn’t happen (congrats, Eagles!), I felt like we needed to pause and recalibrate.”

Yeah, losing’s a bitch. Having to re-interview Tom Brady for an hour to find bon mots is not pleasant. They had to re-calibrate Tom’s happy-go-lucky philosophy with a reality check. That’s the unfortunate side of “reality TV.”

Chopra ends his emoji apologia with: “So, Chapter 6 — ‘Coming Soon!'”  It sounds like the next chapter of Batman.

We actually would like to see the pre-Super Bowl, arrogant, mad-as-a-hatter Tom Brady. but that episode will be lost forever to history.  Please Note: we said  hatter, to all you haters who have trouble reading.

Rocky Time for Super Bowl Losers

DATELINE:  Wagering on Super Bowl LII

Rocky M Rocky

In an unparalleled version of fake news, the real Rocky will be the subject of a wager against the fake Rocky.

You guessed it:  those publicity-seeking mayors are wagering on their respective teams again. Philadelphia versus the City of Champions, Brockton.  It’s the fictional Rocky Balboa of movies versus Rocky Marciano whose original retreat was Brockton. All those Rocky movies with Sylvester Stallone were set in Philly. Since the Patriots and Eagles are fighting it out in the Super Bowl, the mayors saw their chance and pounced.

If the Eagles win, the statue of Rocky Marciano will be decked out in Philly cheese-steak and, if the Patriots win, clam chowdah will be dumped on Rocky Balboa.

It must be an election year. In any respect, Mayors Kenney of Philly and Carpenter of Brockton met recently at a mayors’ conference in Washington, D.C., apparently on vacation from their hometowns. There, they met between conference panels on real issues to settle the score on fake issues.

Brockton bills itself as the City of Champions (a few other boxers you may never have heard of came from there too). Alas, Brockton has been down in the dumps for years economically.

Philadelpha, home of cream-cheese and cheese-steak, bills itself as the City of Brotherly Love. Alas, Philly has its pitfalls too.

So, it’s a match of those who love champs and chumps. The loser of Super Bowl LII will wear the other city’s uniform for a time, and be subject to thrown rotten tomatoes and sundry other items of bad taste.

 

 

 

Tom Brady’s New Back-Up Arrives

DATELINE:  Bledsoe to the Rescue

 brady's glove+ brady's backup = brady mirror

 When the New England Patriots quarterback shows up at a press conference wearing a catcher’s mitt, you know Tom Brady has turned into Tom-tom Thumb.

Yup, Tom Brady wore garish red gloves to his press conference this week—and refused to talk about why he had to wear his golf gloves indoors.

Nor would he confirm whether x-rays revealed he was an X-man.

If you own the Patriots, you may want to call in the reserves, the cavalry, or anyone who can help.

With all the drama and Theater of the Absurd and Tom Brady standing up in front of the press indoors wearing red gloves like he was serving dinner at a picnic, people are in a panic.

So, it is only natural that owner Robert Kraft went to an extreme to find “player insurance” in the form of former Patriot quarterback Drew Bledsoe. Drew drew the short straw to return to Boston for the game against the Jags under the pretext of being an honorary captain.

Drew Bledsoe once was the mentor to Tom Brady until Tom replaced him at about 20 years ago.

Bledsoe admitted that he has a few plays left left “in the tank.” Living in Oregon in a winery he owns, Drew may have seen one too many grapes, sour and otherwise.

We can’t tell you how relieved we are to hear that 45-year-old Drew Bledsoe can still play.  Brady told everyone he will play at that age too, just not this week.

Drew has reached the age Brady expects to toss footballs down the road.

Though good-looking Drew may allegedly be coming to Foxborough just a flip a coin for the pregame, Bledsoe could step in in a pinch if Tom’s catcher’s mitt just isn’t comfortable enough to toss for a couple touchdowns.

Patriot Destiny Calls—and the Ringing Phone is from Nemesis

DATELINE:  Nemesis Rears Its Ugly Head

lord

Teams of destiny, uh-oh. The Patriots may have answered the call this weekend, but the call was for two other winners: Jaguars and Vikings.

The stench of inevitability, not inability, turns people against teams:  whether it’s the New York Yankees or the New England Patriots. If you win the dynasty game, you are fair game for nemesis. That is the ultimate retribution for being a lucky winner ad nauseum.

Thank you, Alex Guerrero for putting the Patriots on notice with TB12’s curse. Tom smashed that mirror in the pre-season as a challenge, and now the piper must be paid.

Tom Brady has won enmity more than anything else since his Deflategate and his five Super Bowl rings. So, you know that people love to hate him. His new documentary series will be a hit because those haters want to see the icon up close for disparaging. These boots were made for disparaging, for us too.

As far as worry, the Patriots ought to be scared s***less, if we may borrow one of their biggest fans favorite epithets. Trump will send endless curses on the Patriots, his team of destiny.

Now there are two other teams of destiny:  Jacksonville Jaguars and Minnesota Vikings. They were not meant to win much, certainly not a Super Bowl. But they have become the nouveau Jack the Giant Slayer.  Either they are that or they are old-fashioned jackdaws. That’s the dirty old crow that likes to steal baubles for no reason and bring them back to their nest.

The Pats may have their pockets picked by either one of these new teams of destiny. Someone up there doesn’t like the Pats—and may be nothing can stop these perennial also-runners up from hitting the dizzying heights of metaphor Destiny.

You may hear the term in the next few weeks, if not already. Team of Destiny.  And let us be the first to tell you: it is the Patriots who are headed for an ugly fall, sooner or later.

The Great Tom Brady Fault

DATELINE:  Movers and Earth Shakers

 scream up close Patriot Fans Silent Scream

Scientists in New England have discovered an earthquake fault line in Foxboro. It runs right through New England Patriot country.

Resembling the notorious rift called the San Andreas Fault in California, the New England version centers around cracks in the great football empire of the Kraft family.

The Pats sent Jimmy G off to San Fran where Tom Brady’s heart was born, and the tremors are now starting in New England.

It seems the possible damage might include the Pats sliding into the Atlantic Ocean if the eruption and shaking continues. It seems the fault line can be traced to Tom Brady’s guru/nutcase inventor of the TB12 Method. No one is closer to Tom, not even Hurricane Jules.

Alex Guerrero has been banned from the sidelines and from travel on the JetKraft team airplane with Tom by the Thunderous Bill Belichick. The GOAT admits that there is a fault line developing.  It could shake the entire area if Tom is sent sliding into the NFL when the rift with Belichick is exposed.

Right now it is merely a crackpot line in the sand. Plate techtonics indicate that Brady is standing on the line and jumping up and down on it.

Tom’s Fault now has claimed other Patriots who have sought refuge with the Guerrero Camp over Patriot doctors’ advice. Gronk, Edelman, and even Hanley Ramirez of the Red Sox, are now planning for the Big One to shake up sports.

We are not sure if the faultline ought be called the Brady Rift, the San Belichick Fault, or name the entire potential disaster after the notorious snake oil salesman, Alex Guerrero.

We know only that the tremors have sent Patriot fans scurrying about. How can a potential tsunami like this be at the Patriot doorstep?

The Great Tom Brady Earthquake is now on top of the New England Patriot worry list.

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).