Hard to Kill, Harder to Watch

DATELINE:  Hard Jobs

Tim Unleashed Tim Kennedy Unleashed

Tim Kennedy, formerly of Hunting Hitler as the go-to adventurer who investigated dangerous people, has gone a step beyond for a new Discovery series.

Hard to Kill is one of those “dangerous job” shows where some rank amateur tries his hand, without training, at doing something where you need a few years of experience to do the job right.

So, Tim Kennedy, former Green Beret, muscle-man, pushing forty years, is perfect as the guy being a man in a world of wussies. In the old days we called him a dare-devil, or simply foolhardy, or blithering idiot.

He shows guts and lack of brains at the same time.

In the first show, he tries his hand at “American bullfighter,” and it’s not what you expect. In the jargon of pop culture, this job is rodeo clown:  the guy in clown makeup who distracts the rampaging bull from running over the fallen rider.

This is risky. Breaking bones is the easy way out. Jumping to the fence to escape the bull’s charge is not a good idea, as these pros tell Kennedy: you can be impaled on an immovable object (a fence slat).

Bulls run at 35mph and are reasonably adept at hitting their target. You can plainly see that the rodeo men take it seriously to protect their own—and sending out an untrained person is not only foolhardy, but unethical. Yet, the price of TV fame comes high, so to speak.

Kennedy is personable and overly energetic, but these kind of adventurers were the explorers of yesteryear. They may seem anachronistic today or suited only for TV derring-do.

 

 

Advertisements

Tom, Giselle, Boris & Natasha!

DATELINE: Met Gala Stun Guns Again

Tom, Giselle, Boris, Natasha

Yes, right after the Kentucky Derby “and they’re off—” comes the notorious Met Gala in New York where the show horses and would-be celebrities fall all over themselves on the red carpet.

Yes, on the heels of the bizarre nature of Westworld’s second season comes Evan Rachel Wood, Kim Karadasian, and Elon Musk, on the red carpet.

Our favorite had to be Tom Brady, erstwhile ageless quarterback and his wife (the billionaire), looking like refugees from 1960s Gilligan’s Island. Indeed, you had to wonder if Jonathan Nolan had produced the glitzy extravaganza as a means to publicize his TV HBO weirdo series.

You can’t tell the androids from the guests.

What Tom Brady has had to do to cause his wife to agree to let him play for two more seasons? You have only to look at his outfit as the twosome cavorted with other Barbie and Ken dolls.

Yes, Tom is wearing nail polish. You can’t see the multi-colored nail polish on his feet. And he looks like he is storing botox in his cheeks. Yet, the rash comments that he and wife look like James Bond villains is a tad off-the-mark.

Tom is not auditioning to play Dr. No, nor Goldfinger. He is acting like a friendly Russian that would charm President Donald Trump, whose hair would have fit right in on the red carpet.

Tom and Giselle came across as Boris and Natasha, those 1960s spies who gave Bullwinkle Gronk and Julian the Flying Squirrel fits.

Halloween comes early. However, we did see Patriots owner Robert Kraft and his young Baby Mama. To our shock, Kraft was NOT wearing his blue collar/white shirt. He did have de rigueur tennis shoes with his tux.

You have to love insanity with money.

 

 

Frostbite Falls Foxboro

DATELINE: End of Season: Hell Freezes Over

smartwater Tom to Rescue?

For all those youngsters who are asking the old-timers, when was the last time the New England Patriots played in a Frostbite Falls condition on New Year’s Eve? We have no answer.

Our history books don’t go that far back. Our memory is a collective fog, frozen in time.

We have no doubt whatsoever that Tom Brady will be wearing his long underwear for today’s game against the Jets.

Tom has some specially made long-johns that the Navy SEALs wear when they dive. Let’s hope the Patriots don’t take a dive in the 0° temperatures. That’s 0, none, nil, nothing.

Baby, it’s cold outside.

We are sure Tom Brady would prefer to wear his UGGs boots this frigid afternoon, but those are not regulation NFL.

We believe he gave all his teammates UGGs boots for Christmas again this year. There’s not much thinking when you give a product you endorse as a gift. Tom’s big problem is finding UGGs in clodhopper sizes for all those king-size teammates.

Actually, we are looking forward to the toasty game in the late afternoon with the Celtics.

Though they play on the parquet floor covering hockey ice, it will be warm indoors. Even if some nitwit takes off his shirt in the Boston Garden, he will not be rushed to the hospital as will those fans at Foxboro’s frostbite falls stadium who inevitably will try the stunt.

Bundle up all you Minutemen. The time has come to freeze your derrière off.

Ray Allen: Gone Fishing for Compliments

DATELINE: Mysterious World of Cat Fishing

on the DL

If you haven’t heard of cat-fishing, you are out of touch with today’s Internet.

Former Boston Celtic Ray Allen is giving us a crash course in something to do with scams, sexual harassment, and online game players.

He is now counter-suing a young man who pretended to be a woman (actually several women) and lured Mr. Allen into online relationships.

It appears there is more than meets the eye to your online pickup lines.

Allen allegedly started stalking his tweeter. Well, how can you stalk a man who pretends to be a woman without finding out that the stalk is off-kilter?

In the world of retired sports stars with time on their hands, you discover that it was a two-way stalking. The young deceiver may have had incriminating evidence and was a threat to reveal it to the family of Mr. Allen.

This gives new meaning to the term “on the down-low.”  Yes, sports fans, in the world of sexual stalking, being on the DL is not always the disabled list.

We might wonder if former movie star (He Got Game) and 3-point champ Allen was light in his sneakers when he took all those jump shots.

We recall vividly his inexplicable feud with Rajon Rondo when they were on their championship NBA treadmill nearly a decade ago.

All the Celtics teammates blackballed Mr. Allen when he jumped ship for an NBA ring on another team. Perhaps teammates already were separating themselves from the DL list.

So, Ray’s best defense is now that he was cat-fished, the colorful term to describe a sexual peccadillo.

 

Boston Celtics Unveil Third Big Three

DATELINE:  Here We Go Again, Hopefully

whats not to like?

Nouveau Celtics: Hayward and Irving, Alphabetically

After a long hiatus, we returned to watching The Boston Celtics again.

They do look rather exciting this season, which may take the sting off the stink of the Patriots.

On top of that, the Celtics don’t take a knee during the national anthem. They may be more interested in making the Celtics great again, not making Trump look good.

There is a new big three in town.  Kyrie Irving surprises us by being find less sour than we remembered him on the Cleveland team, and Gordon Hayward is far more muscular than we remembered him on the Utah team. Combine them with our new old favorite Al Horford, and we feel like Bird, McHale, and Parrish, have just walked through that door. Well, Bird has returned: oh, wait, it’s Jabari Bird, not Larry.

Or perhaps we see a new version of Garnett, Pierce, and Ray Allen, if only they provide us with such soap opera drama.

Indeed, 2/3 of the Celtics roster is totally new. We couldn’t recognize anyone. Trader Danny Ainge has brought back only four young players, but even they look like Celtics of the future. We refer to Jaylen Brown, the new number seven, and Jayson Tatum, the new big zero. Red Sox star Mookie Betts showed up to jump-start the inter-sports support.

These youngsters seem to be taking the places of memories we have of Rajon Rondeau and Avery Bradley.

The best came from announcer and Hall of Famer, always amusing, 83-year-old Tommy Heinsohn. He said he had seen the new center, bullish Aron Baynes in the shower, and he represented the big continent of Australia in sheer size.

Heavens, can things be looking up from Down Under?

Stephon Gilmore, Scapegoat

DATELINE:  Hold the Stephone, Fans

Stephon

In New England, Tom Brady is the GOAT, and this week Stephon Gilmore is the goat. He only wishes he were the scapegoat, which implies a false guilt.

There is a big difference between champs and chumps—and that means you, Gilmore.

Brady brought the team back from a two-touchdown disadvantage to tie the game with minutes left. It looked like the scenario for another miraculous victory.

Then, Gilmore put his hands in the face of Panther, thus ending a stop that would have returned the ball to Tom for another score.

What will be will be. Let’s sing along with Doris Day.

Gilmore makes $65 million dollars to be caught doing bonehead plays. He later said it was failure to communicate that was to blame, as if his Cool Hand Luke play would play in New England.

Gilmore is no Paul Newman, though he has a choke-hold on failure to communicate.

The Patriots, who made 16 kneeling players put a hand to their heart and stand with a hand on the shoulder of the next fellow, lost again. It may be the loss of the Super Bowl flashed before our eyes.

Even the Jets won on his day—and perhaps winning the division is not a lock after all. Tom Brady has been knocked down more in four games this season than in the previous five years combined.

So far, he has not been concussed.

Maybe it’s time for Jimmy G to go out and take one for the team, giving Tom a rest until the rest of his goats can be herded into a semblance of a victorious unit.

Rocket scientist Matt Patricia has had another nuclear warhead blow up on the Launchpad.

Swami Bill Belichick looks like a man who actually has dyspepsia this season.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

Twin Peaks, Trump Plains, & Celtics Lows

DATELINE:  LeBron James as Laura Palmer, Trump as D.B. Cooper

glowing orb

Chicken or egg? We can’t figure out if the Trump Administration has prepared us for the new series Twin Peaks, or whether Twin Peaks has prepared us for the continuing weirdness of the Trump presidency.

When we see President Trump putting his hands on a glowing orb, we know there is a conspiracy of billionaires to control the world. Of course, it is merely a futuristic ribbon-cutting scene from the most recent Star Wars movie. Either that, or it is opening a gateway to an alternate universe, like the plots of Twin Peaks.

By the same token, we feel as if watching the Cleveland Cavaliers with the Boston Celtics is like knitting by Madame Defarge while royalty is having their heads chopped off.

On Twin Peaks, agent DB Cooper has returned to the northwest after disappearing for 25 years. That David Lynch has such a sense of humor.  So far, McLachlan has not rubbed any glowing orbs, but has kissed dead Laura Palmer (Cheryl Lee).

On the Celtics, little Cousin IT (Isaiah Thomas) and AB (Avery Bradley) are from the same neck of the woods in Washington state which happens to be the setting for Twin Peaks. It could explain a lot about how the Celtics are playing like Laura Palmer’s body wrapped in plastic.

Even stranger, we were amazed to see Kyle McLachlan and Sheryl Lee looking just like they stepped out of a 1990s TV show.  It becomes even more amazing when David Lynch has to inject a phrase at the end of every episode of the show that the episode is dedicated to the memory of one of the cast members who is now dead. We mean really really dead dead, like the log lady Catherine Coulson and the FBI agent played by Miguel Ferrer.

As for the dead Celtics, they are merely playing in an alternate universe, sort of like Twin Peaks 25 years later. If there is a glowing orb in the NBA, they better start rubbing it now. Lebron is no Laura Palmer.

TB12’s A-M DB 11

DATELINE: Tom Brady to Carpool to Work?

TB12's A-M DB 11

Just when you thought it was safe to drive to work during the early morning commute, you learn that Tom Brady is having a custom-made Aston-Martin fitted to his own design specifications.

This sort of transportation transcends the Mini-Cooper and even our own BMW.  Aston Martin will pay Brady some unspecified amount to endorse their low-budget $212,000 cars (options extra).

This certainly makes Peyton Manning’s pizza deal of a lifetime of pepperoni look like anchovies under glass.

In a world of have nots and Trump-level billionaires, Tom Brady is casting his lot with the X-press Way of La Dolce Vita. He will not be allowed to commute to Foxboro from Brookline in the express lane unless he carpools with Julie E.

We don’t see that happening. Julian Edelman lives in Foxboro, not toney Brookline.

A friend of ours met Tom some years ago when he was not far removed from being a sixth round draft pick.

He and my friend met at one of those Cape Cod charity events when Tom watched as our friend had his red MB SLK 320 roof slide into the back seat.

Tom was agog, and said: “I need to get one of those.”

How times have changed.

He can now afford three of those Mercedes to one Aston Martin DB 11.  When Tom pushes a button on his new A-M, the entire car folds into the back seat.

And we were going to tell him to buy Aaron Hernandez’s used assassin 4-Runner Deathmobile SUV for sentimental reasons. He’s outdone us again.

 

 

 

 

Tom Brady & Trump Face Inflategate

DATELINE:  More Fake News or Inflate-gate 

 Trumped

Tom Brady’s wife, Gisele Bundchen, has just hammered the quarterback with the Madden curse. If you don’t have enemies, your wife may be just as good as a substitute.

Maybe bachelorette Julian Edelman knows something he should have explained to Tom.

With supermodel Giselle’s announcement of Tom’s unreported and secret concussions over the years, she has made more trouble for him than actual concussions.

There’s nothing worse than a latent headache. You can bet the NFL will now subpoena Brady and hire a special researcher.

Before the new 2017 season begins, Tom will be under investigation for covering up medical injuries. Will we learn that he has a private Russian doctor recommended by President Trump? Has the FBI enough agents to send a few to locate Tom Brady’s secret medical file?

Since Roger Goodell has seen the light of brain disease associated with football, he now has more reason than ever to stop Tom Brady’s career dead in its tracks. There’s nothing more exciting for Goodell than to beat a dead horse. His favorite derby nag is Tom Brady.

We are now convinced that Tom Brady’s showboating by smashing a mirror and walking under a ladder were signs of concussive behavior. He had brain lock.

If this is not the same as a Madden Curse, this scandal will do until a good one comes along.

Tom and his representatives are not issuing a statement. The Patriots are not issuing a statement. Bill Belichick is not issuing a statement.

Tom’s only comments today: he wished LeBron James and Isaiah Thomas good luck in their playoff extravaganza. It was Big Papi sitting courtside, not Tom Brady. Tom will have another day in court.

Tom will have to hide from the press about as much as former FBI Director James Comey. Questions abound and rebound.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Concussion-gate Rivals Trump-gate

DATELINE: Move Over, Watergate and Deflategate

 duke & duchess of Foxboro

Not tonight, dear. He has a headache.

Like his friend Donald Trump, Tom Brady has a big headache.

No, it isn’t James Comey. It’s Tom’s wife, Giselle Bundchen. The superstar model gave an interview in which she announced Tom had a concussion this past season on the road to the Super Bowl.

In fact, she said he had many concussions over the years. Uh-oh.

This was news to the NFL and Roger Goodell as well as the Players Union. There are rules about medical reports and who can play if he is concussed.

Goodell never ducks an issue like concussions, and now Giselle has given him another shot at Tom’s head.

You know there is trouble when the doctor who was played by Will Smith and blew the whistle on concussions in the NFL has called Giselle heroic.

Tom may have another word for her.  We may now see who wears the pants on the runway at Tom’s house.

Trump could fire Comey, but Tom may be up the creek with Giselle and her half-billion-dollar bank account. The Patriots are staying mum on Tom’s children’s mum, but we know that Jose Baez will be the first to offer his services if Concussion-gate gets messy.

We think Julian Edelman may have to recuse himself, and we aren’t sure if Bill Belichick will be subpoenaed to appear before Congress.

The Patriots may need to ask for a second opinion before the man with the Fountain of Youth admits he has feet of clay.

 

Tom Brady’s Get-Rich Scheme

DATELINE: Co-starring Julian Edelman

 home Tom & Julie at home

The Boston Convention Center will be hosting an event on June 8 to guarantee Tom Brady will get richer quick. You will have your wallet deflated instantly.

Yes, the improbable Tony Robbins has roped in the Patriots star, and his sidekick, Julie Edelman, as guest speakers at his money-making extravaganza.

For $3000 you will receive priority check-in, which means Homeland Security will laugh at you. You will also have lunch in the Diamond Lounge, but Tom and Julie will be long-gone by then.

For $3000 you will sit in the Diamond Stage area and have a meet and greet with Tom and Julian. If you chose the $200 gold seats, you will be so far away from Tom that he couldn’t throw a pass to you with a bazooka.

This is billed as a “Systematized wealth plan.” Indeed, someone will be making big bucks off your ticket. And don’t ask for a refund. They claim you will love the event, but there are no money back guarantees. If Tom comes down with dyspepsia and misses out, so will your credit card.

How long will Tom speak? Our guess is about as long as the zeros in Tom’s bank account.

You will also receive Tony Robbins’ new book, which will be on the remainder table at Amazon in about a month.

We have learned that Julian has written a children’s book.  Beware, mom. It’s about a squirrel named Jules who collects big nuts. Most of them will be at this event.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Worrying for Tom Brady’s Safety

DATELINE:  Through the Looking Glass

 smashing mirror

Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall, who is fairer than Tom Brady?

There’s always a young QB on the rise, living in the woods next to a huntsman waiting for a Heisman.

When the Patriot icon takes a hammer to smash his own image to bits in a looking glass on Facebook, we feel like Tiny Alice, ready to start chasing white rabbits.

Tom has turned into the Mad Hatter.  Has he been inhaling mercury as part of his health regimen?

You don’t fool around with mirrors when you’ve had Botox treatments. You don’t smash your own image when you’ve spent plenty to achieve that boyish forever look that cost Somerset Maugham a whole lotta goat hormone treatments.

Tom Brady wants to show he can fly in the fickle face of fate. Madden Hatter 18, be damned.

Tom is a man of science—and he has put all his eggs into the basket of cosmetology, or is that cosmology?

We keep forgetting whenever we see a pretty face.

We cannot imagine Gronk or Julie E smashing a mirror. They know the price of good looks is too high to throw away. Tom has millions to burn, or his wife does.

We desperately hope Tom will not swap his ruby red slippers for a pair of Uggs.  The Wicked Witch of the West, aka Roger Goodell, may be waiting along the Yellow Brick Road.

We hope Tom will drop that Brookline mansion on Goodell’s head. It may be his only salvation after the broken mirror crisis.

 

 

 

 

Trump to Nominate Roger Goodell for FBI?

DATELINE:  Whimsy & Humor

illuminati

With the big news out of Washington that President Trump has fired FBI Director James Comey, the speculation has run rampant down to Foxboro about the next man Trump may select for a grueling Senate confirmation hearing.

And, the word around is that President Trump’s good friend, Bill Belichick, might be the grandest choice to head the crime fighting agency.

Trump appears ready to buck the past precedent to hire a man who relaxes in his mother’s old dresses.

Belichick shares a disdain for talking to the media that Trump admires—and no one knows better how to deal with fake news than the head coach of the Patriots.

Of course, first choice Tom Brady wants to keep his job with the Patriots. The FBI director receives a contract to play for ten years—and Tom expects to be around Gillette Stadium for at least a dozen more seasons.

Considering the problems of a Watergate type trouble that Trump may find himself, it would surely be good to find someone familiar with Spygate, Bountygate, and Deflategate, to head the FBI job.

That leads us to the unfortunate conclusion that the best man for the job could be Roger Goodell. We don’t know if he wears dresses in his spare time, but we won’t bet against it.

Trump should nominate Goodell for the post. He can keep Belichick on ice until the head of the CIA job opens up.

 

 

 

Whatever Happened to Tom Brady?

DATELINE:  Transforming the Legend

together truman & tom 

YIKES!

A number of observers of Boston sports have contacted us to ask this disturbing question. Has Tom Brady turned into Truman Capote?

Whatever can they mean? Well, a few wags and others are suggesting that Tom Brady is undergoing a social morphing that is most peculiar.

We have been told that Tom is turning into Truman like Dr. Jekyll becoming Mr. Hyde.

We don’t mean “Give’em Hell, Harry,” Truman, but we are thinking along the terms of Breakfast at Tiffany’s Truman.

Tom may be dining with the swells of fashion and hoi polloi beyond the Neanderthal world of Gronk.

How is it possible that Tom Brady, tall and svelte, could be changing into Truman Capote, short and dumpy?

A few wags blame the transformation on his wife, Giselle.

You can say we are guilty of murder in cold blood when we put Tom and Truman together side-by-side.

From natty poses to languorous layouts, the twins of metrosexuality tends to stun us.

lounge lizards

Early on, Tom mimicked one of Truman’s old book covers: the controversial, come-hither coach-potato look.

What’s even more appalling is how much Giselle and Tom pose together like any anonymous woman and Truman.

couples

You may rest assured: we are on this case like a sleuth hound dog and will send you regular updates as warranted.