DATELINE: APB FOR A&B (NOT ANTONIO)
Brady mask, life-size!
Tom Brady just lambasted the media for making up stories about his desire to leave New England. It’s just “hype,” according to TB12. It’s a bunch of horse pucky from people trying to make money off the Brady name and legacy.
You mean people like Robert Kraft? The NFL? ESPN? CBS? MNF? TNF? SNF? You mean corporate types like Under Armor?
Yes, we would concur that all of the above named are trying to make money off the TB12 brand—not to mention his trainer, his real estate agent, and sundry souvenir marketing gnomes.
It was the second assault and battery on the media by TB12 in a weak moment. Maybe his patience is wearing thin, but we aren’t sure why.
Deflategate never bugged him like rumors of leaving Bean-town half-baked if you want a dozen Super Bowl parades.
As for making money off Tom, we wish we could hook up to that choo-choo train, but the milk train doesn’t stop here anymore. Flora Tom Goforth is about to go forth. Just call us the Witch of Capri. Our name has once again been crossed off the guest list.
Of course, Tom—the man who hides the truth under a thickening layer of Botox—never directly responded to the notions counter item that he is selling his home and his contract is up after the season.
He did not give an answer that re-assured, like he wants to play in New England until the end of the line, or that he even hopesto be back in the area next year.
That hope was hung out to dry with his TV appearance that mocked his owner, beloved Kraft of massage fame. As Tom complained testily, you dastardly media are reading metaphors into fiction where similes will do.
Oh, Tom, you coy boy.
DATELINE: Better to Receive than Deceive
If you listen to the experts in Boston sports, apart from us, you have learned this week that Tom Brady is greasing the skids to slide out of town at season’s end.
Tom knows which way the wind blows: and it is blowing westward toward the San Andreas fault, where Tom can shake the earth on his own terms.
We must agree with the details that Tom Brady is done in Boston, though the bigger picture may be smaller.
It seems that Tom has two reasons to leave: and they are Bill Belichick and Robert Kraft, both of whom have left him stranded without a receiving corps in an annual denuding of first-rate players. Whenever Tom finds someone to his liking, that player is sent packing for reasons usually salary-related.
And Tom remains among the lowest paid superstars at QB position. Taking a hit for the team has grown tiresome for Tom.
It may be that Tom wants to prove, finally, in his golden years, that it is he, not Belichick, who won six Super Bowls. If New England wants a seventh, he may provide it on the way out. The door may slam on someone’s ass—but it won’t be Tom. Bill Belichick will stay on. Perhaps Josh McDaniel, beloved Babe, will follow out west.
Tom can win two or three more Super Bowls playing for the Raiders in his hometown. Fifty may be the new retirement goal.
Then again, Tommy—and Belichick too—want to show they never needed the other to win the next SB. Unfortunately, they both do need each other—and only will a final separation prove it to them and to the world. Belichick will hold on until his son can become the new King of the Patriots coaching corps.
For New England fans it will be too late and a bitter pill. Tom doesn’t love you anymore.
In the meantime, Tom snipes at the Boston press—whom he has grown to dislike more than ever—and he and his best friend-trainer, the Svengali of TB12 methodology—have put their Massachusetts homes up for sale in prep for the next season in Oakland.
Yes, you can go home, Tom. And Boston was never home, even after 20 years of suffering through fame and fortune, bad weather and a hundred-fold of receivers.
DATELINE: Old Overnight?
We know Tom Brady infamously jumps off the cliff in the off-season, diving into a pool near his vacay estate in Costa Rica Plenti. Now, after years of ominous predictions, have we just witnessed the aging phenom being pushed by the Grim Reaper into a new phase?
Though the Patriots won their fourth game of the season, undefeated still, it was the worst performance by Brady in a winning cause in his career.
No touchdowns—and an interception in the endzone. His QB rating is on a par with Trump’s popularity poll numbers.
Yikes, he could not do much at all. We blame the team management for disarming him: every season they take away one of his best weapons, the latest is the release of Antonio ‘who me a violent offender?’ Brown who made life easier for Tom.
Head Coach Bill Belichick has made it his mission to divest every weapon that Tom likes from the team. Where is Amendola? Gone with the wind. Where is Edelman? Playing hurt, and Tom scrupulously avoided throwing to him.
His best receiver was wearing a Mae West corset under this jersey, which made him look like a candidate for the RuPaul Drag Show. He played gamely with a busted rib or two. No one wants to confirm how many cracks they found in the ribcage.
His go-to second bananas, like James White and Phil Dorsett, were MIA when it came to push and shove.
Tom was also making decisions that rival those of a rookie QB—going for glory and long passes when shorter and less spectacular will do. It was all reminiscent of past aging QBs who refused to admit there is something rotten in the state of their game.
Tom still looks personally spectacular, dapper and smooth, resembling Adam Vinatieri’s son rather than his contemporary. However, under the creamy Botox layer beats the heart of a man who just fell off a cliff.
DATELINE: Uncle Tom’s Cabin and White Rice
Racist Tom at Kentucky Derby
If being an old codger in the NFL isn’t enough to create mockery, now a humbug New England sex professor is accusing Brady of the canard of a can of worms: the racist card canard.
Every time we try to extricate our reputation of being a Tom Brady critic, the forces of New England sports pull us back into the maelstrom.
Our latest laugh riot opinion centers on a University of Rhode Island Gender Studies professor who has written that Brady’s appeal is to white nationalist-types and typos.
If you know academia, like we do as a former don of the academic mob, you know this sort of “professor” has used gender politics as his bread and butter with jam topping.
Brady, guilty of deflating footballs and playing when he should be in a rocking chair, has now incurred the wrath of some transplant transgender New Englander who hates sports and loves gender misidentification. This sensation-seeking pariah now has taken aim at Brady’s Trump-loving demeanor.
It seems back in 2015, Uncle Tom expressed support for Trump and kept a MAGA hat in plain view that incensed Chicagoans like Jussie Smollett.
Now Brady is accused of fostering racism on his Kentucky Derby trips with many friends (nearly all of whom are, uh-oh, white in a sport that has 66% black players). As a crypto-Nazi sort, Tom-boy is always kissing owner Robert Kraft (who is Jewish) and Julian Edelman (who is lesser Jewish).
You may want to overlook that Brady recently invited black icon Antonio Brown to live in his home where his young daughter and model wife also reside. We have to complain that this is surely a coverup of his racism, unless you want tenure at URI.
Prof. Kyle Kusz sounds like a mixed bag of a political windbag variety.
Throwing a log onto the racist Brady theory encourages racist supporters’ fire-down-below is a low-blow even for an academic in New England unless he already has tenure and loves death threats.
DATELINE: 2-Headed Monsters!
First Rosey Grier, Now This!
Once again, the New England Patriots have turned this blogger into Al Pacino in Godfather 3. Every time we try to get out, they pull us back in.
This marks the second, or perhaps third, season we will not do a Patriots book on the season: main reason is economic, mostly because Patriot fans can’t read and don’t buy books. The other reason has to do with personal sanity.
Not since Rosey Grier and Ray Milland played one man with two heads have we seen anything as horrific. It was 1972, and the movie was The Thing with Two Heads!
And now Bill Belichick and Tom Brady have done the impossible: they have doubled the combustion factor on their Super Bowl team. Perhaps they like challenges, or perhaps they are fire bugs. The horrid monster of Belichick & Brady has found a mate.
Tom Brady is about to pour kerosene on top of the two most flammable players in NFL: Josh Gordon and now Antonio Brown. These Bobsey Twins could bring down governments if they were involved in Brexit.
They would be hurricanes that would defy Category 5 and find themselves the objects of Trump’s madhouse White House sharpie.
Indeed, we expect a presidential tweet pardoning anyone writer who sets the tandem on a course to blow up records of pass catching and yardage.
Since Bob Kraft is owner of the Patriots, you might be a cynic and say this will permanently prove that there is no video of Kraft in a massage parlor, as it has been destroyed in an explosion of Tom Brady inflated footballs.
This makes Deflategate look like inflation pumped up to extremes that the football will look like the Goodyear Blimp in the endzone for Patriot fans.
We may now watch a few games after this Near Earth Object/asteroid crashes into Planet Foxboro.
DATELINE: Tom’s Time Runs Out
Mrs. Tom Brady.
|Reading Tom Brady’s tea leaves is pretty difficult, because he doesn’t drink tea!
Nevertheless, fans have requested that we look into the future of Tom Brady, as we have written several books on him and his general flakiness (See Tom Brady Swinging on a Deflategate, Amazon, paper and ebook).
It appears first that he has signed a large new contract extension with a raise that makes him the sixth highest paid player among NFL quarterbacks. Not bad for a GOAT.
Once again this year Brady gives the Kraft team more money to spend on other players or massages.
The big news is that he has put his house in Brookline, Massachusetts, up for sale for under $40 million buckeroos. Well, it is up and down. It appeared to be for sale, then it wasn’t. There’s no hurry as he intends to play for at least one more year in New England.
Patriot fans, who have come to think Brady may be a mere mortal after all, believe he may play just one more year and move to New York where he has bought a high-priced condo for his wife and children.
Like former teammate Gronk, Brady has loyalty to New England only as far as he can play as the team is concerned.
Gisele, one time model and actress, his wife, a billionaire in her own right, has other interests in the big city of the Big Apple .
These two are a Met gala power-couple with international ties who belong only to the money they have: no teams, no countries, no political groups .
Tom and his wife Gisele can do anything they want, and they will.
In the meantime, Tom has admitted that one of his great frustrations is that his second son doesn’t want to be an athlete like dear old dad. This young man is independent and wants to follow his own star, which may not be his father’s star.
All in all, the tea leaves say Tom, star of Tom v. Time, is headed for big changes in his ticking biological clock.
Ossurworld has written several books on Brady, including Tom Brady Swinging on a Deflategate. Available on amazon.com in print version or e-book for smartreaders.
DATELINE: Trump Wins Friends & Influences Racism
We don’t know where to begin, as usual.
First, Donald Trump admitted that he actually read a book cover to cover. The report happened to be the Mueller Report.
Call us a cynic, but he may mean he read the front cover and back cover, but likely nothing in between. We still hold to the conspiracy theory that Trump is a functional literate, graduating from college because of a purchased degree and a laxity of grading policy.
Trump claimed he was not a racist, but never defined his terms.
We are hearing that he was so close to pedophile Jeffrey Epstein that they knew each other’s peccadilloes. It is true that Pecker of National Enquirer was killing stories about Trump’s connection to Epstein as well as his tie to Stormy Daniels.
Believe or don’t. We have a problem with Trump’s truth, when he tells press that he brokered peace between India and Pakistan. Really? India’s prime minister disputed the veracity. But how can you trust someone with such dark skin, according to Steven Miller, Trump’s icy aide-de-camp.
Politics was not all Trump. Some of it fell onto Trump’s pals, like Tom Brady. On vacation in Costa Plenty where his family have an off-season home, the dare-devil and aging Patriot gave his haters some fodder. He jumped off a cliff with his 6-year old daughter into lagoon, as befits a big goon.
Some regarded this as sexist torment and child endangerment. We doubt anyone would have complained if he had jumped with his sons.
Defenders called him a good parent, instilling fearlessness in a little girl who deserves it as much as a little boy.
Meanwhile, another Trump pal, Alan Dershowitz, said he had one massage from an Epstein connectee—and hated it. He is not a massage kinda guy. Well, lawyers are like that.
All the Democrat candidates for Prez in the Senate voted against the Trump choice for Secretary of Defense, except Bernie Sanders who was absent. The vote was 90 to 8.
Never let it be said the politician ride below patriotism, and police in Louisiana are threatening to kill a squad member of the Congresswomen brigade.
Trump’s era is nothing short of Caligula’s era.
DATELINE: File Under “Help Wanted!”
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!!!!
DATELINE: Bachelor in Paradise?
May is here and rose blossoms are being tossed at the most important people who are deserving this weekend for congratulations.
No, we are not talking about motherhood. We mean college graduates.
And, here in New England the biggest college commencement is occurring in Ohio at Kent State. Julian returned to the scene of his undergrad daze to complete his program.
Heretofore, Kent State’s claim to fame was a massacre of students in 1970. Now, it’s an overhyped degree recipient. No one gave Julian Edelman the third degree, only his first.
Yup, over a decade after he dropped out of his mysterious academic program in crypto-something, Julian Edelman has finished his degree requirements and will be graduating. Whether this is criminal justice, or online learning, we can only speculate about adult learners.
Wearing a robe is old hat to Julian but is time we hope he wears something underneath.
Better late than never for pomp and/or circumstance. We wondered when Jules found time to finish up a year of classes. He left after the third year to pursue a career of making big bucks behind Tom Brady’s curve balls.
Maybe Kent State gave him life experience credits.
Edelman has never liked to play second fiddle to anyone, apart from his big brother advocate, Tom. So, when Tom laughed at the quarterback skills of Jules, he became Tom’s go-to pass-receiver. Now his GPA is still half his reception quota.
Yet, Julian has always felt inferior to his taller, more handsome pal. After all, not only does Tom have a wife who is a billionairess, Tom has a bachelor’s degree in general studies. Julian is more focused.
Yes, that marketing skill is the envy of English majors everywhere. Edelman won’t reveal what his area of expertise is in terms of a bachelor of arts or science, but he is unmarried.
We suspect his plays the field generally, studying Tom Brady most of the time. Indeed, this year, he went as Tom’s beard to the Met Gala.
They also shared some fun at the “Kentuky” Derby (according to Trump spellcheck) where Tom won and Julian didn’t.
We now can give Jules the respect he is due: for managing to do online course work (well, someone did it) to achieve his parents’ dream of a well-educated lunatic for a son.
DATELINE: Horsey Set?
Mr. Ed for President!
In the United States of America, there is only one horse who can talk—and Mr. Ed likely has plenty to add to the recent spectacle of horse flesh known as the Kentucky Derby.
This annual bettor event is used by swells for preening and promenading all for the better. Tom Brady was there with a plethora of former backup quarterbacks and some of his other sycophantic friends. It was a Trump supporters’ extravaganza.
However, Maximum Security stole the show and may be now in lock-down if not in harness in his solitary stall. He was disqualified for cheating.
We suspect the horse sense only applied to his jockey, but the action of judges to take the one-third of the Crown away from the pretender to the Derby has left big bettors throwing their hats in the ring for a fifteen-round fight.
Imagine a horse cheating in 21st century American sport known for gambling, and he did not even take a steroid.
Now the Cheater-in-Chief has taken again to Twitter to explain his view of the universe. He hasn’t much else to do except bet on losers.
In America the only talking horse is Mr. Ed. But, when it comes to blowhards, the white horse’s ass is speaking again in 140 characters from the White House, no country estate.
You have to understand how a cheater and liar can be indignant when someone does not win after cheating or lying. If you are looking for a premonition of the 2020 presidential election, you may gulp hard at the attitude of the White House wannabe returnee.
Maximum Security lived up or down to his name, and the Country Horse is Country House, an offense to someone in the White House.
Of course, as you might expect, Mr. Trump cannot even spell “Kentuky,” a state he hopes to carry in the next election. His semi-literate tweets may once again prove that his father bribed some college to give the horse’s end a degree, but that’s a horse of a different color.
DATELINE: Demon & Pythiass
Danny with Jules.
One of the guests to watch the Patriots win yet again another Super Bowl, number VI out of LIII, was a man who chose to leave the team to sign a contract with rival Miami before this season.
Aspiring model and wide receiver for the Dolphins, Danny Amendola, was there as a close friend to videographer and now Super MVP Julian Edelman and supporter of his former teammate.When asked one of the more personally interesting questions as he arrived in Atlanta, he said he did not like Edelman’s beard. “It’s smelly,” he told reporters on the fly.
If any man has been up close to the challenge of finding food particles in Julian’s fur-based face, it is the always adorable Danny.
No man is closer to Edelman and as familiar with his workout partner’s habits, Amendola starred in many of Edelman’s videos and antics. Amendola surely knows the intricacies of Julie’s bushy follicles.
He, like the rest of us, may be perplexed at the ugliness of his facial hair—and how he now waxes and wanes his entire body below the neck.
If Edleman likes to take fur off his buff bod, you may wonder why he leaves the au naturel look on his chinny-chin-chin. He surely has bone structure as sharp as Tom Brady, even without Botox, which leads us to note that our most blockbuster blog is the one in which we discussed the “work” Brady has done to maintain his youthful looks.
It’s important when you plan to play a game in the public eye until decrepitude and the Grim Reaper darken your door to stay youthful.
As for Danny, who had his own oddball hopes of becoming a supermodel, he can only second-guess whether he regrets his decision to leave the big stage of the Julie and Tom show, Super Bowl perennials, to play with the fishes in Miami.
DATELINE: Do You See What We See?
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.
DATELINE: Out, Out, Damned Spot!
While Tom Brady and the New England Patriots pulled another game out of the hopper in the last second, the news was not all good. The Boston Globe featured an interview with another gay lover of the late Aaron Hernandez.
Yes, the paramours of alleged and former murdering tight end of the Patriots are coming out of the woodwork. Had he not been indicted for multiple murders, Aaron Hernandez might have been on the receiving end of Tom Brady’s passes this past night, instead of Gronk and Julian Edelman.
Instead, we are treated to more salacious details of his affair with his high school sweetheart, the quarterback of the Bristol, Connecticut, football team. Aaron had a thing for QBs, which explains his trips to California to train with Tom Brady years ago.
Of course, nowadays, Tom has no memory of the name Hernandez and never breathes it in polite company or even to the media.
Several years ago, during the trials of Hernandez, we were a lone voice in the wilderness, pointing out that the police covered up the gay angle to the crimes—believing it did not serve the public to hear it.
And, of course, the prosecutors declined to go into the gay motive in the murders because they thought the public would never find an NFL player capable of being homoerotic behavior, let alone homicidal behavior.
If you want to read the dirt, unvarnished and uncovered, go to the either the print or ebook entitled The Strange Case of Aaron Hernandez, available on Amazon.
DATELINE: Bad Bad Bundchen
Mrs. Tom Brady Did It!
Hail a Taxi in a New York minute! This is a must-see movie classic.
Well, okay, it isn’t exactly Citizen Kane.
However, the 2004 movie called Taxi impresses in so many ways. First, its cast includes Queen Latifah, Jimmy Fallon, and Giselle Bundchen. Unlikely and perfect casting?
Yes, the future Mrs. #TomBrady is in her movie debut with third billing. There is not even a hint of “Introducing….” She is the star. Having a billion bucks can do that.
She is top of the game as the villain, a tall model-type bank robber, heading a gang of shoot’em up women. What? You were expecting Anna Magnani in Open City? It’s enough to convince us that, if she teamed up with Tom Brady, for a movie career, we’d have another Burton and Taylor, or at least a potential Laurel and Hardy.
The movie is about a New York cabbie with a penchant for speeding (Queen Latifah in her patented sassy tough girl role) and an inept New York copper (Jimmy Fallon with a run-off at the mouth speed).
Luc Besson directs and writes this stuff to guarantee there is plenty of car-crashing action. He is the Fellini of the urban circus movie. Yeah, we give this one 8 and a Half.
If you expect to see Downton Abbey, you took a wrong turn at Antonioni’s Blow Up. Gisele rivals Vanessa Redgrave here.
We mainly stayed agog during the entire film because it is fifteen years old, and the three principal stars look exactly the same today. They have not aged one whit. #Latifah, #Fallon, and #Bundchen just stepped out of The Time Machine.
Who among us can make that claim? You might start to wonder where the Fountain of Youth is located in Central Park. Is it Tom Brady’s avocado ice cream that tells us the proof is in the pudding?
Yes, the cute strawberry blonde playing Jimmy Fallon’s mother is that Viva Las Vegas girl and Elvis co-star, Ann-Margaret. Talk about ageless
This movie is a Manhattan cake-walk.