Mile High Has Enough Air for Patriots

 

DATELINE:  Like Peaches & Herb, Brady & Bennett Sing

Peaches & Herb

What used to give the Patriots the bends is now like air from a deflated football.

Denver used to send chills down the spine of their quarterback; now Tom Brady seems as home in the stadium as Peyton Manning where noise in the clouds hinders most.

With a convincing victory, it’s on to Mexico City where the air is half a mile thinner at 7000 feet. Thank you, Roger Goodell, for such a schedule. You deserve $50million per year and a private jet for life.

Now see if Jerry Jones has any intention of giving you anything more than the air out of a Tom Brady football.

The Pats seemed like their old selves in both defense and offense.

In terms of offense, despite the curse of the broken mirror, the more things change, the more it seems like last season. Why, bless our pointed heads, fans, but there on the field was Martellus Bennett, the original black unicorn.

Though facing surgery in Frost Bite Falls with the Packers and embroiled in legal issues, he was able to catch several Brady passes for great yardage, giving Gronk all he wanted for Christmas.

Von Miller, vaunted Denver defender, might exchange Instagram challenges with Tom Brady, as they did this week, but when push comes to shove, millennial photos on social media are not enough to sack Brady.

In terms of the dangerous seat next to Brady on the bench, vacant often this season since the disappearance of Julian Edelman, like the kidnapping of a Getty grandson, it found a new occupant.

Fearless of curses, and familiar as an old shoe, Brian Hoyer thought nothing of sitting next to Brady while the Denver offense sputtered on the field with their former great Manning replacement having returned to no avail and little consequence.

When it comes to homecoming reunions, no one does it better than the Patriots and Marty Bennett.

On to the deflated atmosphere of earthquaking Mexico City.

 

 

 

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Hernandez: The Brain That Would Not Die

DATELINE: Examining Aaron’s Brain

brain slices

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

Return of Martellus?

 DATELINE:  Patriot Resurrection Possible

memories

Martellus Bennett, the tight end who danced with the cheerleaders at the Super Bowl last season, and bailed out of the Patriots for Green Bay, is now available.

Is Bill Belichick interested?  It may well be, based on Bill’s past history; he loves to resurrect the dead.

Martellus (Don’t Call Me Marty) Bennett has been a flop out there in Frost Bite Falls, and with no great QB (Aaron Rodgers broke his collarbone) to sustain his antics, he may be ready for Tommy Time.

Poor Martellus has been bereft and without any TDs—or friends.  He played seven lackluster games with the Cheese Packers. With some disagreement about his medical condition, and with a threat he will retire after eight more games, Bennett made himself available to other teams when Green Bay sent him packing.

He needs to reconnect with the Brady bunch to regain his equilibrium.

The sudden move reminds us of the strange situation with the Pittsburgh Steelers a few years back who released a certain player for the Patriots to pick up just in time for a playoff run.

Now, the dire need of another tight end could mean that Belichick is considering more reunions.

He just brought back Lazarus Brian Hoyer from the dead San Fran 49ers.

So, returning a Gronk complement from the Cheesey Green Bay team seems rather likely.

Can Danny Woodhead be far behind? Might Rob Ninkovitch come out of retirement?

Bennett, fan of sci-fi, author of a kid’s book before Julian Edelman, savant of nothing in particular, was a delight in the locker room for his teammates and a media darling.

Will Belichick take another oddball tight end to go with the masterpiece of TEs, Gronk? We hope so.

Trick or Treat, Belichick Style

 DATELINE:  Yes, We Have No Bananas

Did Bill Belichick just put a razor blade in Patriot fans’ apple?  Or like the serpent in the Garden of Eden, did he simply offer the Apple to the Sodom and Gomorrah team of America?

Shock waves continue to reverberate around New England as the man in the Grim Reaper costume goes door to door, locker to locker, looking for another trick to pull.

Tom Brady, youthful optimist, wished another of his long-term second-bananas the best of luck. Poor Jimmy G will need it with the band of merry losers out by the Golden Gate.

The revolving door of quarterbacks likely means that Belichick has another sleight of hand at the ready before the end of trade deadline. We are not privy to the inner machinations of the Machiavelli of football.

We would suggest that Drew Bledsoe will not come out of retirement for the Patriots. Their last-ditch quarterback replacement always was Julian Edelman who is now wearing his costume for the big Day of the Dead festival in Foxboro.

We already let the black cat out of the bag before tossing him into the Charles River by mentioning the name of Brian Hoyer, long-time Shemp to the stooges who wait in vain for Brady to grow old.

Brady is smiling like Alfred E. Neumann because he knows that he will never age and will never lose a step.

Does Robert Kraft have Colin Kaepernick’s smartphone number on speed dial? We await the special prosecutor investigation of the Jimmy G deal.

Tom Brady Picking Up Pieces

DATELINE:  Busted Mirror Antics

 off off-season Read All About It! Most Off Off-Season Ever!

Not since Agatha Christie’s the Mirror Cracked from Side to Side, has there been as much ugliness in a looking glass. We would never accuse Tom Brady of being Snow White’s Nasty Queen, but if you ask Alice, Tom has fallen through the mirror to the other side.

Yep, Tom Brady is looking into that mirror every day now and asking: “Why am I only fair? I don’t want to be the fairest of them all. I want to be champeen of the world.”

Since Tom took a hammer to his vanity mirror just a few short months ago, he has been walking like a man without a care in the world. In some circles, it’s called whistling past the graveyard.

That’s despite the fact that he keeps getting hit in the head every week multiple times, thanks to his porous offensive line. Blame the shattered mirror of his own making.

The main victims of his smashed mirror are his supporting players, dropping like flies.

Yes, #12 has cursed his entire team, even though he seems to be Teflon Tom.

The latest victim of the busted mirror: Dont’a Hightower will be out the rest of the season after surgery on his pectoral muscle.  The man with an accent mark immersed in his first name is a staple of the defense. Replacing him will not be easy. Next man up will be a poor photocopy.

On top of that, Tom’s substitute Wes Welker/Julian Edelman/Danny Woodhead/type of player is the notable nutcase Danny Almondola Amendola. Now he too is hurting badly, barely able to practice. Ditto for Chris Hogan who has even lost a few teeth this past game with smash-mouth football.

How many more Patriots will bite the dust before Tom’s Magic mirror is glued back together?

We searched the Internet for a means to stop the curse. The news is not good:  you must  bury all the shards and pieces of the broken mirror in a midnight ceremony. Yikes.

Light some candles for Tom.

 

The way things are going, and the pace at which he is losing his best players, we feel the Patriots’ goose will be cooked by Xmas.

This Week in Patriot Superstition

 DATELINE:  The Devil You Say?

 off off-season     Most Off Off-Season Ever!

If you wait for Bill Belichick to let you know what’s going on in Patriot Nation, you’d be the victim of a fake news blockage.

Stephone Gilmore, one-time scapegoat of the big loss two weeks ago, suddenly has developed a concussion and will be unavailable for Sunday’s big game against the New York Jets.

The Jets, usually Pat patsies, are looking like the team Rex Ryan always hoped they would be. So, for the Pats to abruptly announce that Gilmore, one of their high-priced staples, is now suffering sudden concussion is a big deal. It is also a bit weird.

There were no reports of Gilmore injuries all week.

Maybe he fell in the bathtub. Perhaps he had one of those latent concussions that befall Tom Brady. His wife insists he has them, but Tom has no memory of that—and plays regardless of any headaches.

On top of this, another Patriot had to be extricated from his car in a terrible three-car accident on the way to Foxboro Friday night. He was rear-ended—and now he too is out for the foreseeable future. This is rookie Harvey Langi who was with his wife. Both have serious injury and have been hospitalized.

The fluke problems continue to mount up on the Patriots. We know the root cause, but no one is talking about it.

Just a few months ago, Tom Brady tempted fate deliberately by challenging superstition. He smashed a mirror with a hammer and walked under a ladder to prove there was nothing to these old tales of impending doom.

No one is laughing now.  And no one is acknowledging that Tom has been foolhardy once too often. He must think those special pajamas he wears make him look and behave like Spiderman.

Instead, he looks like the man with arachnophobia.

The rest of us are foaming at the mouth with Friday the 13th worries.

If the Jets beat the Patriots following a jinx day of the week, you know that Tom has tempted fate and called in the Devil’s boys.

We should warn Tom that the Devil is the author of confusion and often takes a pleasing form. The Devil is in the details and in the Botox. Every day a little Devil.

Is Cam Newton a Maroon?

DATELINE:  All Routes Lead to Idiocy

cam

In case you have forgotten, Cam Newton reminded you that it’s his picture you find next to the expression “Dumb Jock” in the Encyclopedia of Sports Idiocy.

In the immortal words of the great American philosopher Bugs Bunny: “What a maroon!”

Yes, Cam did it again at a press conference. He told everyone how funny it was to hear a female sports reporter talk about routes. Cam’s favorite movie is Where the Boys Are—because he knows the route, having gone that route many times for a few bucks.

Women never talk to Cam about anything of substance. In fact, Cam is more at home with the boys and shop talk where the only playbook he reads is mostly x and o demonstrated.

He is just another pretty face in a bubble head to match his bubble butt.

Cam will never be caught with a pencil behind his ear like a nerd. We doubt that he knows how to hold a pencil or can work anything out on paper.

Yes, Cam is extremely beautiful to look at, but you probably can’t take him many places unless he is on a leash and you have your doggie bag with you.

If football ends tomorrow for the Giant Fig Newton, he can always use those amazing talents to star in gay porn where a giant brain is the least of your worries.

Don’t get us wrong: we find Cam easy on the eyes and we have enough brains for the two of us.

Ch-ch-changes for Patriots in 2017

DATELINE: So Long, Julie & Jackie

This is not your father’s Patriots. Hell, it isn’t even your Patriots from last year when they won everything.

Before the first real game is played, there have been major shake-ups in optimistic terms or disasters for the downbeaters, all happening in the event known as pre-season games. These have changed the complexion of the offering from Bill Belichick for 2017,

How is this going to give those Patriots improvement?

Only the taste of the real season shall tell us whether the alterations, both deliberate and fateful, have sent the team in the right direction.

Over the course of two weeks, two major factor players seemed to have bitten the dust. The foremost of these is Tom Brady’s Mini-me, Julian Edelman, the little nut gatherer who walks in Tom’s Shadow and feels like Peter Pan’s penumbra.

Edelman suffered a freakish ACL tear, apparently for no reason except that his leg wanted to go in a different direction. These medical messes are always year-long, life-altering events. Whether Edelman will return to the Patriots at age 32, ready to go, or whether the Patriots will be ready to let him go, only next pre-season will tell.

So, Brady’s go-to guy has gone bye-bye.

Also losing his kneecap to the pressure cooker of the game is Cyrus Jones, looking to recoup his reputation. It now would seem he may regain form, as he is young, next year, but his tenure with the Patriots may be at a standstill.

Then, came the end of pre-season shocker. With two needed players gone, Belichick had to sell high. He put Jacoby Bissett on the block—and chop-chop, he was gone in an instant.

The Colts, arch-rivals, needed someone because Andrew Luck’s luck has run out apparently. Jacoby, we enjoyed messing up your name repeatedly, and now someone in Indianapolis will have that honor.

It was Brissett for Dorsett in this Belichickesque tradett.

Perhaps he was never meant to captain the ship of Patriots with Tom Brady wanting to play for another ten years. Perhaps he knew that Jimmy G-man was the gunner in waiting for Tom’s magic elixir to fail.

So, now, we are ready for the real drama, with the fake news off the blipping screen. The first game is upcoming within a week, and Roger Goodell is rubbing his hands in delight. If he cursed the Patriots, he is now reaping its advent.

Going, Going, Gone in Boston Sports and Trump Politics

DATELINE:  Time to Outline a New Book? 

In the immortal words of Don Corleone in Godfather 3, “Every time I try to get out, they pull me back in.”

Yes, Boston sports humor is like that.

We want to say, “Book’em, Dan-o,” but is there really another book here? Celtics or Pats?

Now, we feel sucked back into calling Trump the cause of turning the Patriots into the most despised team in the NFL, and now we are sucked back into the Celtics who have sent another oddball point guard into the LeBron Twilight Zone. Move over, Rajon Rondo.

Word has filtered out after the fact now that Isaiah Thomas, our dear little cousin IT, was actually not liked on the Celtics team by his mates. What???

Yes, his martyrdom status as midget wrestler and tiny tot grew thin on the nerves of many fellow players. His ego seems to have been bigger than his player status. Hence, he is now playing on the all-ego team with LeBron James, another character we try to avoid in any humor discussion.

Cousin IT was doomed when his closest friend and longtime Celtic player, Avery Bradley, was sent packing earlier in the summer.

Head honcho Danny Ainge was not about to pay big bucks to secondarily big stars. It did not matter that Tom Brady liked IT. Tom Brady likes Donald Trump. In the end, Tom only can save himself in Boston. In Boston, Trump is a lost cause.

We told various sports fans there would be no book this year on the Celtics or on the Patriots, which seemed to bring much relief when it was not greeted with a yawn. But, now, we are cast into the depths of indecision.

We could do a book on Donald Trump’s season in hell, but Bobby Valentine already did it for us. On the other hand, we suspect Mr. Trump will quit in the middle of our book—leaving us with a Charlottesville Web conundrum on whether it’s crypto-Nazi or neo-Nazi. It could be ether, or eye-ther.

Should we just call the whole thing off?

We are offering up a trial balloon on Trump to see if the media shoots it down as more fakery from the news bakery.

Is Trump the newest sports satire?

We know Trump’s on third, because he is going down yet again, but always rises anew like a rally in Phoenix.

Ossurworld has done a series of books of humor on the Celtics and Patriots. He may or may not do another one. His latest is NEW ENGLAND PATRIOTS MOST OFF OFF-SEASON EVER. It’s available for smart readers. Just put it on your tab.

 

 

Cam Newton’s Zebra Stripes Rival Refs

DATELINE:  Cam Breaks Cam

Cam Newton does not have a matching leopard skin pillbox hat.

On the way to the Super Bowl, he did wear his $1000 Versace zebra pantaloons. This jean is overlaid with gold to match his fillings.

In some circles this is a fashion statement. In other circles this is de rigueur wear for Circle de Soleil performers.

If he looks like he just stepped off a road company stage production of The Lion King, you might be on the right track to find poachers who are stalking him. He is obviously a trophy case collectible.

We haven’t seen such outrageous pants since codpieces adorned gawkers at the Gay Pride Parade in San Francisco. Newton may be a few years too late for the hippies, but he is likely to arrive in San Fran with flowers in his hair.

If you think Newton is a flash in the pan-ts, then you will be drawn to his drawstring motif.

To offset the look of a zebra’s hindquarters, Cam also wore a simple, basic black leather coat. No animals were harmed in the making of his fashion statement, though they may have hurt feelings.

In case you forgot, Newton is a Panther. No, not a Black Panther, and not taking Pan African roots for granted, he has sent the Twitter world atwitter.

Apparently, gay website Grindr was offline—and all the users were agog at the go-go boy attire of their new pinup boy hero.

If you think Super Bowl week is like a petting zoo, you likely will be breaking out the cameras for a photo shoot of Cam.

 

 

Worst Super Bowl: Brian Hoyer v. Kirk Cousins

 DATELINE: Send in the Seconds

 

No Gropes in the Backfield

As the world of NFL prepares for a bunch of playoff games starring the costars, the real stars of the game are home resting.

Yes, everyone wants to see Cam Newton, Tom Brady, Peyton Manning—and, hunh?, Carson Palmer.  It almost seems like among the superstars, Palmer is the Ralph Bellamy of the group. For those of you too young to recall the heyday of Hollywood, Ralph Bellamy always played the star’s best friend, but was never really a star in his own right.

For this first weekend, we have to watch the midget version of titans now populated by Rothlisberger, Rodgers, and the hopefuls like Russell Wilson, Kirk Cousins, and good grief, Tom Brady’s former waterboy, what’s-his-name.

If you want to sense who the biggest stars are, you had only to hear Donald Trump predict Brady was better than anyone else, even with an ankle injury, at a recent campaign rally.

For some fans, Tom Brady is Darth Vader in a zoot suit and Peyton Manning is aging Han HGH Solo without Botox backup.

Many are hoping for a rematch of Brady and Manning in the real Super Bowl, before the actual #50.  For the oldsters of the game, it would rival something akin to the Star Wars sequels and prequels. Are we up to seven big games with that dynamic duo?

Of course, the young stud of the group—and probably Roger Goodell’s choice to represent his billionaires’ club is Cam Newton. You couldn’t ask for a more blended version of Manning and Brady.

Looking over the possible fixes the NFL can make to the proceedings, it is nearly impossible to figure out what teams will receive the blessings of the referees during the game. It would look like a box office disaster if we end up with Brian Hoyer and Kirk Cousins in the Super Bowl. So, that’s where we put our two-bits for FanDooDoo, or DraftyThings.

That’s our favorite pick for poetic justice for Roger Goodell this year.

Sly Accusation Becomes Peyton’s Pain in Neck

DATELINE:  Pizza Pie in the Face

 

A rock from outer space just landed on Peyton Manning.

After having besmirched Tom Brady at every corner of the universe, the NFL suddenly had been caught in the outhouse with its premiere star. Some pharmacist named Sly has accused Manning of using human growth hormone to recover from his neck surgery in 2011.

This verboten substance may be miraculous for anyone with a medical problem, but the NFL has made a point of banning it.

Now they are facing the love of their league in a situation where Manning voided the banning.

We suspect that, if this vile story is true, Roger Goodell will hit Manning with a one-game suspension because he has pity on a suffering human being, desperate to cure his pain.

Tom Brady, on the other hand, in the alternate universe of Goodell, has merely caused pain to 31 billionaire owners.

Manning, of course, denies that he ever heard of someone named Sly and never had any illegal substance delivered to his wife at their various addresses.

We tend to agree that Manning is too smart for such a plan of action. If he had the substance sent to his various addresses, it would go to the butler. Yes, the butler did it.

No, Patriot fans, we don’t mean Malcolm Butler.

Peyton’s places are sundry. He has homes all over the country and his wife remains a woman more private than Greta Garbo. So, any investigation will simply cause anguish to people wanting to stay above or below the fray in elite zipcodes.

We refuse to believe the story is true, just as Patriot fans refused to believe ugly stories about Brady are true. Does this put the shoe on the other foot?

It likely means that sticky dirt has to be scrubbed off, whether Peyton is innocent or guilty. This is worse than a pizza pie in the face.

 

 

Belichick’s Trick is the Patriots’ Treat

DATELINE: Campbell’s New Line of Mincemeat

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Dan Campbell’s Miami Manwich recipe turned out to have too little meat and too much sauce.

The New England Chowdah-heads of the Patriots chopped up the Dolphins like a fricassee delicacy. The secret ingredient of a Manwich is apparently a Dolphin head.

The lesson taught to the Miami Dolphins probably could be put under the category of tough guys always lose by thirty points to a team with Dr. Frankenstein’s cousin, Bill Belichick, performing the surgery.

We know now that the next time Dr. Belichick wants to create a Halloween monster like Tom Brady, he will not ask his Igor, Josh McMcDaniels, to procure a brain like Ryan Tannehill’s.

Last week’s Offensive Player of the Week is Tom Brady’s lunch today.

Yes, the Manwich central nervous system went into lockdown when a snap went flying past Tannehill who was checking out someone in the Patriots peanut gallery. The result was a safety and a guarantee that this year’s Dolphins are not quite ready for prime time.

It isn’t fair at this time of year when ghouls frequent the NFL under the auspices of that warlock Roger Goodell. Belichick has two monsters running amok on the gridiron. Gronk also seemed to be in traditional seasonal mode.

Campbell himself looks like he was yesteryear’s model for Gronk. At least he has kept his juiced-up figure on the sidelines where he spat tobacco juice out at all the closeup moments on TV. What a role model for kids!!

Instead of trying to make a Manwich from of his out-of-water Dolphins, Dan Campbell may want to go Trick or Treating this year and find a few Snickers candy bars. His players may not be themselves, as the commercial often tells us.

We aren’t sure a candy bar is the antidote to hubris and incompetence.

Neither is a trumped up Manwich.