Revolt in the NFL Palace?

DATELINE: Humor Deadly

Featured image Plots and Plotters

When dictators are assassinated, the dirty work emanates from their own palace guard. Rumors and rumors of coup d’etat seem to whirl around the Park Avenue headquarters of the NFL during the early start of the season.

Roger Goodell wisely chose to avoid going to the opening game with the New England Patriots in enemy country, Foxboro, a name that seems destined to live in infamy.

Word is now filtering out that the New York headquarters of the NFL may be harboring some palace intrigue. A group may be ready to mount an overthrow of the dictator named Roger Goodell.

We have only to look to history to find that, after years of bad decisions and mistreatment, those of high role in palace affairs begin to hatch their little plots.

Adolph Hitler found his aides putting a bomb under his table. It failed to kill Der Fuherer, but it set him back some.

In the more distant past, another parallel character to Goodell was called Caligula. His own hired bodyguards did him in as he walked in a “safe tunnel” to one of the weekly games.

Another Roman despot named Commodus was done in by one of his former gladiators who choked him to death during rough sex. Goodell should be so lucky.

Rasputin was lured to a party where he was shot, stabbed, poisoned, castrated, and dumped in the local river. Nothing is too good for Goodell according to NFL insiders.

We can only say to Goodell, “Beware the Ides of March,” especially in months ending in ‘r’.

Move over Caligula and Dracula, A-Rod is Here

arodDATELINE: HUMOR!

 

Never enter a situation where you work with a kookoo bird with a litigation complex.  If you are sued by a psychotic with millions of dollars—or even a sociopath with unlimited resources, your time will be squandered.

MLB and Bud Selig have incurred the wrath of Alex Rodriguez.

Baseball wants to banish him to Elba, as befits Napoleon on steroids, botox and human growth hormone, but they have only served to antagonize the Yankee version of Vlad the Impaler.

You always know who has the right of way at an intersection or rotary when you drive: it’s the driver who looks crazier. In this case the man texting behind the wheel is A-Rod.

As is the case with total delusions, Rodriguez believes that MLB is intent on destroying him. That may be why they have made him a multi-millionaire with salary out of proportion to his mental capacity.

Why you may wonder would a man whose career is over from a chronological age point of view is so intent on fighting the system, battling the universe, and facing his own flaws? Well, one good reason is that there is nothing else in his life.

Yes, A-Rod may have had that hideous epiphany in the middle of the night when his paid companions were not enough. His sex life was devoid of meaning, purpose, or even satisfaction. His development could not be any more arrested than if he were selling PEDs in the dugout.

When that happened to Caligula, he made his horse a senator and began sleeping with his sister and eating her fetus.

A-Rod may not be on a par with depraved Roman emperors, but he is close enough to warrant an HBO cable movie one of these days.

 

 You may want to read more in SEX, DRUGS, SPORTS & WHIMSY, VOLUMES 1 AND 2. You can find these books on Amazon.com.

Celtics Putting Caligula in Charge

DATELINE: HUMOR!

 

ImageThe most daring trade since the Red Sox dumped half a billion in losers may be on the horizon.

 

The Boston Celtics are about to unload millions for aging superstars and superstar coach.

 

Whatever happens, the idea of losing the hearts and soul of the team for the past decade is one that some unsentimental fans are eager to pursue.

 

The greater cost will be alienation of affection. There are many fans, the silent majority that will be disaffected by the callous move.

 

Beloved status and loyalty will bite the dust in the world of Danny Ainge’s rebuilt Celtics. The Human Growth Hormone may be blamed: the team must rejuvenate to grow. The march of time on old stars, set to shine on another alternative coast, leaves a taste of bitter alms.

 

The fans on the worn out eastern seaboard shall cry into their seventeen banners for a season-to-come.

 

If the deal causes a long drought of losing teams and seasons of rebuilding, the curse of Danny Ainge will be worse than any made toward the Bambino at Fenway.

 

Many experts believe such deals are madness personified on all sides, and wiser heads will refuse to participate.

 

Others know that when such a deal is consummated, the Los Angeles Clippers will have a season of Celtics fans following their every game.

 

As eras go, the Big Three of Garnett, Pierce, and Allen, is already gone. The beloved players take their coach with them—and leave the Celtics version of Caligula in charge.

 

Whether Rajon Rondo will make his horse a senator, or just execute any player that does not execute according to his plan, we expect to be quaking under Rondo’s reign.

 

 

 

 

For more on the Celtics and their mercurial point guard, read RAJON RONDO & THE GREEN NEBULA, now available on e-book or in softcover on Amazon.com.