I'm Very Ashamed to Admit This

It pains me to have to admit this, but the first step to resolving a problem is acknowledging that, indeed, one exists, so here goes...

I miss T.O.!

Not Terrell Owens, the talented wide out who is participating in Dallas OTA's and throwing his support behind new coach Wade Phillips and his staff.

I miss T.O., the over-hyped malcontent who seemed to be at odds with former head coach Big Tuna from the get-go, and single-handedly derailed all hopes for Cowboy fans from the moment he inked his contract.

By this time last season, we had lived through his implosion with the Philadelphia Eagles, complete with the shirtless driveway sit ups press conference, the botched suicide attempt phoned in by his skank ho bitch-o-the-day publicist, and donning the US Cycling Team uniform and helmet as he rehabbed his mysterious injury (and twisted the thorn in Parcell's side) while the rest of this teammates practiced.

Now that "the head coach" has been replaced, and "the player" seems more interested in making plays than headlines, we're stuck with rather mundane and depressing NFL news fodder while we wait for the real games to begin.

Will Trent Green become a Dolphin or remain with the Chiefs? Who the fuck cares? I mean, neither team is going anywhere this season, and if there was a National Boredom Association, Trent Green would not only be their spokesman, he'd receive a lifetime acheivement award!

And you can't even get excited about the other side of this story: will Dante Culpepper remain a Dolphin should the Green trade go through? Pffft. Unless he's starring in the Hustler Films remake of The Love Boat, with Jenna Jameson playing the part of Julie, and a cameo by Fred Smoot as Isaac The Bartender, wake me the next time he does something noteworthy either on or off the field.

It is downright ridiculous to try and make something out of who is not participating in mini-camps, or who is being disrespected by getting a franchise deal that will pay him more in one year than the combined career income of all of the high school teachers in your town.

I'm so sick of hearing about Mike Vick posing as the Canine Don King, Steeler assistant coaches forwarding hardcore pornography to everyone but me, and the latest Bengal to be given a "noogies" by Richie Cunningham, I could scream.

I got a little excited when I heard that Chad Johnson was planning to run a race against a Bronco, until I found out it was a real live horse, and not John Elway or Shannon Sharpe (although the resemblance in the publicity photos between Chad's opponent and these former NFL stars was remarkable.)

What this off season needs is some good old American T.O. sideshow, to fire up the competitive juices in every sports fan looking for something to rant about, or at least to provide us with another reason to hate the freaking Cowboys!

So whether we need to hide his medication, arrange another bender with his skank ho bitch-o-the-day publicist, or get a court order to prevent Jerry Jones from administering his daily "salad tossing" on Owens, we need to do something to awaken the sleeping devil known as T.O. and give us some good off-season sound-bites to react to.

Johnnie Morton, The Unconscious 'Faggot'?

Most people would consider Johnnie James Morton as success story. A 1st round pick in the 1994 NFL Draft, (23rd overall) he played for 12 seasons, four of which he netted over 1000 yards receiving.

But Johnnie will be remembered, not for a prodigious NFL career, but for two humiliating incidents:

• Detroit Lioness' Exec Matt Millen calling Morton a 'faggot'. Yep. A Deeetriot Lion called him that. The indignity! That would be like Hervé Villechaize calling you a 'weird little pervert'. What a low blow.
• Johnnie's MMA debut. He made it 12 years in the NFL, but only 38 seconds in the ring. He had to be carried off in a stretcher.

Sucks for him.

(Thanks to Deuce of Davenport)

Props From The Old Neighborhood

If you don't know what this is about, don't worry it. It would take more to explain than I have the desire to type.



But if you know who Matt Ufford is, a.k.a. Captain Caveman, and you know his relation to this site, this will mean something.

Funny, he looks exactly like I had pictured, minus the mullet.

Special thanks to Ms. GOssiP via With Leather

Video Clip Classic, Vol 1: Jim Everett vs. Jim Rome

I saw this once, back in the day, and thought it was great. Now, thanks to Youtube, we get to see it all over again.



The year was 1994, when Jim Everett played quarterback for the Lambs. It became increasingly obvious to scouts and fans that Everett was gradually becoming afraid of contact, and it affected his play. Jim Rome noted this, and subsequently referred to Everett as "Chris" (after tennis player Chris Evert), effectively calling him a woman.

In this clip, Everett puts an end to it. In case you haven't seen it, I won't spoil it for you.

To this day, Rome refuses to talk about the confrontation, only referring in passing to "the incident."

Back then, I just thought Jim Rome was a punk ass with an attitude that was much more smug than necessary. Now I just think Jim Rome is a punk ass with an attitude that is much more smug than necessary.

Oh, well. At least it's entertaining.

Secret Special Letter From The Desk of NFL Commissioner Richie Cunningham

299 Carroll St # A
Brooklyn, NY 11231


Pittsburgh Steelers
% Offensive Line Coach Larry Zierlein
100 Art Rooney Ave
Pittsburgh, PA 15212


Dear Larry,

It has recently come to my attention that you have publicly apologized for e-mailing a video showing a mommy and a daddy sharing a special kind of hug.

While I think it is very cool that you are a standup guy and you may be embarassed or uncomfortable about accidentally sharing these special private moments with all the other guys, I am here to tell you that it's A-OK, buck-o. What you're experiencing is just a natural, healthy exploration of your special private parts, and the funny feeling you get when you sleep on your stomach or cllimb a gym rope -- that's all part of growing up.

You see, I understand. When I first started to get these feelings, it was when Joannie and I were drying off after taking a bath. She dried me off first, and I got that funny feeling. Then she sat on my lap while I dried off her back. You know that part of you down there that gets all hard like it has a bone in it? It 'accidentally' went into her pooper. I just kept drying and drying and drying and drying, but then we had to stop for dinner.

Things were really strange after that. It was all I could think about. I got huge callouses on my hands from the gym rope, and we got really good at drying each other off. That is, until she met Chachi, then we didn't do it anymore.

That is when I met Lori Beth. With her, I learned so many new and special things. I had no idea that a surpressed gag reflex, getting things shoved up your pooper, asphyxiation, whippings, felching, rodents, paper towel tubes, surgical tubing, body paint, clothespins, coat hangars, handlebar grips, crochet hooks, brillo pads, feather dusters, 9 volt batteries, broken chair legs, fishbowls, corkscrews, and all those other things could be so harrowingly fun. I'll never forget the time I woke up to her pissing on me. Fonzy laughed, tackled her, and the next hour or so was a blur of flesh, leather, body waste, and dapper dan.

I guess what I'm trying to say is don't worry, buck-o. This is all natural, normal stuff. Feel free to send me more. Really. Anything you got. Lori Beth has one request, though -- she was wondering if you had anything interracial or in public places.

Have a great season. Tell Art he still owes me money for XL.


Sincerely,

Richie Cunningham
NFL Commissioner


P.S. Go Giants!