Monday, August 11, 2008

Are You Ready for Some Fauxball?



This is not going to be about Saturday night's Cowboy's pre-season game against the San Diego Chargers. There's a few reasons for that. The first reason being that it is a pre-season game and even I am not hardcore enough to care to blog about that. The second reason is that I didn't actually get to see all of the game and only got to steal glimpses of the game as I saw Tiger Moth play on Saturday night. And finally, the Cowboys lost and looked bad doing it so what's there to say other than "Nice hustle, fatties?"

So I will instead address my general happiness about the start of fauxball which will gently usher in actual football. Saturday night's pre-fauxball game show had the first installment of a three part series on the 1971 Cowboys team. The first part got into the bitchy Team Aniston/Team Jolie aspect of Tom Landry's choice between Roger Staubach and Craig Morton. Ohhhhh, the drama. Jerry Jones talked about his Papa John's pizza commercials and how many times they had to film the part where the kids kicked him in the junk (lots) and how much fun it is to be able to show a softer side of himself by making pizza commercials (lots) and how much it costs to buy a seat at the new stadium (LOTS). In between all of this were one billion reminders that you can buy or sponsor anything nailed or not nailed down at the new Cowboys stadium. I would like to sponsor a few more kids kicking Jerry Jones in the junk for my amusement (alliteration is the new black). That was not one of the advertised options.

I can't get too jazzed about fauxball. But I can make a list of things that fauxball beats any day of the week:

1. Rangers baseball - Ok, I don't like baseball. So you probably don't care about my opinion here anyways. Other than the interesting Josh Hamilton story, Rangers baseball is the epitome of summer in Texas. It goes on way too long. Every once in a while there is a respite, a cool moment, a nice breeze. But generally speaking, it's just month after month of being beaten down and looking at the forecast and wondering when it will all be over. I feel bad for my friends who are Rangers fans and at the start of each season say things like "This might be our year" really earnestly. Maybe in a show of solidarity, next summer when baseball season starts I will convince myself that this will be the summer in Texas that the high will never climb above 75. Every night there will be a cool, relaxing breeze and I will wear sweatshirts everywhere to convey my faith in this meteorological miracle. That way, the Rangers and I can both stink at the same time.

2. Mavericks Surrenderball - Don't get me wrong. I love my sad little Mavericks. Even if there is this and this and, oh yeah, this. Actually, I cannot express to you how badass I think Dirk's haircut is. Like 8-layer burrito awesome. Seriously. I have long been a fan of the comedy cut. But last season's humiliation hasn't gone away as easily as I was hoping it would. Was it the non-draft? Who knows? All I'm saying is that if given a choice between Andre Gurode and Josh "2 Fast And/Or Furious" Howard, I'm picking Mr. Over-the-Head-Snaps every time.

3. Hockey - Can't get into it. Sean Avery is not going to help the cause. I know that's hard to believe because if you have heard him talk, you of course know that he gives Lincoln a run in the "Great Orators of All Time" race. That's sarcasm. Note to Sean Avery: I'm glad you like fancy clothes. They distract from the fact that when you speak, it's like the aural equivalent of watching baby oatmeal slide down a taupe wall. Oh, to be a fly on the wall when you and Anna Wintour grunted out monosyllabic commentary from the front row of fashion week. Welcome to town. You're going to love it here. For once in the existence of this blog, that was not sarcasm.

Go fauxball.

2 comments:

Schaum Nueberg said...

Tony Curtis has never publicly acknowledged the possiblity that Jamie Lee, his daughter, is a hermaphrodite. Sometimes when a girl is born with two umbilical cords one of them is a DONG.

Megan P said...

Hello Again My Fellow Blogsters!
I'm well aware that in the blogosphere it is frowned upon to 'double-post' comments, but after pondering Ms Cobra's snarkey lambasting of the talented Mr. Toby Keith, i was compelled to come to his defense.
Does she know anything about this great artist? Has she ever listened to his earnest music, borne in Heartland, America, and inspired by what he saw in his youth as he cut his teeth in Oklahoma's hardscrabble blues circuit? Has she gotten chills up her spine as felt the power of his incendiary anthem "Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue"? Has she related to the angst as he testifies in what could be the first 'punk-rock' country song, his seminal 1999 hit "How Do You Like Me Now"? Rage against the machine, indeed. Did she 'overlook' Mr Keith single-handed resuscitation of the Ford Motor Company with his bold rallying cry "Ford Truck Man"?
It would seem to be common practice for limousine liberals to paint patriotic heroes as 'hatemongers' or 'sex nazis', but has Ms Cobra gone to Iraq to boost the moral of our troops? Toby did.
Is Ms Cobra an accomplished football player and wrestler? Toby is.
Has Ms Cobra come to the defense of our President and Commander in Chief George Bush when he was attacked by the Dixie Chicks? Toby did.
Did she donate footballs to the victims of Katrina in New Orleans? Toby did.
Is she aware of Mr. Keith's tireless struggle for the environment, going so far as to ignore the aforementioned feud with the so called Dixie Chicks (who are lesbians) and appear in a commercial with them?
Just as he did on his 2003 album 'Shock'n Ya'll", a landmark acheivement in country music 'infotainment', Toby continues to display the chutzpah that is part and parcel of what defines 'a Great American', and shows himself to be the multi-faceted diamond of talent, AND a tireless warrior for the environment (eco-warrior) and other Causes, blazing a trail of light for us in these dark times, showing us that we should strive to excel in many realms of our gestalt, the whole kit and kaboodle if you will, instead of resting on our laurels like the Dixie Chicks or Hayden Panitierre.