Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Pouring Out Some Diet Coke for You, Homes....

I hate to admit this but I remember, as a child, that certain family members from a certain side of my family always made cheap jokes or openly booed and hissed when any member of the Kennedy family was shown on the news. If it was John Kennedy, there was some reference to Marilyn Monroe (the irony being that the family member in question has yet to master fidelity himself) and I dared not even speak the name Ted Kennedy for fear of the onslaught of insults and venom that would be unleashed. When I was about 10 or 11 and started becoming interested in politics and started kind of forming my own ideas, I remembered that we learned all about this John F. Kennedy guy in class and we had gone to where some mean guy shot him. So I started reading books about JFK and then RFK and eventually became interested in the sordid, tragic and compelling story of the entire Kennedy clan.

When this family member found out about my interest in the Kennedys, I was ridiculed for my admiration of any member of the Camelot. I was told horror stories about things that the family did. They drank, cheated on their wives and went to a Congressional costume parties dressed as Barney the Dinosaur with a nametag that read “Tyrannosaurus Sex”, which probably actually solidified my love for Ted Kennedy. It was the first time I actually remember thinking, “But I admire this person and he has done great things and why can’t I have a political opinion without being ridiculed for it?” I’d hear the mentions of Chappaquiddick over and over again. It was kind of a foreshadowing for the people who can negate Bill Clinton’s ability to bring Yasser Arafat and Yitzhak Rabin together to talk and shake on a peace agreement or him continuing to be able to do things like negotiate the release of two American journalists held hostage in North Korea instead of retiring to Preston Hollow by just saying “I did not have sexual relations with that woman” or mentioning a cigar and snickering.

Ted Kennedy died today and, while it wasn’t a surprise, it really made me sad. We all knew he had brain cancer. I didn’t think he would make it this long. But of all the times when we need a Ted Kennedy, of all the times when we need to put aside partisanship and fear for the sake of helping the country’s working class…well, it’s right now. With all the boogeyman talk of Death Panels and compromises on public options, I hope and pray that someone will pick up the torch that Ted Kennedy would have carried. If your memory is failing to recall all the things that Ted Kennedy championed during his nearly 50-year political career, let me jog your memory. I get teary when I start to think about the fact that, despite the progress we have made in the past year, the fear-mongering, uninformed and paranoid-email-forwarding idiots could ruin the greatest shot we’ve got at a national health care system that provides for all citizens, not just the lucky ones.

So in memory of Ted Kennedy, who was able to put aside left or right allegiance to try to help the poor, disenfranchised and disabled, I want to give major, major props to John McCain. I understand that he is following his party line and that he probably genuinely has misgivings about Obama’s health care plan. But these absurd town hall meetings have not been, by and large, about debating the pros and cons of the proposed health care program. They have been about screaming and packing heat and telling seniors to go rent Logan’s Run. So when John McCain stands up to town hall meeting attendees by reminding them that a) there is no booing in civil discourse (House of Commons being the glaring exception) and b) that Obama is the president, he is not trying to sidestep or violate the Constitution and he deserves respect, I give a hearty tip of the hat to McCain.

It’s so funny to me that this Death Panel hocus-pocus seems to really be sticking. My 80 year old grandmother would probably volunteer to go up before the non-existent Death Panel. She’s been telling us that she “probably won’t be around much longer” for almost a decade now. Every time I go to her house, she gives me yet another household item like some sort of drawn-out Estate sale. The irony is, of course, that her mother spent 20 years claiming that she wasn’t gonna be around much longer either until she passed away just shy of 100. In fact, my grandmother’s insistence in her own eminent demise is the biggest reason I haven’t had to buy kitchenware, luggage or scarves as yet in my adult life. Maybe she just voted for Obama to get in the front of the line for the Socialist Death Panels?

Monday, August 24, 2009

Why the present-day Dallas Cowboys are an awful, ridiculous, absurd monster and alternately, why I cannot wait for football season to begin

I hate the Dallas Cowboys. Really, I do. Which is extremely uncomfortable considering that they are the team that I support. Nay, the team that I follow religiously. The team that I get depressed about missing during the summer and cannot wait until they come back in the fall to depress me with their bad football playing. The only analogy I can think of is the bad boyfriend.

The Cowboys are the boyfriend that you know, on paper, is completely awful. All your friends regularly ask with frustration all over their face why you are staying with him. They like to run down the list of things that he has done to hurt you or piss you off. He’s borrowed your car without asking and disappeared for three days with no explanation when he returns. He regularly uses phrases like “killer, brah” and “fo’ shizzle”. He doesn’t “get” the movie Idiocracy and calls is “dumb”. He wears Affliction t-shirts, jeans and flip flops most every day. Worse than all of that, when you try to defend your choice to stick with him to anyone, you cannot easily provide any reasons to justify your choice. You just, ummmm, well….you just, you know….I mean you don’t know what it’s like when it’s just us and no one else is around and…..

The Dallas Cowboys are a joke. A big, fat football joke. They used to not be. I think. Maybe I was just too young to get the joke back then. But Jerry Jones seems hell-bent on murdering any integrity the team may have. Because more than winning or playoffs or Super Bowls, Jerry Jones just wants to be really, really famous. Had he been born in a different time and not come into money (may need to re-evaluate this saying before posting) as he did, he would be a fixture of the reality show audition circuit and eventually become a staple of low-level basic cable reality programming. He’d eat monkey penises or make out with a pair of midgets or form alliances with smarter people and then throw them under the bus to avoid elimination. But mark my words; come hell or high water, he would be famous. And that’s a really bad thing for the Cowboys.

Let’s start with the most current wang measuring contest. The TV. I haven’t been to Cowboys Stadium yet but will be going soon because of the one good idea Jerry has had in a decade, the $29 party pass. Everyone that has been to the Stadium agrees that it is impressive if for nothing other than its size. Fresh Kills is also impressive because of its size, so size doesn’t always matter. I already hate the TV and I haven’t seen it. You know why I know that I hate the TV? Because at Mavs games, I hate the jumbotron. I never watch replays on it. I focus on the court instead. I sometimes realize this when I start to hear boos and remember, “Oh yeah, they show replays on the jumbotron.” But horses for courses and I do understand the appeal of the world’s largest replay screen to some people.

But when you find out that the screen is low enough that THIRD STRING punters could hit it with a punt, you eat humble pie. Not that a slice of such has ever passed between the lips of Jerry. But that’s when you take big HD lemons and make HD lemonade. You go, “oh yeah, well check this out….we can move the TV up because we have the most badass stadgeium of all time so suck it." You smile and push a button and pretend it’s as easy as that to move the screens up while simultaneously texting your assistant to get some cranes over to Arlington post-haste. You don’t, under any circumstances, claim that punters just shouldn’t, you know, hit the TV and say that the screens will not be moved as they provide “entertainment value” to patrons. You know what provides amazing entertainment value? Football. Non-dead-ball-filled football. Not that I think Jerry gives a flying anything about football. He’s the Paris Hilton of owners, great at brand building and so easy to hate

Before the football season starts each year, Deadspin runs something on each team in the NFL about why each franchise sucks. Here’s this year’s Cowboys one. I’d like to address each reason, if I could. And I can because this is my blog:

1. Their new stadium will rape your wallet multiple times over. Some of the new features of Jerry Jones' (YEEEEEEHAWWWWW!) $1.2 billion Cowboys Stadium include carpeted floors (whee!), the world's biggest LCD screen (fer watchin' all dem big plays!), and a retractable roof. Oh yeah, there's also the $60 pizzas, and the $35, standing room only Party Passes the team is selling to an estimated 35,000 people PER FUCKING GAME. In other words, any time you attend a Dallas Cowboys game this year, nearly one third of the people in the stadium will be trying to take your fucking seat.

Do not get me wrong, I hate the idea of the new stadium because all the footage I have seen of it looks like the stadium equivalent of a model home in a “starting in the $400,000’s” planned community in Southlake or DeSoto or something. Completely soulless but filled to the brim with plasma concessions menu displays, frosted glass bathroom countertops and faux-modernism. But the idea that I can finally attend a Cowboys game and stand there on a pavilion and watch my team play is genius. If you have a seat at a game and are paranoid that a third of the people in the stadium will be trying to take your seat, breathe a deep sigh of relief when you realize that if that does indeed happen, the problem can be rectified with a simple “Yo homes, that’s my seat. Cough up a ticket or back to the party zone, hombre.” Takes about 5 seconds to say and will work 100% of the time. Also, Deadspin claims that the new stadium is “a painfully expensive, unnecessary luxury stadium that replaced a perfectly useful old home”. No. No, it isn’t. It is a painfully expensive, unnecessary luxury stadium that replaces a terribly dilapidated to third-world-esque levels stadium. Texas Stadium was the proverbial “used condom stuck to a dog corpse floating down the Ganges” of NFL stadiums.

2. If I have to hear Berman say "How bout them Cowboys?" one more god damn time… Seriously, Jimmy Johnson. FUCK YOU. Just because you won the NFC title against the 49ers back in 1993 didn't give you license to coin a phrase that would stay in the football lexicon forever and ever, well past the point of tolerance.

Point taken. When I was a kid in Georgia, my dad used to say “How ‘bout them Braves?” so I think it’s more of just a good-ol-boy way to sound folksy and blue collar and possibly backwoods. On a similar note, this list of NBA franchise slogans provides many a giggle to me.

3. I'm an American, and I did not ask for this team. Speaking of annoying terms associated with the Dallas Cowboys, the phrase "America's Team" was coined by NFL Films VP Bob Ryan in 1979 because he needed a catchy title for the team's 1978 highlight film.

Duuuuuuude, we get it. The phrase was coined before I was even born. It’s not my fault. I don’t call them that. One could argue that, as the top selling franchise as far as merchandise goes, the Cowboys are statistically speaking, America’s Team. Funny story: if you watch the Mexican film Y Tu Mama Tambien, you will notice that the two main characters have a club (“charolastras”) of sorts and one of the bylaws of the club is that “Whoever roots for Team-America is a fag.” I always assumed that this was a reference to either vague anti-Americanism in Latin America or a soccer thing. Turns out, if you watch the movie with the director’s commentary on, the sentence was mistranslated on the subtitles. What the rule is actually meant to read is as “Whoever roots for America’s Team is a fag.” True story. So even Mexicans are sick of the America’s Team thing.

4. They won't even have a chance to choke away a playoff spot this year. While the rest of the division improved, the Cowboys were fit to stand pat with Wade Phillips (he of the 0-4 playoff record) as head coach. They also did virtually nothing to their roster, with the mild exception of adding LB Keith Brooking. In short, this is the exact same team as the one that shat the bed last year. Only thinner at wideout.

Again, this bullet point belongs on a list of “Why Jerry Jones Sucks”. I fully believe that Jerry purposely half-ass drafted and blatantly ignore signing possibilities to pay for his new BonerDome. Which is why all Cowboys fans should be storm the gates of Valley Ranch with torches and hastily-made nooses at the ready, calling for his head.

5. Always remember: Michael Irvin once stabbed a guy in the fucking neck with scissors.

Done. Like 9/11 and where I was when Janet’s boob fell out, I hereby promise to never forget.

Yes, our team essentially sucks. And we hear about it constantly. We hear about how egotistical and underachieving we are. We hear people bitch about us like how everyone bitches about the prom king being a total dick. And then on top of all of this chimp diaper flinging, we still have to deal with the fact that at the end of the day, we love a team that doesn’t care about us and plays poorly at least 50 % of the time. Tony Romo told us he didn’t care that we didn’t win. Jerry Jones is telling us he doesn’t care about our football performance and would probably lower the TV screens in the ultimate middle finger to the actual sport the stadium was supposedly built to host. Wade Philips, while endearingly incompetent, is still incompetent. And while I wouldn’t go as far as to say that he doesn’t care, he doesn’t seem to mind losing a whole lot either. To be a Cowboy fan is to be a glutton for punishment, shame and disappointment. We all deserve Purple Hearts.

And I can’t wait for the season to begin. Even if we go 1-15. Even if Jason Witten finally breaks in half and Martellus Bennett is taken back to his home planet mid-season and we are left tight-endless. Because it’s football and it’s my team and it sure as hell beats reading or exercising or something on a sunny fall Sunday.

Now move the fucking TV up, Jerry and stop being a prick about it.

Friday, August 14, 2009

Can They Still Say It Isn't Fear-Mongering If the Word "Scare" Appears 22 Times?



Dear President Obama:

You are the thirteenth President under whom I have lived and unlike any of the others, you truly scare me.

Dear Lou Pritchett, this is the first time in my 28 years of being alive that there is not a Bush either in the White House or the Governor’s Mansion of the state in which I reside. That’s the really scary thing. Unlike you, this is the first time in 28 years that I feel a sense of slight relief.

You scare me because after months of exposure, I know nothing about you.

You’re welcome. Welcome to the magical world of reading and knowing! Go get ‘em, tiger! Also, ummm, the whole premise of this letter and the opinions stated below would lead me to believe you know a lot about him. I don't think I know as much stuff about my mom as you know about Obama judging by your list of greivances with him.

You scare me because I do not know how you paid for your expensive Ivy League education and your upscale lifestyle and housing with no visible signs of support.

Household income for Barack and Michelle Obama for 2006 (his Senate salary + her salary + book sales/royalties)

As far as his education, one would presume it would be a combination of student loans and scholarships and maybe some help from his family? Like an overwhelming majority of college students have done for decades? I’m okay with this explanation. Moreso, I’m curious as to what dastardly theories you have on how Obama paid for school.

You scare me because you did not spend the formative years of youth growing up in America and culturally you are not an American.

If a Harvard-educated Senator who lives in Chicago with his lawyer wife and their two young children in an upscale neighborhood and like to do things like go to baseball games and take their daughters to see the Jonas Brothers in concert is “culturally not American” then I am Mongolian. The Obamas out-American me a million times over. But I think the correct term you are looking for to express your sentiment is this:

You scare me because you have never run a company or met a payroll.

Yes because the true mark of a good president is their previous experience in business.
Like maybe running a newspaper?

Or even more recently, we had George W. Bush, who was a businessman. Was he a good businessman? Let’s take a looksee:

You scare me because you have never had military experience, thus don't understand it at its core.

Here’s a pretty good analysis of George W. Bush’s military experience. I know you aren’t outright saying that you preferred W to Obama but you should have theoretically been just as terrified for this guy to be instigating wars:

You scare me because you lack humility and 'class', always blaming others.

Matter of personal opinion. I guess you mean “class” like this?:

Or like this maybe?

You scare me because for over half your life you have aligned yourself with radical extremists who hate America and you refuse to publicly denounce these radicals who wish to see America fail.

See also:

You scare me because you are a cheerleader for the 'blame America' crowd and deliver this message abroad.

Guess what dude? We’re an awesome country but awesome in the way that Vin Diesel eventually stops the stops the crazy bad guy but not before killing lots of innocent people in the process, breaking lots of people’s furniture or plate glass windows and possibly fucking someone else’s wife or girlfriend in the process. In other words, we are big and bad and we do git-r-dun, so to speak, but we do need some accountability.

You scare me because you want to change America to a European style country where the government sector dominates instead of the private sector.

“European style government”. Huh? Wait, am I supposed to be scared of things that are vaguely European?

I’m assuming you like Fox News so you should LOVE this article about America sliding down the life expectancy rankings:,2933,293008,00.html

An excerpt…” For decades, the United States has been slipping in international rankings of life expectancy, as other countries improve health care , nutrition and lifestyles.
Countries that surpass the U.S. include Japan and most of Europe, as well as Jordan, Guam and the Cayman Islands.”

You scare me because you want to replace our health care system with a government controlled one.

Please refer back to the Fox News link above. Please note the countries whose life expectancies are higher than ours. Please note how many have government run health care.

You scare me because you prefer 'wind mills' to responsibly capitalizing on our own vast oil, coal and shale reserves.

You know who would probably totally agree with you? Oil billionaire T. Boone Pickens...oh wait….no. No he doesn’t.

You scare me because you want to kill the American capitalist goose that lays the golden egg which provides the highest standard of living in the world.

You’re welcome.

You scare me because you have begun to use 'extortion' tactics against certain banks and corporations.

Latin extorqu re, extort-, to wrench out, extort.
Soooooo, you mean like this?...

You scare me because your own political party shrinks from challenging you on your wild and irresponsible spending proposals.

You’re welcome.

You scare me because you will not openly listen to or even consider opposing points of view from intelligent people.,_2008

So this is a list of dummies? Even the Republicans?

You scare me because you falsely believe that you are both omnipotent and omniscient.

Unless Barack Obama texted you recently claiming to be “omnipotent” or “omniscient”, that is merely your opinion. Nothing wrong with opinions. I thought George W. Bush was a vastly under-qualified failed businessman turned failed politician. But again, that’s my opinion.

You scare me because the media gives you a free pass on everything you do.

“Results 1 - 10 of about 27,800,000 for obama failure. (0.25 seconds) “

You’re welcome.

You scare me because you demonize and want to silence the Limbaughs, Hannitys, O'Relllys and Becks who offer opposing, conservative points of view.

Silence? All those people still have their respective shows. And demonize? They do that pretty well for themselves…

You scare me because you prefer controlling over governing.

transitive verb 1 a : to exercise continuous sovereign authority over; especially : to control and direct the making and administration of policy in b : to rule without sovereign power and usually without having the authority to determine basic policy

Eh oh. What do we do when the very definition of the “good word” contains the “bad word” you listed in your fears?

Finally, you scare me because if you serve a second term I will probably not feel safe in writing a similar letter in 8 years.

I have no idea why. Carpal Tunnel? The decline of snail mail due to the ease of email? Stamp shortage? Hand cramps? Amphetamine-induced paranoia? Paper cuts?

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

My proverbial mouth is filling with proverbial blood right now. I have bit my tongue on this one but I finally decided to blog it out. Let’s talk about Josh Hamilton for a second. First off, let’s discuss how the news of the Body Shots Heard Round the World was broken to me on Saturday. A friend called me and without even saying hello, he asked me why “my boy” thinks it’s okay to ruin someone’s career and publish trashy tabloid-esque pictures of Josh Hamilton drinking at a bar with some girls on Deadspin. This is funny to me for many reasons. The first one being that my friend referred to Will Leitch as “my boy” though we have exchanged a total of two emails and Will no longer writes for Deadspin other than the occasional guest column. The second reason is that my gut reaction, which with a few days reflection has not changed a single bit, was “If you’ve made a name and source of income largely off of your position as God’s Sobriety Solider, pictures like that need to surface.” The story got funnier as my friend defended Josh Hamilton and lambasted Deadspin, saying that the account he heard on sports radio as the story broke was, “It’s him with a couple of girls around him at a bar.” While we were on the phone, I looked up the pictures on Deadspin. As my friend made his case against Deadspin, I interrupted him to say that I had found the pictures and then just repeated the word “Wow” over and over again. My friend said, “Are they that bad? How many of them are there?” I then went through each pictures with my descriptions getting more lurid in accordance with each picture. The phone call ended abruptly as my friend said, “Alright, I might need to go look at these. I’ll talk to you later.”

The most important caveat to the rant that I am about to issue forth is this: addicts slip up. Sobriety is an ongoing challenge. No one (at least no one I know) faults the guy for, as one Deadspin commenter said, realizing “This getting drunk in bars with hot college girls is fun. I miss the hell out of this.” Yes, we all know it’s a slippery slope from a few lemondrops off the suntanned stomach of a kinesiology major to blowing dealers for an eight ball. The guy should NOT be crucified (that will come in later) for relapsing. And he told his wife and his team what he did. Good for him. The fact that it appears that he either neglected to tell his sobriety coach, one who you might argue could totally use to know about something like this, or that he might have a sobriety coach who believes that honesty is not necessarily the best policy seems sketchvilles to me. When your sobriety coach denies the legitimacy of such pictures only to have you confirm their legitimacy the next day, methinks that the lines of communication may be frayed a bit. That’s, of course, the optimistic take on it. It would be far more disturbing to learn that your sobriety coach is also a cover-your-ass coach, wouldn’t it?

A big reason why I decided to blog about this, though I am most assuredly sick of hearing the name Josh Hamilton or anything about the topic at this point, is Richie Whitt. I don’t comment on the Dallas Observer Sportatorium blog that Richie Whitt writes. Or really any blog for that matter. But this is the first time I felt genuinely compelled to comment. Full disclosure: there are MANY things about which Richie and I disagree. Those topics include local sports radio preferences, his approach to certain local radio personalities habitual personal and professional failings, his insistence on the hotness of bony and boyish females. In fact, there are times when I think that, though we both love sports, it’s really only on politics where Richie and I seem to agree. I have never met the guy so it’s easy to have a neutral and unbiased opinion on his writing and views. But I was really happy to see him, in the wake of the Redi-Whip Ruination of Josh Hamilton, express the exact same frustrations and anger that I had over the whole situation.

People slip up, sure. The general public does not need to be informed of every personal and domestic problem in a pro athletes life, obviously. But when your image is almost exclusively contained under the guise of born-again Christian whose faith has made it possible for him to overcome addiction, you are different. You have set a bar for yourself which you not only must publicly measure up to but from which you also profit from both personally and monetarily. In other words, you make money from the views your espouse. You get paid for speeches. You get paid for books. You get paid for your story and the tales you spin about your ongoing ability to maintain your sobriety through your religious faith. Therefore, if you slip up, it’s like an auto recall. The whole car isn’t a write off. It will still drive. But you have to let people know that something’s wrong. Something happened. Because otherwise, you not only risk being accused of being a hypocrite but you also are selling a product (in this case, yourself) under false pretenses. Put it this way, let’s say I am a coach at a Christian academy and I have booked you to speak to my varsity basketball team about how Jesus has made you put away the pipe and hit homeruns and get metaphorical straight-A’s in the game of life. Then let’s say these pictures came out the next day. I would consider you, as a product, to be in violation of the Fair Trading Act which prohibits false or misleading representations about goods or services .

But somehow, this has become a hot button issue because the fact that he is a Christian and invokes his religion as part of his “ruin to redemption” package makes him above reproach. It is “picking on him” or “kicking him when he’s down” to point out that he has slipped up and seems to have, in collusion with his team, swept the incident under the rug. I guess I am confused about what sort of cloak of indomitability his religion affords him. We are not to question if his actions were hypocritical as that would be tantamount to religious persecution? So it’s fair game to demonize professional baseball players who collected fees for motivational speeches or profited off books they wrote about how hard work and grueling physical training lead them to gain 30 pounds of muscle mass in one off season once we find out that it was more HGH than cardio and weights that brought them those results? They are, and should be, fair game for ridicule and public flogging, right? Well, when one’s own personal human growth hormone is the healing power of Christ or a poster of Footprints or a huge cross tattoo across your back, you have to know that people are going to come down hard on you when you act in a very un-Christlike manner at a bar in Tempe, Arizona. That is unless Christ was way into body shots and fake doggy-style humping of co-eds.

So to all the commenters on Sportatorium who have taken time out of their busy schedule of predicting the demise of (X) (Y) or (Z) talk radio station long enough to cry Kulturkamp because someone dare take Josh Hamilton to task over his hypocrisy in light of his religious profiteering, don’t worry. This story’s news cycle is nearing completion and we can soon all go back to believing that Alex Rodriguez never knew that his cousin was not a trusted source of medical advice and that Tony Romo has learned his lesson and will stay away from celebrity tail this season.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009


It’s hard to write something about a movie without ruining any part of the movie. So this won’t be very detailed but let me say that if you read my previous blog entry about my distaste for most recent movies and my excitement about seeing Funny People over the weekend, let me just put it this way: Funny People was possibly the best movie I have seen in several years. I went into it both expecting to like it and being fully aware of its’ running time. And when the credits started rolling, I turned to my friend and said, “Honestly, I could have done with a little more movie.” I cannot stress to you how impatient I normally am with movies so the fact that I thought the more than two and half hours was not enough says volumes.

I started thinking about how apparently some people thought the movie was too long and I searched my brain with a fine tooth comb to try to think of a single scene that the movie could have done without and I couldn’t think of a single scene. In fact, before I saw the movie, I watched a total of three Making of/Behind the Scenes specials about the movie and figured that I would probably end up having seen half of the movie before I even saw it in the theater. Turns out, the stuff that I saw on TV that actually made it to the movie represents a sum total of about six minutes of the movie. And once I left the theater, I started to wonder what make up the bonus features on the eventual DVD. I was hoping it wasn’t just the Behind the Scenes/standup stuff that I had already Tivo’ed and seen. So if you’re keeping score, the movie runs 2 hours and 40 minutes. I have watched 3 hours of additional standup and commentary on TV specials. And I still want more. That means that at this point, I want the movie’s running time to be over 6 hours. And this isn’t a bit, I’m not being funny (people). It’s an emotionally intense film but also it's an intensely funny movie. Viva la Movies again!

So if you’re keeping score, The Return of Amanda’s Will to Live can be currently attributed to:

1. Funny People
2. Football

Football is back. I’m slowly emerging from my deep, dark hole of pessimism. I’m sure the Cowboys will drag me back down into that hole by the BYE. Heh, I said “by the BYE”. Heh.