An open letter to NFL Network

Hello NFL Network. I sure do hope you can actually read this blog. I have my doubts which stem from your obvious lack of technical knowledge and ability. When you were counting down to the big game last night, you seemed to have been baffled by the concept of "focusing" a "camera" on the "players" on the "field." Speaking of camera work in the pre-game show, let me recommend my ear, nose and throat doctor. He's great and he's super cute too. I say this because I worry that at least two of your cameramen have severe inner ear infections that cause them to wobble unsteadily while holding a camera. Some antibiotics should clear that (and any other lingering "issues") up quickly and help out with your cameramen's ability to stand upright and hold a camera steady.

Now, another thing I noticed during the pre-game show is that a lot of the time the people that were on camera and supposed to be talking were blissfully unaware they were on camera at any given moment. As much as I love seeing Deion Sanders looking up through the hole in the roof of Texas Stadium or seeing him catch up with buddies on the sidelines, maybe instead of that you should give him a cue and he can look into the camera and offer some pre-game commentary. It's an idea.

So then the game started. After the first field goal the Cowboys made, you decided to show us the drive using some very unique graphics. If I recall correctly, there was a golden arch that showed us completed passes. Then an odd red and black nod to Communism sort of graphic that may or may not have indicated yards gained by running. But then you knocked it out of the park with your illustration of the field goal. There was an orange streak that showed the trajectory of the football on the kick. But if that's not overt enough, you added the classy touch of giant yellow flashing letters that took up the entire end zone reading "FIELD GOAL" as if you were trying to teach the viewers the names of the most basic elements of football. Which strikes me as odd because presumably anyone willing to pay or watch something called the NFL Network probably can probably identify a field goal when they see one.

Now, I will admit that we started off awkwardly last year. Last year's Cowboys v. Falcons game featured some neat commentary by the disembodied and sickly head of Carol Channing. Oh sorry, that was actually just a miserably hoarse Dick Vermeil. So hoarse that half of his words were indecipherable and every moment that he spoke was torturous for both him and everyone forced to listen to him. You guys finally pulled him off the broadcast near halftime. Which left us with Greg Gumbel. You know Greg Gumbel, he's the guy who last night repeatedly referred to the Cowboys quarterback as Rick Romo.

But since Jerry Jones tells me that the NFL Network is the Little Network that Could (choooo chooo!) I was totally ready to be your #1 fan. Was last night a dress rehearsal? I feel like you sent out invitations to a fancy dinner party and cooked an elaborate meal to impress the boss to try to get that promotion (Time Warner and Comcast). But then when the boss showed up, you had a Crock Pot with scorched bean and cheese dip sitting on a card table and a few mismatched plastic plates. And you forgot to put on pants.

I see that the Cowboys v. Panthers game on December 22 will also be on your network. I can only imagine the tricks you've got up your sleeve for us on that one. Perhaps have Deion Sanders wear a panther-in-the-jungle themed dashiki? He will probably appreciate it if you decide to shoot him from behind and slightly below while he's talking again. I just hope you take a refresher course on the basic tenets of covering a live sporting event between now and then. Just think of it this way....

Your boss is almost here. Are you wearing pants?

Turophobia

I am often told that my list of my most-hated foods is bizarre. I disagree. Judge for yourself.

I despise the following foods:

ice cream (tastes like cold milk)

pasta (tastes like flour and play-dough that has been boiled)

chocolate (tastes literally like dirt)

olives (tastes like salty and vinegary eyeballs)

mushrooms (tastes like the fungus they are)

mayonnaise (tastes like bad eggs and vinegar that have sat in my car for the summer)

chicken wings (tastes like bony things covered in some weird red sauce)

cookies (tastes like sugary, floury crumble discs)

cakes (tastes like baked sugar goo covered in an outer layer of sugary goo)

pie (tastes like hot sugar goo baked inside hard dough prison cell)

sour cream (tastes like milk for people that think that whole milk is too watered down and weak)


BUT more than all of these things combined, I despise cheese. I stop just shy of calling it turophobia but it's awfully close. The sight of cheese makes me nervous and the smell of cheese sends me running in the opposite direction. Central Market is forever in my bad graces for building a section of the store devoted entirely to what is essentially milk that has gone bad and should have been thrown out long ago.

Which is why I am nervous about tonight's game. I am nervous that despite Green Bay's miserable running game, Brett Favre has a good arm still. And I am afraid of the bombs he may lob down the field. But more than that, I am afraid I will see assholes in the crowd with their cheese heads on.

Imagine you ate some really bad seafood salad and never want to speak of seafood salad again. Then imagine that the Seattle Seahawks decide that their fans should now be called "Seafood Salad Stars" and all you see during Cowboys v. Seahawks games is shots of humans wearing hats made to look like piles of seafood salad.

Prediction: Cowboys 31, Green Bay 28

Prediction #2: If I am wrong and Green Bay wins, the Green Bay defensive line will grab a Gatorade cooler and douse Brett Favre in queso. And I will cry. For two reasons.

Don't Worry Mr. Cheney, We Are Paging Your Cardiologist, Dr. Bob Dylan

Come You masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead