While driving yesterday, a familiar song played on my XM-Radio station.
I remember first hearing this recording way back in 1989, while living and working in Eastern Europe. It was a catchy instrumental, and its smooth jazz vibe always stuck with me. I even bought the CD when I came back to the states.
MY ANTI-VALENTINE’S DAY ANTI-FEAST RANT: FREE BAD FOOD…OH JOY!
Some time ago, I wrote and posted up a scathing restaurant review. The sad spot of my fury ended up being impossible for me to grade because, while the food was terrible, at least the portions were huge. I mean, ever had amazing service, but the food sucked? Or, vice versa? I feel kinda’ the same way anticipating today’s lunch destination for the partridge and matriarch of the Dalla family — Bucca di Peppo.
Give me my respect. I spent 25 minutes writing this.
Imagine burrowing into Trump’s anal cavity with such perverted affection that this mindless MAGA stooge wastes his time defacing United States currency with a rubber stamp.
This soiled $20 bill somehow landed in my pocket today. Later, I’ll take this hopelessly mutilated currency and exchange it for a fresh clean twenty-dollar bill.
Recently, Ken Kubey posted here on Facebook that he watches sporting events and occasionally yells at the television. I confessed that I also do this. I expect many of you sometimes yell at the TV, too.
Boring Commercials, Lame Announcing, a Horrid Halftime Show, and a Screeching Eagles’ Spike-the-Ball-in-Your-Face Ass-Kicking that Would Have Put Hunter S. Thompson to Sleep
We were way overdue for a dud with a thud. And what we got was a bomb.
After nearly a decade of thrilling Super Bowl finishes that usually went down to the closing minutes or even seconds, instead the world that was still awake witnessed an ass-kicking on Sunday in New Orleans. Unless you’re a Philadelphia fan or an Eagles’ bettor, or some kind of sick masochist grave dancing all things Chiefs and Mahomes, Super Bowl LIX was a miss and a splat that took 4 hours and 23 minutes to play to a merciless conclusion, but was effectively decided long before the halftime rapper. Kansas City-style barbecue may be popular, but the Chiefs ended up getting smoked in their own slow cooker. Their tender offensive line split apart like a rack of baby backs.
Lots to cover. Several thoughts:
NOTETO READERS:
TO SEE THE FULL ARTICLE, WITH COMMENTARY ON PRE-GAME, ANNOUNCERS, HALFTIME SHOW, AND MORE — PLEASE CLICK HERE.
FINAL END-OF-SEASON BETTING RESULTS:
I’ll talk straight and simple here.
This was a tough season. Very tough.
I struggled along the way, hoovering around the break-even mark for several weeks during the midseason. Some things I uncovered worked. Others failed. Fortunately, I also closed the season strongly, ending up at +25 games above the .500 mark and a +7.93 percent profit margin.
Are those results great – no. But for free content (thanks to BetCoin.ag for providing a free public platform), I think it’s pretty good. I’ll also be glad to end another season on a winning note and plus-money record. For those keeping score, that’s 10 winning seasons and 3 losing seasons since 2012, and all those results are verifiable (see: nolandalla.com).
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2024-25 SEASON NFL BETTING RECORD:
WINS — 161
LOSSES — 136
PUSH — 4
NET WIN/LOSS — + $793
LAST WEEK’S RESULTS — 7-2-0 (+ $708)
STARTING BANKROLL: $10,000.
CURRENT BANKROLL; $10,793.
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ALL WAGERS ARE FOR $100 EACH AND ARE PRICED AT THE STANDARD 110/100 VIG, (UNLESS NOTED OTHERWISE)
EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE…. WHAT THE HELL DO WE DO NOW?
“I may not have remarkable victories, but I can amaze you with the defeats I have survived.”
— Chekhov
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Like me, many of you are confused right now. You’re angry. You’re exhausted. You have no idea what to do next — that is, if anything can be done at all.
Oh, and we’re only on Day 16 of presumably 1,461 — and whatever apocalyptical abyss lies beyond.