Don’t look now, but a new professional football league debuts tonight. Well, I have a few comments.
Are you ready for some….
….I can’t bear to type this next word, but here it goes….
A new professional football league debuts tonight. The premature infant of a fling that should have been aborted the instant some rich dude in the back of a limo presumably blurted out, “hey, let’s start a new football league!” will be officially known as the “Alliance of American Football.” Blare the tinfoil trumpets. Call in Larry Greenfield to sing our national anthem.
I shit you not, my friends. Just in case you missed the Super Bowl-shattering “I wish it were #fakenews” non-story, don’t fret — you’re not alone. No one else has heard of the “AAF” either.
Curious and desperately in need of a new column on what’s typically the slowest traffic day for bloggers, I typed the three letters “AAF” into a Google search engine and — voila!
This is what popped up:
Okay, let’s just say the AAF is a “work in progress.” Translated, that means no one knows what they’re doing nor has a clue what’s going on. This league is going to make the Trump White House look like Daimler-Benz.
As of this morning, the Arizona Hotshots are still looking for a head coach. Interested in the job? Word is, if you can be at the Home Depot parking lot in North Glendale ready for work at 6 pm, you’ve got the position. Oh, and the game starts at 7. Bring your own headset and bottles of Gatorade. English as a first language not required.
No health insurance. No benefits. No vacation time (unless the league folds). Perfect job for the “self-starter.” The league’s fitness program consists of running to the bank every payday to make sure the check doesn’t bounce.
Let’s be honest. Launching a new football league might be the worst idea of all time — this not counting William Shatner performing this eye-popping, unintentionally hilarious 1978 cover of the Elton John-Bernie Taupin classic, “Rocket Man.”
So, you think I’m bullshitting. You think I made the name “Arizona Hotshots” up, didn’t you?
No, that’s really the team name. The Hotshots. How’d you like that on your resume? I will say one thing. Site unseen, without knowing any of the players, I make the Hotshots a “pick” against the Arizona Cardinals, provided that Josh Rosen takes all snaps for the red birds.
Natural curious, t took me three clicks and half a glass of Zinfandel to finally find out which second-tier American cities will actually have an AAF team this debut season. It appears the death list of decapitated dreamers includes Birmingham, San Antonio, Orlando, Salt Lake City, Memphis, Atlanta, and….and….and…..
….I can’t bear to type this next word, but here it goes….
San Diego couldn’t keep the fucking Chargers in town! Do you seriously think anyone’s going to buy a ticket to go see the San Diego Fleet?
While doing a web search, I was particularly amused by this ground shaking announcement that nobody else apparently saw, except me and maybe the guy who wrote it. According to the press release, Aaron Murray and Christain Hackenberg HIGHLIGHTED the QB’s taken in this year’s draft. Highlighted! Presumably, Ryan Leaf and Joe Kapp weren’t available.
To be clear, an alternative pro football league to the established NFL did succeed in the past. Once. Too bad, that was 59 years ago. The AFL was formed because the older league and TV networks were slow to react to a national hunger for more football. Back then there were a dozen NFL teams and three television networks. Now, there are 3,000 TV networks, and half of them right now are showing the creepy guy selling the colon cleanse product. More football? Does anyone other than Tom Brady want to see another football game for the next six months?
So, while the AFL succeeded before I was born, at least three football leagues have self-imploded since then. The alphabet soup of dead football leagues looks like a losing Scrabble tray in a dementia ward. WFL.USFL.XFL. It’s to the point where the only way to possibly compete is to make up a word. Gee, is “WLUX” a word, Alex?
Dumb shits. This ship to nowhere is going to blow through millions. It’s about as promising as backing Newt Gingrich in a presidential campaign. By the way, Newt — just in case you’re reading….6 pm at Home Depot, partner. I know it’s been a while since you last worked and anyone took you seriously.
I have zero interest in watching this bullshit football league.
You can bet it? You can wager on the games?
Seriously? There are real lines in Las Vegas on the AAF?
Ahh, fuck it. Give me the San Diego Fleet +3 tonight versus San Antonio.
Note: Follow the Facebook discussion on this topic here:
Can’t stop the madness: Crazed lunacy or revelation? You decide.
 I don’t want to come across as being too judgmental, but some people disgust me just by what they order to eat.
 Why is it when I deal with Scandinavian people, they speak and write English — which is their 2nd, 3rd, or 4th language — far better than most Americans?
 Three Important Facts of Life: 1. Barbecue is meant to be served in giant portions. 2. Rock n’ roll is meant to be played really loud. 3. Anyone who serves wine at room temperature shouldn’t be allowed to serve wine.
 True Story of What Happened Last Sunday at a Casino Super Bowl Party in Las Vegas: A customer became so outraged at being charged $8 for a hot dog that he slapped the vendor. That’s just wrong. Next time, use the entire fist.
 Eugene Levy is the John Cazale of comedy. Everything he appears in is good just because he’s in it.
 I’m proud of myself. This week, I stepped onto the treadmill four times. Now, if I could just figure out where the button is to turn the damn thing on.
 If a homeless man somehow gets elected to the House, does that mean he’s not homeless anymore?
 If binge drinking causes short-term memory loss, what does binge drinking do?
 Bible people believe that all women on earth originated from a man’s single rib. Does that mean there’d now be 12 women for every man if he’d forked over a full slab?
 How do you stop eating salsa and chips at the Tex-Mex place whatever comes first — they run out or you die?
 Meditation is 50 percent telling your brain to shut up; 30 percent trying to recall which day was your dentist appointment; 15 percent trying to remember who co-starred with Michael Keaton in Night Shift; and 5 percent actually meditating.
 If I blurt out what kinky sex acts I want to do with Alexa, will she think I’m a pervert?
 When he dies, if Sheldon Adelson decides to get cryogenically frozen, will anyone notice he’s deceased?
 Just once, I’d like to pick the right checkout line at the grocery store.
 I can’t watch Family Feud anymore. Last time I turned it on, the answers were so bad I wanted to punch out both families.
 My goal this year is to get completely out of debt. Now, if someone can just lend me $230,oo0 I’ll be all set.
 Who the fuck wears white tennis shoes? Seriously.
 Quit bitching, fellow liberals. We should all be thrilled the dufus in the White House is working only 3 hours a day. Imagine the damage he’d do if he was both incompetent and hard-working.
 So far, one of the great accomplishments of my life is not being able to name one song or lyric by Kanye West.
 I find comparisons between Trump and Hitler to hysterically inaccurate. Take just a couple of differences. Hitler was reasonably smart, loyal to his country, loved animals, and faithful to his wife.
If you could go back in time and witness any 24-hour period in world history, what event would you choose?
I’m offering you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Here’s the deal.
You are about to travel back in time. You get to pick any 24-hour period in history and witness what happened. Think of what this means. This is your one and only chance to satisfy any curiosity, observe a monumental historical event, or perhaps solve a great mystery.
So — which event would you choose to experience, and why?
This is the topic of a new Facebook discussion group I created, called “An Unconventional Convention.” A few times each week, different questions are asked on Facebook and readers respond. Although only three questions have been asked so far, more than 300 replies have been posted Many answers we far more intriguing than anyone might have expected.
Today’s question is on a serious topic. Accordingly, here are a few helpful hints: You might choose to witness an epic moment in history. Perhaps you’d like to experience a past religious event or spiritual revelation. Maybe you’ll select a scientific breakthrough or moment of great discovery. Or, you could opt for a more personal experience in your life, or perhaps a family-related event that’s meaningful. You hold the key to pass through any closed door. There are no wrong answers.
Let’s agree to some rules: You must remain on the earth. The time span allowed is any 24-hour period since the world began. You cannot travel into the future. While you observe, you will not participate or be noticed in any way. You cannot alter the course of history. You are prohibited from profiting from your time travel. For instance, you can’t return to the present and write a book or go around giving TED talks, afterward. You are given the opportunity to bear witness purely for your own knowledge, amusement, and satisfaction.
Click the link below to respond and/or to read the responses from other readers.
This should be both fun and interesting.
By the way, I still haven’t made up my mind what I’m going to post and how I will answer. This is a really tough question.
57 Things You Don’t Know About Me (and May Not Care) on the Glorious Occasion of My 57th Birthday
Writer’s Note: Time now for another self-indulgent article on the special occasion of my 57th birthday. This column has become an annual tradition for me. If you can spare a little generosity to help keep this website going and allow me to pay my webmaster Ernst Dieter Martin a few bucks for all his hard work, I would be most grateful. Please click the CONTRIBUTE button to the right side if you care to lend your support. If not, then please enjoy anyways. I have lots of new exciting projects coming up in the weeks and months ahead. Thanks for reading.
Two race-based controversies exploded over this past weekend.
Ralph Northam, well on his way to being the ex-Governor of Virginia, is getting skewered for some racially-charged acts which (allegedly) took place 35 years ago. He’s also badly bungled the fallout in two baffling press conferences which were intended to restore confidence but did quite the opposite. In an astonishing contradiction, speaking in his own defense Gov. Northam did far more harm than good when he backtracked from his previous statement. Now, the Democrat is under severe pressure from several lawmakers, including members of his own party, to resign and basically disappear from the political scene altogether.
Meanwhile, across the country, comedian Bill Maher, star of HBO’s popular weekly comedy-talk show Real Time, is in serious trouble (again) for making an off-hand joke about a chicken franchise during a live sit-down interview with a Black congressman from Texas. Maher was on camera talking to Rep. Will Hurd when he tried to lighten up what had been a serious interview by making reference to Popeye’s Fried Chicken.
Though unrelated, the two recent controversies have plunged the nation into another heated racial divide. These scandals resurrect important questions about political correctness — and specifically who it applies to and when it’s applicable. Given the racial insensitivity commonly associated with the political right, these incidents were unusual since Gov. Northam and Maher are on the left of the spectrum. That assessment is indeed accurate. Gov. Northam is the top Democratic officeholder in a purple state. Maher, while overtly libertarian on many issues, has drifted decidedly towards the left in recent years, especially since Donald Trump’s election.
Should the same standards of behavior and a similar level of criticism apply equally to both men? Aside from being racially charged, are these two cases similar? Should punishments apply to both?
Barring the unforeseen, 2018 will be my fifth winning season out of seven. Since I began posting weekly picks here at my website, I’m slightly ahead. I’ll post the updated figures later. All I know is, after more than 1,000 picks posted in advance since 2012, producing a profit is something to be proud of. A win is a win.
This season, after 136 recommended wagers, I’ve picked about 55 percent winners overall, netting a nice profit of about 48 percent on top of my original starting bankroll. However, my futures wagers tanked badly this season, reducing my net profit to only about 15 percent overall. Nonetheless, I will take a 15 percent return on investment anytime I can get it.
Social media isn’t as constructive as it can be and should be. Here’s one small way I thought of towards making it better.
Imagine a forum where people of many different backgrounds come together to express, share, enjoy, reflect, discuss, and ponder the widest range of thoughts.
This is a new social group on Facebook. Anyone can participate. Some topics, most chosen by me, will be light and fun. Others will be far more serious. The only rules which apply will be my rules, which will be strictly enforced. No insults or ridicule is permitted. No memes. Just straightforward and hopefully honest comments.
Lady Gaga arrives in Las Vegas at the perfect moment for both the city and its newest star. Let’s hope she shakes things up.
Lady Gaga seems intent on being all things to all people, and if her previous track record of success is an indication, she might very well have the gravitas to pull off what would be impossible for anyone lesser.
No singer-songwriter-performer-actress-influencer-icon on the planet is hotter at the moment. So, it came as quite a shock to find out Lady Gaga is making Las Vegas her temporary residency. Let’s be honest here — the Las Vegas Strip isn’t the usual first choice for a performer who could sell out any football stadium in the world within mere hours.
Indeed, casino showrooms have typically been the last whistle-stop before being tossed into the heap of the CD bin at the discount dollar store. It’s where once-great but now-old performers go to die; it’s where one-hit wonders come to make one last fat paycheck before retiring and fading off into artistic oblivion. Sure, most headliners make Las Vegas a mandatory concert stop on any national tour. But the prospect of doing dozens, perhaps even hundreds of nightly shows isn’t just excruciatingly repetitive for cutting edge performers. It’s always been a dead end. For just about everyone here who’s turned into Wayne Newton, it’s been a set of golden handcuffs — lots of sweet guaranteed money, but with a heavy price. Las Vegas has always been a creative graveyard.