One for the Aging

No matter what goes down in New Orleans today, Brett Favre has given a message stating no matter what you are you can still fulfill you dreams. Now let me break down how the Vikings can beat La Breesiana’s Saints. Even though it seems like someone put Red Bull in the holy water, the Saints are dependent on Darren Sharper, Will Smith and Jonathan Vilma. So Minnesota has to be sure to bust out Adrian Peterson, Sidney Rice, Percy Harvin and Visanthe Shiancioe. If not, bring in Bernard Berrian and Chester Taylor. New Orleans can bring in their running game anytime (Pierre Thomas, Reggie Bush, Mike Bell & Deuce McAllister) but sometime Ben Leber, Kevin Williams, Pat Williams, Jared Allen and Ray Edwards will sniff it out. Then Drew Brees will have to hit Jeremy Shockey, Marques Colston, Devery Henderson or a halfback. Chad Greenway and Cedric Griffin can’t cover that. Overall, I’m rooting and I’m going with the Vikings.

Heading north to South Bend, a hyped, young New York Jets team faces a veteran, Indianapolis Colts team. With rookie coach Rex Ryan and rookie QB Mark Sanchez on a hot streak and rookie coach Jim Caldwell and best QB in the nation Peyton Manning, it ought to be a grind-it-out. The stingy Jets D (Dwight Lowery, Lito Shepperd, Darrelle Revis, Kerry Rhodes, Jim Leonhard, Bart Scott, Calvin Pace) faces an unstoppable Colts O (Joseph Addai,s, Pierre Garcon, Dominic Rhodes, Dallas Clark, Reggie Wayne, Austin Collie, Anthony Gonzalez, Jeff Saturday). The Colts defense is also tenacious (Antoine Bethea, Dwight Freeney, Robert Mathis, Gary Brackett, Bob Sanders) and the Jets offense is prominent (Alan Faneca, Damien Woody, D’Brickshaw Ferguson, Shonn Greene, Leon Washington, Thomas Jones, Braylon Edwards, Dustin Keller, Jericho Cotchery). Did I mention that a demented coaching blunder by Caldwell is the only reason the Jets are recieving more attention than Paris Hilton? Although the ammunition in the Jets team is balanced and high, the Colts have more weapons in their arsenal. Sorry, Rex, but your chariot turns into a pumpkin now. Peyton vs. Brett in Miami.

Vikes!

Shooting Saints

It hurts. It’s the pain of Kurt Warner’s career being ended by terrorizing and molesting New Orleans Saints. Final picks: Indy over Baltimore, Dallas over Minnesota, New York Jets over San Diego, Indy over NYJ, Dallas over New Orleans, Indy over Dallas. So, awkwardness comes to its revolution in my life as I hit Summit Lake. For Outdoor Ed. With my classmates. Anyway, Reggie Bush, Marques Colston, Drew Brees, monster performance, bla, bla, bla. This blog series needs a tight name. I’ll give it Shooting Stars. Now that Tony Dungy lost all his market addiction for saying he’d like to coach the New York Giants, an 8-8, no-man’s land team that had been diagnosed with a virus of “too much, too early”. All I’m saying is Dungy now has less swagga than a Haitian Conan O’Brien fan (no offense intended toward the Haiti community, all offense intended toward Conan O’ Brien). I was going to nail Matthew Mcconaughey but I see that Katherine Heigl hired Adult Swim cartoons for that.

LOL

Part I

Before I begin this blog, I want you to know that this is long, extremely long. Which is why it has many parts. You may begin.

One week ago, I experienced the cinema of a lifetime, Avatar: 3-D. You know, all James Cameron does is give. He gives hope and inspiration. And if I don’t find out a way to thank him by the end of this blog, then I might as well…well I didn’t really plan the end of this one. Ooh, I know! I might as well go to the revival of Brokeback Mountain and then I’m like on a horse and then one of the horses is like “Hey, you knows since Heath Ledger’s dead, I’m going to just jump off this cliff, you know just for the hell of it” and then the other horse is like “Ha ha ha” and the other horse is like “Oh you wanna see?” and the other horse is like “Oh my Barbaro he’s gonna do it. Take me with you” and then they miraculously start swimming head over water and then “Ain’t’ no mountain high enough” spontaneously starts playing on the stereo and then they tragically yet hilariously drown. And then a nearby owl says “Whoa, somebody’s a little Ashley Tisdale” and then the other owl is like “That doesn’t even make sense” and the other owl is like “Yeah, I don’t really give a hoot” and then the other owls like “Well, somebody’s a little Liza Minnelli” and then the other owl’s like “I thought she got Parkinson’s” and the other owl’s like “No, her career is being torn up by Family Guy and South Park taunts” and the other owl’s like “Well, it’s just Denise. We broke up last night” and the other owl’s like I thought you were about to go to Hooters,” and the other owl’s like “Look Kevin, she can’t dump you on Hooters. It’s unorthodox,” and Kevin’s like “Not if it’s on the check” and the other owl’s like “Kevin, you disappoint me. You know that 34% of relationships end on the bill” and the other owl’s like “Oh Damien, you and your Essence magazines” and Damien’s like “You know Kevin, why don’t you just go hoot yourself. Okay. Why don’t you just get AIDS and burn in hoot” and Kevin’s like “1. You get HOOT before you get AIDS and 2. Maybe I will burn in hoot, cuz it’s better than hooting around with you” and Damien’s like “Hoot, hoot, hoot” and Kevin’s like “Shut the hoot up” and then they continuously keep on nailing each other until Open Season where both of them are shot by Dick Cheney. Moving on!