I love this time of the year. The NFL is in full swing, and my beloved NBA is just tipping off, with Blazers blazing and Lakers bickering.
Life is good!
And then there is Halloween in two days. One of the most underrated holidays of all, Halloween is something I have enjoyed every year of my life as it has morphed from trick-or-treating, to egg and shaving cream wars, to dressing as a 40-ounce-sipping Spiderman that isn't very good at climbing stairs, never mind trees or buildings.
But there are a few things that I truly dislike about Halloween. Almond Joys (blech) and Mounds (ugh) top that list easily, but people with lame costumes are the real "Halloweenies." Take, for example, the idiots that still wear the "Scream" costume. Seriously, 1996 is a long time ago - it's time for stores to hang that outfit up for good. You don't see people dressing up as Sandra Bullock from Speed 2: Cruise Control, and that came out a year after in 1997. Forget it, the Scream era is over.
Females also have to come up with some more original material. Now, I know that the main objective always seems to be "looking sexy," and believe me, I'm fine with that, but there are about five different costumes that girls wear on Halloween. From a sexy cat, to Britney Spears, to some flapper thing, the creativity seems to be lacking. Be something funny, because sometimes that's even more attractive than the usual garbage.
If I were a girl, I'd go as, oh I don't know, Mo from GUTS. Now that would be funny. I'd get dressed up in some goofy referee outfit and (in a fake English accent) drunkenly blabber on about the Aggro Crag and actuators or what not. Hmmm ... not a bad idea actually.
Whatever, let's get down to business.
I really don't know why everyone rips on Jerry Rice for that crazy hairdo he sports. Okay, so maybe male pattern baldness combined with cornrows isn't a good idea, but whenever someone's haircut makes the name "Ebeneezer" seem like a good name for them, they're all right in my book. Ebeneezer Rice, I kinda like that.
It's time to replace those gigantic silver plates they give out to the runner-ups in tennis Grand Slams. I found the perfect replacement. The humongous wheels of cheese that you see in supermarkets like Tops and Wegmans.
Imagine the pride in Andy Roddick's or Serena Williams' eyes while they thrust the massive wheel of cheese into the air after finishing second in a tournament? It would be unparalleled. I know that if I were to ever win that award, I would raise it to the sky just like Mufasa did to Simba in the Lion King. Tennis players would be waging war over those wheels of cheese as well, creating an even more intense tennis situation. I know this because it gets intense when I'm around one of those things in Wegmans. Sometimes I act like a primal beast and start gnawing away at the cheese right there and then while growling at other consumers trying to get near my cheese.
While we are on the topic of the Lion King, I might as well share a little anecdote with y'all. One of the more classic things that I have ever woken up to has to be that song from the Lion King. You know the one; it goes like this, "Mahhhhh, Pennsylvaniaaaaaa, bada bitzyvah! Koko ka CHUMMM!" There really isn't a better song to play on your alarm clock than that at 7 a.m. in the morning. Except maybe "Working for the Weekend" by Loverboy - both of those songs really get your motor running in the brisk Buffalo mornings.
Forget all the championships, calling Hideki Irabu a "fat toad" has to be up there on Yankees' boss George Steinbrenner's list of greatest accomplishments.
What's with Keyshawn Johnson's constant smack-talking? A few weeks ago he made this outrageous comment: "Every time I play my competition from the class of '96, I always dominate, just remember that." Okay, "Key," you just keep telling yourself that. Among others, Keyshawn's class of '96 consists of Eric Moulds and Marvin Harrison, arguably two of the top four receivers in the league.
Keyshawn has to be out of his mind or something. What we need to do is hire those two dorks from Billy Madison to give the guy a pep talk. "Are you in loser denial?" they'll ask, just like they did to Adam Sandler.
Maybe Keyshawn just needs Warren Sapp to shove a parking cone up his tookas, and then he'll realize the error of his ways.
Watching the Raiders-Chiefs Monday night game a few weeks ago made me come to the realization of who one of my favorite players of all time is. No, it's not Rice, Tim Brown, Priest Holmes or Rich Gannon - but Kansas City's kicker Morten Andersen.
This guy is timeless. He's the only guy in the league that still rocks the old school face mask. Andersen seriously looks like they just popped him out of the Starting Lineup action figure box from yesteryear, and every time I look at him I expect to see that classic Starting Lineup constipated expression on his face and a patch of grass stuck to one of his feet.
Every time someone interviews Knicks point guard Charlie Ward, the guy goes off about how God loves him and he is so fortunate. Just shut up Charlie, because God really doesn't love you. If he did, you wouldn't be backing up freakin' Howard Eisley. Maybe he hates you Charlie, ever think of that?
Right now, Vikings coach Mike Tice is one of my favorite personalities in the NFL. And how could he not be? But it seems as if FOX analyst and former Dolphins and Cowboys coach Jimmy Johnson is a little too much of a fan.
In an interview last month, Jimmy kept presenting Tice with oversized pencils while laughing giddily due to the fact that Tice generally has a No. 2 pencil behind his ear during games.
I don't know about you, but if had an interview with Johnson and he kept giving me oversized pencils while laughing like a school girl, I'd certainly be a little guarded when I was alone. I'd have all my doors and windows constantly locked in fear of that little bumpkin Jimmy peering through the blinds at 4 a.m. Man, would that be a creepy trip.
Last year I posed the question who does more drugs, director Tim Burton or Knicks' general manager Scott Layden? Well, I have come to a conclusion.
They both do the same amount of drugs, but the production that comes from their drug-induced rampages varies extremely. Burton dishes out insane masterpieces, while Layden turns out insane suckfests that are better known as Knicks' seasons.
Before thinking of what he wanted to do for Batman Returns, Burton must have stuck his head in a pile of coke like Tony Montana and then shouted, "we need fat clowns, skeleton dudes and Christopher Walken as a wacky freak called Max Shreck." Pure genius.
Layden, on the other hand, probably does the same thing a la Montana, but then yells out afterward "we need crippled players, huge bizarro contracts and hate-mongering Christians."
Obviously, there is a huge discrepancy.
Oh yeah, and like Antoine Winfield says, "Remember kids, wear your helmets."
