#nfl
There’s an NFL game on tonight at 9pm.
It’s the playoffs, from Denver to Paris via VPN
The Patriots and the Broncos will galdiate to win
a chance to be in the Super Bowl again.
I used to be a big ‘pats’ fan
back when Tom Brady was ‘the man.’
I’ve read it will be super cold - but these are two cold weather teams.
Go Patriots, Go Seahawks! (the Seahawk game is on too late for me).
“You’re SO excitable” Peter (my bf) teased.
As I set out the popcorn bowls, hours early.
He’s a basketball guy - but no one’s perfect.
Personally speaking, basketball’s hard to watch
with all of those sneakers squeaking.
Speaking of games, Here are some of the best pickup lines
I’ve heard lately - in a cafe across from campus, no less.
(Euro-guys are such schmoozers). Here we go:
You’re in med-school, Ya? Well, I hurt myself falling for you.
Your pants are mirror-like, I can see myself in ‘em.
If I rub you, I bet ALL of my dreams will come true
You’re like Google, you’re everything I’ve been searching for.
Are we in the same lab? Cause you and I’ve got chemistry.
If YOU were my homework, I'd do you EVERY night
“I’m pursuing a close relationship,” I say, not making direct eye contact. “Sorry,” I shrug, “it’s a closed world.”
.
.
A song for this:
Walk On By by Jonathan Butler
Walk On By by Lola Young 🅴
Walk On By by Asleep at the wheel
Jan 25
Jan 25, 2026 at 11:06 AM UTC
A religion without the pretense of morality, wisdom, or transcendence. the “Man Religion” of sports ball Like a religion but it’s worse: there's no actual pretense for ethical framework, no stories that teach anything but dominate or win . The whole thing is a homogenized near safe , giant, flashing coping mechanism for people terrified of thought especially real introspection. So just like church cept you don't have to sing along if you don't want to.
You don’t even have to be good at or participate in sports or know real danger
don't need to have any kind of life, just consume a repackaged version of it like everything else. Again just like church.
Anything but a mailbox full of more bills and a meaningless soul crushing job
for just a few minutes.
Like you the players and the fans don’t build anything; they buy symbols or aspire to be branded as one ,
hollow symbols to replace actual belonging
because they can’t generate meaning or depth or satisfaction on their own. They can’t make art, so they call repetitive idiocy with penalty flags and non stop ads entertainment
that's NOT art.
They can’t feel ANYTHING CLOSE to awe wouldn't know innovation or individuality if it jumped up and slapped them in the face, so they substitute adrenaline and noise.
The whole thing is a homogenized near safe , giant, flashing coping mechanism for people terrified of thought especially real introspection.
Vicarious so called achievement or false win or justified loss and anger. Ritual for the sake of ritual, spectacle for the sake of spectacle, and the constant reinforcement that obedience, consumption, and shallow tribal loyalty are the only measures of value.
You don’t HAVE to pray to feel connected just pay so exactly like real church , you scream at a screen to feel relevant. Competent, capable men. don’t build or create, they rage consume symbols logos, jerseys, ads
because without them, they'd have to confront how empty life actually is. The clergy is replaced by coaches, announcers, and network executives; the sacraments are replaced by beer, nachos, and victory dances. The holy texts are endless replay reels and highlight clips.
But there's still a lot of **** touching so you'll feel right at home.
Just don't wear the wrong colors to the wrong place or you might get beaten and dragged behind a pick up truck, so yeah just like.....
AND All of it pretends to matter. Replay reels as holy texts. Coaches, announcers, network execs as clergy. Victory dances as sacraments. **** touching and chest pounding as rites of passage. No art, no innovation, no individuality just the constant, flashing, homogenized coping mechanism for people terrified of their own minds.
and like church what does it accomplish ? What does anyone actually get or WIN ? ... Bond debt ? head trauma ?
Nov 7, 2025
Nov 7, 2025 at 6:59 PM UTC
🎥 SPORTS BALL: THE MADNESS, THE MONEY
An ESPN Original Documentary (That ESPN Would Never Air)
In a world where nothing matters except touchdowns, money, and unchecked, repressed daddy-issue aggression, one league reigns supreme:
THE NFL
(National Feelings League)
Now with no helmet-to-helmet contact!
Born from the ancient, time-honored tradition of jungle warfare—kicking your enemy’s severed head through a loop (which, honestly, still makes more sense than half their current rules)—this sport has changed very little, aside from 4,000 penalties per game and the occasional pastel commercial for ***** pills.
The Holy Grail:
The Gold-Slathered Hunk of Plastic
Shaped like something you’d only see at a German dungeon *** party, this trophy somehow inspires grown-ass man-children to pay millions to lawyers, all for the chance to take the giant gold ******* symbol home and **** it on a throne made of endangered bald eagles.
Rituals and Rites:
Every repetitive, altogether meaningless match kicks off with the mandatory pre-game ritual:
Helicopter flyovers
More ass-touching than a scoutmaster at summer camp (it’s called “team bonding,” apparently)
Prancing, jumping, and chest-thumping
The Scandals:
But the National Feelings League isn’t without its scandals. In fact, their most profitable season ever followed the notorious incident simply known as:
“The Outbreak of **** ****** Run Amok Again.”
Sales of commemorative **** cream skyrocketed. Grade school absentee rates soared.
The Stadium Deals:
Where things get really ******
Cities lured into coughing up their last nickel with promises like:
******* CRACK ***** BINGO – 5¢ Wednesdays
(Featuring ex-Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders)
Taxpayers and their great-great-grandchildren will be paying for that mistake… twice.
The Crimes:
When players get busted for crimes ranging from ****** assault to running illegal animal fighting rings, they always cry the same defense:
“I was here first, ************* They built this whole ********** around me. These ain’t my drugs.”
Everyone nods respectfully and immediately lets them off.
The Latest Locker Room Scourge:
Whispers grow about the latest banned substance tearing through $387 billion locker rooms:
Raccoon Steroids — Naturally Sourced.
Side effects include:
Sudden ****
DUI
Out-of-control gambling
Running/funding a gang
Gun running
Why They Play (In Their Own Words):
“I just love the money, know what I’m saying? And the near-God status, and to be able to bang all the people I want, as hard as I want, whenever I want. Know what I’m saying? And no one can tell me what to do because I’m a ******* God now, know what I’m saying? Shut the **** up and get out of the way, whitey. Give me all your money, ******* ******* Oh, and tell your kids to worship me harder. Know what I’m saying?
I deserve all this money and fame and to be a hero because, after all, I got one-tenth of a microgram more testosterone than you did during puberty.”
Slow piano music plays. Fade to black.
The Interview:
The exact moment every sports interview turns into pure brain death.
It’s always some mouth-breathing, concussion-riddled slab of protein farts mumbling through sentences like his neurons are melting mid-syllable, punctuating every third breath with “you know what I’m saying?”
YES, WE KNOW WHAT YOU’RE SAYING. YOU’RE SAYING NOTHING.
And yet, somehow, almost half of America is still hanging on your every word.
“Yeah man, it’s been a grind this season, you know what I’m saying? We just take it day by day, you know what I’m saying? We come out here, we try to play hard, you know what I’m saying? Like we just gotta keep grinding, you know what I’m saying?”
NO. NO, ************
I don’t know what you’re saying because you’re not saying anything. Have you ever once in your life?
And they always act like they’re breaking some deep-ass philosophy, too:
“Man, it’s hot out here… you know what I’m saying? Like, I be sweating. Like for real, sweating. Pads be heavy, yo. That’s just how it be sometimes, you know what I’m saying?”
Holy **** you signed up for a full-contact meat collision sport where the entire job is “get hit and fall down,” but somehow you’re shocked that it involves… sweating? And falling down?
Don’t tell me you’ve been doing it this whole time and it’s just now shocking to you. Don’t tell me you haven’t been watching all those tapes since you were a little kid, *******
And they’re always saying it like it’s some revelation, like they’ve cracked the code of the universe:
“Sometimes, man… you just gotta play the game… you know what I’m saying?”
NO. I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE SAYING.
Because that sentence has zero calories. It’s a microwaved air sandwich wrapped in plastic.
Then they wanna get an attorney and sue the other guy for helmet-to-helmet contact. Like they didn’t know what they were signing up for.
Oh wait, these giant dudes is trying to tackle me. Oh **** man.
Jul 9, 2025
Jul 9, 2025 at 3:23 AM UTC
Show a little finesse, place a bet.
You’re just in time for the game, get some skin, the fix is in.
What’s more American than cashing in?
The real winners do, and now that could be you.
With suckers out there waiting, scamming is as easy as creating
an NFT, bitcoin, an online bet or a romance baiting.
You’ll be a witness, as the wise guys step in, for the NFL it’s a win-win
You get the excitement you need and the real playas get the proceeds.
Come on, Mr slick ricky, you know you’ve got to be bold to win gold
winners double-down, they never fold—the thrill never gets old.
The winners will add your measly bucks to their ***
Let's admit, all you’ve got, isn’t a lot - it wouldn’t, say, fuel a yacht.
So, step up, place your bets, you’re in the digital front row all the time,
don’t be lame, be part of the game, it’s greasy, ****** organized crime.
.
.
A song for this:
Vicious Games by Yello
The Game of Love (feat. Michelle Branch) [Main/Radio Mix] by Santana*
Feb 8, 2025
Feb 8, 2025 at 9:45 PM UTC
Clad in green and white,
With all unyielding mettle,
Master the gridiron!
Sep 8, 2024
Sep 8, 2024 at 11:40 PM UTC
The Texans, again
snatching defeat
from the jaws
of victory
Dec 6, 2020
Dec 6, 2020 at 4:16 PM UTC
I don't watch anymore
when the quarterback goes down
I know beyond a doubt
there's flags upon the ground
PC is now the rule and such
the game a sham and joke
not worth watching, all that much
rules and penalties now broke
I'm glad I'm not a linebacker
confused and so unsure
hit or no hit the NFL
brown is the PC flag
of ******** and
manure
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 9:13 PM UTC
You want me to wear
logos in my hair
and purchase
the matching scarf?
A billboard for sale
at the human scale
Sporting your brand
Oh, what a larf!
Go Team Go!
Print on a throw
For the low price
of fifty-four dollars
I'd rather be happy
not buying your sappy
stuff that you sport
on your collars
you tell me to buy
because i'll look fly
and fill up my closet
with swagger
Believe when I say
not one single day
I'll fall to the dance
of your dagger!
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC
Our Left Coast sighs in a stupor of red
from evergreen coasts to the casting bed.
Hollywood’s big leagues deal their fatal blow;
vapid perspectives from stars in the know.
Glamour holds court: socialite solutions
when celebrities talk revolutions.
But red alone would bring our nation harm
cut loose from white and blue—and should alarm
the audience, who pay to see their plays
while questioning their wanton West-coast ways:
Designer-reds, a stain upon our land
where red with white and blue ought take a stand.
Such fluff from the stage set who roll in dough
is Hollyweird yeast—rising now to show
beautiful and swelling irrelevance
unaware of its insignificance:
Hypocrite pretenders all paid to act
in films where decent values are attacked.
Let us turn then from Thespis‘ leering smile
to lace up cleats and run the gridiron mile
where other plays get tossed in endless zones
as commentators rave in heightened tones
while fools raise fists—then take the well-payed knee,
their pigskin antics sold to you and me.
****** a fat mike before their muscled face.
Note well the dull reaction, low as base.
These tattooed thugs make vain attempt, through speech
multitudes of more thuggish fans to reach.
The sad attempt to use their words in vain
lacks clear interpretation. Yall nome sain ?
The musclebound elect, who toss a ball
(as if their silly game was all in all)
should stick to sports; decline to state their views
lest fans their spectacle no longer choose.
Thus stars of field and screen steal every show,
and cause our dying culture worlds of woe.
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 2:03 PM UTC
In response to "To the football players who took a knee," by PluviopileSr:
In response to all of the people who have tried to silence our suffering:
So, you think we are disrespectful?
Jump into my skin. Walk to school each morning, head held high and feet grounded into the concrete. Continue walking as cars rush by, and pretend not to notice as some of them roll down their windows. Be warned, they will hurl insults at you. "N-ggers don't belong here." "Get off our street." They will hurl back-handed compliments. "You so fine, mama, you gotta be mixed." "Come in my car, baby, that *** belongs here." Don't respond, but know that later these words will echo in your head, making you a foreigner in your own home. Get used to saying "no," without saying no at all. And when you do refuse, don't be surprised when those people pull over and leap out of their cars. They will follow you. And you will have to determine whether to stay and fight or to run.
That is disrespect.
Get taken aside by a mall cop. Have that cop ask your best friend if he stole the shoes that sat on his feet. Watch them argue, attempt to step in and pacify them both, and listen as the cop spits at you,"N-ggers like you are always lying." Your best friend will respond like lightning, but you will feel the entire world begin moving in slow-motion. His fist will pull back, veins popping through his dark skin, and your first response will be to hold him back and push him away. To avoid any chance of conflict. Avoid any chance of danger. He will try to fight, and you will not.
Elders teach us that if you act and dress professionally, keep your hands where the officer can see them, and don't speak back, then nothing bad will happen to us. But take a moment to watch a video. Watch Alton Sterling, whose name I still have trouble saying out loud, be shot as he lay on the ground. Watch Delrawn Small simply approach a police car before he is shot. Watch this happen over and over and over again from the intolerable comfort of your bedroom. Your brother's blood is spilling on the concrete. Your sister's feet are dangling from the floor, and you are doing nothing. You are not allowed to do or say anything without being told that you are disrespectful. People police your tone in order to muffle your message.
No one who is protesting has said a word against the military, against the people who fought for us to be safe from other countries. The two topics are completely different. But we cannot forget that now is the time to protect all of our citizens. Protect us from each other, from extrajudicial ****** from the system that has kept people of color from feeling heard in America. The flag stands for a history of citizens who fought for their freedom, but we can't deny that it also holds the black blood which has been spilled and never given justice.
The military and the ****** of black men in America are completely different topics. Putting them together is irrational, and it is a way to divert from the meaning of kneeling during the National Anthem:
Our country is in a state of distress. If no one will acknowledge that, we will fly our own flags half-mast.
There is not a God who can provide liberty and justice for all. He does not change people's minds. It is our job to live, live freely, and to make our own choices on how to treat the people around us. Whether or not you follow the Bible, Torah, Quran, Bhagavad Gita, or anything else, we must acknowledge our differences and treat each other with love. Your emotions and choices are your own.
So yes. I'll take a knee with Colin Kaepernick. I'll do that any day, if it means not standing with the system that makes life more difficult every day. Because what is more important: being safe or being heard?
Sep 27, 2017
Sep 27, 2017 at 11:39 AM UTC
Fall down on your knees
For what we ask please
Nothing true comes with ease
Come touch the open breeze.
Who calls the shots?
The haves and have nots
Drawing straws and lots
Run with no ifs, buts and what's.
For the light does still burn
Another year your world will turn
Still time for you to learn
As long as your hunger does yearn.
A life of struggle and bear
For if you ever care
To take that first step and dare
That's freedom for you right there.
Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 3:21 AM UTC
Five for fighting
hands to the face
personal foul
player disgrace
Illegal contact
leap in the fray
willful head shot
leg astray
Encroachment defense
mouth guard out
roughing the passer
back field bout
Grounding the pigskin
mis-aligned
horse collar tackle
clip from behind
Knee on knee
offside end
unnecessary roughness
too many men
Gross misconduct
poke in the eye
hooking the shooter
sticks up high
Match ejection
over the top
face off folly
penalty shot
Unsportsmanlike conduct
chopping the block
slew foot infraction
hammer lock
Stick to the head
kick in the crotch
**** end jab
adhering the watch
Slashing the d-man
spearing the wing
running the keeper
back checking
Intentional grounding
stoppage in play
punching and hacking
delay of the game
Striking the ref
aggressor in fight
obstructing the line out
ear in a bite
Loss of downs
hands in the ruck
pinching and boarding
illegal upchuck
Rules of the battle
by the bye
pushing the limits
with a wink of an eye
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 9:24 PM UTC
The Day...
...huff, huff, ...huff
breathe
Not one but many,
downed
twenty-two a numbered set
Push!
break, reset, align...
frost, huff,
Great God of Light reveals our Glory!
breathing...breathing
Field of pain, torn, exhausted,
sweat, rain, mist, colder
as grass-stained; the warrior's drobe.
Situate,
whistle! -stop!
Realign,
Randint, paired, matched to offset...
feign, move
'Eleven-by-Eleven,' storied beget
tension
Forty-Five!
Eighteen!
Okemah!
Rush...
*In the fields herds collide,
as Chaos, Eros, Geron, Adonai,
War portends a losing side?
The cheering throngs cast coronae...*
*Eleven steers to sacrifice,
go they do to God.
The ritual structure to suffice,
Violent nature absorbed by sod.*
BULL *
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 7:54 PM UTC
Well, gentlemen, it all came together in the end there as
you will see when you study the game film later on. You
will notice that we controlled the line of scrimmage during
the entire second half, which is what turned the whole thing
around after falling behind. The way that we mixed it up on
offense, there was no telling where we were going to attack
from. That is what we have struggled with all year long. We
have been inconsistent, to say the least. But I’m sure that you
would all agree that we are starting to jell at just the right time.
Now, after a rough start to the season, it’s on to the playoffs.
Now is when we really need to focus, or it will be “one-and-out”
time. I can guarantee you one thing and one thing only. This
club has yet to reach its full potential. If we can just bang on all
four cylinders from here on out, then we might make a pretty
****** good run at this puppy. Frankly, I’m looking forward to
the challenge; I know that our guys are. They’ve worked their
butts off all year long. Forget about the record. I’ve never been
a real big fan of statistics. There are other factors involved at this
point in the season. It’s been a pleasure, folks. It’s been a long
time coming, and I am sure that this will not be our last rodeo.
Or is it last song and dance? Well, you know. We’ve got more
bulls to ride, and this is going to be like the Calgary Stampede
now. It’s time to saddle up and to man up; that’s all. Giddy up.
Punch them doggies and call in the cavalry. We have arrived!
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 4:52 PM UTC