Tuesday, September 9, 2008

More dead kids....My life is Tom Brady...Prozac for Puppies?...Ike vs. Tina...Palin still the devil....

There is clearly something wrong with all of us. Even those of us who have kids love videos where kids get smashed with bowling balls or something along those lines. So here are two more funny videos, courtesy of Min the Master (a cool breeze with a sick sense of humor) and Miss Dana.




I've often said poker imitates life. Fantasy football also apparently imitates life as well.

So how is my life going? Two word answer:

Tom Brady.

Superstar. Super model dater. Quarterback extraordinaire. Fantasy football god Tom Brady.

Brady was the quarterback on all of my fantasy teams. I built my entire season around him.

And unless you live in another country or don't speak English, you know by now Brady was injured early in the first game of the season and is done. For all of 2008.

My fantasy teams are dead. No hope. Football season is over for me less than a half into the first game.

So if you ask me how I am doing, and I say, "uh, Tom Brady," you will know where I am coming from.

(That seems to be a common answer these days).

Since I have retired from poker and my fantasy teams are doomed, I need a new metaphor for life. Hopefully something that actually has a positive outcome, where you don't get sucked out on the river or your quarterback doesn't die...Any all suggestions are welcome.


So Virtual Val's dog, Domino, is on anti-depressants. Now, Dom is also going to daily doggie daycare because she is down.

With apologies to Val and Dom...depressed dogs? On meds? Really?

I mean, how do you know a dog is depressed? It won't fetch? It stays in its room with its doors locked and never leaves? It doesn't answer its phone when friends call? It won't date? It starts smoking, drinks too much and hides in the closet?

What does a dog have to be depressed about? They get the house to themselves most of the time. Humans cater to their every whim. We rub their bellies. Feed them. Play with them. Do everything they want. Put up with their BS.

Kind of like we do with wives.

Hmmmm...wait a minute. Dom, can I borrow some puppy Prozac?


So Ike is the latest Fear Factor hurricane headed for the coast. As you can probably tell, I am quaking in my boots. After a week of everyone putting the storm's track going straight to Houston, it suddenly has changed and will destroy Brownsville.

No loss there.

I wonder, if there is a Tina, Texas. If so, I suspect Ike will hit that pretty hard. But probably not as hard as the real Ike. (that one courtesy of Julie T)

I suspect Ike will be a bigger blowhard than Obama* (as promised, gratuitous rip job on the Democrats in the interest of fairness).

Should Ike suddenly turn back and destroy Houston, I will be the one sitting on the roof as Armageddon happens around me.


Last blog, we looked at Sarah Palin and how she is really Damien. I am 100 percent convinced I am right about this.

Bad things have been happening to me ever since I wrote that. I lose every hand in poker. My quarterback has been killed. I am afraid, depressed and looking to poach some of Dom's meds.

It's time to fear the Palin. The devil knows I am on to her and is trying to destroy me. Bring it, Damien. I'm not afraid.

But if you back off the bad beats, I will vote for you...

1 comment:

Sandy said...

sorry Fred, the only way to deal with EX's are to hire hitmen (or hitpeople! lol). that is the ONLY way!!! good luck with that!