[Jacked Up Tavern, parts unknown]

Jack Tatum: Lotsa laughter coming from you two clucking hens. What’s so damn funny?

Kimo von Oelhoffen: Just shootin’ it, Jack. Don’t worry your pretty little head and keep the drinks coming. But, yeah, I think we got a crazy one on our hands here.

Jack Tatum: Yeah?

Kimo von Oelhoffen: Guy tried to take out his own quarterback in practice. HIS OWN GUY! THE STARTER! That’s cold-blooded, kid. I mean, you already got Brady. That alone is enough to earn free drinks here for life. But your own guy? Shoot, it’s like you’re trying to make all of us look bad.

Bernard Pollard: Ha, should’ve seen that bitch’s face. “Ahhhh! What’re you doing! It’s just practice, mannnnn!” [Laughs, takes a shot] Boy done shat he drawers. [Makes farting sound, laughs again] Don’t know what he so worried about. Already got his fat-ass contract for one year of sucking Belichick’s dick. Acts like he actually has a career to ruin.

Kimo von Oelhoffen: Still, I gotta give it to you for even going for that score.

Bernard Pollard: Pfft. Ain’t no thang.

[Door flies open]

(more…)

Henry Louis Gates: Oh, my! What a terrific luncheon! You can’t beat a delicious asparagus frittata AND a spirited discussion of Joe Christmas’ potential biracial identity crisis in “Light in August” with fellow Harvard scholars of international repute! A simply splendid affair. Now, to retire home and compose my letters.

(tries door, is locked)

Oh, dear.

(looks under welcome mat, which is a brilliant weave of green, yellow, and red)

Oh, my goodness.

(feels pockets)

Oh, you can’t be serious. Gates, how could you be so absent-minded! I don’t believe it. Here I am, a distinguished Harvard scholar, and I’ve gone and locked myself out! Talk about irony! Hmm. I wonder if the Worthingtons are home. I remember giving Prissy a key not but a year ago.

(knocks on neighbor’s door)

Oh, dear. Hmm. Well, you know, I always keep that side window open. Perhaps if I were to simply open it up and try shimmying through it, I could manage to get in without causing myself much inconvenience. Okay, Skippy. Time to show the world you’ve got that baller’s mentality!

(opens window, slides through)

Ah. There. Home at last. Well, I can assure you, I’ll never leave home without my WEB DuBois bottle opener keychain again!

(hears noise)

What is that noise?

(door flies open)

(more…)

Titans Fan: It still doesn’t seem real. Even now, a few days after the fact. I just can’t fathom that the greatest player in Titans history is gone forever. It’s not fair. He was someone who gave so much to our team and to our town. For him to be murdered in cold blood, to be taken away from us without warning, is something we’ll never get over. I’ve had a few friends ask me what Steve McNair meant to Nashville. And I tell them, think of what Brett Favre means to Green Bay. Think of what Ted Williams means to Boston. Think about what Mario Lemieux means to Pittsburgh. Even then, I’m not sure you really get a sense of just how strong the bond was between McNair and us. He gave us everything he had, and I only hope that we did the same in return for him.

(knock on door)

Hmm. That’s odd. I wasn’t expecting any visitors…

(door flies open)

(more…)

Before this whole Favre-to-the-Vikes business blew up last week, there was one small piece of news that went unnoticed, due to its seeming lack of significance. Mike Florio of PFT reported that Deanna Favre flew to Green Bay on her own, without her husband in tow. For unknown reasons. What was Deanna doing back in the Brett’s old stomping grounds? The answer will shock and disturb you, as we have at last unearthed a transcript of exactly what occurred.

(more…)