idiotpruf

The blog that prevents scurvy…as long as you eat orange slices while you read it.

Archive for the month “January, 2015”

Strangers in a Strange Land: The Amarillo Trilogy Part 1

I’m reposting this in honor of Super Bowl weekend:

Frank Reich

Thanks for nothing, Frank.

This the tale of how four young men from western New York came to watch the greatest comeback in NFL playoff history–the Buffalo Bills overcoming of a 32 point deficit against the Houston Oilers–in less than hospitable surrounding; a seedy bar in Texas.

It was noon Texas time, and we were scrambling to find a place to watch the game. We finally stumbled upon a hole-in-the-wall on the outskirts of Amarillo.

We walked into a shadowy bar that if I’m not mistaken, was the setting for Texas Chainsaw Massacre. The atmosphere was dark and murky and we could feel the eyes of the other patrons on us, heavy with suspicion and contempt. The occupants of one table in the back were a particularly grizzled bunch that were reminiscent of the bar scene from Dusk Til Dawn.

Yeah...that looks right.

Yeah…that looks right.

We made our way to the front and took a seat at the bar, where the bartender was describing to the bar’s manager, events from the night before: a handful of fights, a couple of stabbings, limited gun-play.  She would go on to describe it as a typical Saturday night.

Note: I’m not making that up.

As the bartender checked our driver licenses, she eyed us warily.

“Westfield, New York…is that anywhere near Buffalo?”

We told her that it was in fact about sixty miles from Buffalo.

“You’re not Bills fans are you?” She asked with just a touch of petulance in her voice.

We informed her that two of us, Lance and Al, were in fact Bills fans. I told her that I was a Pittsburgh Steelers fan, and one of us, Matt, was actually a Houston Oilers fan (we assumed if things got ugly, Matt would be stabbed last).

“Well, you boys will be okay…as long as the Bills lose,” she said jokingly…but not really.

Note: After hearing that I was a Steelers fan, the manager explained to me in great detail why Texans hate the Pittsburgh Steelers and their fans. The visual aids he used were disturbing.

The game began and the Oilers dominated for the entire first half, taking a 28 to 3 lead into halftime.

With every touchdown the Oilers scored, the mood lightened, the other patrons around us became friendlier and the guys from the back table even seemed magnanimous.

They began to ask us friendly questions:

Does it snow a lot where you live?

It snows tons.

Have you been to Niagara Falls?

Many times.

Are Canadians as polite as people say?

Mostly.

Can you get good chicken wings around there?

Larry’s Cantina in Westfield, New York has the best wings anywhere.

Why don’t you talk like your from New York?

What do you mean?

If you’re from New York, why don’t say things like, “yo” or “yous guys”?

First, we’re not from Yonkers. Second, you’re thinking of Rocky Balboa, a fictional character from Philadelphia.

We were all having a good time, the fear of imminent bodily harm had subsided.

The second half began with Houston scoring another touchdown, increasing their lead to 35 to 3, and things were downright jovial.

Then something odd happened: as Houston kicker, Al Del Greco, was kicking off, the wind shifted the ball in the tee, resulting in a squib kick that went only a few feet, and everything began to change.

Frank Reich began to throw touchdown passes, Warren Moon began to throw interceptions, and the mood in the bar began to shift.

With every play Lance and Al whooped and hollered and slapped high fives, much to the disgust the others around us. At one point Buffalo receiver, Don Beebe, scored a touchdown on a play which he had clearly stepped out of bounds. The anger in the room was growing palpable. The fear of imminent bodily harm had returned with a vengeance.

As Buffalo kicker, Steve Christie, lined up to kick the game winning field goal, Lance and Al were in a state oblivious delirium, I was fearing for life, and Matt was about to experience the phrase “adding insult to injury” in a very literal way, as he was about to watch his team blow the biggest lead in NFL history, and possibly be stabbed in the side of the head.

Matt and I had the following conversation:

Me: Matt, when we came in did those guys at the back table have eye-patches and huge scars on their faces?

Matt: I don’t think so.

Me: I certainly don’t remember that big guy on the right fondling a blood stained machete.

Matt: And wearing a T-shirt that reads: Remember The Alamo: A Great Day Of Victory.

Me: We should get out of here.

Matt: Right away.

I could hear Ennio Morricone music rising in the background. You know, that music from Sergio Leone Spaghetti Westerns, the music that would play just before Jack Elam would be brutally killed (and jukebox wasn’t even plugged in).

"Oh crap, there's that music."

“Oh crap, there’s that music.”

Steve Christie’s kick sailed through the uprights giving the Bills the greatest comeback in NFL history, and we sailed out the door before weaponry could be wielded.

The Buffalo Bills had survived that day, but more importantly, so had we.

Top Ten Other Ways the New England Patriots Cheat

football underinflated

Patriots’ game ball, inflated slightly more than Tom Brady likes it.

#10

Robert Kraft offers a lifetime supply of razors to officials who ‘look the other way’ when they cover the Seahawks’ game balls with super slippery stuff.

#9

Rob Gronkowski is actually a cyborg sent back from the future to kill Sarah Conner.

#8

Tom Brady wears a piece; he’s actually bald a cue ball.

#7

They lace other team’s Gatorade with Viagra.

#6

The New England Patriots’ kicker’s balls are coated with flubber.

#5

Legarrette Blount never passes the joint to the other team.

(Technically this isn’t cheating, but it certainly isn’t polite.)

#4

Snipers.

#3

Bill Belichick had a witch doctor put an ‘interception’ curse on Eli Manning, to keep him out of the Super Bowl.

(It’s working.)

#2

They steal the other team’s playbook, and replace the plays with Venn Diagrams about ninjas.

#1

Tom Brady illegally deflates his game balls; he artificially inflates his jock strap.

addendum

When I said the New England Patriots’ kicker’s balls are coated with flubber, I did mean his testicles.

ninja irs When Russell Wilson drops back to pass, he’ll be looking for the zombie.

Resolve Me? Resolve You: 2015 Edition

calvinAs the new year has arrived, the annual acts of introspection, personal assessment and deep soul-searching are effervescing across the nation, inspiring the populace to acts of self-improvement.

Spurred by these acts of self-improvement, the New Year’s resolutions abound.

Some resolutions are to purge undesirable habits: smoking, picking your nose, being Justin Bieber, punching your idiot uncle in the face.

Some resolutions are to adopt desirable habits: a healthy diet, good hygiene, not being Justin Bieber, punching your idiot uncle in the face.

Note: go ahead and punch your idiot uncle in the face; he has it coming.

Some people resolve to simply approach life with a more positive attitude toward their fellow man, by improving themselves, they feel that they can improve others.

To all of this I have one response: Wake Up! Your fellow man sucks. You’re  awesome, it’s everybody else that needs to change.

To that end, here is 2015’s list of resolutions for others:

  • Don’t walk around on December 31st and say, “see you next year” to everyone you meet.
  • Don’t respond to that guy by poking him in the eyes and saying, “now you won’t” regardless of how appropriate it may seem.
  • If somebody says something you find funny, just laugh like a normal human being, don’t say lol out loud.
  • Don’t pepper your speech with the phrase “that’s what she said” in order to turn every innocuous statement into a double entendre.
  • Don’t pronounce the T in the word often, it’s silent, perhaps you should be also.

Note: I know pronouncing the T in the word often is a small thing, but for some reason it really irritates you.

  • Don’t ride your skateboard in the middle of the street; a skateboard has never won a battle against a Buick.
  • Don’t run around showing people pictures of a footprint that you think is indisputable proof of Bigfoot. Your wife’s sister likes to walk around barefoot, and she has hobbit feet.
  • Don’t name your new mooning garden gnome, Willard.
  • Don’t place your new mooning garden gnome, Willard, facing your neighbor’s kitchen window.
  • Don’t act all surprised when your new mooning garden gnome, Willard, is mysteriously smashed to bits in the middle of the night.
  • Don’t accuse your neighbor of things you can’t prove.
  • Don’t inadvertently set your garage on fire, while attempting to rid it of a hornet’s nest. The result is half of a garage and a cloud of pissed off hornets.
  • If you’re a fireman: don’t cruelly mock someone who’s garage is on fire.
  • If you’re a mime: don’t be.
  • Don’t drive around town in a pick-up truck covered with bullet-hole decals.
  • Don’t drive around town in a pick-up truck with a grill guard that reads: Dirty Harry.
  • Don’t drive around town in a pick-up truck, constantly honking a horn that plays Dixie, when you’ve never lived anywhere but western New York.
  • If the following three resolutions pertain to the same person and pick-up truck, and that person is you, just admit that you’re a jackass.
  • Don’t bring the express lane at the supermarket to a screeching halt by getting into a protracted conversation with the cashier, about your brother Alan. We’re all upset that he’s back in jail, but if you’re on probation you shouldn’t smoke crack.
  • If you’re on probation, don’t smoke crack in your car while driving over the speed limit…or on the sidewalk.
  • Don’t post proof of your probationary violations on Facebook with the description: look what I did.
  • Don’t tweet about your incriminating Facebook post just to make sure that everyone sees it.
  • Don’t drive slowly in the fast lane, you are screwing-up traffic in a profound way.
  • Don’t assure someone that you have beer in your fridge, and then hand them a Natural Light.
  • Don’t try to pretend that Natural Light is anything more than beer flavored water.
  • All babies look the same; put the damn photos away.

Correction: all babies look the same except for your baby; your baby looks like a potato.

  • Everything your child does and says is not precious, unless by precious you mean: annoying beyond the ability to be described with words, and possibly illegal.
  • It’s never good to start a story with the phrase: my child did the most precious thing juvenile court today.
  • Don’t get all pissy when you see something on a list you think may pertain to you; it does pertain to you, learn from it.
  • Finally and simply: don’t pretend you’re not a moron, if you are a moron (you all know who you are).
Willard R.I.P.  We barely knew you.

Willard R.I.P.
We barely knew you.

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