As Peter Panda (or was it Kierkegaard?) once said, Don't Forget!

Here's the fake ad again. To me, it's all about the song. In 2009, or whenever the hell that was, that band Kings of Leon was, incredibly, on top of the world. Needless to say, I was unimpressed. They should have planted their flag right on the double yellow line, because they were the rulers of middle-of-the-road-ness. They could have won a RSFPTy for "most average song by a duo or group." Ben & Jerry could have named a flavor after them: Kings of Leon plain vanilla. I remember telling a friend that I wanted to start a band at the time, and she asked what I wanted it to sound like, and I said, "You know Kings of Leon? The exact opposite of that." It was borderline mortifying to me that this was what the world thought of as not only "rock," but the zenith of rock.

One horrible day at work (I was a cube farmer then), the higher-ups treated the staff to some music, and it was the Kings of Leon album. Not since 1992, when I pulled my car over and got out because my friend refused to turn off Snow's "Informer," had I actually pulled an "it's me or this song," and physically left a structure or vehicle in response to the music playing within. The big "hit," or plainest number in the KOL catalog, was "Sex on Fire." The song was about, I don't know, sex being on fire, but all I heard was "it's cool, just stay where you are in life, no need for unnecessary risks, don't get too high or too low... and yaaaaaaaahholll, ya sex is on fiiieeeyehr!" And yet for some reason, I never heard any type of parody or mocking of this goddamn song, until now.

In this fake commercial, that guy sings the forbidden line in such a way that makes me feel like I finally have an anti-Kings of Leon soulmate, somebody who couldn't take it either, and as a bonus is now using it to bring a smile to my face. I can't stop laughing when I hear him do the initial faux-strained-yet-slightly-off-key croon. And when he hits that final, deliberately half-hearted syllable of "fire," I completely lose it and have to start it over and hear the whole thing again. The fact that he changes it to "ranch is on fire" (I had thought "lunch is on fire" at first) is funny too--as is the concept of pizza candles--but for me it really has nothing to do with that. It's all about making fun of that crappy song, knocking it off its throne, albeit several years after anyone has seen or even looked for said throne. It has "saved" the song for me--now, should I ever happened to be forced into hearing it without having the option to vacate the area, I'll imagine the field of foods with the flames racing through, and the glorious takedown that guy pulled on it.

So fine job, singer in that ad. Now I shall go back and replay it a hundred more times in a row.

(In case you don't know the reference, here's the one and only time I'll link to the original. Spoiler alert: it's dogshit.)

I'll let you watch this fake commercial, and you can tell me why you think it's funny, and then tonight I'll tell you why I think it's funny.

The Red Sox supposedly have signed he of his own ladies, Grady Sizemore, to a one-year deal. Dude hasn't played the last two seasons, but I'm all for getting a guy you know has talent and is a bona fide all-star when healthy. Can he even move though? I hope so. This is good because it will make Little Jackie Bradley try that much harder this spring. Hopefully the Grady/Little tandem doesn't lead to errin'/booin'.

Yanks spend $155 million on a grab bag. I'm excited for this. They just keep digging that hole, and in this case it's even better since all they're getting for it is a completely unproven dude. This could be fun.

And it also works out in that this guy was obviously meant to be a Yankee--he could have gone anywhere but his only priority was getting the most money. Of course he'll probably come out and say he always dreamed of wearing pinstripes but we all know that's bullshit.

So their rotation is:

Oprah
Tanaka
Kuroda
Uh...they keep acting like Nova is this guarantee but I'm not buying that yet.
And..Pettitte retired right?

So that's one guy who used to be good but lost his fastball, one guy who's never pitched in the majors, one guy who's good but getting old fast, one guy who's young and hasn't proven shit, and then nobody. I think we're good.

More good news is that we probably don't have to see Arroyo with a non-interlocking arachnid on his chest.

This is from April 10th of last year. Before a Sox-O's game at Fenway. I never did get my photos up from that game. I'll be doing that soon, but in the meantime I figured I'd throw this vid up. Go Ralph!

Dju read this thing yet? It's an article by a self-decribed "wealth addict." Guy made a crap-ton of money on Wall Street, realized the hell it was causing him and others, and finally walked away. The best part is the last paragraph, though. He says what I've been saying for years, that these ultra-rich people shouldn't be fighting to keep every cent (and somehow convincing all the toothless future lottery winners to fight for them), they should be volunteering to give up more since they make more. Especially the ones who are balls-to-the-vault wealthy. But as long as their own street is paved with gold, they don't seem to feel the need to help keep the rest of the streets paved at all. I know some mill-and billionaires are philanthropists, but I'd love it if we got to the point where the news told us the tax-rate on the wealthiest 1% is x but it's more like x + 10 based on how much they voluntarily give back because they realize x is comically low. But....

our culture supports and even lauds the addiction. Look at the magazine covers in any newsstand, plastered with the faces of celebrities and C.E.O.'s; the superrich are our cultural gods. I hope we all confront our part in enabling wealth addicts to exert so much influence over our country.

Me too, buddy.


PS There is one part I'll criticize. When talking about a time in his life when he was big into drugs and booze, he says, referring to his girlfriend:

But even though I was in love with her, when I got drunk I’d sometimes end up with other women.

"End up?" You'd think the Ritalin was actually pulling him inside someone else's apartment as he struggled to wrestle free. You've admitted to the wealth addiction, guy, now admit you willingly cheated on the one you loved back then, too.

I'll get the Super B0wl contest reminder out of the way: If you want in, it's free, and you can win one of four fabulous and/or crappy prizes, so either comment that you're in or e-mail me at Two2067 at aol dot com. Today's the last day to get a special double-stuff entry! I've got about 40 slots to fill.

Okay, so it's time for some winter Fox-Mox, meaning Fox mocking. Remember the play where the 49er gets his leg snapped, and to add literal insult to literal injury, he had actually stripped the ball, held it, and was down, only to have no one notice while he lay dying at the bottom of the pile? Why didn't they show us what happened after he hit the ground? They must have shown the super-slo-mo replay of the strip (which was also the leg bending disgustingly) eight times in a row. At that point we're all like, We believe you, he had the ball and he was down, should be SF ball, but can you show us the part where the other team mysteriously takes the ball back from the poor guy? Didn't you want to know how he lost it? I did. I had to rewind to the original but you couldn't tell much from that wide shot, which also showed another thing they neglected to mention, the ref on the ground and a Seahawk bicycling his legs and crawling around all crazy-like followed by five guys collapsing from exhaustion around the truly injured guy. But with Joe Buck in command, I can see how what we saw wasn't even noticed by the announcers. He also did his classic Buck/Orsillo gun-jumping once, saying "and he will come up...short," only to have the ref signal TD.

And wow, Richard Sherman, what an interview. I had seen a show about how his mom is a rabid fan and never misses a home game, so I was familiar with the guy going in, seemed pretty normal. But he really channel some demonic being at the end there. I see it's already the top story in the NYDN. I guess that will be a big deal over the next few days. I think I won't "open my mouth" about him even in the privacy of my own home until this thing boils over. I also think Erin Andrews will catch more shit for not knowing who he was talking about. CRABTREE!

And the two-minute warning debacle. When that pass landed incomplete, I looked at the clock to see 2:01. Then it clicked down to 2:00. Home cooking, for sure, but come on, they can fix that. But Fox doesn't notice and cuts to the 2MW ad-set. Sure enough, after Discount Dahhble Check switches to the 4-hour erection ad, we suddenly cut back to the field where a play is about to start! The clock is at 2:01. The refs were obviously reviewing the previous clockwork, and put a second back on the clock. Fox got really lucky they made it back in time. And after the next play, I'm no fool, I knew full well I was gonna see the same 2MW commercials we'd just started to see, because in case you're young or something, the 2MW only exists for TV! That's right, it's there as a way to get another set of ads into the game, and to "build tension," as if the six timeouts aren't enough. So the ads you see there are specifically bought for that time slot. So we ended up with a Discount Quadruple Check, and an 8-hour erection.

I thought I was Senor Cool, thinking of how I told you all in December how the summer ticket sale would be January 25th, while the media had to wait for official word from the team, which came Thursday. But then for some reason, I then thought this morning was the day. So I got up at 9:45 and wondered where the VWR was. I even wrote a blog post...but quickly deleted it when I realized I was a week early. BUT, I think my excuse is this: See the screenshot here of the bottom of redsox.com. Look at the third one. It was put there on Thursday and said tickets would go on sale Saturday. Only when you click the link do you see the full headline, which adds, "January 25th." I guess I just figured if they say on Thursday that "tickets go on sale Saturday," it would mean this Saturday! So anyway, the big day is in a week. The urls for individual games still show a noon on-sale but the release says 10, which would be the usual time.

Remember when I used to hate Peyton Manning? In January of '98, when my team was holding him to 134 yards passing on our way to our third national title in four seasons, I was mocking his southern drawl constantly. Then he was a division rival in the pros to both you and me for a few years. The Colts' departure from the AFC East was around the time I lost touch with the Jets and the NFL, but I still loved rooting against Peyton. In '06, he became the first of the Choking Triumvirate to win a title. I was pissed, but unlike with LeBron and A-Rod, once he won, I started to lighten up on the guy. He did that SNL appearance and was funny as fuck, and now I just see him as this goofy guy who makes me laugh and is disliked by Pats fans, making me want to side with him anyway. So here we go again, pretty-boy Yankee-fan superficial guy who nobody would have heard of if it weren't for Mo Lewis against Goofy Peyton. I'm gonna say Denver 37, BB & the Murder Junkies 32, because I'm not a 38-31 type predictor if you haven't figured that out yet. Jesus, who would have thought, there I was in high school in 1991 watching the NFL draft, a year after the Blair Thomas debacle, and we get a new QB in Browning Nagle who also turns out to be a bust, and then Mo Lewis, another Mo on another favorite team to join Mo Vaughn. (In fact, if I wanted to, I could have called my all-time favorite Net, Chris Morris, Mo, too, and then would have had a Mo on each of my favorite-yet-pitiful teams at the same time.) And this other Mo goes and has a nice career, capping it off by knocking out who I called "the most overrated living person, which I'd stress as to not limit it to athlete, only to have this nobody come up and cause me so much discomfort right up to this day in 2014. Sheeeeet. Where was I, I predictably wrote....ah yes, the big game. Yeah, Broncos minus 4. Isn't it weird how people keep talking about how Peyton needs to prove he can win the big one, when he's won a Super Bowl more recently than Brady has?

PS: You have to admit, you Pats fans have had some pretty hilarious losses to end seasons lately that I haven't even mentioned. So I deserve to at least talk about rooting against them now. Maybe I'll shut up again after they lose. But who knows, this could be their year to finally win another Super Bowl by 3 points and talk about IF IF IF weird things hadn't happened they would have won two more while ignoring the fact that IF-cubed other weird things hadn't happened they wouldn't have won any at all. Look, I'm a Jets-turned-No-Team fan, I have nothing else! But honestly, as I always add in small print, I really don't care, I get a free Sno-Cone either way. As long as Eli doesn't win any more. Unless he plays the Pats. But yeah, I don't want to share my 2013 World Series title with another local team, this is our year. Help a brother out, Welker. Oh, and hey, here's a side note about the man who always seems like he's gonna yell at me for not sitting up straight: Belichick's name ends with a -chick. Yet 100% of all people say "Beli-CHECK." Why is that? It's clearly an i.

PS 2, The Squeakuel: Remember, it's all in good fun. My wife's a Pats fan. My dad's a convenient-bandwagon Pats fan. I throw "convenient" in there because in his defense, he did jump on just inches before the Pats won that first Super Bowl. In fact I should be rooting for you jerks because I think he's gonna make like a thousand bucks if they win it all. But I still won't. Though he's welcome to attempt to by fandom on a game-to-game basis if the price is right. Remember to have your Pats spayed or neutered. Oh come on, that's genius. BelichEckian genius? No, because mine would have won something in the past 9 years. One dolla!

*Post Title Explanation: My grandpa called me Bronko from the time I was born, since I was a Buddha-ish baby, and it reminded him of NFL star Bronko Nagurski. The nickname only existed on that side of the extended family, but when my sister started popping out babies, somebody, probably my mom, brought the name back, making my scrawny self "Uncle Bronko" at family gatherings.