GENTLEMEN, DON'T "B.S." YOURSELF ON YOUR FITNESS AND DIET NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION

                I thought I would share a little wisdom with all you older guys like me, who might be having visions of running up and down the beach like Apollo Creed and Rocky Balboa did in 1982'a ROCKY III,  with a brand new diet and exercise program for your New Year's Resolution: Especially if you are in your 40's or 50's.
              I seem to BS myself every year with the delusion that I will somehow miraculously recapture the physique I had in 1988. It is almost the end of the year, and yet again, I hardly have the UFC cage fighter physique I envisioned, as I STILL have those same hate handles and C-Cup man boobs I had way back on January 1st of this year. But I didn't realize how fat I was until I had to squeeze into a suit this past week for a Christmas Party. The "Ultimate Truth Teller" for me is ALWAYS when I try to wear a suit I hadn't worn in a year or so. My suit was a absolute pain in the ass and putting the damn thing on was a workout in and of itself. At the end of my dressing myself, I had fat-man beads of sweat on my forehead, sweat in my hot wet arm pits and also sweat in the crack of my ass from putting the damn thing on and it was absolute torture to wear from head to toe.  

               It started off bad from the very beginning:  My T-shirt was snug at the belly, not my pecs and shoulders, my tie felt like a hot scratchy hemp-noose, fully-tight and extended at the gallows around my fat neck and hefty chin: My torso in my dress shirt felt like a giant butterball turkey that was crammed and stuffed into a Ziplock sandwich bag: My belt felt like some sort of S & M device: My pants were so tight, I literally had to button them with the same force of doing crossover-cables at the gym until I could get my belly fat to ooze and settle over my belt, and then hurry and button them: My pant legs felt like I was wearing tourniquets around my thighs.  It is not a good sign of progress of fitness over the past year of if the only article of clothing when wearing a suit that is comfortable is your coat pocket handkerchief. Even my shoes felt like they were made out of wood and had lead plates in them. Hell, even my socks hurt and squeezed my fat toes, feet and ankles.  I couldn't wait to get home to burst out of that damn suit to get in my sweats and double XXL T-shirt to feel fit and slender again. Oh yeah, and all my selfies have to be taken from the neck up with my looking upwards, craning my neck to hide my triple chin and hide the Buddha physique.

              I don't know about you guys,  but what terrifies me most is thinking that I might need to use a dental mirror at age 60 to actually find my penis if my belly gets any bigger. 
        So once again, I am going to try to be like Rocky Balboa and am going to go balls out with diet and exercise until the Fourth of July, where I will look like Mark Wahlberg's stunt double with my shirt off!!!  I should realistically shoot for being brassiere free by the end of the year as opposed to looking like I did in 1988 with fantasies of chicks going gah-gah over me shirtless on Venice Beach. Right now, I look like Jabba The Hut, and that rhymes with GUT. So if you are like me, TIME TO GET IN SHAPE GENTLEMEN!!!!!

                   I have attached two pictures of me in 1988 and in 2015. I have also attached below, my diet for the last 4 months I have stuck diligently to and can't figure out why I haven't lost any  damn weight.  Any help would be greatly appreciated.

BREAKFAST : 1 cup of egg whites, one piece dry Ezekial Toast, 1 cup of black coffee

LUNCH: 1 cup of Kale, one chicken breast, one cup unsweetened iced tea

SNACK: 10 raw almonds

DINNER: One piece of steak, lean and grilled, 4 ounces with 8 boiled asparagus spears.

SNACK: Rest of the 12 ounce bag of almonds, one giant glass of chocolate whole milk. One Pizza from any pizza delivery chain, extra cheese and meats. One 12 pack of Guinness or some kind of microbrew oatmeal stout.

SNACK: One pint of Ben and Jerry's Cookie Dough Ice Cream

SNACK: One plate of nachos with guacamole and a bag of melted Kraft shredded sharp cheddar cheese, and one Diet coke. (Don't leave the 350 degree oven on before you pass out.)

CHRISTIAN MCCAFFREY: THE BEST COLLEGE FOOTBALL PLAYER IN 2015

                     Christian McCaffrey is the best player in college football. I wrote this short blog below a week before the Heisman ceremony, and what I said then is true now. 

       As far as I am concerned, Christian McCaffrey is not only the best all around player and MVP of college football, but is my pick for the Heisman Trophy...WILDCAFF gets Tailgatin' Teddy's vote hands down. It is uncanny how much he has the same character as his dad did 25 years before: Discipline, poise, toughness, reliability, electric big- play ability and that intangible "IT" factor that brings a winning attitude to his entire team for 4 quarters. Off the field he is humble, polite, intelligent, and has an All-American attitude that is a throwback to when athletes truly were role models both on the field and in the classroom. Most importantly, he plays for his TEAM not his own stats, but if you Google his stats, they are absolutely mind-boggling. He just passed the legendary Barry Sanders single-season all purpose yards of 3,250 yards. 
       Christian McCaffrey is pure class and is an ambassador to what collegiate athletics are supposed to embody and represent. What is truly amazing is that he is only a sophomore!! Lisa Sime McCaffrey and Eddie McCaffrey were both tremendous athletes at Stanford themselves, so the entire McCaffrey family is that of winners...Thank you and congrats Christian on a stellar season that is a treat for all of us Stanford fans to watch each and every week.

               Christian did not win the Heisman and was runner-up to Alabama's Derrick Henry. Let it be said that Derrick Henry seems like an outstanding young man and is one heck of a great running back. But the Heisman ballot voters missed their mark with their pick of the best college football player in the nation and what the award is supposed to represent. Let it be also said, that YES, I am certainly biased: I have a peripheral friendship with the McCaffrey family and am also a huge Stanford football fan. (My brother Touchdown Tommy Vardell was a team mate of both Ed McCaffrey, Christian's dad, and current head coach David Shaw, a great wide receiver himself, while HIS dad was defensive coordinator from 1989-1991.)  A little history before I get into why Christian McCaffrey is the best player in college football.
                I am what you would call a "stellar spectacular spectator," hence why my nick name my friend Danny Lavis gave me in 1991,  is "Tailgatin' Teddy." This was after Dennis Green coined my brother "Touchdown Tommy" for his 4 touchdowns against #1 Notre Dame in 1990, (and where Ed, Tommy, David and the unranked Stanford Cardinal, at 1-3, shocked undefeated Notre Dame, 36-31 in South Bend on 10/6/1990.) 
              I watched every Stanford game this year, and watching Christian McCaffrey every play has made me feel like kind of a proud surrogate uncle from all my memories of watching Stanford football: I not only got to watch my brother's Stanford and NFL career over the years, but also got to watch Ed McCaffrey and David Shaw grow and excel in their playing and coaching careers over the past 25 years.
              I met Coach Shaw with Tommy before the Arizona State game when he was the offensive coordinator at Stanford in 2010. I have never met a more smart, cerebral football thinking coach in all my life. He is a man of humble class and quiet confidence with the "thousand yard stare" of cognitive football intelligence and it was a great experience for me as a fan, to hear him talk about the X's and O's of football. I enjoyed watching David as a great wide receiver player for the Cardinal, who made clutch catches against Colorado in 1990 and Cal in 1991 as #84. I just as much enjoy seeing him today, with that small sly smile and poker face, where he is conjuring up the next play as the Stanford head coach on the sidelines. 
               I have met Ed several times over the years, and his lovely, fun and friendly wife (and soccer star Stanford grad) Lisa.  I recently happened to run into Ed in the elevator before the CU/Stanford game just a few weeks ago. Seeing Ed this time around, it wasn't me remembering and reminiscing all the great plays #40 had at Stanford, or #87 for the NFL and Super Bowl Champion Broncos where he made all those clutch catches he trademarked: All I wanted to talk about this time around, was his son #5 Christian McCaffrey and every electric play he had displayed this season. Ed could not have been more gracious and friendly to me, especially since I haven't seen Lisa or Ed since 1993. Unfortunately in 2015,  I have gone from being the brassiere-free semi-handsome, brown-haired older brother of Tommy in 1993,  to a much older, semi-handsome, fully receding gray-haired B-cup middle-aged man with my man-boobs that I developed over the past 25 years. Ed looks like he has spent the last 25 years in one of those anti-aging cryonic tanks, as he looks like he could still strap on the pads and helmet like he did for the Super Bowl in 1998.
             Ed could have very easily had that vacant stare and said to himself,  "TED WHO??" when I approached him: But he was as classy, friendly and nice to me as he was in 1993. He was, and was deservedly so, very proud, that his son Christian was having a stellar 2015 season. (Christian once again, unfortunately, carved up my alma mater Colorado Buffaloes with 220 all purpose yards helping his team on the road to a 42-10 victory in Boulder.)
            The entire McCaffrey is pure class and should have a patent on the athlete/football genetic code of academic and athletic excellence.  (Under the Webster dictionary when one looks up "ALL AMERICAN FAMILY"  there should be a picture of the entire McCaffrey family smiling Olin Mill's style.) If you don't know about the McCaffrey clan, Google it, and you will see about 3,956 pages on their family tree and accomplishments.  
             I found out to my bafflement this week, that many of the Heisman votes were cast BEFORE Christian had even had a chance to light up the scoreboard with his stellar PAC -12 championship game where he tacked on another 416 all purpose yards, a rushing touchdown, and yes, a touchdown pass. Are you kidding me? How can they cast a ballot before seeing how he plays in the ultimate pressure game of the Pac-12 championship? As a West Coast guy, this makes me more angry than the Tree Ents in the Two Towers. That East Coast/ SEC bias was decided before he even got a chance to showcase the apex of his stellar season in the PAC-12 championship. I felt this way when Andrew Luck got snubbed a few years ago and I feel this way now. "WILDCAFF" is the best college football player in 2015 and I have no doubt people will see this in Pasadena on 1/1/2016. 
            This outstanding young man not only is a lethal weapon on special teams, but can pass, throw and run like a cheetah. He is truly the definition of an "X-Factor" with his rabbit like speed, toughness, vision, and competitive spirit: (Oh, and by the way, he is also an honors student at Stanford and happens to play the piano and plays it very well, and not just "Chopsticks.")
            He is the true ace in the hole for the Cardinal and has demonstrated that all season, being a migraine headache for every defensive coordinator he has gone up against.
            Congratulations to the McCaffrey family and especially this outstanding once-in-a-lifetime player, that comes around about MAYBE twice a century. He is a young man that has everything great  that makes him an ambassador for the All-American student athlete. 
           (Oh, one last thing, I saw this morning while having coffee and reading the newspaper that Christian was voted to the All-America Team.)
             I am looking forward to see what this young man does on the Farm these next two years, as he still counts his age in the "teens" as a young sophomore. Congratulations Christian: You make Colorado proud. You make the Vardell family proud, and I know you make your family, your mom Lisa and your dad #40 very proud. 
            Good luck against Iowa in the Rose Bowl Christian and FEAR THE TREE AND #5 MCCAFFREY!!!!!!!!!!!

 

       

                
          

A “BIG GAME” FOR THE AGES: #21 STANFORD vs. #6 CALIFORNIA, 11/23/1991

             There are truly days of Camelot in college football for their players and fans, and as corny as this sounds, sometimes they have fairy tale happy endings as well, especially if it is for your favorite team.

             On 11/23/1991, the Stanford vs. California “Big Game” was the first time in history that both #21 Stanford and #6 California were ranked in the same season and was also the first time the Big Game would be nationally televised in the prime time slot on ABC.  It was a day I will never forget, and as the brother of one of the heroes of this fairy tale story, I would like to tell you my tale through my eyes, from start to finish: So sit back, grab a beer or glass of chocolate milk, and relax and enjoy my story. Before I begin, I need to give a little background as to why this game was so epic.

             ONCE UPON A TIME, in a land far, far away in the West, the Pac-10 was absolutely stacked with tough teams all throughout that 1991 season. The Washington Huskies went on to be the undefeated  #1 1991 National Champions that year, and Stanford, UCLA, and California all ended their seasons ranked in the top 25.

             Stanford began their 1991 season unranked and with one of the toughest schedules in the nation, having to play defending national champion Colorado and highly ranked Notre Dame for their non-conference opponents, in addition to their own cannibalizing conference. Their season started on a horrific note, getting pummeled at home by Washington, 42-7, followed by a loss to unranked Arizona, (on a Dick Tomey last minute fake field goal in Tucson.)  Their next opponent was  the defending national champion and highly ranked Colorado, where Stanford showed true grit and what a great team they had, by upsetting the highly favored Buffaloes 28-21 on the Farm. This huge upset win was short lived, as Stanford once again fell to highly ranked Notre Dame the next week. Sitting at 1-3, the Cardinal’s season looked bleak with road trips to USC, Oregon, Drew Bledsoe and Washington State, and with ranked UCLA and  eventually arch rival Cal visiting Stanford to close out the season. But Stanford had an incredible mid-season  gut  check  and won  6 straight games and earned a # 21 ranking before the Cal game and were one of the hottest teams in the country. The showdown was set between 8-3 Stanford and 9-1 California.

            The Cal Bears started their season red hot, and bullied and spanked every team they played all season, their only blemish a loss to #1 Washington, a game they darn near won in Berkeley. The Bears were crass, confident and cocky.

            I had no idea how heated and how much hatred there was between these two teams and their fans. On the field, Brian Treggs boastfully stated that he would “live in Palo Alto” if the Bears lost to Stanford and Mike Pawlawski  said “I hate Stanford and every thing it stands for. All they do is spend their daddy’s money." Bob Whitfield, Stanford’s anchor on the offensive line, when asked about Tregg’s statement candidly retorted, “He sucks! They may be 9-1, but we are going to bust them up.” Prior to pre-game warm ups, the two teams met at midfield, pointing, strutting and yelling at each other similar the same hatred I saw in that movie Colors, when all the Crips and Bloods converged at the bars in the LA county jail while showing their "colors."

          This hatred the players had for each other spilled over into their fans as well.  I saw countless T-shirts Cal fans wore that exclaimed such lovely things as “STANFUCK” and “FUCK STANFORD.” There were even more brazen displays, as Cal fans defaced a Stanford statue on campus by painting it blue and yellow, and even put a Cal baseball cap on it. They also stenciled yellow painted bear claws all over the stucco walls on the Stanford campus, which both of these acts of vandalism were covertly done in the wee hours of the night before. But when I REALLY saw the true hatred, was prior to the game: Stanford was doing their traditional walk from the Stanford locker room to the stadium called “The Walk,” when these drunken and cowardly Cal fans came to the chain link fence and screamed insulting expletives and threw beer on the Stanford players. The hype and bad blood leading up to this game was a buzz you could feel all throughout the stadium.

               Once inside, all 88,000 fans were sporting their colors as well: Half the stadium was in navy blue and gold, and the other half was in cardinal-red and white. It was a picture perfect, azure skied afternoon at Stanford Stadium and the atmosphere was absolutely electric. Finally, when it was time for kick off, there was a tide of deafening crowd noise that crescendoed when the kicker's foot finally kicked off the 94th meeting between these two schools. The Big Game had officially begun.

               I am going to spare you the play-by play-here and let you see the fantastic highlight video on the link below for yourself which tells what the 88,000 Cal and Stanford fans saw that day. (Simply copy the link below and paste into your browser address window.) What I WILL share with you, however,  are some things I saw personally and within our inner circle.

                Our family, as per tradition before every home game, would go see my brother Tommy at his hotel room prior to his getting on the bus. When I saw him, he had the look of the  “thousand yard stare”. He was almost in a robotic and trance-like state, with this expression of intensity. I have never seen him so focused on what would transpire in the next 5 hours or so. My dad, who played football at Colorado and knows a little about pre-game jitters and intensity himself, was also a trifle bit concerned. He perfectly described Tommy's state as he said, "He looks and feels like a wooden Indian." There was no doubt that this Indian and Cardinal named Tommy Vardell was ready to play: When I saw him later lead his team on “The Walk” into the stadium prior to the game, I extended my fist out to  give him a little non-verbal "fist bump" for good luck as I always do; when his fist hit mine, it felt like an anvil. (This must have been like what Apollo Creed felt when Ivan Drago from Rocky 4 bumped gloves with him prior to his last and fatal fight.) 

               All the Stanford player's families had a very tight knit group who tailgated together, traveled together, watched the games together, and either celebrated victories together or consoled each other in defeat. That day I had my mom and dad, but what made it extra special was I had my two uncles Steve and Don and my cousin Blake who flew in from Texas, my aunt Patty from Colorado, and the great folks like the Baurs, the Lynches and the Whitfields just to name a few at the tailgate and to watch the game with. John Lynch's dad who owned the Mighty 690 in San Diego always through these incredible tailgates, which is where I got the nickname "Tailgatin' Teddy" after "Touchdown Tommy" was coined.

                OK, back to the game. I have NEVER been that nervous as a spectator, especially after all those Saturdays watching that "other" team across the bay all season long and knowing how great they were. But my worry soon turned to delight, as the #21 Stanford Cardinal spanked the #6 Cal Bears 38-21 at the Farm and and beat the Bears with old school smash mouth football. As a fan and spectator at the 50 yard line, to this day, it is the most spectacular football game I have ever seen. I have never been more proud of #44 RB Tommy Vardell, and all his great team mates like TE #83 Turner Baur, G #65 Brian Cassidy,  T #70 Bob Whitfield,  RB #5 Glyn Milburn, RB #26 JJ Lasley, TE #88 Paul Nickel, #18 QB Steve Stenstrom and all those other great players that played stellar on that magical afternoon. ALL of them played the game like a team of pissed off Ents, just like in the movie The Two Towers, as they stomped and smashed the Bears into whimpering bear cubs. Trees indeed.

                 Tommy played like a locomotive at full steam and was like the Energizer Bunny on methamphetamine the entire game, as #44 was unstoppable. I have never been so proud of my brother and his 183 yards and 3 touchdowns. Touchdown Tommy closed out his Stanford season in a happy ending  fairy tale. After the game, with a torn up jersey and blood running down his arm, he was truly the hero riding off into the sunset on the shoulder pads of his fellow Stanford warriors. The axe stayed in Palo Alto yet again.

                To end this story, after gleefully hugging all of my family and Stanford friends after the game, to my parents horror, I, in the spirit of my fellow Cal fans, purchased and wore a "FUCK CAL" T-shirt the rest of the evening and to the celebration at Pudley's that night. Tommy got a standing ovation when we walked in to Pudley's but to this day, I tell everybody it was Tailgatin' Teddy and my "FUCK CAL" T-shirt that got the standing ovation. GO TREES!!!!!! BEAT CAL!!!!! 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=liO4n7rortg

PETS ON POT!!!! A SAD STORY OF CANINES ABUSING CANNABIS IN COLORADO

          The legalization of marijuana here in Colorado has opened up the doggie door on an epidemic of “bad dog behavior” which  is deeply troubling to dog owners all across the state. There have been countless reports of rebellion, disobedience, apathy, and in some cases fatalities; (and yes, tragically, even suspected suicides.) Like their human masters, a great deal of the canine population are now addicted to marijuana use every day, and the horrific consequences are far worse than any humane society or dog owner could have ever envisioned. Dogs can now get their paws on pot infused edible treats that are known in the cannabis canine community with such  slang terms  as “Beggin’ Buds,” “Doggie Dreamz,” “Kanine Kannabis Krunch,” and many other brands of THC infused treats made by humans. Some of these doobie dogs have even figured out how to get into their master’s stash, getting high by drinking bong water,  or smoking or ingesting carelessly placed joints and pipes, or even bags of pot left on the coffee table. Formerly sweet natured, alert, perky dogs have become careless, apathetic, lazy and lethargic. Hopefully this report will help dog owners see what the warning signs are that your dog is abusing marijuana. WARNING: what you are about to read is extremely shocking and sad.

----An 8-year-old Boston Terrier named Spunky died at his home of an apparent lethal case of cotton mouth where he choked to death on an opened and almost full bag of Family Size Nacho Cheese Doritos. The dog's owner, a heavy pot user himself, forgot about the chips he carelessly left on the coffee table and also forgot to fill up Spunky’s water bowl. Spunky was found dead with a giant wad of half eaten and ingested dry Doritos in his mouth and esophagus. Spunky apparently died of extreme dehydration and accidental inhalation of Dorito crumbs. An autopsy showed that Spunky had enough THC in him to get 4 Saint Bernards stoned off their asses and was so dehydrated, that the chewed Doritos had hardened into a cement like ball in his mouth, blocking his air passage which resulted in death from asphyxiation.

----A 9-year-old Chow–Chow named Charlie apparently got a hold of a bag of Kannabis Krunch his owner had carelessly left out and ate the entire bag, over 6 times the amount of the recommended dosage for edibles. Charlie was so stoned, that his already naturally beady eyes were completely swollen shut and he couldn’t see, but yet he escaped his backyard and carelessly walked right out in front of a speeding Greyhound bus while pursuing the tasty smells of a BBQ cart across the street. Charlie was killed instantly and an autopsy said he had copious amounts of THC in his blood and fur…Apparently Charlie had a long history of marijuana abuse and it is believed his munchie cravings  led him blindly into the street, not that he committed suicide by bus, as several witnesses first reported seeing Charlie casually cross the extremely busy street. The owner said it was "a total bummer" of what happened.

---- A 5-year-old Labrador named Larry was at one time a energetic ball of fire who loved chasing a tennis ball and Frisbee at the park and would start barking and wagging his tail enthusiastically the minute he saw either of them being held by his master. He also loved to”shake” and do tricks…Apparently, the owner noticed that  Larry was oversleeping and napping all the time, and showed  total apathy and zero tail wagging when the owner would bring out his Frisbee or tennis ball and would only lie back down in front of the TV when the owner  asked him to do tricks. It worried his owner so much that he took Larry to the park to see if that might lift his spirits. Larry immediately left his master and wandered  over to another group of doggie dudes playing hacky sack, where he stayed for hours as he rebelliously wouldn’t respond to his master’s commands. Finally, Larry had to be put in counseling and obedience school where it was reported he had been truant numerous times and was finally caught by the animal control. While incarcerated, a blood test showed high amounts of THC in his blood.

-----A spry and apparently happy 2-year-old Cocker Spaniel named Sparky apparently ran right out in front of a speeding Fed Ex truck on the highway, committing suicide for no apparent reason. Sparky was completely flattened and had to be scraped off the road for an autopsy where his fur confirmed heavy pot use. The owner said "yeah man, I was smoking a doobie with Sparky when he totally flipped out and started barking and whining and sprinted out in front of that Fed Ex truck."

----- A sweet natured obedient 7-year-old Australian Shepherd named Sammy was fed several marijuana and THC infused CBD treats for his paw pain, and apparently jumped right out the driver's side window of his owner's 1971 WW bus when Sammy smelled the delicious aromas from a street side hot dog cart vendor. Sammy was flattened by an oncoming petroleum truck as he sprinted across the busy street to get a hot dog treat. It was reported as an accident and an autopsy was performed that showed Sammy had 10 times the legal limit of THC in his blood. The owner said his "eyes were totally bogus", and he had thought he was giving him only 10 milligrams when in fact he was accidentally giving Sammy 100 milligrams for his pain each night. The owner has since purchased a pair of John Lennon reading glasses.

----A 15 year old Chihuahua named Paco smokes pot every single day and will not go to bed until his master plays him side one of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon and feeds him an entire bag of Beggin’ Strips Dog Jerky. During the day, Paco does nothing but watch reruns of Scooby Doo and Tom and Jerry cartoons.

            These are only a handful of countless reported incidents that our dog population in Colorado are becoming a generation of Canine Cannabis Creatures. Drug experts believe that horses, cats, pigs, and other animals will be lured into this sad stoned state: Pun intended. Let’s stop this before it becomes a national epidemic. Vote NO on legalizing pot for pets!!!!!!!!!!   

COWARDS WITH KEYBOARDS: THE NEW AGE OF HATCHET JOB JOURNALISM IN FOOTBALL

              This is by no means a slam on professional legitimate sports writers that have integrity, credibility and class. There are many that I respect and admire. This is aimed at those that have none of those admirable traits that are legion today.  I don’t know when  this disturbing trend of hatchet job journalism became  popular but I myself am getting very sick of these mean spirited “journalists” that enjoy writing about the failures, tragedies and disappointments of others. It is everywhere today, these “cowards behind keyboards” that write hateful and hurtful things about the personal lives or careers of others in the limelight that they themselves will never see.  We see it with politics, with celebrities, but nowhere is this more prevalent than in sports, especially football, with articles like “25 BIGGEST HEISMAN FLOPS IN THE NFL OF ALL TIME” that I saw recently.

            I am using this particular title above as an example of a microcosm of a macrocosm of these kinds of "journalists" that have no absolutely no business writing anything at all,  as all of these bozos have zero football credibility to begin with.  They take cheap shots at Heisman Trophy winners but yet not ONE of these pencil-necked  “sports writers” probably even played flag football themselves, let alone know how to throw a spiral. But yet they think that they  are “experts” on these college football standouts and can pontificate about  what “lousy careers” they had in the NFL??? HUH??? Are you kidding me??  

          The questions I want ask these "experts" are: "Excuse me, but who the (fill in the expletive of your choice) are you? Where did YOU play your college football or where did you coach in college? What NFL team did you play for or coach for or scout for that would give you such football omniscience?"

          If some NFL Hall of Famer or an ex-NFL or division one college player wants to write an article like this above,  then they have earned the  RIGHT to and the CREDIBILITY to do so…(Mike Ditka for example has an excellent column where he sometimes criticizes players in the NFL. But the difference is he  has the credentials to do so as a Hall Of Fame NFL player and Super Bowl winning head coach.) The rise of the internet, blogs, tweets, and social media  has given a forum and platform to an army of these malcontents that obviously still have some deep seeded resentment issues for getting picked very last out on the playground for sports. Now they have an "equalizer" in being to be able to lash out at strangers more successful than they will ever be, by verbally sniping them from behind the safety of keyboard on the internet.

           One of these idiots, (who I will not name because I do not want to be a hypocrite myself,)  is a perfect classic example of this and of his ilk: He wrote  a column several years ago about "The Biggest NFL Busts Of All Time" on on a well known sports site. I had never heard of this tool, and just by looking at his picture, I could tell he was the size of a Wizard of Oz munchkin and I knew immediately he had never put on a football helmet himself. Even more laughable was that he wrote  about an age in football in which the era he wrote about, (and after a little research on his biography,) I found out  that he was an 6 year old kid at the time probably still watching Barney, Sesame Street, or the Teletubbies. How can this fool write about a time period 20 years later that he never saw or could possibly understand as an 6 year old child even from a fan's perspective??

            First of all, a Heisman Trophy winner is not a guaranteed ticket to NFL success. Some luckily have had equal stellar NFL careers as they had in their college careers and some have not. But that is beside the point. My question is WHY and for WHAT reason do they want to write about the failures or disappointments of these past Heisman Winners: What is their motive? Did they ever pause to think of the people they are smearing and stop to consider their feelings?? What pleasure does ANY person get by sticking a knife in someone's back by attacking them in the media for the sole intent of hurting them or by trying to immortalize them by embarrassing or humiliating them? Like I said, I think the ONLY thing that explains this, is that these losers were losers themselves in sports and this is their chance to stick it to the letter winners they never were. 

             Second of all, these Heisman Trophy winners were extremely young men coming out of college and I am sure each and every one of them had dreams of being an NFL star and did their very best to succeed.  But the sad truth is some dreams don’t work out. This is true of any NFL player. Some maybe didn’t have the right team or system to excel, some had unfortunate career ending injuries that robbed them of their talent, and others maybe weren’t mature enough to handle the money, the spot light, or the pressure. But these Heisman Trophy winners are ALL winners  as the best player in college football voted by their peers and a panel of credible coaches. 

             I get really angry at seeing their names tarnished by these malevolent  maggots who never even played sports themselves but yet that sit behind a keyboard and criticize a player about a game they don't know anything about nor participated in (or have any kind or any sense of decency and respect.) I would love for these wimps to say the mud they sling to their intended target's faces in person and see how they fare. If there are any losers or busts it is all these trolls that write these tabloid-like turds. 

            I would encourage you as readers, the next time you see some mean spirited article written by one of these cowards of this ilk, shoot them an e-mail and ask them what I said above : “Who the (####) are you? Where did YOU play your college football or where did YOU coach in college? What NFL team did you play for or coach? Please send resume."

STOP THE ABUSE OF FRUITS AND VEGETABLES NOW!!!!!!!!

STOP THE ABUSE OF FRUITS AND VEGETABLES!!!! 
          I saw a shocking two hour documentary called THE GENOCIDE OF FRUITS AND VEGETABLES which was about the horrendous atrocities and horrific treatment of fruits and vegetables; from their birth, to their death, to our dinner table. It was one of the most graphic things I ever watched but is something I will never forget and is something that everybody needs to see.

        In the first segment, they showed workers at Dole and Del Monte literally peeling the skins off of defenseless terrified and sweating oranges while they were still alive. Some were peeled apart and their body parts dismembered into individual slices. Other oranges were absolutely terrified as they were forced into a giant industrial blender, like terrified cattle into an abattoir, to make a giant vat of "orange juice", while some of the more organic ones suffered an even more agonizing death by being literally squeezed to death by sadistic workers who used both their hands in order to say it was "freshly squeezed".

        In the second segment, they showed the horrific treatment of artichokes, and these poor creatures suffer an even more violent and barbaric death than oranges. They are literally scalded alive by 250 degree torrid steam under pressure and then their skins are literally pulled off one layer at a time until the greedy worker gets to the delicacy, the artichoke's "heart." It was harder to watch than the Mayan sacrifices in Apocalypto and I actually almost threw up from seeing the violence of it.

        The third segment was just as upsetting, even though they didn't show their actual deaths of peeling or their being suffocated in bags. But what I saw brought tears of sadness down my face. I saw all of these sadistic, bad-tempered farmers in the middle of the night, bending over these grossly overcrowded carrot gardens and then these innocent sleeping carrots were viciously yanked from their vertical beds underground by their green hair, and then were savagely tossed aside to the ground in huge stacks as if they were invasive weeds.(See photo below I found on the Internet of one of these poor carrots.)... And don't get me started on the daily poisoning weeds suffer each and every day. These hateful chemical warfare farmers spray defenseless weeds with poison that gives them a death of agonizing suffocation with those poisonous fumes. Once you hear the agonizing coughing, rasping and choking weeds emit from their dying mouths, it is not something you will EVER forget.

      In the very last segment, they showed row after row of corn being violently torn from their cocoons as they slept, only to literally have all their body and pubic hair torn out by the roots and then  thrown into a giant pot of scalding hot water by these sadistic green giants. To this day, I do not like people from Nebraska and Iowa as they all condone "corn production."

      I MYSELF have personally seen so many atrocities, the list is infinite: Among a few I have seen are the skulls of innocent coconuts that were hiding from us way up in a tree, only to be shaken down and literally crushed to death with a hammer to eat their brains or stabbed with an icepick to drink their brain juice: I have seen innocent broccoli and asparagus scalded to death by steam and the stench of this atrocity is literally putrid and instantaneous: I have seen red, yellow, and bell peppers thrown against their will completely naked upon 575 degree outdoor grills, where they often receive 2nd and 3rd degree burns, only to be dismembered and then impaled on wooden sticks and eaten: I have seen countless kale and other fruits and vegetables literally thrown into a personal home blender, only to be mutilated with sharp spinning razors into a liquified death that is for something as barbaric as this new trend called "juicing"....THIS CRUELTY CANNOT CONTINUE!!!!!

      This documentary opened my eyes about how terribly fruits and vegetables are treated all over the world, and this has to STOP….Please donate today to PETFV, People for the Ethical Treatment of Fruits and Vegetables.)

      I myself, am going to do my part by eating much more beef, pork, lamb, poultry, fish, and fowl every day.

      

IT IS TIME FOR THERE TO BE A FIRST BORN SON'S HOLIDAY: A FIRST BORN SON'S PERSPECTIVE

     I would like to wish everybody a Happy First Son's Day....Yes.... There SHOULD be a Happy First Born Son's day either the Monday following Mother's Day or the Monday following Father's Day. I have decided to take a stand, and come out and fight for us neglected first born sons from the vantage point of a first born son.

     Mother's Day and Father's Day are wonderful holidays where we cherish our moms and dads. But this exclusivity to just parents is a form of unconscionable child abuse for us first born sons.

     It is time for people to stop turning a blind eye and choosing to be willfully indifferent to the suffering, pain, and gross mistreatment we first born sons have endured for centuries. In the Old Testament, we were sometimes killed just for simply being born first, if God or Pharaoh happened to be a little on the grouchy or cranky side that morning: Most unconscionable of all, we are always the first ones who are literally yanked out from our 9- month slumber and into this cruel, cold world  before any of our cowardly siblings have to venture out. I know from personal experience the horrors of being a first born son and remember it like it was 51 seconds ago, not 51 years. We are the ones to first get spanked, punished, sent to our rooms, and endure all the mistakes our parents make raising us. But the story below tells the tale of why it is so hard to be a first born son and we DESERVE our own holiday to be celebrated. These atrocities started from the day I came out of the womb.
       I was minding my own business, taking a long, warm and comfy 9-month snooze inside my mommy with not a care in the world. In fact, I had a little happy smile on my face, knowing that the thing coiled all around me was going to make me VERY popular with the ladies one of these days. All of a sudden, I was awakened and was violently pulled out of this nice warm jacuzzi and into a frigid-cold Antarctica-like climate, wet and naked. I was terrified, as I saw this GIANT creature looming over me, wearing glasses that made his scowling eyes look HUGE staring down at me. The giant was wearing a light green robe and had the same colored green mask covering his mouth. I then saw other giants in the room wearing those same robes and masks talking amongst themselves in these deafening, low pitch monster voices. I immediately began to cry with fright, and then the next thing I know, the giant with the huge eyes dangles me upside down by my feet and the world turned upside down. He then slaps my bottom, and then lies me down on this FREEZING metal table tray thing, and immediately and completely snips my coiled pride and joy away, tucking the little tiny bit I had left in a hole in my belly. I looked down in horror as I realized that the long, large coiled thing I was so proud of wasn't mine at all!: The tiny nub BELOW my belly was mine, and I immediately began bawling in disappointment and shame at my terrible shortcoming. Finally, to add insult to injury, Dr. Giant decides to make my tiny Little Smokie even smaller, by snipping even MORE away at the tip of my nub, and that is where I lost it and absolutely SHRIEKED. 
      To this day, I want to take a dull, rusty garden snippers to that cruel Dr. Giant and see how HE likes having his Little Smokie snipped with no novacaine!!!! I found out later that that damn thing I was so proud for 9 months was some sort of damn feeding tube called a "nimblical cord" or something like that. It might have been nice if someone could have told me that bit of info from the beginning, so I didn't think I was going to be as well endowed as Dirk Diggler.