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Now available for preorder:
The San Francisco Panorama
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W E E K L Y   N F L   P I C K S .

SEASON NUMBER TWO,
WEEKS 1-6.

COMPILED BY JEFF JOHNSON

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My whims often set the standard for the rest of the United States. Mormons won't cross the street until I eat a candied yam. Things like that happen all the time. But I exist off the radar, like a quarter in the bottom of an empty beer mug across the service road from a refereeing school in Wichita. But I don't care. Watch and learn.

CURRENT WEEK
WEEKS 7-12

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WEEK SIX

Last week: 10-4
Season: 46-25. (way better than Steve Serby)

I am disgusted with football. Here are some brief excerpts from area business meetings this week.

New Orleans at Chicago — Red's Typesetting, Palatine, IL. Red addressing his employees: Donnie says that a guy from Motorola came in about a memo, and someone says... correction... someone QUOTED, for the kind of memo he wanted, it was only gonna be fourteen cents a page. The first thing I thought was "Wow! Fourteen cents a page! Only a really together company with high volume could begin to make a promise to a guy from Motorola like that." And then I thought of what an unorganized crew of sadsacks I have onboard here, and I realized, "Shoot, we couldn't possibly do that!" And then I was wondering why anyone here would say fourteen cents a page, especially when not more than two weeks ago, Vicki abruptly lost her job an account of the fact that she told someone from Shoney's that we could do a laminated menu for thirty-nine cents a piece? When I say abruptly lost her job, I mean, I like Vicki, but she was fired for that, 'cause she offered the impossible. She basically told Shoney's, "We'll part the Red friggin' Sea for you, and line the pathway with gold doubloons." Now, does anyone see a big trunk full of gold doubloons around here with a "Free - Take a Shitload" sign on it? I don't. And it is not just the money part. To do a job for fourteen cents a page for Motorola would mean more hours than you could dream of. Do you like the "Drew Carey Show"? You wouldn't see it, 'cause you'd be here. Do you watch "Nightline"? You wouldn't see it - you'd be here. So before any of you wisenheimers say "I'm gonna speak on behalf of Red, and jeopardize his whole business and standing in the community," you should ask me first. Prediction: Bears.

Pittsburgh at NY Jets — Toome's Italian Hogie Bakery, East Rutherford, N.J. Ned Saunders addressing his bakers: So, in closing, the point is this, people: I am going to put the hammer down on you until Christmas. More bread equals more bread. Capeesh? I wouldn't be asking you to do anything I wouldn't do myself. And that's because my father-in-law Gus Toome basically handed me this business after his kidney went out, and said "Ned, go to bat," and if going to bat means chewing your asses out for spilling too much yeast, or parking where you and I both know you shouldn't, then I am sorry. You're going to think you're seeing the mean Ned, but what you're really witnessing is the Ned that says, "Hey people, are we going to bake hoagies or is our competition going to bake us, and then potentially eat us for lunch, or dinner, or a midnight snack?" So, let's get on the stick, and wear our aprons with glee, and try laundering them a bit more, and look each other in the faces and say, "My oven's full of freshly baking hoagies. Is yours? And if yours isn't, what might I do to assist you?" And it should be in polite language, 'cause I have heard the f-word a lot, and I'm not going to remind you of what that does to eat away at the guts of a business. Especially a business where it is hot, because of the ovens, already, and people's tempers are often high because of high temperatures. Prediction: NY Jets.

Indianapolis at New England — Prediction: Indianapolis.

Cleveland at Arizona — Prediction: Arizona.

Giants at Atlanta — Mike's Faucet Supply, Atlanta, Georgia. Mike addressing his subordinates: How many of y'all ain't turned in a punch? Y'all forget about your punch, y'all forget about your paycheck. We got a punch on the wall by where you come in. That punch is what y'all should be focussing on when y'all step in here. Instead a lot of y'all is thinkin' where's the hot coffee and rolls and sugary confections? And a lot of y'all is thinkin' has Jimmy been circulatin' his NFL pool around the breakroom? Fuck that. There's a punch, and Becky can't get a read on your hours if y'all don't use the punch. And she ain't no fuckin' magician who says, oh yeah, we owe Tim for 43.5 hours from last week if it ain't appearin' that way on Tim's punch. Why do y'all think businesses have punches? Do y'all know the history of punches? Businesses depend on their workers to use the punch system, 'cause a lot of times society only offers them dumber people to hire. So when y'all hire a dummy, and y'all ain't all dumb, but dumb people ain't got the God-given skills to be honest about givin' their bosses their correct hours, 'cause A) a lot of them besides being dumbshits are cheaters and B) a lot of them ain't good with figurin' numbers and math. So for the last time, take y'all's punch, and use it every time y'all come and go. Prediction: Atlanta.

Buffalo at Miami — Prediction: Miami.

Green Bay at Detroit — Prediction: Detroit.

Tennessee at Cincinnati — Last Sunday, I drove past Aldephia Stadium. The Giants, they were getting pounded by the Titans. I got on a plane instead. But not before I visited Lynchburg, TN, and the 150th B-day celebration of Jack Daniel's on Saturday. I had a rental car. It was tiny. I had a bad cold. My travelling companions and I drove to the top of a hill and joined in a free barbecue. There really aren't two better words in the English language than "free" and "barbecue" other than perhaps "free" and "sex" or "free" and "money," but I digress. The distillery was full of townsfolk, Southern V.I.P's., and forty or fifty different types of law enforcement figures who kept haggling with each other about parking laws. On the way back to Nashville everyone was tired. No one said too much, except when we passed by a country hair salon that was called Brass Scissors. From the back seat I heard, "Brass Scissors? I don't want that. No." Prediction: Tennessee.

Washington at Philadelphia — I know I will regret this, but I think Philly is gonna win.

Denver at San Diego — Janet's Smoothie's, La Jolla. Janet addressing Thomas, a part-time employee: So you been here, like, a week, and Marcia says you've got an issue with our signage? She says you see an error. Like Smoothie's should not be possessor or something? An apostrophe S. Cause what do the smoothies own? Nothing? Well, Shakespeare, it don't really matter, okay? The smoothies own me, 'cause I only work about 55 or 60 hours a week here. And you come in like 15 hours? So, I don't know about you, Professor, but I don't have the loot just to go changing my sign every time an English major comes along and says the spelling is screwy. Your glasses make you look gay, too. Ever notice that? Prediction: Denver.

Oakland at San Francisco — I would love to be at this game. Hiding in a men's room stall. With a taser, and 50 or 60 bibles. I think things would start to change for the better. Prediction: Oakland.

Seattle at Carolina — Snoozefest. Prediction: Carolina.

Baltimore at Jacksonville — Can Jacksonville lose two games in a row at home? The answer is yes. Baltimore will win. Although, I have been doing a Wu Tang Clan story for my other job, and last night I saw Raekwon wearing a Jags' Mark Brunell jersey. He is possibly the only person in the Western Hemisphere who could look cool in that. It has been very difficult to get hold of them all, so e-mail me your best Wu anecdote.

Tampa Bay at Minnesota — Tampa Bay is gonna shock the Vikes in Minneapolis. By winning.

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WEEK FIVE

Last week: 9-5

Season: 36-21

New York Giants at Tennessee — There's a 99% chance that I am traveling to Nashville this weekend. So if there's a God, I will be getting my hot dogs and beer on in a major league fashion at this game. I'm pretty sure I have tickets, but if you got a couple to spare, e-mail me. The day before the game, my journalistic endeavors will lead me to Lynchburg to the 150th birthday celebration of Jack Daniels. I will be bringing a camera. Prediction: Tennessee.

Dallas at Carolina —  If I was Cowboys' back-up QB Randall Cunningham and I was interviewed by NFL.com, this is how it would have gone.

NFL: How disconcerting was it to hear the booing at Texas Stadium on Sunday?

Randall: I still got my paycheck. So, you know, this is my first year here. Probably won't be in the league much longer. What is this, like my ninth team? Actually, they should boo the hell out of Aikman. Did we win at Washington?

NFL: Uh, yes.

Randall: Who was quarterbacking that night?

NFL: You.

Randall: I'm sorry, could you speak up?

NFL: You.

Randall: I was what?

NFL: Quarterbacking. Sweet Jesus. You were quarterbacking.

Randall: Can you remember if we won or not that night?

NFL: Yes, you won.

Randall: And I was playing quarterback?

NFL: And you were playing quarterback. But, you went, if I am correct, ah, 10 for 23.

Randall: So I had 10 completions?

NFL: Yeah.

Randall: And you had, what, zero?

NFL: Yeah, I am not on the team. I do not throw a football.

Randall: So, I had ten whole completions. And my team won the game. And you had zero.

NFL: Yes. But...

Randall: So how many games have we won with Aikman, who is prone to concussions and brittle of bone?

NFL: Zero. Ah, in his defense Randall, the season is young.

Randall: I see your point. But let me just ask you this: how many games have we won with Aikman?

NFL: You just asked me that question. Aren't I doing the interview here?

Randall: I don't know, are you?

NFL: Yes.

Randall: Then quit answering my questions, okay?

NFL: Okay.

Randall: You did it again.

Prediction: Carolina.

Atlanta at Philadelphia — 

From: Walt.Winters@AndersonCarpetKingdom.com
To: Gurglefuzz11@aol.com
Subject: re: Drinks

Lance,
Are you out of your f-in' (they are screening inter-office e-mails cause of some jokes that were forwarded due to nude fotos and swears) mind? My wife all ready got three Tiramisu cakes from Grogan's there's not a chance in hell I am bringing a 6er of Tequiza to Dougs. Doug and his fiance Janet are, without one question, the 2 cheapest fuggs in Philly or Eastern NJ. Who refinanced Dougs patio improvements in Oct of '98er? me, when I was at Kreskin's. Me the junior sales rep, put his ass on the line. there were a lot of things I wanted for my kids that x-mas, since Denise and I were splittin' up, and I wanted to show her I could kick ass on the floor and in the Santa department. but i didn't take my commission cuz Doug needed the break. so these tiramius' are like 18 a pop. times 3-bird. u do the math, dog. Why? cause the eagles are doin' good. sunday night should be special, and you aren't even supposed to be consuming alcohol or even writing about it probably. do you not have an akle bracelit on? yes! is it not because you were driving the wrong way down a one-way blvd.? blind drunk and not getting any commishes cuz all your draws were going to lap dances? yes! then shut your mouth about it. Don is bringin Diet Dr. Pepper for you to drink enjoy and shut up. . You already owe me 50 bucks from Monday night. No-memory-guy. So drive one-way down this memoray lane and remember who the hell comes thru in the clutch, and that is me.

:( ww

To: Walt.Winters@AndersonCarpetKingdom.com
From: Gurglefuzz11@aol.com
Subject: Drinks

Walt,

Can you bring another 6 of Tequiza or some Mickey's Big Mouths to Doug's place for the game Sunday?

--me

Prediction: Philadelphia

Seattle at Kansas City — Dogs that don't exist but should (listed mostly by the geographical area of my desires): Upper Milwaukee Thunder Poodle. Shaolin Water Beagle. Grease Akita. Peruvian Thresh Basset Hound. Tacoma Purse-Snatching Schnauzer. Montreal Lap Dane. Hush Puppy. Alaskan Burrowing Manure Daschund. Waffle-backed Bichon Frise. Pennsylvanian Shar-pei. Ft. Greene Border Corgi. El Paso web-toed Mastiff. Prediction: Kansas City.

Indianapolis at Buffalo — People Who Don't Play in the NFL, but Have the Same Names as NFL Stars, Volume One: Andre Reed, 29, is plagued at the Anchorage UPS office he works at. Every time a new guy is hired, after a couple weeks, when the new guy is getting used to the job, and maybe a bit too comfortable (like when you've been at a job a little while and it is difficult, but after a spell you think you know everything, and you relax and somehow you break open a thing of toner all over your bosses' gabardine trousers because you are being too cocky, and then you feel like a loser for a 6 to 18 month period after that?) anyway, about Andre Reed? Never mind. Prediction: Indianapolis.

Baltimore at Cleveland — The Schizophrenia Bowl. Prediction: Baltimore.

Minnesota at Detroit — Prediction: Minnesota.

San Diego at St. Louis — Since the Rams won the Super Bowl, Troy Ulitts, 20, has flunked out of college and moved home to his parents suburban Sappington split-level ranch home. In that time, he has: 1) Resumed his childhood passion of building cushion and sleeping bag forts behind the rec room couch in the basement. 2) Taken to calling his dad, a 55 year-old efficiency expert at a mausoleum manufacturing plant, "Shorty." 3) Eaten pan pizza from various fast food outlets an average of 5 to 6 nights a week. 4) Gambled with an elderly neighbor. 4a) Called the neighbor a "beeyach" upon losing a bet over a ghost on "General Hospital." It was Maggie. Not Nathan. 5) Gone to blues harp lessons. Once. 6) Scored a confusing metal opera about retired offensive tackle Tony Mandarich and "20/20" reporter John Stossel. 7) Sold some old Pantera CDs to score a quarter ounce. 8) Looked in the classifieds for a used Gran Torino. 9) Purchased "HTML for Dummies." 10) Partied wicked over the 4th with some guys from Outback Steakhouse. Prediction: St. Louis.

Pittsburgh at Jacksonville — Like this is hard. Prediction: Jacksonville.

Miami at Cincinnati — Prediction: Miami.

New England at Denver — Prediction: Denver.

Chicago at Green Bay — Next on Fox: When offenses get castrated. This will be the Bears worst season in a long time. Prediction: Green Bay.

Arizona at San Francisco — 49ers' WR Terrell Owens wins the Jackass of the Season Award for his display of poor sportsmanship in Dallas last week. I know, I know, teams should always act bratty when it comes to facing the Cowboys, but Owens, who ran to midfield, spiked the ball and did the kind of dance a toddler does after getting extra frosting — twice — proved that he is as bratty a competitor as any Cowboy has ever been. *And he just got a one game suspension. Prediction: San Francisco.

Tampa Bay at Washington — Prediction: Tampa will blow their second game in a row.

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WEEK FOUR

Last Week: 9-5

Season: 27-16

Kansas City at Denver — Odd. Denver won on the road last week, and Kansas City scored 42 points in a win at home. I didn't think they'd score 42 points all year. Prediction: Denver.

St. Louis at Atlanta — Forgotten Moments in the Forgotten Football Leagues of America in the 20th Century, Volume One: Linus Vikkers, 38, was a box maker in Brooklyn in 1944. But on weekends he played football for the Ft. Greene Sailors. He played running back, center, guard, quarterback, defensive end, and safety, often simultaneously. Sometimes, since his wife had left him one week into their marriage, and he could afford no baby-sitter, his six children had to ride on his belly during games, "papoose" style, in a modified canvas potato sack. "Don't take pity on my toddlers," he'd yell to an opposing defender, as he tore up the field. Indeed, at season's end his children were covered with welts, bumps, bruises and many of them spent their adult lives either in the courts of our judicial system, or setting small fires on the property of their enemies. But Linus was the real hero. One crisp afternoon, Linus and the Sailors got on the river trolley headed west to play the Weehawken Pigeons. Dwight O'Sullivan was the Pigeons' punter, and he had a wooden leg that was corked like a baseball bat and filled with a light substance (we'll guess it was packing twine) so he could swing it quicker on kicks. Linus didn't think that was fair. His father had given him a jackknife for Easter one year, and Linus used it to sever the cord of his mother's rotary phone. He carried it to the game, and sure enough on fourth down he used it to brain the helmetless O'Sullivan, who spent the rest of his life in a wire cage in a Pennsylvania mental institution reading catalogs from various broom companies. Linus was elected mayor of Brooklyn, which he still is today, even though he is in his 90s. He is currently on sabbatical because he is in the Olympics for fishing reasons. Prediction: St. Louis.

Tennessee at Pittsburgh — Bill Cowher's Fish and Chips is starting to have a nice ring to it. Prediction: Tennessee.

Detroit at Chicago — Forgotten Moments in the Forgotten Football Leagues of America in the 20th Century, Volume 2: Putch Szymanski was a portly high-school dropout who tended to chickens, poodles, homing pigeons, roosters, squirrels, ants, and horses at the Greater Toledo Petting Zoo and Ant Farmery in 1908. But on weekends he played football (and an early version of racquetball that included muskets) for Doc Kelsey's Atoms. He was a quarterback with the mind and determination of a much stronger player than a Q.B., because, as you and I know, Q.B.s are dreadfully fey individuals who'd think nothing of skipping a contest to attend an ice cream social or hand out pamphlets regarding free love at a shopping mall, or to darn the torn stockings of their spouses. The Atoms were playing the Zenia Thinkers. Szymanski was in his own end zone. It was 4th and 32. There was a 62-mile-an-hour wind. A rabid goat had eaten the buttocks out of Putch's wool trousers. The goat was put down and buried at midfield during halftime. All the town had eaten bad penicillin to stave off the effects of a bad batch of ice milk that Ma Zurcher whipped up to stop all the feuding (chewing gum had just been introduced, and was in short supply). Szymanski took the snap from center Ivar Muutdle and threw a fierce bullet into the unprotected face of Zenia nose guard Walter Walters, effectively ending Walters' reign as the town mathematician and coal shoveler. The ball then bounced back into Szymanski's cement-like fists and he ran 100+ yards for the win. Prediction: Chicago.

Philadelphia at New Orleans — Prediction: New Orleans.

Seattle at San Diego — Note to actor Stephen Baldwin: Get out of show business. You are a disgrace. Prediction: Seattle.

San Francisco at Dallas — Forgotten Moments in the Forgotten Football Leagues of America in the 20th Century, Volume 3: Ned Ottke was only 3, but he was a spry and determined boy with a shock of violet hair and when he wanted to win, the Oakland Bee Charmers of 1957 usually won. He thought nothing of chopping down a town's water tower or flying a modified aeroplane into the line of scrimmage just to win a contest. His mother was quite the same. She'd Ben Franklined two previous husbands with a kite, a key, and fresh ink on their wills. For Ned, she often served as a surly decoy, begging from the sideline to change his diaper while he scampered under the legs of an unsuspecting defender for a first down. Sadly, Ned's life took a turn for the worse when he became hooked on Keno in 1988, and spent the remainder of his pension on a failed Echinacea farm in Covina. Prediction: Dallas.

New England at Miami — Forgotten Moments in the Forgotten Football Leagues of America in the 20th Century, Volume 4: Mittens Foster was 86 when he married his long-suffering mule, Oliver. He wasn't big on talking to people (or marrying them, or having sexual relations with them--though it is undocumented whether or not Mittens and Oliver consummated their marriage, which was legal only in his eyes, and those of a few neighbors who had seen the light), but for 53 years he served as the popular place-kicker for the Bozeman Trojans in the Montana-El Paso Jr. Adult League. One stipulation of the league was that all the players travel between Montana and El Paso via bicycle, so it wasn't very popular. They also only served V-8 on the sidelines. It is odd, then, that Mittens Foster gained such a fervent following. He appeared on commercials for used car lots, often in a plaid sport coat (with special toothpick pocket) and eventually directed and starred in the Mittens Foster Revue, which was a weekly public access variety show that was filled with anti-rickets propaganda. It was Foster's long standing belief that the government was trying to sell Montana to Canada, and thought they'd get a better price if most of the citizens had rickets, goiters, scurvy and other ailments usually related to musty shipyards. Prediction: Miami.

Cincinnati at Baltimore — Cincinnati should be shut down for renovations. Prediction: Baltimore.

Green Bay at Arizona — Has anyone heard the new Go-Betweens record, "The Friends of Rachel Worth"? It is awesome. If you've found this web page, you're smart enough to find out more info about them on your own. It is really good stuff. Prediction: Green Bay.

Cleveland at Oakland — Cleveland is scorching now. But they will get stomped by Oakland.

New York Jets at Tampa Bay — This is perfect. I hate Wayne Chrebet. I hate Keyshawn Johnson. I hate Bill Parcells. I hate their new coach, whatever his name is. I hate the Buccaneers. They are like the Creed of the NFL. Or worse, the Backstreet Boys. If they were tough, they would never have abandoned their old uniforms. They are horrifically overrated. But they will send the Jets home in tears. Prediction: Tampa Bay.

Washington at New York Giants — Egads. I fear the Giants will blow this one. Prediction: Washington.

Jacksonville at Indianapolis — Prediction: Indianapolis.

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WEEK THREE

Last Week: 10-4. I cut and didn't paste the New Orleans @ San Diego game.

Season: 18-11.

Cincinnati at Jacksonville — Three weeks ago. Madison Square Garden. AC/DC. One kid and his girlfriend were shepherding a younger brother into the early stages of acute alcohol poisoning, in between bouts of air jamming. The boy was mad happy. Like when you think you might drown, but make it to shore, and you kind of look at the lake or the river or whatever and give it an aghast, smiling "Fuck You! Let's try it again, you watery bastard!" But you don't really mean it, until maybe you've been onshore for a while, eating sour cream and onion potato chips and the sun is burning your shoulders, and you go in again. That's what this kid was doing. Air jamming. Drinking. Violently. Then turning away from the stage and grabbing on to the railing behind him. His eyes were saucers. Then he'd get his wind back and do it again. Prediction: Jacksonville.

Pittsburgh at Cleveland — Once upon a time someone might have cared about this game. Oh sure, they'll still pretend. In Shaker Heights, lawn raking will cease at kick-off. Some kid will spill salsa on a new Tim Couch jersey. Nursing home cooks in Steubenville will let their cabbage soup bubble over. A guy named Meadows will get socked in the mouth because he'll make a disparaging remark about Jerome Bettis and inappropriate use of tapioca pudding. But will the people care? Will the rest of us, outside of the rust belt, even be concerned? No. Prediction: Cleveland.

Tampa Bay at Detroit — Tampa Bay still hasn't proven anything to me. Prediction: Detroit.

Philadelphia at Green Bay — On the top of a hill there was a family that made nothing but waffles. They ran a huge waffle industry. People would come and go from their humble but prosperous waffling establishment with glee and delight. At the bottom of the hill there was a crooked family that only sold the kind of ham that has olives in it. But they weren't really olives. One day... To be continued. Prediction: Green Bay.

San Francisco at St. Louis — Prediction: St. Louis by 75 points.

Buffalo at New York Jets — I wore a thong today. That is more important than this game. No, it wasn't the white patent leather thong that I dream of possibly wearing some day to a cousin's wedding or my own future stalking trial, it was silver and sparkly. My boss made me do it. My day job. I was in a race. The race promoted the awareness of the male thong. It was early a.m. on the busy streets of New York. It embarrassed me, but made me think about a lot of things. It was unexpected. It made me feel courageous, this thong. The way the thong fit was not pleasurable. It was a bit revealing. I felt a little like Rick James or Jimi Hendrix, or Dick Cheney after a hard night of Sharp's and sharp cheddar. It didn't make people unhappy though. It made them laugh. My thinking is this: Why not bring joy to people via thongs, instead of disappointing them like I so often do? Now that that is out of the way, however, I will have to find something else to amuse people with, like this prediction. New York Jets by 1 point.

Atlanta at Carolina — There is a girl at my office building who often dances around by the elevators and has a comically whimsical look in her eyes. In some fables there is always an ogre who hates people who dance or have fun, who mercilessly beats in the brains of the people who enjoy dancing and other light-hearted-express-myself-follies. Then everybody learns a good lesson from the dead dancing martyr. Well, I am here to say that sometimes that person who dances should get the hell kicked out of them for dancing (and at work, no less). Not all the time, but sometimes it is just plain wrong. That sort of malice goes against the grain of my thong episode, but I don't care. Prediction: Carolina.

San Diego at Kansas City — Prediction: Kansas City.

Denver at Oakland — Oakland came up so huge on the road against Indianapolis that they will surely lose this home game.

New York Giants at Chicago — Finally, I will get to see my beloved Bears. I have avoided the sports bars and satellite dishes thus far. I don't watch football in public anymore. I have watched about 6 quarters of football all year long, but this Sunday I am going to wear a felt-helmet, eat a whole pizza in seclusion and tackle my dog on our living room floor. It will be on regular TV. The Bears are only on year 8 or 9 of a 36-year rebuilding process, so I have no faith in them yet. However, this is the perfect game for the Jints to choke. Prediction: Bears.

Minnesota at New England — Prediction: New England.

New Orleans at Seattle — Who can even pick a game like this? Prediction: Seattle.

Baltimore at Miami — My favorite memories of recently pink-slipped IU Hoops coach Bobby Knight are ones that have never happened. I only imagined them on Christmas morning 1991 in a Robitussin-induced haze. 1) Bobby Knight driving a boat while ex-Dolphins coach Jimmy Johnson water-skis. 2) Bobby Knight rolling his eyes in a church pew during a long hymn. 3) Bobby Knight elbowing a guy in the ribs for yawning during a long hymn and asking, "You got something against God, buddy?" 3) Bobby Knight taking the rubber band off his evening paper and making the paper boy do it right. Until dawn. And then asking if the boy thought he might have the hang of it yet. But Bobby Knight never did any of those things. Bobby Knight loved me from a distance. Bobby Knight loved me for sending letters to him and Steve Alford about raining threes on Gene Keady's combover. We'd all laugh by a roaring fireplace and sing carols. Eventually when I tried to start sending all of my 8th grade math homework to the Hoosiers for corrections, Bobby Knight wasn't happy. Oh yeah, that never happened either. Prediction: Miami.

Dallas at Washington — Neon Deion meets Troy Boy on Monday night. Neither one of them will be getting a ring this year. Prediction: Washington.

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WEEK TWO

Last Week: 8-7

I realize how unacceptable the above numbers might seem. Still, if you listened to my advice last week, you would have made enough money to upgrade from an egg sandwich to a ham sandwich if that is your thing. You probably could've changed breads, too. I picked with way too much emotion, however, and that won't be a mistake I will make twice. Cleveland: never again.

New England @ New York Jets — It was a bitter off-season of angry, jowly coaches betraying one another. Hopping from team to team like the nymphomaniacal wives of Lear jet salesmen. They lied to one another, quit, lied to the press, quit, hired stooges to dance the puppet dance for them, and now? Well, this game oughta suck. Prediction: New York Jets.

Dallas @ Arizona — Sources say there is no timetable set for Dallas Q.B. Troy Aikman's return from a concussion. I say there is no timetable set for the Cowboys' first win. Prediction: Arizona.

Giants @ Philadelphia — The Old Salts Chronicles 2000

Old Salts: I think Duce Staley is changing things for us.

The Wife of Old Salts: It was one win, Salts.

Old Salts: I am taking all my speech money and putting it on the line this weekend. Sink or swim. Potamkin Junior High paid me to talk about heating safety. I got fat on my profession.

The Wife of Old Salts: But you got drunk, too. You tackled a guidance counselor. Your profession has given you gout and dirty nails.

Old Salts: He sneezed too close. He sneezes too close to people. It was wet and filled with germs. I still got paid for a powerful speech.

The Wife of Old Salts: You're no public, ah, motivational person. You were struck by a stray turnip. The optometrist said you were lucky.

Old Salts: Lucky or smart. Same difference.

The Wife of Old Salts: Not in this neighborhood.

Old Salts: Hand me the clicker.

The Wife of Old Salts: Why must you groan in church?

Old Salts: My groans are fables in a forbidden language. They are sonnets to my people. (Gestures in front of picture window.)

The Wife of Old Salts: Duce Staley is a short-term cure for a bigger problem.

Old Salts: The bigger problem is my tolerance of your pessimistic attitude. Where's my foam finger?

The Wife of Old Salts: In the oven.

Prediction: Philadelphia.

Oakland @ Indianapolis — Oakland is a bully. Indianapolis is the smart kid winding his way out of a noogie and tattling. Prediction: Indianapolis.

Atlanta @ Denver — Dan Reeves Haiku Winner: Shane Wilson

Reeves laughs, bawdily;
His yachtmates giggle. Punchline:
"She's my wife." Ha ha.

Good job, Shane. Not good enough to ensure the Falcons a second win, though. T-shirt is being Pony Expressed. Prediction: Denver.

Green Bay @ Buffalo — Other Fun Fall Games. "Hirp." Seven Pole Crackies from each squad must wind the Bourbon Mouse around Pole X. Pole X is not to be touched or thought about until nine minutes after the cannon sounds. When the cannon sounds, eight Shoemen from Team A and eight Shoemen from Team B fill out appropriate paperwork. Then call mother. Introduce Bourbon Mouse. Light four wicks. Check on Pole X. Is Pole X solid? Does Pole X know which sack contains Bourbon Mouse? Did Pole X steal Adidas Top Ten's from my friggin' locker in 1987? Has Pigeon been taken to Bank? The rest of Team A and Team B quarrel at Bank. Four members from either team must drive from Bank in a 1967 Mustang, and parade on Main Street. Pick up Warren's boy from wrestling. Ask him to spell wrist and make vodka tonic for driver. Return to Pole X. Prediction: Buffalo.

Cleveland @ Cincinnati — No one has ever adopted my "Cincy is for Sinners" slogan that I think would be perfect for mugs, T-shirts, bumper stickers and the backs of church pews. But the good thing is, in their hearts, the whole town knows it is rotten to the core, and would rather, collectively, do nothing but receive lap dances to .38 Special songs for eternity. Prediction: Cincinnati.

Kansas City @ Tennessee — Fan Secrets 2000. Monte Lupke of Nashville sold his grandmother's ruby earrings for seats to this game. He then sold the tickets for a Denny's uniform. He then donned the uniform, went to Denny's, stole an apple pie from the kitchen, drove home and threw it at his neighbor's poodle Scottie. The poodle was stunned but quickly gobbled the crust. It also enjoyed what a mess the filling made and had a pleasurable time licking it off of his whiskers and torso. Monte has expressed no remorse. His grandmother is still in Anchorage visiting her twin. Prediction: Tennessee.

Carolina @ San Francisco — Reggie White, you are the laughingstock of my cubicle. Prediction: San Francisco.

Chicago @ Tampa Bay — Other Fun Fall Games. "The Running of the Cars." Every Labor Day in Oconomowoc, WI, 32 toddlers are put behind the wheel of 32 fully operational Ford Taurus station wagons. Then they are given the green light to exit Seiler's parking garage and pursue many of the town's older seniors, who've been told there is a street buffet featuring soft potatoes. Sans medication and loving caretakers, the seniors are usually caught off-guard by the reckless and speeding wagons careening at them without regard for life and/or limb. The seniors trot, gallop, or get run over. There aren't many beds for the elderly in Oconomowoc, so it works out okay. Some of the young drivers are hospitalized with fractures and wounds, but others just keep on driving. Prediction: Tampa Bay.

St. Louis @ Seattle — No one must forsake the Super Bowl Champions. Prediction: St. Louis.

Miami @ Minnesota — When I lived in Minneapolis, swarms of Vikings fans would wander into the cozy little liquor store that, by the grace of our savior Jesus Christ, found me suitable for employment. One older couple came in on a Pre-Season Saturday. They had tickets. Wanted beer. Easy enough. They also wanted to talk shop about their squad. I hate the Vikings, but I indulged them. They loved the team but hated Dennis Green. I said "Gee, what could it be? He's taken them to the playoffs like 6 of the last 8 years." That wasn't it. "Um, he's got a great winning percentage." (I didn't have any facts or figures, but I suspected that the squad had only gone below .500 once with Green at the helm, so I had to offer that generic tidbit.) That wasn't it. "He's trying to diet this year, does that bug ya?" They shook their heads. "He's a good drummer, are you jealous?" Nope. What could it be, I wondered? What could an aging, middle class white couple from the suburbs of the Twin Cities have against a successful black head coach of the NFL? I will never know. Prediction: Minnesota.

Jacksonville @ Baltimore — Baltimore has surpassed Jacksonville this season in the role of really good AFC team who no one cares about, and who won't make the Super Bowl. This is their ultimate test. Prediction: Baltimore.

Washington @ Detroit — From the Diaries of Troubled Lions' Fans, Volume One: The way to look at it was there were good Linux programmers and bad Linux programmers. Fuck, it was the same way with milkmen, tree surgeons, priests, you name it. Still, Jed thought this was wrong. The Drambuie was trickling onto the linoleum. All over Trot's whiskers. His X-Acto knife had cheddar cheese on it. Five pictures of his family were missing or smashed. The Caller ID said the Dallas/Ft. Worth area code and 9:15 a.m. They were still there. "I'm from the Department of Semen Resources," how did they ever talk him into saying that? Jesus God. One hour to the airport. Two and a half hour flight. Thirty minutes for baggage. Forty-five minutes home. That gave him a little time to play with. To scour and disinfect. Chip's Ritalin had been cut into lines on a Slash's Snakepit CD case. He had never liked Slash. Especially his belts. The hair in the eyes didn't bug him, but the belts? No thank you. He would believe in God from now on. Sing his praises.

Prediction: Washington (unless this is the season Detroit looks okay, sorta lame even, but pulls that "Another One Bites the Dust" crap like in the early '80s. It could be).

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WEEK ONE

Record: 0-0

Chicago @ Minnesota — A better alternative to this game: An Iranian slide presentation set to lute, "The Trolley Concern," tells the tale of a failed trolley and streetcar strike in Teheran in 1952, and also discourses on various grades of mud in the Puria Delta from 1950-1956 that made trolleying and laying trolley tracks an immense bitch. A bitch, it seems, that was often quelled with sweet liquor, which of course is off limits in Iran. So off limits in fact, that you drink = you lose your hands (or make love to an owl in the town square, free admission). Sadly, only one of the slides shows this though. Questions to follow. Boiled Thorth and Blindtad, two traditional dishes will be served afterwards. Slide show >from 1 p.m. to 6 p.m. Dinner & Questions from 6 p.m. to 6:07 p.m. Mood lighting provided, but no note-taking or snuggling allowed. The Juteback Foyer, Minneapolis Carpet Museum 1401 N. Washington, Minneapolis, MN Prediction: Bears.

Carolina @ Washington — Panther Kevin Greene retired. I have never been happier to write a sentence. Prediction: Washington.

San Francisco @ Atlanta — Forecast: Something smells in Atlanta and it isn't the summer-long tire fire that I started behind the Greyhound station when I couldn't free a Three Musketeers from its vending machine prison. The Falcons have been looking for a respectable way to just give up since training camp started. Losing by 63 points on opening day won't do it, so they will beat the hapless 49ers (who have a trifecta of pure, 24 karat losers at QB) who can't appropriately express themselves on road trips and have issues about setting and accomplishing goals. For your enjoyment: The only Dan Reeves we know is a Dan Reeves steaming on the sidelines with a peptic ulcer and a bionic wince. Send me a haiku about Dan Reeves experiencing irony-free enjoyment, or telling a risqué joke on a yacht, and I will send you an old T-shirt that I cried myself to sleep in one evening last year.

Jacksonville @ Cleveland — Cleveland desperately tried to rid themselves of any man on the roster named Aaron this summer. They did it, but not through legal channels. This will come back to haunt them in November. Prediction: Four geriatric "artistes" will arrive in the parking lot to do those giant-headed caricatures that we all love so much, but they will be scolded and have their chalk confiscated. The Browns will win.

Tennessee @ Buffalo — Labor Day in Buffalo won't be pretty. Prediction: Tennessee.

Indianapolis @ Kansas City — Wasn't Chiefs coach Gunther Cunningham part of the Werner Herzog/Klaus Kinski "My Best Fiend" equation somehow? He resembles a practitioner of erotic magic shows in late '70s Norway. At any rate, I am sure he keeps the showers cold and quite possibly made every one of his players baby-sit a pigeon throughout training camp. That's how he determined who got cut. Any questions? I didn't think so. Key Chiefs acquisition: Tough-ass punter Todd Sauerbrun. But why am I talking about the Chiefs so much? They will lose by 14 points on Sunday.

Detroit @ New Orleans — I went to scout the Saints this year at their training camp in La Crosse, Wisconsin. After an hour, I became disillusioned with the sour play. I scored some opium (which is always easy to come by in Wisconsin) and wandered into the bluffs overlooking the Mississippi. I came across an overgrown cul-de-sac and a garden party hosted by area Jaycees. I sat down and listened to tales of the great white zinfandel wars and key parties of Coulee Region in 1983, where with a swift swing of the foot, the Dr. Scholl's sandals of all the housewives clacked against motel room and den walls as area orthodontists and real estate agents nuzzled their necks, whispered sweet nothings and wrestled them to flowered comforters. The game will not be this sexually charged. Prediction: Saints.

San Diego @ Oakland — Barf. Prediction: Oakland.

Tampa Bay @ New England — No one ever mentions the croup anymore. It wasn't a popular ailment, but then again most ailments aren't. Anyway, let me set the scene: Foxboro, Mass. 1988. Three teenagers. Pep pills. The old Nintendo gaming system. A slumber party. Menthol cigarettes. By Sunday morning, one of those kids wouldn't be going to see the Patriots. A step-father offered, but the boy had contracted the croup. I won't get into the specifics, but let's just say that parental supervision is something that has gone by the wayside in our country. The boy, too careless to prevent his own lungs >from the eerie spread of toxic mucus produced by nicotine, now works (unhappily) at Long John Silvers in Scranton, PA. His real talent, puppetry, is just a dark secret collecting dust in his humid basement. His two companions who went to the game didn't fare much better though. One is a bar back at a place called Sudd's (apostrophe intended) at the Bangor airport, and has a lab with bad hips. And the "smart one" is a comptroller for Toro. His wife is cheating on him. Prediction: Tampa Bay.

Arizona @ New York Giants — The Arizona Cardinals are like a bad family trying to hide all their flaws. They've been firmly entrenched in mediocrity for seasons now. Sure, they fool us once in a while. A playoff appearance is nothing more than dad bringing home a winning lottery ticket, or mom getting a nice haircut. It is swell for a while, but then dad blows all the winnings on a vacuum cleaner-based haircutting attachment and tries to save money by cutting mom's hair that way, and then she eventually goes 10 or 11 years without talking to him and the pastor at church looks at them oddly, but sympathetically. Then one of their kids starts stuffing Hostess Fruit Pies down his soccer shorts at the supermarket and has to be reprimanded, not because he's shoplifting, he's...well, he just likes the feeling it gives him. Prediction: New York Giants.

Baltimore @ Pittsburgh — Muck Ardvuch, 62. From the Big Steelers' Fan Book: I have been going to Steelers games since 1974. Rocky Bleier's kid once threw up on my daughter when she was waitressing at Bennigan's. She was in senior high, but she looked about 23. Well, the Bleier's were sympathetic and got me and my boy into a game or two. My boy didn't know Franco Harris then, and Franco got very mad. Had turf toe, but that wasn't a diagnosable condition then. We was on the sideline for the warm-ups and whatever, but they won big. Usually on Sundays my wife will wake us up for church, and we'll go pray for Bill Cowher, the sorry son-of-a-bitch. Then we'll go for brunch. Brunch, what a fancy word. Why can't ya just say breakfast? I can't have eggs anymore, but you probably don't need to know all of that. Got something wrong with my arms. Usually if I am eating eggs, all the blood doesn't wanna return to my chest and heart area. That coulda been bad cholesterol. LDL or HDL or whatever. But I suspect it happened on the job, on accounta I was always near solvents. Solvents, sure they clean stuff up real nice, but they aren't good for human parts or processes. I always been able to see good, and hear good and get erections, but the blood in my arms gets blue quick, and as a result, like I said, I shouldn't eat eggs if I am planning on driving the family car, or operating a remote control, or fishing or something where you gotta use your arms a lot. I eat pears, and peaches and stuff. Walnuts sometimes. Know what's funny about walnuts? There was a time I had a shelf full of nuts and bolts. Tool objects. Anyway I put a bag of walnuts up there, and would snack on them while I worked. Usually on a lawnmower I had. Anyways, like I was saying, I bit into a washer. This is a steel washer. Like the Steelers, you know. I cracked a molar. Prediction: Steelers.

New York Jets @ Green Bay — Prediction: Green Bay.

Seattle @ Miami — If any game should be playing on 463 Montgomery Ward's television sets while a sulking husband tries on bad cardigans, this is the one. Prediction: Miami.

Philadelphia @ Dallas — Old Salts returns next week. Prediction: Dallas.

Denver @ St.Louis — Denver might feel like they've lost their footing, or grasp on what really matters. They've had crucial players retire and/or get in trouble. They should go to St.Louis with clear heads and proceed to guilt, beg and cajole a win away from the Super Bowl Champion Rams. On the field, they should whine, complain and resort to bizarre tactics like saying "This is what I sound like when I eat soup," right before each snap, or wear special high-thread count patches with Leslie Uggams' face on them, on their sleeves. They shouldn't even think of it as football. At halftime, they should work together in the locker room to settle an old dispute. Then dance. Maybe one of them should drink a Sprite. One should really call that stewardess and apologize for all of those carrot top remarks. Maybe one should call the Rams' locker room and say, "Is there another way to settle this?" or "Can we talk briefly about bordellos in your fair burg?" Then they should go back on the field and get the living shit kicked out of them for the rest of the game. Prediction: St. Louis.

 

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