In eight illustrated books, elegantly held together in a single beribboned case, McSweeney's Issue 28 explores the state of the fable. For the next two days, it's $5 off. - - - - |
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. - - - - WEEK TWELVE Last week: 12-3
San Diego at Denver — If a guy at a Colorado Springs hardware store, in talking to the clerk about his checking account, utters the phrase "lick my wounds," then San Diego will win by forty points. Prediction: Denver. Indianapolis at Green Bay — If someone in a sportcoat equipped with a hood in Section GG says, "But I kinda liked Lynn Dickey," then the Packers will win on a score that originated from a fake punt in 1924 but is still vaguely being played out on a side street in Shawano. Prediction: Packers. Cleveland at Tennessee — If anyone on the Cleveland Browns eats, within 17 hours of kickoff, custard from a recipe by an old Russian uncle, then Tennessee will win by 36 points. Prediction: Tennessee. Buffalo at Kansas City — If a father in a suburban Kansas City home covertly flushes an omelet down the toilet due to the fact that he thinks his wife is trying to poison him again, because he drank a case of Icehouse beer one night last summer and told her to "Knock that Avon shit off, or else," then Kansas City will win by ten points. Prediction: Kansas City. Carolina at Minnesota — If Minnesota defender John Randle has a daydream about saving a talking otter from a shoddily constructed swingset in New Zealand, and they subsequently hold a big parade for him, let him eat his special chocolate crown, make him a tie out of whipped cream so he has to tuck his chin to his chest to eat it, and offer him a semi full of dumplings, then the Vikings will lose by one point. Prediction: Minnesota. Cincinnati at New England — If a trolley car full of Bengals fans travels to Foxboro, and they hold that town's diminutive mayor (who likes it when peanut butter is stuck to the roof of his mouth) captive with machetes, frozen waffles, and a rope of 20,000 tube socks filled with tarragon, demanding that the Patriots score on themselves, "Just once, at the start of the game," then the Bengals will win. Prediction: New England. Oakland at New Orleans — If a guy in New Orleans looks in his mirror before a date on Saturday night and pretends he's a gangster named Pickles, and lip syncs "Who Let the Dogs Out?" all the way over to his second cousin's house (he's taking her out for a shrimp hoagie), then the game will end in a tie. Prediction: New Orleans. Detroit at New York Giants — If half a row of spectators are annoyed by a guy in sweatpants talking (and obviously lying) to his friend for nearly three quarters of the game about daiquiris and the most passionate night of lovemaking of his life, then I will drag him out of the stands and beat him like an old rag. Prediction: New York Giants. Arizona at Philadelphia — Not worthy of If/Then commentary. Prediction: Philadelphia. New York Jets at Miami — If an ad for an Internet company that offers free Bacos with their standard video delivery service comes on during the first half, then the Jets will turn the ball over nine times in the second half. Prediction: Miami. Atlanta at San Francisco — If the NFL would quit pretending Atlanta is a West Coast team, then I might not have to keep making my special phone calls. Prediction: San Francisco. Dallas at Baltimore — If this game were taking place in 1977 (and involved the Colts, not the Ravens), then I would be there. By the way, I saw brass molds of Roger Staubach's hands in a Dallas hospital over the weekend. And Andre the Giant's, too. Let me just say this: It wouldn't matter if Andre were impotent. Prediction: Baltimore. Jacksonville at Pittsburgh — If a kitchen worker at a Pittsburgh hotel restaurant decides he's not gonna "warsh" his mitts anymore, then Jacksonville deserves to win, but won't. Prediction: Pittsburgh. Washington at St. Louis — If a priest in St. Louis says, "I went to the Irving School, down the road. I got bad ears, 'cause I grew up near the can factory. For a long time they thought I was nuts," at a Friday fish fry, then St. Louis will win by running back a kick that should have been a touchback but wasn't. Prediction: St. Louis. Tampa Bay at Chicago — If a man in the parking lot says, "My ma hates the rain," and no one answers, then the Bears will lose by 21 or more. Prediction: Tampa Bay. - - - - WEEK ELEVEN Last week: 9-6
This year's Presidential election and all its problems have forced me to suggest new rules and regulations (I will call them "regs") for professional football games this week. These regs should help with scoring, and further the understanding of the game for casual spectators. New England at Cleveland — At this game, anyone sitting in the upper deck who is named Darrold or has received a haircut (within the last 45 [forty-five] months) from a man named Darrold (or Darrell) gets to pretend he is either A) a Medieval prince who was unfairly castrated, and is thus entitled to free turkey drumsticks (and hashish where applicable) for the first 4 (four) minutes of each quarter, or B) a loud choo-choo train named "Tim," who can feel free and happy to make train noises when something "good" happens for the team he is rooting for, without fear of taking a cup of warm domestic beer in the back of his head. The something "good" shall be negotiated with a league official 35 (thirty-five) minutes prior to kick-off. Prediction: Cleveland. Green Bay at Tampa Bay — Break. No NFL game revived my fading passion as much as the Green Bay vs. Minnesota contest on Monday night. Thanks. Prediction: Green Bay, stupidly. Cincinnati at Dallas — Any time a field goal is unsuccessfully attempted, the opposing team shall either get 10,000 points, or 5 (five) of its heaviest players will get an unmolested 30 (thirty) yard running start at the helmetless kicker and his children. They may choose to either tackle them, beat them, or "hackle" them. "Hackle" means a really heavy emotional hug. That ought to make the kicker, who will be astonished (presumably), feel better about his big fucking mistake. Prediction: Dallas. Bonus Prediction: Aikman, give it up already. (I know that is not a prediction.) Baltimore at Tennessee — Each man on each team will get to cast his ballot at halftime for who he thinks is the saddest (or ugliest, and "ugly" shall be determined by excessive nostril hairs, pimples, teeth that have not properly been cleaned of plaque, warts, bruises, etc.) player on the other team. If the player votes correctly (to be determined by that team's coach's wife and her female siblings or half or step siblings), he will be known forever as intuitive, and the guys on his team can come to him for marital advice, or just troubles with their babies' mamas, for a period of 3 (three) months. Prediction: Tennessee. Arizona at Minnesota — Each team gets 3 (three) illegal touches and one hammer. The illegal touches are defined as improper bowel grabbing and gestures, but may also include the use of steel wool in the second half. The hammer is only to be used by the defense on pass plays of 30 (thirty) yards or more to receivers over 200 (two hundred) pounds. Pounds shall be referred to by everyone in attendance as "libs." The term "Sexual Rice" may also be used by the losing team in the press conference after the game, without fear of league retribution or financial penalty. Prediction: Minnesota. Philadelphia at Pittsburgh — No new regs for this game. Prediction: Philadelphia. New Orleans at Carolina — All the former governors of either Carolina state who haven't died yet may attend this game for free, provided they wear black watch suspenders and tell 4 (four) jokes about farm machinery that has overturned on a small family of possums, or a mentally-challenged Leprechaun named Oliver who put a hex on a mischievous goat at the State (any state) Fair in 1927. If any team scores exactly 33 (thirty-three) points in 1 (one) half, they get 19 (nineteen) percent of their opponent's (by position) salary, and free boil and cyst removal for 1 (one) year by Dr. Paul Fontaine of Charlotte. Prediction: New Orleans, your Super Bowl Champion. Seattle at Jacksonville — Both of these teams disgust me. Prediction: Seattle, reluctantly. Miami at San Diego — On the Saturday before this game, the hotheaded San Diego quarterbacks (Jim Harbaugh and Ryan Leaf) will be given a lie detector test for no apparent reason other than the fact that it will anger them. Then they will have to drink a mixture of molasses (86%), water (10%) and salt (4%) for liquid refreshment during the game. Every incomplete pass they throw will count as 1 (one) free first down for their opponents. Prediction: Miami by 20. Kansas City at San Francisco — Who cares? Prediction: San Francisco. They will never let Grbac come back for a win. Chicago at Buffalo — In this contest, defensive players from either team who have facial hair shall be awarded half a fumble recovery whenever they converge within 5 (five) yards of a sweep running play in the first and third quarters, regardless of physical contact. Should an offensive player actually fumble on one of these plays, the defensive player with facial hair who recovers it shall be awarded 1.75 fumble recoveries. Any player totaling 5 (five) or more of these new-fangled fumble recoveries in 1 (one) game may redeem them (in certificate form) for sorbet or gelato (that should not be warmer than 31 [thirty-one] degrees Fahrenheit) at Target stores that have a deli that features chilled desserts. Should said player be allergic to a chilled dessert, he may turn it over to the charity of his choice within 72 (seventy-two) hours after his post-game shower, after notifying the league office, his equipment manager and the parents of any and all sick toddlers (age 11 [eleven] months to 5 [five] years) in a surrounding 32 (thirty-two)-mile radius. Prediction: Buffalo. St. Louis at New York Giants — St. Louis will lose. Hopefully Ice-Breakers gum will be given to the first 10,000 fans entering the stadium. That would really be awesome. Prediction: New York Giants. (See initial sentence) New York Jets at Indianapolis — Both teams must not curse, but only use the phrase "bull puckey." All players will be miked and monitored throughout the stands by junior high students who won a contest through a local YMCA. They must also call opponents "show-offs" and one offensive lineman must remain on one of those tricycles with the 41 (forty-one) foot front tire for the second half. If he falls off, it counts as a turnover and 2 (two) points are removed from the trike-faller-offer's team. Prediction: Indianapolis. Oakland at Denver — Any fan spilling any sort of peanut shell or crumb or fluid ounce of ANY beverage shall receive liposuction in an area of the liposucker's choice, in the parking lot following the game. The liposuction will not be optional. Prediction: Denver. Atlanta at Detroit — This contest will be played under the Bobby Ross Exemption Rule. If Detroit loses, Bobby Ross must come back and coach them until he dies. And, yes, he will be under suicide watch. If Atlanta loses, their punter must go to prison for life. His story will be featured on CBS, in prime-time, for the first 8 (eight) months of his sentence. Prediction: Detroit. - - - - WEEK TEN Last week: 7-7
Buffalo at New England — Awkward Phone Conversations During Football Games This Season, Volume One:
Tampa Bay at Atlanta — This game crackles with high-octane intensity. I won't miss it. When I am under the covers on Sunday morning making my to-do list with an old crayon on a cotton handkerchief stolen from the neighbor's laundry, I can only think of one activity that I will be compelled to witness in the afternoon. Save me some Diet Dr. Pepper and Funyuns. I am more fond of that guy who throws the football for Tampa Bay than any other professional sportsman in recent years. What a son-of-a-gun! This game will be played in Hotlanta! So watch out! Prediction: Tampa Bay. Indianapolis at Chicago — Nothing says autumn in Chi-town better than a crisp Sunday afternoon, some sort of brazier cuisine and a solid 1-7 football team. Prediction: Chicago. Baltimore at Cincinnati — Third time's the charm. Prediction: Cincinnati. New York Giants at Cleveland — Awkward Phone Conversations During Football Games This Season, Volume Two:
Miami at Detroit — Prediction: Detroit. Pittsburgh at Tennessee — Prediction: Tennessee. San Francisco at New Orleans — Awkward Conversations During Football Games This Season, Volume Three:
Dallas at Philadelphia — Prediction: Philly. Washington at Arizona — Prediction: Washington. Kansas City at Oakland — Prediction: Oakland. Denver at New York Jets — Let's talk a little bit about New York. Yesterday (and I am under no promotional obligation to write about this) I went to a thing at the Marriott Marquis in Times Square called WhiskeyFest 2000. Now. Jesus. Insanity. Imagine all the white fat guys that you know of who have red faces and heart problems, and like buffets. Now picture them all together, and throw whiskey into the equation. Of course, I brought a female. Nothing says true love like "Wanna go to a whiskey convention?" But we did. I loaded up on lukewarm meatballs and the kind of cheese that tastes like a sick Cocker Spaniel's ears. Then we went to a bunch of little booths. Maker's Mark gave me a free glass but I lost it somewhere. We met a lonesome Scottish guy, wearing the family plaid, doling out the family juice. King's Crest, at 100 proof, was the smoothest. Tasted like water. There was another weird brand that tasted like wet ragg wool socks that was 120 proof. Come to think of it, they all tasted like that. Proof isn't the best gauge for whiskey sampling, but for me, if it is high-proof, that requires less effort on my part. Less lifting and swallowing. Prediction: New York Jets. San Diego at Seattle — Prediction: Seattle Carolina at St. Louis — Prediction: St. Louis Minnesota at Green Bay — Football Books I Have Penned Since 1924: - - - - WEEK NINE Last Week: 10-4. (I forgot to add my Tampa Bay vs. Lions pick, which, to be honest, I would have lost on, 'cause I thought Tampa Bay was due for a win, but now I know that the fix is in. They are trying to play bad. But, who told you the Rams were gonna lose their first game of the season last week? Me.) Season: 74-39. Carolina at Atlanta — The Worst Pep Talks Ever Given, Volume One. Art Gudratz, Pensacola Fighting Shrimp, Pop Warner League, October 19th, 1984. Halftime. "So... don't hang your heads, gang. Let me tell you, briefly, if an abbreviated version can do any justice to this story, about a small panda with a heart as big as a big whale. A whale that exists in the ocean, and probably the cold and shitty part of the ocean, but this is about a panda. And I know we're down by 47 points. And a lot of you got the measles, and irregular body temperatures, and some of your elderly kin were trapped by the hurricane over in the Key Biscayne HoJo's last week, and ended up starving to death, and I know it is hard to cope. But this was the Pequeño Panda of Chapultepec. And he coulda said, 'Oh Jesus Christ, I am just a small little panda stuck in a Mexican zoo, and most of my teeth will probably fall out due to the fact that the zookeeper doesn't watch while little kids are throwing Mexican chocolates into my, err, ahhh... pen, and then I can't resist eating them.' But by the time he got older, that S.O.B. made it onto a postage stamp, and this Mexican John Denver guy had written a song, and he wound up in a nation's hearts, and a lot of foreign language classes in the good ol' U.S. of A., which last time I checked was the best friggin' country on the map, or globe, or whatever. So, it was a clever panda that did it. He solved a bunch of crimes, and had to hide in an attic for a while with his family too, I think, 'cause there were a lot of panda serial killers then, not pandas who were serial killers but serial killers who targeted pandas. And if the Pequeño Panda of Chapultepec were here, in our humble locker room, he would say, 'Listen, you stew-eating bastards, get off your duffs and get out there and make those 47 points back, or Coach Good-Story is gonna have you running windsprints until you puke on the graves of your damn grandparents. Capeesh?'" Prediction: Atlanta. Oakland at San Diego — Prediction: Oakland, your future Super Bowl Champion. Tennessee at Washington — Prediction: Tennessee. New York Jets at Buffalo — The Worst Pep Talks Ever Given, Volume Two. Earl Duffy, St. Alban's Senior High, Carbondale, Illinois, November 12, 1994. Speech given to players at the end of a 0-11 season. "Things could have been worse. A lot worse. There's a certain coach I know, who let's just say, he didn't always ride a boy's bike, if you know what I mean. That wasn't easy. I'm not gonna point any fingers and say who it was, but it was really tough. Because he was born a boy, but his ma didn't want a strapping little toddler swaddled in light blue. She had her mind set on pink. His ma didn't always take her meds back then, and a lot of things that were wrong with his ma's brain hadn't been figured out by modern science. So, it wasn't some kinda mean trick, and he harbors no ill will towards his ma, but she raised him as a broad until he was nine years old. Yeah, nine years, three months, and eight days. Then he got fed up and pushed her down the basement stairs, and the Department of Health and Human Services came and saw him in a dress, and he said, 'Get me outta this dress, I ain't a girl.' Then they got him outta the dress and he lived with a new foster family in a new town, 'cause imagine living in the same small town after you had been made to look girlish for nearly a decade? And things got better after he talked to this one head-shrinker who used a lot of felt hand puppets and had some pretty cool race-car wallpaper in his office. But once he ran into a kid from his old school named Jimmy at a gas station and Jimmy wouldn't shut his yap about how the coach used to be a girl. And the coach sort of snapped, and then the coach had to serve a little time at the old hotel with no windows, if you catch my import. Like two years. And sometimes the coach was made to feel like a girl again there, too. So, then the coach needed to get in touch with some more of his emotions. And now the coach feels pretty damn good. But for a while, it wasn't too pretty. So I wouldn't worry that we lost every game this year." Prediction: New York Jets. Cincinnati at Cleveland — Well, Cincinnati got their one win this year. Prediction: Cleveland. Detroit at Indianapolis — Prediction: Indianapolis. Green Bay at Miami — Green Bay is terrible but they have a hex on Miami coach Dave Wannstedt that can never be lifted. Prediction: Green Bay. Minnesota at Tampa Bay — Now Minnesota will lose their first game of the season. Pittsburgh at Baltimore — The Worst Pep Talks Ever Given, Volume Three. Ward Pullick, Houston Hired Hands, Continental Semi-Pro League, September 6th, 1979. Speech given before game with Austin Sheriffs. "I know some of you have had your difficulties with sheriffs before, but this team, they are not real sheriffs, okay? Can you boys get a handle on that? It is just a mascot. Like we are called the Hired Hands. And I know many of you are, in fact, hired hands off the field, too. Like a lot of you will do chores up at the Old Haunted Mansion this year when it gets close to Halloween and the Jaycees wanna do their show. I'm sure you'll all job on for a couple bucks an hour and then probably blow it all on snuff and booze and poker and whatnot, but... So, when we get on the field there shouldn't be any reason to let these punks incarcerate you. And if they give you that routine where they whisper to you about having a badge when you're at the line of scrimmage, you can't fall for it. Last time we played them, well, if I didn't love you all so much, I would have to say, only a fucking half-wit would fall for that. And some of you just gave them the football, like, 11 or 12 times because of that, and we were subsequently beaten 106-9. You just turned the ball over to them, and then got down on all fours and stayed put while they scored touchdowns. They took their time, too. You didn't see how they waited near the goal line, smoking cigarettes, eating toffee, making out with the football... but I did. And we got that nine points only because we got a TD, and then Carl had the presence of mind to pull out that shiv he made from an old can of Foamy and threaten the ref, and tell him all our extra points were gonna be worth three. That only carries a team so far, fellas. So heads up this week, okay?" Prediction: Baltimore. Philadelphia at New York Giants — Prediction: New York Giants. New Orleans at Arizona — Prediction: Arizona. St. Louis at San Francisco — St. Louis is gonna have some pain, but not in SF. No way. Jacksonville at Dallas — Jacksonville is due, but not this week. Prediction: Dallas. Kansas City at Seattle — KC has an emotional letdown after their huge win last week. Prediction: Seattle. - - - - WEEK EIGHT Last week: 9-5
Forgotten Team Fight Songs and Anthems. Like the "Star Spangled Banner," many team fight songs and anthems contain unanswered questions and weird, depressing pleas. They also contain references to old players and ways of life that are foreign to many of us. These anthems are often sung in odd keys by people with teary eyes and lumps in their throats. The best ones live for decades, maybe even centuries. Here's a look at some of the shorter-lived entries. San Francisco at Carolina — "The Carolina Team Geography Anthem," by Irv Cutledt, 64, a resident of Charlotte, NC. It was written and sung one Sunday morning to the host of an AM radio show who said, "I see your point, Irv," then quickly took another call. Irv was filled with a strange glee. He sat on the couch and wept tears of joy, and picked at his feet which were full of sores on account of the fact he got some new boots and pain was just part of breaking them in. But he was gonna win. Not the boots. Understand? He wasn't gonna take any guff from any new boots. Oh, anyway, at halftime, he called his estranged son Peter, who is a schoolteacher in Springfield, MA. "Guess what, kiddo?" Irv wondered into the phone. "Dad?" "Yeah, anyway, your old man isn't a zero anymore. He sung on the AM sports radio today." "Wha?" "Yeah, it was a song I writ about football and the little border they got dividing the Carolinas into two pieces..." "Yeah?" "Well, my friend, while you're all cozy with that fireplace and Norman Rockwell crap, that border is vanishing, dammit!" "Dad, I thought that you were just gonna move? Like, to lower your blood pressure?" "Yeah, well, as you know, I ain't big on South Carolina, and I ain't gonna let them ride our tails no more." "Dad, this is..." "Just like the time I made the dog walk home from the ice cream parlor? 'Cause he got after my waffle cone? Listen, Peter, someone's gotta take a stand." "I think it is just a marketing tool." "Shut up and listen!" ...and here it is...
Prediction: San Francisco. Buffalo at Minnesota — "The Vikings Won't Budge," by Doris and Stanley Gustavsson, Anoka, MN. 1976.
Prediction: Minnesota. Seattle at Oakland — Prediction: Oakland. Cleveland at Pittsburgh — Prediction: Pittsburgh. Arizona at Dallas — "Arizona Cardinals, Rah!" submitted by Oscar Filendo, 57, of Scottsdale, AZ.
Prediction: Dallas. New Orleans at Atlanta — All I have to say is Outkast, "Stankonia," buy it for your children. Also, come to think of it, "Felt Mountain" by Goldfrapp is amazing, too. It is like David Lynch stuff. Nightmarish. Prediction: New Orleans. Denver at Cincinnati — "Our Bengals" by Harold K. Light and family. Unfinished, but sent by certified mail to the team and never signed for. Harmonica should accompany.
Prediction: Denver. New England at Indianapolis — "We Have Season Tickets" by Dr. Neil Futten
St. Louis at Kansas City — This will be the Rams' first loss. And it will be ugly. Prediction: Kansas City. Washington at Jacksonville — Prediction: Jacksonville. Chicago at Philadelphia — "The Eagles Soar" by Willhelm Travers. Travers was a German exchange student who was ridiculed by his fellow students at Taft High School during the 1991-1992 school year. All the students scorned him, except for Becky, who worked in the library. She would have preferred him a French lad, but Willhelm was German, and 29. Yet he was a high school sophomore. She took him out for malts. He read Freud to her over coagulated fondue. Her father took him to an Eagles game once, but made him pay for part of his ticket and parking. Becky watched the game in the hopes of seeing Willhelm, who reluctantly had his face painted green and silver. But she didn't see him. He was in the bathroom most of the game, composing this song.
Prediction: Philadelphia. Tennessee at Baltimore — "Raven Love" by the Baltimore Junior Fisherman's and Motorcyclist's Club. 1998. Author(s) unknown. It is also unknown whether the "saws" they speak of are fish, or simply lost hardware. The glue part is disturbing as well.
Prediction: Tennessee. Miami at Jets — Prediction: Miami. - - - - WEEK SEVEN Last week: 9-5
San Diego at Buffalo — You can't count on much anymore, but there are two things about this game you know for sure: San Diego has no chance of winning, and I will not watch one single down of this contest. Oakland at Kansas City — Oakland's emotional win, and their almost certain letdown this week at Kansas City, are best expressed in some dialogue from one of my "Save-the-Teens" plays I used to put on for shoplifting adolescents in Nebraska in the '70s. I won some awards for this one, so lookee here.
Mr. Saunders: Good job, Tim.
Jared: I'm Jared.
Mr. Saunders: Don't sass me. You think you'll raise your grade up from an F-minus by talking to me like you would a common wood grub? You're a born flunker.
Jared: Now I am upset with you, Mr. Saunders. I'm gonna go steal a rod and reel from your twin brother's bait shop.
Mr. Saunders: Oh fiddlesticks.
Prediction: Kansas City.
New York Jets at New England — This game meant a lot to everyone early on, but now? No, it doesn't. Prediction: New England.
Carolina at New Orleans — Prediction: New Orleans.
Jacksonville at Tennessees — Prediction: Tennessee.
Dallas at New York Giants — This dialogue will reveal the winner.
Mike, Jr.: How many times is the word "ham" gonna be used on this menu?
Monte: We tried to phrase it in several different fashions, Mike, but when the focus group comes back and says "We're okay with 'ham' a lot on your menu," I can't just go to Duane and say "Mike don't like 'ham' as it exists across the menu several times."
Mike, Jr.: It isn't about my feelings on ham. And you always try to drag me into it.
Monte: I don't get it.
Mike, Jr.: Don't play dumb with me, Monte. If it were about a sole food item, then I'd be letting you know. I just think when you're coming out for a Christmas dinner or something, and you see a place and they keep telling you they got ham, and they don't try to fancy up the vernacular, well then, do you feel fancy?
Monte: Huh?
Mike, Jr.: Like do you feel, "Oh, I'm spending all this money on my family's Christmas meal, and I wind up at a slop house that only wants to 'ham' the shit out of me?"
Monte: No, I guess not.
Mike, Jr.: See, Monte, I've been in the restaurant game for a decade or two. I washed dishes at the Mr. Steak on State St. when I was 14, and I'm being sarcastic about that decade thing, 'cause it is really 25 years, and anyway, people in July, when it is hot, looking over a menu, they just are looking for the salads. The potato salads, the shit with the marshmallows, the icebergs, the houses, and so forth. It is hot. They are distracted.
Monte: Yup.
Mike, Jr.: And they see the ham, but not really. They don't think about our melts, or our griddle plates, or what the bread bowl soups are. They are thinking salads or chilled soups. Or buffet stuff, cold radishes, you know. So when a professional looks at it...
Monte: Like you?
Mike, Jr.: Like me, yes, don't interrupt, I see the ham, and it rings in my neck like a goddam three-alarm fire. So, it ain't ham. Hell, more ham has passed through my bowels, be it in stews, fried, in fricassees, on sandwich bread, on rolls with mayo at weddings, than you've even dreamed of. Prediction: New York.
Cincinnati at Pittsburgh — Prediction: Pittsburgh.
Baltimore at Washington — Prediction: Baltimore. By the way? I-95 from Baltimore to D.C. is a monumental pain is the ass.
Cleveland at Denver — Prediction: Denver.
Indianapolis at Seattle — Prediction: Indianapolis, though they have been slipping.
San Francisco at Green Bay — Prediction: Green Bay.
Philadelphia at Arizona — OK, Eagles fans, I am never picking your team to win again. Seriously. Prediction: Arizona.
Minnesota at Chicago — Everyone should buy a copy of the new Sea and Cake record "Oui." It is on Thrill Jockey. And since that label is from Chicago, I am being bold and saying that yes, the Bears will win in Minnesota on Sunday night. Prediction: Bears.
Atlanta at St. Louis — This is more dialogue.
Denny: Why is the crockpot on my counter?
Mrs. Denny: Where else should I put it?
Denny: You know tonight is the night the guys come over to work on models.
Mrs. Denny: You are 46, Denny. How long is this hobby going to go on for? Our children have eaten gruel for so long their teeth are soft like rotten butter. They couldn't go to college.
Denny: You are the one who encouraged me to get into modeling.
Mrs. Denny: I know, I know.
Denny: Remember when you got into making all that homemade slaw?
Mrs. Denny: No. That was your first wife.
Denny: Well, homemade slaw...
Mrs. Denny: You divorced her 'cause she wouldn't quit.
Denny: But model aircrafts aren't my homemade slaw. My homemade slaw was all them Sears catalogs I wouldn't get out of the garage when we lived on Drummond. My other homemade slaw was that toenail painting fetish I got when I went out west on that business trip and all them weird things happened with my hormones. So, modeling isn't a homemade slaw for me.
Mrs. Denny: Oh Christ, everything becomes a homemade slaw for you. Prediction: St. Louis.
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