Before I begin, two quickies:
1. To the Tribune and the Times, please deactivate the reader comments section.
2. To the readers compelled to spray-paint your ignorant diarrhea online because you lack the huevos or friends to say it in person, please go back to trash-talking each other on Wizards of Warcraft.
There, better. Now, on to my diarrhea (cha-cha-cha).
Bucs win. The asses left in the seats with four and change in the fourth quarter walked away with less money and pit-stains, but with smiles as well. That said, that was one 3 a.m.-last-call, alone-on-the-dance-floor, fat butt-ugly football game to watch. So goes the season with a C-grade team. We can hang with the D's and F's but will get batted around like a cat on a dead bird by the A's and B's.
Tired of blackouts, Bucs? Note to the marketing team. At least one point in the game while my hand was virtually and perpetually buried in the side of my face with boredom, I mumbled to my buddy Joe, "Damn, at least the cheerleaders are hot."
Indeed, in the spirit of military appreciation and every adult Halloween party you've ever been to, the Tampa Bay Cheerleaders shook their pom-poms in provocative (see: hussy) camouflage uniforms on Sunday. I see weekly theme possibilities. Think of it.
At the next home game on November 14th against the Panthers, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers salute the Catholic High Schools of America.
Recession over.
57 strikes and you're out. Bucs TE Jerramy Stevens stomped a kid's face in high school while a friend used a baseball bat, paid a reported $300,000 settlement to an alleged rape victim in college, crashed into a nursing home in a hit-and-run in 2001, was charged with a DUI in 2003, a DUI in 2007, and two felony drug offenses early Sunday morning, Shrewdly, the Buccaneers have determined that Stevens just may be a liability and cut him from the team. Fool me once, shame on you, says the NFL. Fool me six times and you're a free agent.
Quicker Hits: Coach Raheem Morris proclaims the Bucs "the best team in the NFC," during a press conference Sunday afternoon (odd because Jerramy Stevens' pot had been confiscated before he could get to the team hotel); Michael Clayton joins Jeff Garcia, Jermaine Phillips, Cato June and head coach Jeff Jagodzinski as the newest member of the Omaha Nighthawks of the UFL (Clayton dropped his cell phone upon hearing the news. Not because he was surprised but that he sucks); after the shellacking Tennessee suffered at the hands of Alabama, Volunteers coach Derek Dooley compared his team to the Nazis on D-Day complete with miming a radio and binoculars for illustration (he then quietly excused himself and was last seen slurping a Mai Tai on a beach in Argentina); according to Fox's Jay Glazer, Brett Favre admits leaving uber-seductive voicemails ("Just got done with practice...going back to the hotel and just, just chill. So um, send me a text, uh cause I'll be in the building, um for a couple of hours. Love to have you come over tonight. Um, but uh..." Gives you a case of the vapors, don't it ladies?) but denies sending Jenn Sterger the dick-pics. Having witnessed said pictures, my only conclusion is that Favre may have an argument because there was no gray hair on the old balls as there is on the head that was responsible for three interceptions Sunday night against the Packers. Now if you all will excuse me, I must go scream-vomit.
