Is Tim Tebow Ruining My Life? Yes. [California Seething]
OK, so, first, I’d like to apologize to the City of New York, to Rex Ryan, Mark Sanchez and Joe Namath. Most of all, I’d like to apologize to my grandfather.
Why? Well, On March 12, 2012 I wrote “Fuck you Karma- Come and get me!”
On March 23, 2012 the New York Jets got Tim Tebow from the Denver Broncos.
Well played, Karma, well played. You dirty cunt.
So to all my fellow long-suffering Jets fans all around the world, I’m sorry. Oh, poor Fireman Ed, I think I hurt you most of all.
Then again, maybe I’m not to blame for this whole Tebow thing. Maybe that’s just my Jewish Narcissism* talking (*the belief that the world revolves around me so it’s my fault that everything’s wrong with it- it’s like Self Love married Self Loathing and they had baby Guilt. We’ll call him Guilt Cohen. It’s very similar to White Liberal Guilt, actually, except that white people really are responsible for everything wrong with the world, they just blame the Jews and the Mexicans. Cracker ass cracker crackers.)
Maybe, like most alcoholics, my drunk dad finally found Jesus and now he’s all weepy and prayerful in his short sleeved button down shirt and neatly trimmed Evangelical moustache and he uses icky words like “Fellowship” and hugs beefy men and won’t stop preaching about forgiveness and acceptance so he can make us all feel like shit for not forgiving and accepting him right away because after all those decades of abuse and neglect he’s suddenly decided not to be an abusive drunken asshole anymore and we’re just supposed to forgive him for everything and forget it all like it never fucking happened. Or maybe the Jets just want to run the Wildcat. Either way, it’s a shitty decision and it’s NOT MY FAULT.
And I know that everyone is expecting me to be all full of rage about this Tebow thing just because I once punched a developmentally disabled bag-boy in the face for saying that “Tebow’s my buddy” and then crushing my Baked Ruffles with my cranberry juice, which is exactly what Jesus would do if he was a developmentally disabled bag boy at Vons, (five time winner of Southland’s most Developmentally Disabled Supermarket Chain from So What If We Broke Your Eggs? You’ll Shop Here Anyhow Cause You’re Cheap and Lazy Magazine). And, of course, I am known for losing my shit at the drop of a hat (“Hmm. It appears that someone has dropped my hat. How interesting. I WILL GOUGE OUT THEIR EYEBALLS WITH A SPOON.”) But, hey, if the Jets want to pick up a dangerously inconsistent religious fanatic as a backup quarterback to destroy the confidence of their starter, polarize their fan base and flush their future down the toilet, that’s their own damn business- but, seriously, did they have to pick last week to do it? Don’t they know how busy I am? I’ve got one show coming out, another show coming in, a dozen or more events, meetings, projects, random puppeteers in the building, a whirlwind weekend trip to San Francisco – three fucking Brackets all in danger of falling to shit- I don’t have time to be angry about Tebow right now! I’m in the middle of a kitchen renovation for Christ’s sake! Look at this place:
Does this look like the kitchen of a man who can deal Tim Tebow??? There’s nothing fucking there! I washed the dinner plates in the bathroom. I washed a frying pan outside with a garden hose. I broke my last good juice glass trying to wash it in the bathtub and now I’m drinking cranberry juice from a mug. FROM A MUG! How the fuck am I supposed to cope with Tim Tebow on top of all of this? Why can’t the Jets just save up all their crazy, stupid, irresponsible self-destructive crap and do it during FOOTBALL season, when I actually have the energy to actually give a crap? Do they really have to make me miserable year-round? Do they really hate me this much? (SPOILER ALERT: Yes.)
This is just a small sample of all the stuff that’s distracting me from being able to focus on this Tebow crap:
March Madness (What Else?)
Even though I am very proud that I’ve never called Syracuse my hometown, Syracuse University was the closest thing I had to a hometown college team growing up. It may have been located three hours west of me, but it still felt close enough for all of us winter coat & moon-boot wearing losers strung out along the I-90 rust belt from Albany to Buffalo to rally around. The Orangemen kept us warm through a North-Eastern winter that once extended from October to March and now goes from Martin Luther King Day to President’s Day. I even had a small, Syracuse Orange basketball that I played with on my frozen driveway all through the winter, dreaming of the bright hot lights of the Carrier Dome.
So, I guess what I’m saying is that I really needed Syracuse to lose this weekend so that my bracket wouldn’t be completely and totally fucked. I mean, screw those guys anyhow. Orange clad dope-smoking freaks can just bite me. And, yes, I do realize that my mental state has been deteriorating rapidly over the past few weeks- but, hey, they don’t call it Madness because it makes you sane. COME ON SYRACUSE- WHY WON’T YOU LOSE ALREADY!!! I PICKED YOU BASTARDS TO LOSE!!!!! I’m OK. It’s fine. Nobody dropped my hat, did they? Cause I’ll KILL those motherfuckers. That’s my good hat. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go weep in a corner in anticipation of the Final Four.
Fortunately, Syracuse obliged me this weekend by losing- Yeay! Unfortunately, North Carolina totally fucked me up this weekend by losing- Boooo! So now, I’m pretty much guaranteed to lose horribly in my office pool for the seventh year in a row. And, yeah, ok, I’m not going to come in dead last- but honestly I don’t think the person who is in last place really gives a crap because: 1. He picked New Mexico to go all the way and 2. He named his bracket “I Don’t Give a Crap.” And, I don’t know about you, but I think that sort of takes all the fun out of crushing and humiliating him. Like my grandmother always says “apathy is the enemy of schadenfreude” (my grandmother is Friedrich Nietzsche).
So my only hope is that the NCAA will wait until after Kentucky wins the tournament to shut down the program for recruiting violations, so I’ll at least be able to salvage a respectable 12th place finish, tied with brackets “Who Knows”, “Losing Bracket” and “Crash and Burn” but just ahead of “PuppyKittenHeartSparkleSticker” – which I think is Tim Tebow’s bracket so fuck him (Not really, he’s much too developmentally disabled to put together a bracket himself- and besides, God hates fun.)
United States of America
Look, we all love President Lincoln and, at the time, I’m sure it made a lot of sense for him to keep this great country together. But I think we can agree that if he had watched this year’s Republican primaries, he probably wouldn’t have bothered. I mean, why would anyone want to share a country with a state that picks Rick Santorum for President? Think about it- Iowa, North Dakota, Oklahoma, Alabama, Mississippi, Kansas, Louisiana- who fucking needs any of em? And, the Gingrich states, too- Georgia & South Carolina- don’t let the door hit ya where the good lord split ya, that’s what my grandmother always says (my grandmother is Minnie Pearl.) And, sure, we’d have to let go of Colorado, too, so my in-laws would be totally screwed, but, hey, if Tim Tebow can escape to New Jersey, maybe they can, too (God help them.) And I’m sure we could convince the right-wingers to let us hold on to New Orleans, as long we took all the black people with it.
I mean, it’s the perfect solution- instead of one miserable USA, we’d have two happy USA’s- the United States of Awesome and the United States of Ass-foam And sure, life in the bad USA would be a living hell for women, gays, immigrants, Jews, liberals, atheists, minorities, independent thinkers and people who know how to read- but our USA would have candy-ass immigration laws, so we’d just let all the cool people sneak across the border and live happily ever after in Awesome-land and enjoy a life filled with public radio, reusable shopping bags, earnest conversation about climate change and Priuses as far as the eye can see. Huh. That sounds a living hell, too (or the West LA Whole Foods parking lot.) Maybe there can be a third USA- the United States of All The Rest of Us, where we can just kick back with a beer and watch Pawn Stars and basketball and just hope that we die before the world floods and the zombies take over, which of course would be totally my fault. Damn you Guilt Cohen! Don’t blame me, it’s Whitey’s fault! Cracker ass cracker cracker.
Trip to San Francisco and Sonoma
Actually, this was completely delightful. I’m really just putting it in here to rub in that I just came back from a lovely weekend in one of my favorite places in the world and you probably didn’t. Unless, maybe, you did too- in which case- aren’t we both just better than everybody? Cheers!
Uhm, so, yeah, let’s take a quick look at that kitchen again:
And here’s a picture of a bunch of stuff that’s supposed to be in my kitchen and is sitting in my living room instead:
I mean, clearly there’s a lot to say about this, but I’ve got the electrician coming at 7 AM tomorrow and I still need to figure out how to disconnect the oven and move the fridge into the living room and my disconnected garbage disposal is just lying there on the floor like a severed limb, as though my kitchen’s been kidnapped by gangsters and now they’re sending it back to me one piece at a time, until I come up with the cash for the ransom and get the whole thing delivered safe and sound. Only unlike most kidnapping victims who are found dismembered or dead like the Lindbergh baby, my kitchen is going to be returned to me substantially improved like Elizabeth Smart!
But- I’ll save that whole story for my next post, when I can either brag about how brilliantly everything turned out or publish the first angry, rambling suicide note in Fierce & Nerdy history. Tune in April 9th to find out which!
So, yeah, sure, I’m pissed as hell that I can’t cheer for my favorite team this year because they’ve picked up the Santorum of the backfield (is there another byproduct of anal sex that we can call “Tebow”? Come on, Dan Savage, help a brother out.) But, for the reasons I’ve just explained, I really can’t deal with just how much football season is going to suck this year when, God help me, I may actually have to cheer for the Patriots, or at least for massive career ending injuries (where’s a bounty program when you need one?). Actually, what I really hope above all else is that Tebow fails so miserably that the New York Post makes him wish that his mom would have had him scraped out when she still had the chance (“Te-Blows”, “Focus on the Failure”, “God to Gang Groan- Go to Hell”) or, even better, that he gets caught in a midnight raid on Central Park with his pants down, a twelve year old boy and big blobs of “Tebow” all over his crotch (come on, Dan Savage, it just rolls off the tongue!)
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