Tony Atlas Shrugged: 50 Things I Miss About Dallas

I stayed up ‘til 4:30am writing this crazy thing. It’s a guide to picking a March Madness team for people who know absolutely nothing about college basketball. It’s super-funny, promise: http://thrillist.tumblr.com/post/19236579702/ncaas

You Down with JPP?

There’s actually one more verse to the original song. Seriously. “OPP” is the longest song in the history of the world, and other worlds too, assuming that even if there is life on other worlds, that life hasn’t advanced enough to write really long songs about hitting it with your girlfriend’s girlfriend. So here’s two-thirds of “OPP”, converted into “JPP” (Jason Pierre-Paul — if you don’t know, now you know):

Army with harmony
Dave Tollefson, drop a load on ‘em

JPP, how can I explain it
6’5” is how I’d frame it
81 inches is how he’s wingin’ it
J is for the Jason, P is for Pierre like a Frenchman
The last P, well, it’s one of Jesus’ henchman
It’s sort of like a way to say another Umenyiora
He holds the edge so Canty can destroy-ya, here

You get on occasion at the Super party
For the win ‘n it seems I gotta start to back flippin’
Bust it

You ever had a prospect and met him at South Florida
You get his name and number at the Combine he just floors ya
You show up, at draft day, and you want to take him in Round One
Even though he started at the College of the Canyons
Todd McShay says he’s long, L to the O to the N to the G to a bonus G
It’s just his bench press isn’t great (Boy, no Mike Mamul-ey)
It’s JPP, time Jason-Pierre ran the 40
There’s no room for second thoughts, kid just clocked a 4.6 see
How many coaches out there know just what I’m gettin’ at
Who thinks it’s wrong ‘cos I’m ridin’ where his upside’s at
Well if you do, that’s JPP and you’re not draftin’ it
But if you don’t, Derrick Morgan slips

Chorus:
You down with JPP (Yeah you know me) 3X
Who’s down with JPP (Every last Osi)
You down with JPP (Yeah you know me) 3X
Who’s down with JPP (All Coughlin’s homies)

As for the Giants, JPP means something baller
The first two seasons 21 times that he’s planted signal callers
His potential, torrential, damn, it’s exponential
His next contract will be fatter but let’s keep that confidential
I won’t get into that, I’ll do it…ah, sorta properly
I say you can’t block…him…if you’re Derrick Dockery
Now Tiki, here comes a kiss, blow a kiss back to me, now tell me exactly
Have you ever faced a kicker who kicks a football like too low for the three
And just had to stop tell the football hey this ride’s not free
You looked at it, it looked at you, and you knew right away
That his soccer style, it just wasn’t gonna save the day
You put up your big ass mitts stopped that ball right in midair
Cuz a Bailey gets creamed even when his coach don’t call a Double Dare
When the game is finished, then the whole wide world says damn
Is what we’re looking at even better than a Strahan
Now don’t be shocked if you’re down cuz I want your hands up high
Say JPP (JPP) I like to say with pride
Now when you’re sleepy, when you sleepy during Sunday shows
Think of JP as your NoDoz

Chorus:
You down with JPP (Yeah you know me) 3X
Who’s down with JPP (Every last Osi)
You down with JPP (Yeah you know me) 3X
Who’s down with JPP (All Mara’s homies)

My songwriting career is really taking off. For instance, last night I was watching The Bachelor, when Courtney (the model with the forehead vaguely reminiscent of the doctor lady from Melrose Place) said one of the most amazing things ever said by anyone, anywhere, anytime: “I’m a nice person, don’t fuck with me.” Of course that would make for a terrible song title, so I changed it to “I’m a nice girl, don’t fuck with me,” which is an excellent song title. If any of you are Top 40 pop divas, let’s make this happen.

I’m a nice girl
(don’t fuck with me)
My advice girl
(don’t fuck with me)
Or my bad side’s
Gonna fuck with you
If you’re not a nice girl too

Bitches stabbin’ backs cuz they don’t understand
I’m a nice girl!
It’s not my fault, that I’m in demand
I’m a nice girl!
I’ve always had a boyfriend, cuz I’m hard to resist
I’m a nice girl!
If you’ve got a problem, see your therapist

I’m a nice girl
(don’t fuck with me)
My advice girl
(don’t fuck with me)
Or my bad side’s
Gonna fuck with you
If you’re not a nice girl too

I’ll accept this rose cuz I know I’m the one
I’m a nice girl!
I’m comfortable with men cuz they think I’m so fun
I’m a nice girl!
I take whatever’s mine but I can still be sweet
I’m a nice girl!
Catchin’ all the fish, skinny dip, can’t be beat

Winning

I’m a nice girl
(don’t fuck with me)
My advice girl
(don’t fuck with me)
Or my bad side’s
Gonna fuck with you
If you’re not a nice girl too

Why I’m a Tebow Hater

I’m finally ready to start posting again. I’ve got a big-ass story about a trip to Virginia searching for moonshine that I’ll post in installments. For now, here’s way too many words about why I hate Tim Tebow, which I feel perfectly comfortable sharing, because so many others have wasted way too many words explaining why they love him, and why people who hate him have some sort of character flaw. I might continue to edit and add to this, because it’s Monday and I can’t face real work.

1) I hate Tebow because I believe that the mentality behind the Tebow ministry is the same one that characterized missionary groups from earlier eras responsible for the senseless deaths of thousands, if not millions. I am firmly convinced that, if they lived in a different century, the Tebow family would do things like stand by and watch an entire village of heathens to be slaughtered by Christian forces, then later tell other missionaries how difficult it was to watch, but hey, it was God’s will. I have no proof of this, other than reading the Tebow ministry’s website (the current one, and the one they replaced with the current one after too many people started reading it and noticing how f’d up it was) and puking in my mouth just a little bit. It’s mostly a matter of faith, so I guess that means you can’t argue against me. Tough shit.
2) I hate Tebow because I don’t trust men who cut the foreskins off penises belonging to little boys over the age of, say, 8 days. Even if those tips really needed to come off (dubious), I also don’t trust do-gooders who insist on preaching before the doing of the good. Just lead by the example of your open heart and amateur scalpel technique, and if the grateful flock re-approaches you after you’ve finished and asks what drove you to such a selfless act of pecker-snipping, then you can start talking about Jebus.
3) I hate Tebow because I respect good defense. I don’t like it when idiots who know nothing about football attribute victory to the quarterback when it rightly belongs to the defense. I especially don’t like it when idiots who know nothing about football attribute victory to the quarterback’s relationship with Jesus when it rightly belongs to the defense. If you think “Tebow Time” actually exists without a great defense keeping things absurdly close for the other 53 minutes of the game, you are a terrible person.
4) I hate Tebow because every fucking time some jerk-off talks about how even Denver’s defense has been uplifted by Tebow’s leadership, I think “Really? Brian Fucking Dawkins wasn’t providing enough leadership?” At this point in his career, one half of Brian Dawkins’ body is made of leadership. That’s what they used to replace the parts that got torn off over the 50 fucking years he played in the NFL without Tim Tebow.
5) I hate Tebow because Champ Bailey might provide a little leadership too. He’s only going to the goddamn Hall of Fame (probably). And let’s not forget Vonn Miller and a finally healthy Elvis Dumervil. Those two guys are at least as physically ill-suited for their positions as Tebow is for his — Miller is light, and Dumervil isn’t particularly heavy, and worse he’s only like 5’4”. And I’m pretty sure one of those two is really religious, so maybe that’s who God’s smiling on even as He’s pissing on the opposing team’s season.
6) I hate Tebow because he provides an undeserved opportunity for morons to insist that the only reason I could possibly hate Tebow is my own irrationality. I have plenty of perfectly rational reasons to hate Tebow. LOOK AT ALL OF THESE RATIONAL REASONS RIGHT HERE. THERE’S A WHOLE LIST OF THEM.
7) I hate Tebow because he might get into politics some day, at which point, people will ignore the fact that he scored lower on his Wonderlic than George W. Bush would have scored on his Wonderlic had he played football instead of being a cheerleader. They’ll say stupid shit like “Tim Tebow has what it takes to set this country back on the right course” even if the country wasn’t really on that wrong of a course, and even if he doesn’t have what it takes to read a book.
8) I hate Tebow because he made that stupid abortion commercial where his mom talks about how she almost didn’t have him even though at the time she was in a country where everyone is Catholic — and she was there because she was trying to convert those Catholics to evangelical Protestantism. Goddamn it, don’t you realize that Catholics invented not having abortions? If you didn’t want to have an abortion, WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST CONVERT TO CATHOLICISM?
9) I hate Tebow because Darryl Johnston was going off on how people are looking at Robert Griffin III differently because of Tebow’s success. THEY ARE NOT REMOTELY ALIKE. RGIII is a quarterback in a receiver’s body. Tim Tebow is maybe-a-quarterback in a fullback’s body. RGIII has already demonstrated the ability to throw a beautiful deep ball, into coverage, in the 1st quarter. He won’t need a college offense installed for him in the NFL. Also, he knows words like “conducive”. As in, “It would be conducive to my success on draft day if you quit comparing me to Tim Tebow.”
10) I hate Tebow because people insist I’m a hypocrite for not hating Ben Roethlisberger with equal passion. Ben Roethlisberger did a terrible thing, and mostly got away with it. In doing so, he joins a long list of people who have done terrible things, and mostly gotten away with them. Like, say, General Douglas MacArthur. That guy did some terrible shit. But not just General Douglas MacArthur. Other people too. So many that if you actively hated them all the time, you’d be exhausted, all the time — you have to put hating them on the back-burner or you’ll turn into the sort of ugly loathing machine people say you are for hating Tebow. But here’s the thing: the one thing Big Ben, Douglas MacArthur, and a whole lot of other pricks have in common is that none of them are currently, actively insisting that I, personally, am going to hell, not to mention my friends and family. Tim Tebow is. Every day. It makes it pretty easy to actively hate him instead of backburner-hating him. Not only that, he preaches his fire/brimstone with that clueless smile on his fat, friendly face. And he insists it’s not him who’s consigning me to eternal damnation, it’s God. If you’re gonna tell me I’m going to hell, don’t be a passive-aggressive pussy about it, and don’t smile either. Be a man, and scowl. ***Oh and also, the reason I’m not yelling at you “Why Don’t You Get More Upset at Roethlisberger” fucks about Roethlisberger is that we agree on that subject. There is no argument between us about whether or not he is a scumbag. And if we’re not arguing amongst ourselves about it, of course the hate is going to fade. If you half-ass columnists have a problem with that pervasive element of human nature, then maybe you should be writing more anti-Roethlisberger columns, or boycotting coverage of his games, or starting a Facebook campaign to have him removed from the league, or venturing down to Georgia to do some fucking investigative reporting, maybe even confronting that police officer who posed for pictures with him at the scene and saying something like “What the shit were you thinking you lowlife asshole?”. If you think Big Ben is worthy of more ire than Tim Tebow, then where’s your fucking ire? You left it back in 2009, didn’t you, you lazy fuck.
11) I hate Tebow because Kyle Orton won his first six games with Denver, and nobody sucked his pee-hole. I don’t even like Kyle Orton, but you couldn’t argue with his won-loss record, at least until you could.
12) I hate Tebow because Christian Ponder’s interception, Marion Barber’s fumble, etc, can  only conceivably be miracles if you’re a vindictive little prick who wishes bad things on other people. When Tim Tebow throws a pick or fumbles, trust me, I won’t call it a miracle. I’ll call it “Things that both happened on December 12th, 2011 that I hope will happen again.”
13) I hate Tebow because I can’t spend every minute of the day love-hating my Cowboys. He’s a great distraction.
14) I hate Tebow because if he was Jewish, or Muslim, or even Catholic, no one would be using that “Hey, you can’t argue with his convictions” argument after he told them their own religion was evil — even if he said it with the same man-child joy in his heart. If he went around saying, “I’m really sorry, but my religion teaches me that Evangelicals are going to be eaten by Satan unless they accept Yahweh as the one true G_d”, this country would totally hate Jews right now. Of course Jews don’t really believe in hell, which is probably why we’re not Evangelicals — we have nothing to threaten nonbelievers with.
15) I hate Tebow because he thinks he makes great analogies, and a bunch of stupid fucking sportswriters and even some non-sports writers agree. When reporters asked him why he was always telling everyone about God, and he responded “If I was married, I’d tell my wife every day that I loved her”, everyone said “Wow, what a bright, sensitive, analogy-making young man.” THAT’S BECAUSE WHEN IT COMES TO TIM TEBOW EVERYONE HAS THE BRAINS OF MULE SEMEN, WHICH I’M PRETTY SURE DOESN’T EVEN EXIST OR IF IT DOES IT’S USELESS, BECAUSE MULES ARE STERILE. In other words, it’s a shitty analogy. If some asshole told you every day that he loved his wife, the correct response would be “Then go tell your wife you love her, and shut the fuck up about it at the office, or else I’m going to take that picture of her into the bathroom with me and not come back out until I’ve told I loved her for at least 10 minutes. Actually maybe only 5, she’s kind of cute.” I hate it when people say other people are smart for saying unimpressive or stupid things. It makes me feel like I’m in Invasion of the Body Snatchers, and the noise of people praising other people for saying stupid things starts to sound like Donald Sutherland screeching.
16) I hate Tebow because none of the people running around saying “I told you so” put an NFL franchise’s future on the line in defense of their Tebow faith, or even acknowledged that doing so might be kind of terrifying. It’s kind of a moot point now — with their record, they can’t Suck for Luck and probably can’t even Blow for Barkley — but if you’re angry at John Elway for not immediately putting all his eggs in one Tebasket, you know nothing about eggs, or the combining of two words into a silly new word.
17) I hate Tebow because never before in the history of mankind have announcers and columnists used the phrase “so-called experts” so fucking often, and because their use of the phrase “so-called experts” is a pretty pathetic euphemism for “my colleagues, who aren’t half as smart as I am”. Just once I’d like to hear a professional Tebow apologist say something on air or in a column along the lines of “You know, Mel Kiper Jr. doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. I’m not even sure why they pay that guy.” After which Mel Kiper Jr. will drain their bodies of blood with his teeth, because Mel Kiper Jr. is secretly a vampire — which is just one of the many reasons Mel Kiper Jr. gets paid.
18) I hate Tebow because instead of watching Green Bay (perfect quarterback play, possible perfect season) vs Oakland (exciting running game?), I watched Denver (Tebow) vs whatever’s left of the Chicago Bears. Obviously it was Tebow that sucked me in. Waiting for him to lose is starting to become my version of waiting for the Messiah.
19) I hate Tebow because there’s a reason quarterbacks throw for more yards when they’re behind in the 4th quarter. It’s called the prevent defense. Other quarterbacks in history have taken advantage of it. A trained seal could take advantage of it. You can’t say things like “Look at these safeties. They’re playing 25 yards off the ball, and this corner is giving entirely too much respect to Eric Decker”, then be all “Somebody needs to tell Tim Tebow to play like this for the other three quarters of the game! It’s Tebow Time!” You just can’t.
20) I hate Tebow because if he didn’t play sports, everybody would hate Tebow. Except for religious nuts, which is actually a lot of people. And candidates who are willing to overlook the depraved teachings of religious nuts in order to secure their endorsement for president, which isn’t a lot of people, but they do tend to be influential. But for everybody else, he’d just be some optimistic guy who talked about Jesus, and almost everybody hates that guy.
21) I hate Tebow because if he wasn’t winning but Denver still had to start him, everybody would hate Tebow. Everybody. And if you say “but winning is a part of who Tebow is,” then you’ve 100% bought into this bullshit.
22) I hate Tebow because whatever weird spell check my computer is currently running keeps trying to change his name to Taboo. Which makes sense, because even though he’s never broken one (except the one about publicly talking about religion), he kind of is the Black Eyed Peas’ Taboo of quarterbacks. I’m not sure how exactly, but I know it’s true.
23) I hate Tebow because certain dickfaces assume I hate him because he represents a triumph of “character”, “will”, and “just being a football player” over increasingly stat-driven player appraisals. I love players that aren’t supposed to be good who end up being good. I’m going to name my firstborn son Eugene Seale, if I don’t name him London Fletcher. It was my fervent wish that the Battleship Lorenzen had turned out to be a Pro Bowler. For a little while in ‘89 I even hopped on the Steve Walsh train, though that was partly because I’d met this older girl on vacation at Club Med back when her and Steve were at Miami and I was like 15. I desperately wanted to bang her, and she said Steve Walsh was a great guy, ergo to this day I believe Steve Walsh to be a great guy. If it was purely a matter of body type and throwing motion, I’d be pro-‘bow all the way. I wouldn’t say “You need to start him despite his flaws because he believes he will win”, but I’d root for him over whatever Mike Mamula quarterback he was competing against. Unless the Mike Mamula quarterback was actually Mike Mamula, in which case of course I would root for Mike Mamula to come back as a quarterback.

24) I hate Tebow because people assume people who hate Tebow have something against Christianity. I don’t. My quarterback growing up was Danny White, a Mormon, which some people don’t believe counts as Christian, but until non-Mormon Christians rise up and slaughter a bunch of Mormons, I’ll remain convinced that Mormons are as Christian as anyone else. Anyone else who is Christian, anyway. But back to Danny White: I liked him. Still do. It’s not his fault that Hollywood Henderson stored cocaine over his thigh pad and the franchise started drafting guys like Rod “Shrine” Hill (he only ran east and west) as soon as he took the mantle from Roger Staubach, who I obviously also like regardless of his deeply felt Christianity. I doubt Danny White went to Jewish graveyards to convert dead Hebrews to Latter Day Sainthood (that’s a real Mormon thing, btw), but even if he did, he never talked about it. He just played good football and won a lot of games. He also lost three heartbreaking NFC Championships in a row, but I didn’t hate him because of it, even when Skip Bayless took to calling him “Danny Black”, because Skip Bayless is a bit of a hater, and was also apparently very bad at making up nicknames. The knock on Danny White was that despite an astronomical (for those days) passer rating, he wasn’t a “winner”. Well, Tim Tebow is a “winner”, but if I had to choose a franchise quarterback, I’d go with Danny White. And Denver’s defense.

25) I hate Tebow because I needed a #25.

26) I hate Tebow because Nightline based a segment on him that included some jackass from Berkeley talking about the new science of altruism. Then some other jagass went on to explain that Tebow’s practicing of the new science of altruism was responsible for Demaryius Thomas catching a touchdown pass after an earlier throw went through his fingertips. As if a) Tebow has earned the right to yell at his receivers in the first place, considering how many balls he’s thrown through the fingertips of dudes selling widemouth light beers in the stands; b) before Tebow, no receiver who had a catchable but not entirely easy long pass go off his fingertips ever caught a touchdown again. I’m not entirely convinced Demaryius deserves to take any shit on this one — yeah, it’s a catch you’ve got to make if you want to play in the National Football League, but it’s also a catch that’s often missed by receivers who nonetheless go on to enjoy long careers in the National Football League. Regardless, Troy Aikman practiced the old science of yelling like a motherfucker when his teammates screwed up, and he won three Super Bowls and got his head made into a bust. So fuck you, new scientists of the new science of altruism. You want to apply this crap to football, there’s your control group.

27) I hate Tebow because while we’re at it, why aren’t the last few minutes of games called “Demaryius Thomas Time” — he’s also a 2nd-year player who really seems to turn it on in the 4th quarter. You could call the rest of the game “Maybe We Shouldn’t Have Let Go Of The Rest Of Our Receivers Time”, or “We Have Not Ruled Out Drafting Another Receiver At This Time Time”. Or, if you’re not stupidly advocating an unfair standard where only spiritual leaders are allowed to absolutely fucking suck for the vast majority of regulation, “Receivers Aren’t Expected To Fully Develop Until Their 3rd Year Time”.

28) I hate Tebow because of his Tebowing. I have no problem whatsoever with personal expressions of faith on the athletic field. Tebowing is not a personal expression of faith. It does not signify “Real quick, I’m gonna humble myself before God.” It signifies “The most important thing in the universe right now is that myself before My God, As Defined by Bob Tebow, and if the rest of you guys don’t also humble yourself before My God as Defined by Bob Tebow, I can’t do anything further to save you, but I will cry (publicly) for your infidel soul. Oh, and if Bob Tebow somehow becomes President of the United States and scraps our nation’s laws in favor of the Ten Commandments, I’d support that, because it’s what I believe, on a personal level that doesn’t affect you at all, except for the small part about you being forced to live under the rule of the Ten Commandments.” This is really the shit he believes. Deal with it. Please deal with it.

29) I hate Tebow because of this insistence that he always answers reporters’ questions graciously and intelligently. THAT’S BECAUSE THEY ASK HIM THE SAME FUCKING QUESTIONS EVERY SINGLE GODDAMN TIME. HE’S BEEN INDOCTRINATED WITH THE APPROPRIATE RESPONSE SINCE HE WAS LIKE 12. You want to test his question-answering skills? Ask him if he had to choose between saving a life with his illustrious surgical skills, or saving that person’s soul, which way would he go? Ask him if he thinks the Pope is a representative of Satan, or if homosexuality is evil. You could even ask him if he thinks homosexuality is the province of the demon Baal! The New Apostolic Reformation evangelists who backed Rick Perry’s “The Response” actually do believe this. They preach against it in America, but because their campaign to unify church & state hasn’t yet succeeded here, they’ve had to go to Uganda to actually push violently anti-homosexual legislation, one version of which was nicknamed the “kill the gays bill”, probably because it contained provisions through which gays could be killed. The Ugandans affiliated with their cause — including the health minister — continue to introduce scary new bills (one got 2,000,000 signatures), and do other awesome stuff like insist that AIDS can be cured through prayer. If you want to see how good Tim Tebow really is at the question-answering thing, don’t ask him if God helps him score touchdowns OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN. Ask if he thinks Rick Warren’s belatedly severed association with the lovely Pastor Martin Ssempa makes him want to punch Rick Warren in the testicles. If he doesn’t have an answer, educate him on the subject, then re-ask the question. Why the fuck not? You’re standing in a locker room filled with naked men. Do you have something better to do?

30) I hate Tebow because, according to linebacker Wesley Woodyard, one of his methods of inspiring teammates is telling them that God speaks to him during games. I guess Tebow can’t count on Joe Montana’s trick of pointing out John Candy in the stands, because GOD TOOK JOHN CANDY AWAY FROM US.

31) I hate Tebow because today some jerkoff started his ESPN column with the phrase “As a sports journalist and a Christian…” There’s no such thing as a “sports journalist”. There are only journalists, and this guy clearly isn’t one. Screw him thinking he’s more qualified to judge the matter of Tim Tebows “PDFs” (public displays of faith!) because he loosely shares the same religion. I don’t know what he learned in Sports Journalism Grad School at I Will Never Break a Legitimately Important Story University, but I’m pretty sure that flaunting your bias is not how you stake your claim to objectivity.

32) I hate Tebow because after initially bashing Tebow, Stephen A. Smith has now declared himself “officially humbled.” Stephen A. Smith’s entire reason for existence is to flood America’s airwaves and digital cables with irrational Arrogance. What good is a humble Stephen A. Smith? Absolutely none. None good.

33) I hate Tebow because Rick Perry just compared himself to him in a debate. It’s actually apt on some levels — there are plenty of people who irrationally assumed Perry had what it took to play politics on the national stage — but then again, if Perry had Tebow’s aim, that coyote would have eaten his dog.

34) I hate Tebow because he’s forcing me to root for the Patriots tomorrow. I haven’t rooted for the Patriots since they beat God’s previously anointed quarterback in XXXVI. But I didn’t pull for them then because I had anything against Kurt Warner. Kurt Warner’s the only player in history to come out of nowhere twice and go to the Super Bowl — if you don’t love that, you’re an asshole. Kurt Warner’s super-Christian, but he’s not a psychotic evangelist, and the only reason I was for the Patriots that year is because they were the underdogs. Then the Patriots quit being underdogs and started being dicks, at least organizationally. Unfortunately now I’ve got no choice but to pull for them. Here’s hoping for a good game from the enemy of my enemy’s tight ends.

35) I hate Tebow because ESPN Sports Nation just teased a segment with “It’s not often Tom Brady is thought of as ‘the other quarterback’, but that’ll be the case tomorrow when he plays Tim Tebow and the Broncos.” Guys, it doesn’t have to be the case. Let’s not make it the case.

36) I hate Tebow because a bunch of kids in Long Island got suspended for Tebowing in a school hallway, and now every jackwad in America has an opinion on it, right down to Lew Leone, who’s got a segment called “Lew’s View” on Fox 5 New York’s Saturday 10pm news broadcast — the news equivalent of the 2:30pm Tuesday shift at one of those strip clubs that offers a free buffet involving cheese squares and miniature meatballs. Lew generally believes in following school regulations, but in this case, he’s “throwing the red challenge flag”, partly because Tim Tebow is apparently a positive influence on our nation’s youth. Okay, Mr. Leone (and every other person out there rallying around this cause): what if these kids caused the exact same amount of disruption making a political protest, and you didn’t find their point of view very “Lew”? Or what if they were actually mocking Tebow (it’s possible at least some of them were — teenagers are sarcastic little shits)? Tebow himself says, “You have to respect the position of authority and people that God’s put as authority over you. So that’s part of it and just finding the right place and the right time to do things is part of it, too. But I think it does show courage from the kids, standing out and doing that, and some boldness.” Wow, that made tons of sense. Now we know that God personally selected the administration of Riverhead High School, and, presumably, all high schools, even the ones where the principals are molesting children or dealing drugs or sympathizing with communists. Even if you don’t like what they’re doing, even if they’re doing it to you, you’ve got to sit back and take it. If it’s any comfort, you are allowed to occasionally show some boldness. It’s kind of like the Catholic Church’s censure of Central American liberation theology in the 70s and 80s, except the people in this country getting worked up about the Right to Tebow never gave a fuck about the Right to be Free from Brutal Oppression by Dictators.

If you’re a Tebow worshiper, you’re unfortunately not allowed to argue that it’s unfair to take Tim Tebow’s vague, dangerously meaningless statement to the extremes it almost irresistibly invites, because you’ve already insisted ad nauseum that Tim Tebow is well-spoken, and not just a meatball.

37) I hate Tebow because it makes even normally rational old-school sportswriters writers tie their cigarette-yellowed typing fingers in knots trying to make excuses for the guy. From SI.com: “There would be no last-second magic this time. But don’t blame Tim Tebow, says Don Banks. Three Broncos fumbles late in the first half allowed the Patriots to put the game out of reach.” Granted, one of those was Tebows, but more on that later! Then, in the piece, “This was not a case of Denver’s formula for victory being exposed or invalidated, and the Broncos’ surprising success being proven a mirage.” If you’re an NFL team and you only have 1 formula for victory, you do not have a formula for season-long success — ergo, whatever success you are experiencing is a mirage. We go on to learn that going 11-22 against the worst pass defense in the league (and taking 4 sacks against the worst pass rush in the league) is a pretty solid throwing day when you’re Tim Tebow. If you’re Joey Harrington and you’re a pretty boy who once appeared in the pages of Cosmo, it’s poop, and if you’re author-of-the-most-heroic-sequence-of-plays-in-NCAA-history Byron Leftwich it’s “holy shit, is he ever going to break 250 yards?” But today, 11-22 was solid-if-not-spectacular, and the loss was on Denver’s defense — which forgot the part of the formula where they keep the score equally close whether they’re playing Caleb Haney or Tom Brady and regardless of how many turnovers the offense and special teams commit — and it was also on two of the three guys who fumbled the ball. Granted, at one point in the story, Banks admits Tebow’s partly at fault, but on the other hand, at like 10 points in the story he insists Tebow’s not at fault, and everybody else is. If you want to give a quarterback too much credit one week, you’d better be prepared to crap all over him when he loses. That’s how every other QB in this league is treated. I don’t see why Tebow should be any different. I don’t think Don Banks does either, but his fingers have been possessed by cherubs, and he can’t help himself.

38) I hate Tebow because he enables Bill Maher’s tweeting of unoriginal, allegedly controversial jokes that apparently cause quite a hullabaloo amongst dumb shitheads like Eric Bolling, a man who recently tweeted “WOW!!!! Dream come true? Did Gov Sarah Palin leave the door open for a White House run? seriously!!!” Yeah, seriously.

39) I hate Tebow because Skip Bayless just told a national audience of however many people actually watch him on television that he “shares Tebow’s faith”. Allow me to connect some dots here:

a) Skip Bayless famously attempted to “out” Troy Aikman.

b) Bob Tebow received a degree from Western Seminary.

c) Western Seminary is the home of none other than James B. “Don’t Call Me Dennis” de Young, who wrote an entire fucking book about how much the Bible hates homosexuality (Homosexuality: Contemporary Claims Examined in Light of the Bible and Other Ancient Literature and Law — on the bedside tables of freakish pseudo-scholars nationwide, and probably also in Uganda).

d) It’s a pretty safe bet that Bob Tebow never raised his hand in class and said “Actually I think homosexuality isn’t a crime punishable by hellfire”.

e) It’s a pretty safe bet that Tim Tebow has never disagreed with Bob Tebow on any substantive matter in his entire life. If he has, it hasn’t stopped him from hanging out with James Dobson, who, from a biblical perspective, really, really doesn’t like the gays.

f) Skip Bayless’s outing of Troy Aikman was therefore an open notice to all Evangelicals that Troy Aikman was going to hell for his unconscionable sexing of other dudes.

Seem like a stretch? Well, stretches are what you get when you stupidly embrace someone else’s faith without ever examining what exactly that faith entails. Not to mention when you dismiss Denver’s receiving core as the worst in the NFL when in fact there’s plenty of young talent there, as opposed to the shit Donovan McNabb was stuck with for almost a decade during the James Thrash/FredEx years. Go Focus on the Family, Skip Bayless, and quit fouling up the airwaves with the Santorum of your anti-gay, pro-Tebow love.

40) I hate Tebow because when he whines to network commentating teams about wishing the coaches would just let him “play his game”, the commentators say things like “You know, last night, Tim Tebow told me he wishes the coaches would just let him play his game, the game he won two national championships with at Florida, and you know what? He’s right.” As opposed to, “You know, last night, Tim Tebow told me he wishes the coaches would just let him play his game. Well guess what, Nancy: John Fox installed a whole fucking offense around your strengths, so quit your bitching. Oh, and remember how yesterday I spent 10 agonizing minutes condescending about the Greg McElroy incident and how players should keep things in the locker room and not complain to the press? That goes for you too.”

41) I hate Tebow because when he plays a good game (which I guess he did yesterday against Pittsburgh despite the abysmal completion percentage and still managing to heave some easy throws to the cameramen), almost everyone who actually took the time to read this excruciatingly long post will dismiss every argument above. Because you know, when quarterbacks throw for over 300 yards, you have to like them as people.

So I’m not stopping, but I am working on a longer piece. I’m taking this really shitty, never-published nonfiction book I wrote about searching for moonshine in Virginia, and compressing it into a longer short-story that hopefully won’t be as shitty. First I have to find the book, as it’s gone missing. Probably because it’s ashamed of its own existence, and doesn’t want anyone to read it, including the guy who unfortunately wrote it.

That guy in the picture is Yoshi, the ringmaster of Tokyo Circus (check out his website here). He sometimes performs performance art near my subway stop, in front of a defunct retail space that once held a Starbucks, then a sparsely stocked cafe owned by The New York Film Academy, which I’m pretty sure is a cult, as no film academy that also owns a sparsely stocked cafe staffed by its own students is not a cult.

Also convincing me they are a cult are statements on their website like this: “New York Film Academy’s School of Film and Acting is honored to be the school of choice of many luminaries in the film industry who have sent their family members to study with us. They include Steven Spielberg, Al Pacino, Robert Downey Jr., Jamie Foxx, Jodie Foster, Kevin Kline, Pierce Brosnan, Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins, Bono(U2), directors Stephen Frears, Peter Bogdonavich, Roger Donaldson and James L. Brooks among others.”

The Film Academy has a “campus” on the 2nd floor of the building where I work. Even though it’s on the 2nd floor, none of those lazy fucks ever use the stairs, and everyone pretty much hates them.

I’m convinced Yoshi’s happy magic drove NYFA out of their cafe. I’m considering inviting him to my building, and planting him in the 2nd-floor lobby. If he drives them out of here too, I can use the time I’ll save taking the elevator to pare down this 250pp monstrosity into something people might actually take the time to read.

Suntanned Women
Sally, who I believe was the last Met editor-in-chief, considered me a bit of a pussy when it came to leveraging my position as “Cocktail Hour” correspondent to get free shit. Not that she advocated me demanding free shit in return for coverage, but still, every self-respecting lifestyle journalist should receive at least some free shit. One time I was sitting in her office when she opened up her Swag Drawer and started pelting me with free shit. None of the free shit was any good — unless you were in desperate need of a floppy Case Logic cd holder decorated with OP-style checkers and an electric palm tree — but her point (I think) was that I needed to quit hiding in the pseudo-journalistic shadows and put myself out there more.

“Get some free shit, Blend!”

The thing was, most of the people whose bars I wrote up had no idea who I was. While many were happy with my generally positive, drink-more message, they were also confused as to why I insisted on inserting things like “Of course Elric’s evil was not his doing; his soul was turned black by the power of his magic sword” into a write-up on a place called The Triple Nickel. I hadn’t yet admitted to myself that the randomness was simply me compensating for having no idea what I was doing, so there was no way I could explain it to them. Better to just not bother making their acquaintance.

I think Sally was trying to rectify that — to literally drag me out into the sunlight — when she assigned me “Tan Like Me”. The concept: a man of averagely dark pigmentation gets as unnaturally tan as safety allows, then attempts to infiltrate Dallas’s terrifyingly over-bronzed nightlife society.

I spent weeks getting disgustingly brown by any means necessary. I laid out at the Village Apartments, specifically the pool at the Village Country Club, fitting, since the reason I was now tanning for a living could be traced straight back to me spending my first year of law school obliterating myself on $2 VCC Jack & Cokes. I hit the 24Hr Fitness tanning beds, probably the most use I ever got out of that membership. I rubbed myself with strange creams. I would have gone to a spray-on place, but those didn’t exist yet (I guinea-pigged one a few years later for a story — I’ll just say there’s nothing more unnatural than entering a human car-wash and having unknown chemicals sprayed directly onto your balls).

I roped Chops — a Met associate editor — into playing wingman on what was certain to be a doomed mission, “certain” because every time I spoke in character, I’d be throwing up my own flak. I threw on a black muscle shirt, which really highlighted my hard-won crispiness, not to mention my circa-1989 musculature.

We started out at Martini Ranch. That proved a bust: the place must have been on the decline, because the beautiful people were avoiding it like Nightlife Chernobyl. They had set out a free, slice-it-yourself prime rib for happy hour, which in and of itself should have drawn crowds by the hundreds, but I guess Dallas had already started its slow, sad descent into gourmet small plates — prime-rib happy hours were going the way of the dinosaurs who had turned into the oil that had fueled an economy that had turned Dallas into one big prime-rib happy hour.

Undaunted, or at least no more daunted than before, we headed out to the Addison Champps — any establishment that tweaked its spelling like a stripper does a stage name had to have some hilariously stupid tan people for me to converse with. We hung out at the bar for a while, but there simply weren’t any grossly discolored gaggles to fly into and exchange stories with about tanning and the ass that can be tapped thanks to tanning.

Needing to interact with somebody, I plopped down uninvited at a table occupied by one black man in a derby cap and two white ladies, all in their 30s. Chops unwillingly followed.

I asked the table what they did for a living. I don’t remember what the table did for a living. The table asked me what I did for a living. I said, “I’m a North Dallas pimp. I represent wealthy women who want to have sex for money.” Honestly, I wasn’t sure what really tan people actually talked about.

They all shook their heads, including Chops. “You’re not a pimp!” said the guy. “You definitely don’t dress like a pimp.”

“Look at my tan,” I said, thrusting out my sun-, cream-, and UV-kissed forearm. “Do you think that with a tan like this I don’t pimp out middle-aged rich women?”

There was some skepticism expressed over the desire of middle-aged rich women to prostitute themselves. I assured them that these women were hellcats: they’d already married for money, but still had sexual cravings best satisfied via anonymous hooker-client relationships. Plus who doesn’t need extra cash.

I had no idea what any of this had to do with the original idea for this story. I was clearly off on a tan-gent.

Jesus.

Sorry.

After Champps, we gave up on finding a tan gang to hang out with, and headed straight to a low-rent strip club. I can’t remember which, and I don’t have the original story handy. My sister framed a copy, but I can’t very well call her in Alabama and have her break the glass and be reminded of what a dipshit her brother was and apparently still is. The next two paragraphs might include some misremembering on the details, but the generalities are nothing but the veritas:

I got a lap-dance from a Latin girl. I babbled a lot about how big of a bad ass I considered myself to be, due to my deep, burnished tan. She informed me that I wasn’t that dark — pretty dark for a white guy, but in the world of darkness, not all that impressive. She was nice about it though. She could tell I was on some kind of lark, even if she didn’t get the exact alt-weekly nature of the larking.

At the end of the night, we walked across a dirt parking lot to a massage parlor. It looked like it belonged in a strip mall, but there it was, standing bravely alone in the shadow of a highway stretch nobody lived anywhere near. The old Asian woman who came to the door said they were closed. I demanded she acknowledge the authority granted me by the power of my tan, and reopen. She declined to acknowledge. But at least I was out there, putting myself in the story, and trying to get some free shit.

Something came up, and I’m still working on my colossal next entry, so for today I’m posting a simple yet terrifying picture that should give you some idea of how absolutely miserable it is up here vis-a-vis the Tex-Mex. Seriously, what the fuck is broccoli?