Thursday, October 25, 2007

My Favorite Fortune 500 Company Is Procter & ... Uhh...

Evin "The Locomotive" Murphy finds time to belt out taint-tingling prose for LBMS from his real estate office in Santa Cruz, CA. In this edition, he supplies readers with performance enhancers in a manner slightly less gay than rubbing the "cream" on your inner thigh.

Something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

-Bob Dylan

I’ve been watching a lot of Rescue Me recently, a lot of West Wing, listening to a balanced diet of the Blood Hound Gang, Todd Snider and gospel praise music. As you can imagine Wednesday night's 13-1 drumming handed out by the Red Sox didn’t garner much attention from me. I don’t care who wins this Series (Ed. Note: We would like Boston to go up 3-0, then lose the next four in agonizing, extra-inning fashion).

Sports are down across the board…The NFL is plodding along towards the playoffs when the contenders (Pats, Indy, Dallas, Pitt, San Diego) will finally duke it out. There is no NBA and the NHL is just warming up. The only semi-interesting story line in sports is whether Tom Brady will set every single-season passing record in history and solidify himself as one of the top five passers of all time amongst (pick four): Montana, Marino, Favre, Young, Manning, Bradshaw, Starr, Unitas, Staubach, Elway, and Namath.

So how can we satisfy our sport-loving spirits? Look to heavy and erratic gambling.

As the human male ages, becoming more calloused, he requires heavier doses to achieve the same levels of joyriding ecstasy he has become accustomed to; boozing replaces candy, interracial threesomes replace naps, and hop scotch is supplanted by grape flavored blunts and action thrillers.

Simply watching the game will no longer suffice. From high school through college graduation man can find reasonable contentment through sports, drinking, recreational drugs and finger foods but that quickly wanes when he is shocked by the so called ‘real world.' Put in a box for 40 soul-sucking hours per week and cursed to the rank and file of ‘happily married’ suburban dwellers, the male psyche is revolted, imploding or rebelling against the modern obsession with even keel.

Testosterone demands exalting peaks and crushing valleys, so step aside Dr. Phil, the dark underbelly of America, sports gambling, is here to facilitate. Grab your MasterCard, click over to your favorite internet sports bookie, lay a week’s wages on some football, load up your armrest fridge with MGD, Bombay Sapphire and a fifth of Jameson, fire up the grill, download some digital adult entertainment for half time enjoyment and settle in for a long day of America’s purest form of hedonism. Guns, strippers, and felonious drugs optional. Bow wow wow sports fans. Now that’s entertainment. Let the good times roll and let your winnings ride. Good luck and mahalo.

1 comment:

Blogger said...

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