DjEGGngo Unchained

By Andrew Blumetti

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Happy Easter yolks folks.  Quentin Tarantino, I expect to hear from your lawyer imminently. 

Blumes

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Courtney Love… Love!

By Andrew Blumetti

 

She gives love a bad name.

Correction, make that the worst name.

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Much like Carmen Sandiego, I’ve snuck around the world, from Kiev to Carolina, and during that traveled time, I’ve taken down a tally of near billions, and the collected results are as followed:

As a general human population, we all can’t stand Courtney Love. 

 

“Do it Rockapella!”

And honestly, why should we?  She’s astonishingly crass, inordinately offensive, and is the proud owner of an un-angelic singing voice that one can only be likened to that of Jonestown cats committing mass suicide.

Simply put, Courtney Love is 10,000 spoons, and all we need is a knife.

 

“There’s two things I hate: Incorrect silverware… and Dave Coulier.”– Alanis Morissette

 

But by George, you gotta give that hay-haired nutjob credit where credit is due.

Back when current flavor-of-the-month downward-spiralers, Lindsay Lohan, Amanda Bynes, and Justin Bieber were dooking their silk diapers, Love was already America’s celebrity Titanic.  She’s literally the closest thing to the human equivalent of Will Smith’s After Earth we’ve seen with our own two eyes.

But take a second to look at her lengthy track record of awful consistency— we’re talking over twenty years of being a flat-out mess of a person… that’s a train-wreck spanning some part of three decades folks.

Alright, alright, I know what you’re thinking-   that’s not really impressive per say, it’s more flat-out jerky.  Of course, I can’t blame you for thinking like that.

Feast your eyes on her infamous rap sheet… in Night Court. 

(rimshot)

 

 

“GUILTY on all counts of bad jokes!”

 

So, Why All the Courtney Love Hate?

She spent the majority of the 90’s with more drugs in her system than Tom Hanks in the last half hour of Philadelphia, her estranged daughter, Frances Bean Cobain, won’t give her the time of day, she’s started wars with former members of Nirvana, mounted a failed comeback of her band, Hole (without her band, Hole), and for the cherry on top of this crap sundae, she may or may not have sent a shotgun shell through her late husband’s blonde noggin…

 

…or so Pat Smear would have you believe.

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Quit looking so coy, Smear.

 

She’s kicked-up juvenile feuds with Madonna, Marilyn Manson, Billy Corgan, Gwen Stefani, and Kelly Osbourne, abruptly cancelled tours with the breakneck consistency in which Michael Moore cancels diets, and rubbed most likely half the earth’s population the wrong way with her historically sour attitude.   Seriously, Gwen Stefani?  The poor girl spends half of her free time walking into spiderwebs, let her be.

But if the miserable green Grinch with his curly elf toes in the fluffy Whoville mountain snow, and his (likely unhealthy) sudden heart growth has taught us anything, it’s this:  time heals all wounds.   Maturation is only natural– Father Time helps us tenderize, and maybe once notoriously-nasty Courtney has sewed up her ripped stockings, 86’ed those rusty heroin syringes in the dumpster, hung up her vomit-covered babydoll dresses, and isn’t that same rageful alterna she-beast anymore.

Courtney puts new meaning to the term, “Live Through This”.

 

It’s easy to just assume abrasive Courtney kicks cute puppies, steals loose string beans at the supermarket, and voted for Taylor Hicks to win American Idol…  She’s just like that, right?

You wish.  Time to open your heart and bust out your Kleenex, because perhaps a 21st Century Courtney Love doesn’t hate, this Love, well, loves.


…and what does Courtney Love, love?

Well…

Courtney Love love love

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Courtney Love love Luvs…

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Courtney Love love brotherly love…

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Courtney Love love Love is

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Courtney Love love Lovie Smith

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Courtney Love love “Love Will Keep Us Together”…

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Courtney Love love “Love Will Tear Us Apart”…

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Courtney Love love Love Boat…

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Courtney Love love love bugs…

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Courtney Love love crack…

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Courtney Love love Love and Basketball…

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Courtney Love love Love Guru…

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Courtney Love love “Love Shack”…

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…so is this really a new and improved Courtney?

 

We’re with you Dave.

 

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St. Patrick’s Greetings From the Most Irish Man on Earth… Shaquille ‘O Neal

By Andrew Blumetti

Top o’ the morning afternoon to ya! 

When your last name could pass for an extra on The Sopranos, this day really tears you up.

Surely, I’ll be the first to admit- green bagels can’t be beat, my Flogging Molly vinyl is spinning like Rob Ford after a weekend blowout, and I’ve already tripled my daily salt intake with corned beef, but let’s call a spade a spade- with a last name that rhymes with spaghetti, “Irish” I could say I’m authentic, but I’m just an ‘o-poster today.

So, instead of hearing jolly tidings of St. Patrick’s joy from me, I’m gonna pass the baton to a man who really knows his way around a pint of Guinness.  Let’s get goofy green with Mr. Ireland himself…  Shaquille O’ Neal.

If you wear a Shaq “Big Shamrock” t-shirt in a bar on March 17, they actually charge you MORE for your beer.

 

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To be sure Nick Nolte doesn’t fall off the wagon into a frosty barrel of green beer, O’ Neal will be spending the weekend with him.  Hours will be spent smacking Nolte with Shaq’s elephant-paw when he gets out of line.

 

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In 1996, Shaq took his movie career even further, playing a magic Irish genie in a bottle.  He’ll grant ye three wishes, but unfortunately, “wishing I hadn’t sat down to watch Kazaam” isn’t one of them.

 

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Before his time playing American basketball, Mr. O’ Neal spent many a year creating beloved tunes of Beautiful Days and Bloody Sundays with his Irish rock brethren, U2.

 

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Here’s Shaq’s time spent with his leprechaun girlfriend.  

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Fun Fact:  If you were to fill Shaq’s massive size-23 shoe with Lucky Charms, it’d require a whole cow and a half to provide the milk. 

 

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Say it with me… Shamrock Shaq. 

 

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Q:  What happens when Shaq scores a lot of baskets? 

A:  The score will be DUBLIN!!!

 

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You hear that new Cranberries album?  PFFFFTTTTT

 
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With no basketball to dribble around, no dunks to dunk and no free throws to miss, it’s time to hit the silver screen again.  Pop your corn and get in line now, Leprechaun 7- coming soon. 

 

Pretty soon…

 

Never.

 

 

So Danny Boy Shaquille- a most happy and merry St. Patty’s to you my Celtic friend.  And to all the readers out there in internet land- Irish and non-Irish alike, may your bagpipes be filled with hot air, may all your Murphys be dropkicked, and may your meats be boiled to a fine bland gray. 

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Rick and Roll! The A to Z’s of Alan Rickman

By Andrew Blumetti

“Blumes, don’t you start Buzzfeed articling me!”

He died hard.

He Harry Pottered.

He Robin Hooded.

He Sensed and Sensibilityed.

He caused me to create fake words.

Renowned thespian of the Shakespearean theater, Alan Rickman has been tossing a shiny slick coating of refined Union Jacked-charm over the Hollywood sign for the past three decades of Earth time.

A wealth of colorful characters under his belt, often portraying a menacing villain with a touch of ironically unironic Eurotrash sophistication thrown in for good measure.  Through and through, Rickman’s genuinely an actor’s actor–  time-tested, well-respected, almost British to a glorious fault, and graced with a sharper, drier sense of humor than he’s often credited with.

“Those of you who are not aware of my brilliant career as a stand up comic, I’m not aware of it either so we might well wonder what we’re doing here.”

-Alan Rickman

See?

And for all you “Al-manics”, drink some Gatorade and take this moment to stretch out those hamstrings.

Prepare to jump for joy 26 times… it’s time for…

ALAN RICKMAN:  A to Z:

APRON:

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BORING HEALTHY DIET FOOD…

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CHEATING ON HIS DIET INSTEAD…

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DUCK FACE AIN’T JUST FOR 16-YEAR OLD INSTAGRAMMERS ANYMORE!

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ELLEN DEGENERES DIDN’T ASK ME TO BE IN HER OSCAR SELFIE PHOTO!

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FORGOT THE SUNSCREEN:

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GOOD STEEL”:

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HERE WE’LL JUST PAINT A HAPPY LITTLE TREE…”

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IMAGINARY BOWLING:

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JAZZ HAND, (JUST ONE):

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KING OF KILT STATUE MOUNTAIN:

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LOVIN’ HIS DEMETRI MARTIN HALLOWEEN COSTUME:

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MY TRENT REZNOR-LOOKALIKE AWARD IS IN THE BAG!

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NICKELBACK’S STILL AROUND?!?:

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OH ELEVEN HERBS AND SPICES, HOW I LOVE THEE…

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PHIL ROBERTSON DARED ME TO DO THIS:

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QUIGLEY DOWN UNDER:

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REALLY, I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE BACHELOR WAS THINKING LAST NIGHT…”

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SIAMESE RICKMAN:

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THERE’S ALWAYS ROOM FOR CELLO…

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UNDERPANTS AL!

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VALENTINE’S DAY:

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WU-TANG CLAN AIN’T NOTHING TO $%@! WITH!”

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X-MAS RICKSTER (AKA MIS-AL-TOE)

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YOU EXPECT ME TO MAKE EGGS IN THIS?!?”

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ZOOEY DESCHANEL, WILL YOU MARRY ME?”

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My Valentine’s Day Cards To You

By Andrew Blumetti

I love you all.

Seriously.  Well, not the whole “like-like” school of brilliance dolled out by the Winnie Cooper-ed mind of Kevin Arnold, but you all who read, follow, and support my blog really are the bee’s knees.  I sincerely appreciate and thank anyone who’s taken time to read, enjoy, or roll their eyes at the cornball absurdity that fills this page on a relatively frequent basis.

Ok, enough of this gooey shhhh….ow of emotion.*  Let’s get down to brass tacks here.

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Before we continue, a favor first—  If you reside in the Northeast or Mid-Atlantic portion of the United States, please do me a solid- take a second and go to your window and look outside.  I’ll wait.

Back yet?

Ok, I’ll wait more.

How about now?

Good.

See the Everest-high mountains of white stuff?  There’s more snow out there than in a used CD bin.

Screw you, Blumes.

Yeah, this brutal winter is crawling by with all the lightning-quick speed of Artie Lange’s metabolism, but believe you me fellow snowed-in’s, as hard as it seems to believe, our ‘ol pal spring will be here soon, and before you know it, you’ll be itchy, watery-eyed, and sneezing your head off like the Queen of Hearts was demanding it.

But hey, even in two feet of snow, life would be nothing without small victories- my birthday is only 10 days away, pitchers and catchers are about to embark to Florida and Arizona for Spring Training, The Walking Dead has returned in all of its brain-munching glory, the Winter Olympics are running full steam, and the new Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition should show up on my doorstep anyday to make me feel pretty awkward in front of my mailman.  February is truly the month that keeps on giving.

Sports Illustrated, Lily Aldridge, Nina Agdal, Chrissy Teigen

“This cover needs more Kate Upton”- Kate Upton, Blumes

Of course mid-February ain’t all AMC-zombies and Abe Lincoln’s birthday cake.  Even if you’re still frostbitten from endless shoveling, you’ll still be sleeping on the couch if you forget the holiday that’s redder than Russia, circa 1960…

Conversation hearts?  Fat baby Cupid?  All-day Julia Roberts movie marathons?  A remarkably thinner wallet?  Make no mistake, make-no-mistakers, Saint Valentine is here with a bright red vengeance and he’s ready to kick yo keister up and down the snowy block.

For some of you, it’s a chance to take out a much-needed second mortgage for a dozen stupid red roses, boxes of mystery heart chocolates, and giant teddy bears the size of Delaware.  For others, it’s an opportunity to throw Adele on repeat, curse the Hallmark holiday for shoving your blatant singledom in your face, and chow down on your emergency stash of Ring Dings while you feverishly refresh your OkCupid profile for new messages till the clock eventually hits midnight and February 15th comes to save the day.

“This guy’s coming with me in the carpool lane!  I’ll just tell them it’s Robin Williams!”

That’s where I come in.  Whether you’re single, taken, married, or a cyborg, I’m here to boomerang back all that amazing support and positivity to you on this Valentine’s Day, Twenty-fourteen.  If it’s Friday and you’re in love, or maybe not so much, I want this day of hearts and crap to be your happiest and heartiest yet.

So, for a few short minutes, put that adorably plump Adele on hold, slam the flap on that box of uneaten Ring Dings, and pause those insufferable “Every Kiss Begins with Kay” commercials… Here’s my personal valentines to you rad readers-  feel free to print and snip.

Happy V-Day.

Love, Blumes

(* If anyone recognizes this quote, I’ll come to your house, hug you, and make you a B+ dinner.)

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The Seven Deadly Sins of Bill Cosby

By Andrew Blumetti  Bill Cosby

This blog has gone off a cliff.

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GLUTTONY

 

“Well, here, I had the taaaaasty ham sammich, and the mustard was just bippity baaa gooood. 

Ya see… the chippppps, they’re the ruffled, kinda like Theo’s hair, DAAAA, and the shirt with the leiiiii… well it’s like Hawaii! with the belly dancers and the volcanoes and it’s too warm for ma’ sweaters!  DAAAAA” 

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SLOTH

 

“Ahh, look at sleeeepy Billllll. 

Well, what happened here, I had a long night the day before this.  Little Rudy, ya remember HER?  Well, her little mustache keep collecting the FLOP SWEAT!  Baaaaa!  The bright lights, ya seeeee, they kept glistening off her little whiskerrrrs, and zippity zop bop, we had to keep filming My Bill Show late into the nighttttt!  Daaa…” 

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PRIDE

 

“My showwww.   Bippity zip, man ya know I was the firrrst black guy on the TV!  I did the Picture PAAAAAAges, with the Mortimer Ichabod Marker.  He was squeakier than my old shoes!  Bip bobbity… 

Ya know what time ma’ watch says?  It says it’s the bibbity booop blorp!  BAAAAAA.”

 

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ENVY

“That stupid Urkel kid! – that showwww was the stupid! 

He just sat there with the snortin’ and bortin’ and the hip bob bibbity boo zopp, with the pants up to his stupid kid nipples.  I can’t believe they stayed on the air, and ‘ol Bill got thrown in the garbage like a used Kodak Film box. DAAAAA.”

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LUST

“I went to TEMPLEEEEE.  The UNIVERSITTTY!  And nobody beats the Owls.  Except for the Penn, who’s sweatshirt I got on.  …and these fine young trackleetes from The University of the Tennessee. 

Boppidy bop!  I wore my best sweatpants to impress ‘em and hopefully get them the pregnant!  They had the orange shorts and I thought I was at the Hooooooters!   I said, ‘I’ll have some Buffalo wings with the hot sauceee!’  DAAAAA…” 

(Blumes note:  Bill later settled undisclosed lawsuits with both of these unfortunate girls who claimed Mr. Cosby encroached upon them, asking  “You want Dr. Huxtable to help you deliver the baby?!?”)

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GREED

“GHOST DADDDD!!! DAAAAA!!!  Biggest hit of the summer of 1990!!  And the second most successful film from that calendar year with the word ‘Ghost’ in the title

I got lots of the dead prezzies to play a dead guy.  Ghost Bill was zoobity zip zip!  I came back with my TOP HAT and the zipppty and the zorp and the kids wanted to play with ‘ma briefcase!  Frizzle frazzle!” 

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WRATH


“Well, the chubby kid, ya see, he ate all my puddin’ POPPPPPS. 

The little porker, well he got what was comin’ to him.  He’s eatin’ ma’ foooood instead listening to the jazz music!  I dropped him on the floor, and he fell on Lisa Bonet!  DAAAA   Zippity zip zorp bop!  Ya know what?  That little meatball never touched ma’ food again!  He knew Bill had the boppity bip zaaa!!!”

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Editor’s Note:  Bill Cosby said every single word on here.  Truth.

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My Favorite Super Bowls (That May or May Not Have Happened)

By Andrew Blumetti

Well, this certainly didn’t happen.

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February.

Talk about getting the most bang for your buck.  They really do pack a lot into a little month, don’t they?

In a mere twenty eight days, we’re graced with a bountiful bevy of winter celebration–  Valentine’s Day, Groundhog Day, President’s Day, Mardi Gras, Black History Month, Spring Training, and the most important of ‘em all (after Spring Training of course), there’s the great American holiday of Super Bowl Sunday, the biggest party since New Year’s Eve, only one month ago.

While granted, February’s short run is not as eventful as the unseen four weeks during 28 Days Later, but it makes me happy to celebrate my birthday during what would normally end up being a freezing, snowy, boring month with a girly-colored wuss birthstone.

Are you kidding me?

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Living in the greater New York area, especially within earshot of Giants Stadium (or MetLife Snoopy Stadium, or whatever it’s called now), the excitement, traffic, and overall buzz has been ramped up to a Spinal Tap-worthy 11 as the Denver Broncos go mono-a-mono with the Seattle Seahawks for all the gusto and glamor of gridiron glory.  It’s truly rocky vs. rainy in the Legal Marijuana Bowl.

Blumes note:  This offer still stands!  Now half price! 

But frankly, it’s Friday, January 31st, this is all old hat by now.

At this point, you’ve been endlessly bombarded with Super Bowl ads, magazine covers, news reports, cocky fans, and nonstop party planning for weeks now.  When Monday morning comes, and you’re more chili than man, you’ll undoubtedly know the Super Bowl had come and left its mark.

But that’s not who this article is for. 

Maybe you’re not a fan of hawks or horses, perhaps Richard Sherman’s post-game interview rubbed you the wrong way, or heck, or maybe you’re one of those people seriously considering a 7th Heaven marathon instead of football this weekend.

Ladies and Gentlemen: Your special teams for the Oakland Raiders!

Of course that doesn’t mean you won’t find yourself enjoying the festivities of Super Bowl Sunday.  Dr. Oz-unfriendly food, offensively expensive commercials (that always feature a baby doing something un-babyish), the sickeningly adorable Puppy Bowl, and trying to get your greased-up fingers to press the remote buttons to change the channel as Bruno Mars performs at halftime- this Sunday is a bombastic event that will please folks of all tastes.  …as evident by this walk down memory lane of some truly classic and heavily unorthodox Super Bowl games of yore.

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1. SUPER BOWL XXXII: BATMAN VS. STORMTROOPERS

Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na SAFETY!

 

As John Madden once called it in a most clever anagram, “Capes vs. Space”, this battle royale pitted The Dark Knight vs. the Imperial Army for 60 minutes of a nerdtastic pigskin extravaganza.  After a first quarter that was heavy on the Big D, Commissioner Gordon’s 45 yard rush into the endzone to close out the first half put Team Gotham up on top.

No guts, no glory, as the ‘Troopers marched their way back in the 4th quarter.

The second half was a superhero explosion of history-making offense as holy touchdowns Batman!—  the Caped Crusader aired it out to the Boy Wonder (who took a time out from cheerleading) in the Gotham endzone.

But, when the going gets tough, the tough get going, as the Stormtroopers, with their armored backs against the wall, bounced back to tie the game as the 2-minute warning approached.  Coach Vader flipped a crap when an ill-timed interception by Alfred the Butler spelled death for the Star Wars crew with the Bats taking home the trophy to Gotham City with a score of 28-21.

Go Team! Arwwwwwaaaaaaaarrrrrrahahahahahhaahhhhaa!!!!


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2.  SUPER BOWL XI:  KISS BOWL  (AKA THE TOILET BOWL)

 

“I wanna hike the ball all night!”


And you thought the Jaguars were bad…

Nothing screams out “gridiron glory” like mime makeup and gaudy platform shoes on men, but that’s why the KISS bowl was so unique.

Walking embarrassment Gene Simmons bit his long cow tongue as he slipped on his own fake blood on no less than three occasions, turning the usually triumphant game into a fumble-filled lowlight reel.  Pain in the ace, Mr. Frehley, shanked four field goal attempts, and starchild, Paul Stanley?   Well, he might as well have been the MVP… for the other team.

Chest hair and touchdowns!  Not just for Joe Namath anymore!

As far as scoring went, it was Detroit Block City.  The spandexed makeuped-ones never did touch the endzone, as KISS went down in defeat to good taste 49-0.

The best worst part was that they weren’t even asked to play the halftime show.  That honor went to The Doobie Brothers.

The great part about being KISS, is you can sell any crap you want at the souvenir stands…

 

The epilogue to this heavy metal tale of the 100 yards KISS never did get back to the Super Bowl, but on the plus side, KISS never did get back to the Super Bowl.

That jersey has the actual number of KISS fans left on Earth.

 

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3.  SUPER BOWL XLV:  ZOMBIE BOWL

Let’s have a hand for the hometeam!

It may have been only three years ago, but who could forget when the undead took down scalpers stadium-wide and invaded the turf during the timeless showdown of the Green Bay Packers and Pittsburgh Steelers?

Turning Aaron Rodgers into an Aaron Rodgers kabob?  Transforming Clay Matthews into an undead Thor?  Sending “Big Ben” Roethlisberger to the sideline to finally get some brains?

It all happened.  I guess.

Indigestion from overindulging in extra hot Buffalo wings rendered Daryl and Michonne practically useless that Sunday.

While the gameplay may have been painfully lumbering and a bit lethargic at times, it was no worse than any given Cleveland Browns game on a random Sunday.

The “Running Dead” tried to bite Tim Tebow on the sidelines, but he was immune to it.


But if Broadway has taught us anything, (and I guess it has…) —  the show must go on, flesh eaters or not.

Time will tell us that the zombies vs. zombies Super Bowl was a tad gory, maybe too confusing at times, and it may have taken five days to finish, but in the end, it was much less traumatizing than the Black Eyed Peas halftime show.

4th Down of the Dead!

 

One would be safe to assume the zombie apocalypse and certain doomsday would put a damper on the game’s festivities, with all the undead cannibalism and spilled guts, but the TV ratings reached an all-time high.  The NFC z-team ended up hoisting the Vince Lombardi Trophy, rotting limbs and all, bringing it back to frigid Green Bay where decaying slows down like Kirstie Alley’s metabolism.

THE ZOMBIES HAVE BECOME HIDEOUS!

The trophy had to be immediately sent out to be cleaned and shined due to the high volume of blood on it …on a weekly basis.

(On a positive note, in the zombie onslaught, Steelers safety Troy Polamalu was attacked, but escaped by a “hair”.)

Parking was tighter than George Costanza’s wallet…

…but the tailgating was awesome!

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4.  SUPER BOWL XLII:  THE RETURN OF BUD BOWL

 

 

Eli vs. Tom- buds for life!

 

For those too young to remember, the Bud Bowl was an early 90’s stop-motion beer bottle football tour de force that found its home during commercial breaks, squeezed in between multi-million dollar ads for Crystal Pepsi and The Bodyguard soundtrack.  It was a kick-glass all-out brawl between Budweiser and Bud Light.  Even as a long retired campaign, for me, that fateful Sunday in 2008 always be the year that the suds saved football.

Hut, hut… HOPS!!!

 

Phoenix, AZ–  When a thunderous monsoon that would’ve knocked over human brick wall, Howie Long, hit, it kept planes grounded and prevented both the Pats and G-Men from making their way into warm, sunny Arizona, the NFL pooped their britches, panicked and pooped them some more.

“But I wanna go on the PLAAAANNEE!!”

Sadly, cancelling the big game seemed like the only choice left, seeing as how there was no way to get the unfortunate stranded teams into the balmy city in time.  Luckily, the answer was only a bar away…

Long dead since 1997, a time when candy-lovin’ alternarock trio Marcy Playground was brimming with untapped potential, the beer bottles were called off the bench as Bud Bowl sat in as the substitute teacher for the real teams.   It was truly like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, but for drunks.

“My nose is red cause I’m half in the bag!”

The bottles tossed on the teams’ uniforms, and no one in the massive Arizona crowd was the wiser.  Nearly sixty minutes of play time and we all know what happened next-   Ale-I Manning to Beer David Tyree (what a good pick in the draft), the miraculous helmet catch, and a near-perfect season for New England ended in an 18-1 conclusion, as the bottled Big Blue were swimming in confetti in the Big Apple soon after.

No feelings were bottled-up in this game…

Understandably, in Massachusetts, spirits were wicked low, and where did they go?  To a bar of course.  NORM!

“Sammy, I’ve told you for years that beer saves all.”

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5.  SUPER BOWL XLIV: GAME MVP- ABE LINCOLN

Four Scores!  … and seven years ago.

 

For a few brief hours, the “L” in NFL stood for Lincoln.

We all know Abraham Lincoln was a president, emancipator, and a vampire hunter, but do you remember Abe’s big-time appearance in the Super Bowl?

The bearded one was called in to play when Peyton Manning had to leave the game early to film an impromptu Kraft Macaroni and Cheese commercial.   He ran out, flying past the cheerleaders, zooming by the mascots, with the glisten of anger in his eyes, sweat on his brow, and a chin beard so mighty, the heavens above stopped to gaze in majestic awe.

The stovetop hat was thrown down, the shoulder pads were thrust on, and that pigskin flew like you wouldn’t believe.  It was going perfect, until… clumsy ox Drew Brees went down with a pulled hamstring on the slippery turf.  And being the helpful chap he is, ‘ol Honest Abe took the reigns and stood in for him as well, changing uniforms as the Colts defensive squad ran out.

He abolished the slaves, and demolished the Colts…


As the clock struck zero, the Big Easy soon was celebrating with the sounds of jazz and firey-cajun food up the wazoo as Abe Lincoln received an early birthday gift- a declaration as Super Bowl MVP.

It was rumored plentiful posterior-ed socialite Kim Kardashian emancipated her relationship with then-Saints running back, Reggie Bush, that night to lock lips with the sixteenth prez.

And how did A-Linc become so good at football? 

Just how you get to Carnegie Hall…  Practice.

Note:  Sadly, Lincoln’s pro-career was cut short the following pre-season when Ravens linebacker John Wilkes Booth broke Lincoln’s legs.

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Enjoy your Super Bowl weekend!  As usual, please Fed-Ex any uneaten chicken wings to me. 

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