Bengals, Rams, And Yawning

It's Super Bowl weekend. I for one will be avoiding the whole thing since I find football boring to begin with, but especially so when it gets thrown in with hundreds of commercial breaks, an overblown halftime show, and a broadcast time that feels like five hundred hours. That said, it's time to have a look at the overblown nonsense through the eyes of our intrepid reporter. Whose opinions I completely agree with.

Super Bowl Weekend Descends On Los Angeles; Unlikely Teams Playing, Many Surprised

Los Angeles (AP). It comes each and every year: an overblown frenzy of feasts, gatherings of family and friends, a timespan that never seems to end, and a broadcast. Yes, it's the Super Bowl, a pointless culmination of a pointless sport that fascinates Americans each year. 

The NFL, home to future concussion sufferers and early dementia onset patients, celebrates the end of each season with a ratings busting game that goes on for hours, gets interrupted every minute and a half for more commercials, and features a halftime show that has nothing to do with much of anything at all (editor: and sometimes features wardrobe malfunctions).

This year the event is being held in Inglewood, California, at SoFi Stadium, home of the LA Rams, one of the two teams who inexplicably made it to the championship this year. The Rams have won the Super Bowl before, back in their previous home city of St. Louis. They're playing the Cincinnati Bengals, who have never won. 

This reporter, frankly, does not care (editor: nor does this editor). That said, however, this reporter's readers seem to enjoy this reporter's snarkiness about things he does not like, and so this reporter has been sent off to cover the event along with the regular sports reporters. This reporter would like to add that he is glad his previous editor is no longer employed by the paper and is in the lunatic asylum where he belongs (editor: that guy was nuts).

It's been an odd season. The favoured teams lost in the playoffs: Chiefs, Steelers, and Buccaneers. The Rams managed to squeeze their way into the final more or less by luck. The Bengals, who haven't won a playoff game since 1990, had more than their share of luck. Giants of the game- Tom Brady and Ben Roethlisberger- retired on a down note after losing the final games of their careers. To which this reporter says, good (editor: I agree). There's nothing quite like overstaying your welcome.

And so we come to the end of a bloated season and the last game. Already NBC is busy broadcasting the pre-game show. Tailgate parties have started up. The greater LA area is even more obnoxious than usual (editor: I was once in LA. Worst eighteen hours of my life).

Fans of the Buccaneers, Chiefs, Steelers, and 49ers remain dumbfounded that these two teams could have advanced past their beloved teams. "This is a ****ing travesty," Jim Hagerty, a professed Chiefs fan told this reporter this week. "There are a few certainties in life. One of 'em is that the ******* Bengals don't win playoff games. They beat our boys! They beat us! They must have been cheating! Well, they're not going to get away with it! A bunch of us are gonna rush the fiel.... um, forget I said anything."

(Editor: that sounds ominous.)

To make things even more confusing, the Rams, while playing in their home stadium, are being designated as the visiting team. It's one of those archaic rules about the home team for a Super Bowl alternating yearly between conferences. Does this mean that all of the Rams logos get hidden behind a quick coat of paint? 

Much is being made at the moment about the unlikely teams and its possible effects on ratings. Others say that it may not matter: that most people tune into the game for the glitz, the commercials, and the possibility of a wardrobe malfunction.

Roger Goodell, NFL Commissioner and future Bond villain, had this to say. "It's a feel-good story. We've got two underdog teams who were never supposed to go this far, but they have. A lot of people are going to root for them. And from my point of view, finally getting rid of that mother****er Brady was long overdue. Wait, did I say that out loud?"

This reporter, frankly, doesn't care one way or another about Tom Brady (editor: neither does this editor).

The halftime show this year features another overblown spectacle of multiple entertainers. Snoop Dogg (assuming he hasn't gotten too high and forgotten what he's supposed to do that evening) will be joining Eminem, Mary J. Blige, and Kendrick Lamar for an over the top light show of rap, hip hop, and general tediousness. At home, millions of grandparents will be wondering who those people are, and why don't they have Perry Como do this. Well, first of all, Grandpa, because he's dead, and putting a dead guy on a stage might have some entertainment value, but generally is frowned upon (editor: mind you, they've been doing that for years with Jack Nicholson at the Oscars).

Snoop Dogg met with reporters at the stadium, smoking some premium bubba kush, looking perpetually dazed. "You know, it's gonna be big, know what I'm sayin?'. It's gonna be the biggest show of the year. People will be talkin' 'bout it for years to come. Every Stupor Bowl halftime show before this won't come near what this one will be."

"Super Bowl," this reporter prompted.

"That's what I said," Snoop Dogg replied.

"No, you said Stupor Bowl."

Snoop Dogg shrugged. "Well, that's because I'm high as a kite. No problem. It's not as if it'll affect the show. It'll make it all the more mellow, know what I'm sayin'?"

"Is your use of recreational substances going to make you late for the halftime show?" this reporter asked.

Snoop Dogg laughed. "Of course not. The producers have guys with me who'll make sure I get there on time. These guys are with me twenty four seven until the big game on Monday. Though I'm sure at this point they're high from second hand smoke."

"The game is on Sunday," this reporter corrected him.

"It is? Oh, ****, I've got this thing on Sunday," Snoop Dogg lamented.

(editor: this has catastrophe written all over it.)

Elsewhere, other figures of the game have been lurking around the big show. New England Patriots and reputed Dark Lord of the Sith Bill Belichick hasn't had a good year. Not since he lost the aforementioned Tom Brady to the Buccaneers. Losing to the seemingly lowly Buffalo Bills early in the playoffs, his team got slaughtered in what's been the worst post season loss of the Belichick regime. Nevertheless, the coach has been seen around LA, skulking about, griping to anyone who'll listen to him.

"It's not fair!" he told a scattered group of reporters. "I had a deal! All I had to offer up was my soul, and I'd get Super Bowl wins forever! It was glorious. Patriots doing whatever we could to win. Even breaking the rules and cheating. Wait, wait, wait. Forget that last part. The point is we were supposed to own the Super Bowl forever! And now I can't even beat the damned Bills in the post season! Where did it all go wrong?"

"Perhaps with the whole selling your soul thing?" this reporter suggested.

"Who told you that?" Belichick snapped.

"You did. Thirty seconds ago."

"I did not!" Belichick said, storming off away from the reporters.

Elsewhere, the owner of Belichick's soul had his own remarks on the matter. "He kept trying to remortgage his own soul," Satan remarked, smelling of fire and brimstone and toting his pitchfork. "You know what happens when you remortgage your house too many times? You never climb out of that kind of debt. Same thing with your soul. At this point, his soul is only worth a buck fifty to me, but ten trillion dollars to him. It's a little thing called consequences, which I always point out to people who come to me with this sort of request is in the fine print, but nobody ever reads the fine print."

Another face of the past has been making his rounds, and an unpleasant face at that. O.J. Simpson, one time star player, occasional mediocre actor, frequent commercial pitch man, and suspect in the overblown so called 'trial of the century', as if the reporters of the time had never heard of the Nuremberg Trials, has been around. The paroled convicted criminal (unfortunately not convicted of the big crime in the so called trial of the century) has been shilling his own name for coaching a team, any team, in the NFL. 

"But they're all ****in' against the Juice," Simpson told a number of reporters. This reporter kept to the back, having had a number of negative previous interactions with the washed up ex-convict over the years (editor: for which we're very sorry). "The Juice, you know... I'm the best ****in' player in the ****in' history of the ****in' NFL! The best of all ****in' time. But the ****in' NFL talks about reputation and crimes and all that bull****. Well, I call that bull****, because it ****in' is."

Simpson shook his head. "I'd be great coachin'. I'd be real motivational! I'd remind those guys on the field what I do to people who ****in' disappoint me. That's motivation, mother****er! Do you really want me comin' after you with a ****in' knife or what?"

Reporters looked around at each other and shared much the same thought: how dumb is this guy?

"Perhaps you should reconsider your phrasing," one of the other reporters suggested.

"Don't ****in' tell me what to do!" Simpson snapped. He paused a moment, looking at the crowd, and his gaze fell upon this reporter. "You. It's you." His tone went low. Officers looking on at a distance paid more attention. "You're that ****in' mother****er who keeps tellin' people that I threatened to kill your ****in' ass! Well that's bull****, mother****er, because I never said I'd ****in' kill you!"

"You have several times," this reporter replied. "It's been recorded."

"Oh, **** that!" Simpson screamed. "And **** you for claimin' I threatened you! I'll ****in' kill you for sayin' I wanted to ****in' kill you!" At this point he moved forward off the stage as if to charge through the crowd... and then fell out of sight. There was a momentary sound of a crack. And then the sound of Simpson screaming. "My hip! My hip! My ****in' hip!"

Soon thereafter Simpson was taken to the hospital, later diagnosed with a shattered hip. Police accompanying him charged him with uttering death threats. Simpson was reported to have sworn revenge.

As for this reporter? The game, unfortunately, awaits. This reporter might well skip out on it, or sleep through it. Such is life (editor: yes, sorry, but the readers love this. And besides, you got O.J. Simpson to break his hip this time).

Putting Up With Bloody Idiots

So how's the last few days been for you?

Mine have been thoroughly unpleasant.

Just a word: lots of coarse language ahead, but it's entirely justified.

On the last Friday of January, a horde of truckers, pick up trucks, and misguided souls started pouring into Ottawa with a truck load of grievances, misinformation, and alt-right foaming rage. They came, started occupying the streets, honking their horns, driving aimlessly all over the city, making a nuisance of themselves. National monuments and statues were disrespected. Some of them are demanding the death of the prime minister. Others are demanding the abolition of the Liberal party. Because abolishing those parties you disagree with... that's democratic. At least in their minds.

In short, the residents of this city were under siege for days on end. By fuckwits proclaiming themselves to be heroes, freedom fighters, and patriots.

I wrote the following on Facebook a week ago, on Monday morning after two nights of little sleep:

To the "freedom convoy": you're not patriots. You're not freedom fighters. You're not heroes. You're angry, misguided narrow minded fucking morons. Your convoy is being supported by a western separatist party. How is going hand in hand with separatists patriotic? So no. You're not patriots.

You came to this city, honking your horns at all hours, driving all over this city. You keep its citizens awake and on edge. You will never convince me that you're anything but angry alt right conspiracy theory anti vax, anti science, anti fact motherfuckers.

I have seen with my own eyes the Confederate flag carried in my city by you. I have heard the fucking goddamned Trumpist slogans from you with my own ears. White supremacists at their worst. In my city.

And you show disrespect to the statue of Terry Fox, and make light of it. You climb all over the War Memorial, and dance on top of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. And you want to paint yourselves as freedom loving patriots?

Freedom also means responsibility.

Do you fucking get that?

Get out of my city. Take your blaring horns and leave.

While you still can.

I've had maybe two hours sleep the last two nights total. Because assholes in pick up trucks are driving through neighbourhoods honking horns at any and all hours.

This city is being held hostage. By motherfuckers who are wearing on our last nerve. How long before we, the citizens of this city, have had our fill of it?

In short, freedom convoy: commit suicide.

And fuck you.

I took three shots of these assholes a short distance from each other. And personally told a couple of them to get out of the city in a thoroughly unpleasant way. I even left an unpleasant review at the place of business for the asshole in the third photo. That particular business is getting a lot of unpleasant Google reviews right about now. Which they deserve. Along with all of the other asshole owner-operators who thought this was a bright idea.

I photographed this sign, posted on a hydro pole; the remark comes from a place of basic sense.

So, what do we have? 

We've got a protest who, when you do a little digging, was actually started by western separatists, white supremacists, and the like. They're the ones pulling the strings behind all of this. We've got a protest that isn't a protest. Because when you occupy streets, harass the citizens of that city, drive all over it honking your horns at any hour of the night, you're not demonstrating. You're occupying. You're terrorizing. 

We've got protesters carrying around Confederate flags- and even a swastika or two. These are facts. I've seen the Confederate flags with my own eyes, and the swastika was spotted on television- defacing a Canadian flag- while an idiot member of parliament from the Conservative party was being interviewed out in the streets. It was also seen in full as one of the flags in Major's Hill Park, a short distance away from Parliament Hill.

Of course the supporters and apologists will never see that. They'll trot out the usual 'liberal Marxist operatives' line. Instead of accepting the reality that white supremacists are among these protesters.

When you're carrying around symbols of hatred- and that's what the Nazi swastika and the Confederate flags are- you're on the wrong side of history. And if you're one of the other protesters and you're not doing something about it, you're on the wrong side of history. And if you're a supporter at home making excuses and trying to explain it all away- you're on the wrong side of history.

What else do we take away from this? A multitude of downtown shops closing up instead of having to deal with the harassment and tension of the current situation. Protesters urinating and defecating on people's properties. Continuous harassment of the public with horns being honked, keeping us awake at nights. Citizens being yelled at by these assholes. Oh, yes. And hassling staff and clients at a homeless shelter, demanding food be given to them instead. 

Yes, read that last part again.

I'd say they should be ashamed of themselves, but clearly that's beyond them.

I mentioned in my Facebook post about screaming at a couple of these guys on that Monday morning. I told them to get out of my city, in extremely unpleasant terms. And I had to walk away. Why?

Because I wanted so much, in that moment, to hurt them. To bash their faces into the side of their trucks. And I can't say I would have been able to stop bashing their faces in.

That's how far this has gone.

I felt homicidal. 

I wanted to kill these two fuckers. I wanted them dead.

But I walked away. At home I felt awful that I could have had that impulse, but there it was. 

I now feel plunged into a deep depression. It's going to take time to work my way out of this one.

The important part is that I didn't follow through on that impulse. Part of that is I refuse to turn any of these fucking scum into martyrs for their goddamned cause. Part of it is that they're not worth it. They're not worth the jail time.

But when the residents of a city are effectively being held hostage by a hostile force who have no regard for anything but their own goddamned misguided world view, tempers are going to get frayed. People will snap. Someone will decide to take the law into their own hands and do what the police won't.

And the frustrating part of this has been that the cops seem to refuse to do anything about it. Yes, I'm sure they're quietly trying to negotiate with these verminous excuses for human beings to convince them to leave. They don't want to escalate the situation. But when you're not protecting the citizens you're sworn to protect, and just asking us to 'be patient' and 'avoid the downtown core' while these assholes continue to not behave peacefully and harass us... all while you do things like pose for selfies with these same assholes....

Well, you've violated the trust of the citizenry.

We won't forget that.

Living in society carries with it certain responsibilities as a citizen. These protesters scream about freedom, but as I've noted, it's freedom from responsibility. That's all they want. It's all about them, and to hell with anyone else. And they don't seem to care that their strings are being pulled by white nationalists who are largely keeping to the shadows, but who are the ones who set this in motion.

If you don't want to be a responsible citizen, fine. Go live on an island. With no infrastructure, power, or source of employment. See how long you last.

I'm tired of Covid. I want this to end. But by doing so in a responsible manner.

By listening to doctors. And science. And fact. And reason. 

All of which the alt-right anti-vaxxer movement seem to hold as obscenities. While they hold tight to their sources of information: angry talk radio hosts, a guy they know on Facebook, and the latest bit of nonsense from the dark web.

I've had as much as I can take of all of it. These people are wretched, awful excuses for human beings. When they're gone, the residents of this city are not going to forgive, or forget. The wounds caused by this run too deep.

We'll remember the police standing by and doing nothing. We'll remember our lame duck mayor fretting and doing nothing. 

But we'll really remember people calling themselves Canadians.... behaving in the most disgusting, repugnant manner, occupying our streets, harassing us, keeping us on edge, and de-legitimizing real protests.

To every last idiot member of the truck convoy protesters, and to their supporters and apologists, I have only three more things to say to you.

Fuck you.

Burn in hell.

God damn you for what you've done.

Musings Of A Grouchy Rodent

Groundhog Day is nearly upon us, and as always some people will be desperately hoping for spring. In various places groundhogs will be rudely awoken early in the morning by idiots in top hats to put on a show of seeing or not seeing their shadows.

And here in Canada we'll keep getting more winter regardless of what Wiarton Willie has to say.

Here's an image blog for the occasion.