Week 8: Doom
Halloween night, Reenah had invited all of us to pass out candy to trick-or-treaters at her new place on Capitol Hill. I was planning on working late that night, until, around 7:30, I received a frantic phone call from Reenah.
Reenah: "I'm having a Halloween emergency! Come quick, I'm out of everything, and they keep coming. I had to borrow a bag of lollilops from my neighbor!"
Me: "I'm sorry, Reenah, I--"
Reenah: "I can't hold out much longer, they're everywhere! Please hurry!"
Splurging on the CVS Select chocolate bars, I ventured into Southeast D.C. to relieve Reenah at her post. She was down to doling out a single Dum Dum per trick-or-treater, which elicited a spectrum of reactions, from visible disappointment to "This is some bulls***." That last kid was 13 years old and easily outweighed Reenah and me by 100 pounds. I was ready to hop into a cab and get him a Ghirardelli basket, but Reenah held firm, and quietly asked me to stop urinating on myself.
They just kept coming and coming. I felt like we were Paul Newman and Robert Redford at the end of "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," expending our last bandoliers of chocolate bars into the relentless advance of the Bolivian army.
Growing up, Halloween had been a neighborly thing--you stopped by your neighbors' house, chatted for five minutes, they gave you some candy, then you did the same thing at the house next door. This was purely transactional. The high school kids didn't even bother with costumes, they just showed up with bookbags sullenly outstretched. Some kids made an effort, though. My favorite costume was the two brothers who split a Batman suit. One wore the suit. The other wore the Batman mask with a crisp sports shirt. Casual day at the Batcave.
The most volatile moment occurred when an eight-year-old girl, unfazed by the yards filled with skulls and tombstones and cackling goblins, was so terrified by the sight of Reenah's leftover tempura that she missed seeing Reenah drop candy in her bag. Then, when I tried to boot her off the porch, she started complaining loudly that we hadn't given her any candy. Luckily, her mother had seen everything, and told her she was mistaken.
In the girl's defense, however, it was only one Dum Dum.
On to the game. . .
After taking a bye week to allow the rest of the beleaguered league time to recuperate, the Tar Heel Terror Squad, America's Team, your CAROLINA PANTHERS hosted the infamous Minnesota Vikings this past Sunday. Before the game, Vikings CB Fred Smoot trash-talked Pro Bowl-bound WR Steve Smith.
The thing is, as any of you who have followed my posts for the past two years when Fred was a Redskin, Fred Smoot is vastly entertaining because 60% of what he says is unintelligible. It's entirely plausible for a guy like him to call in dinner reservations and end up with two boatloads of hookers. So I can't imagine what his trash-talk sounds like.
Smoot: Ergwt! Frert dwse grgyu!
Smith: I'm sorry, what was that again?
Smooth: Pokr sjijt wezz! Stlkj1!
Smith: I. . .are you asking me a question?
Smoot: Retj! Ujij! Slli tnno qwe!
Smith: Umm. . .(with great uncertainty) Tuesday.
Trailing 7-0 by the end of the first, a scrambling QB Daunte Culpepper got hit low but legally by CB Chris Gamble, tearing the anterior cruciate, medial collateral, and posterior cruciate ligaments in his knee (for those of you keeping score at home--there are no other ligaments in the knee). The hit left him entirely immobile, but still ahead of Michael Bennett on the RB depth chart.
Dominating on both sides of the ball, Carolina rang up a 24-0 lead by halftime, their receivers like mirages on the field, their defense like Estonian sumo star Baruto in the ring. What poise, what grace! By afternoon's end, as a dispirited Vikings squadron trudged slowly off the field savoring a 38-13 defeat, the general Jake Delhomme had posted 3 TDs on 21/30 for 341 yds
and the best WR in football in the past fifteen years, Steve Smith, had 11 recs for 201 and 1 TD.
Reader mail feature
From Brian B., in NYC:
"I was glad to see that the Ivy League Credentials feature of your blog make it's return, with a full paragraph devoted to HLS. Please keep it up."
You're right Brian, I should be spending an equal amount of time showcasing other fine academic institutions, for example, the University of Virginia. Located in Charlottesville, Virginia, UVA prides itself on being the best source of higher education in the region, no small feat when your competition is Uno's Management Training School and a state technical college whose football team fields more thugs than Burt Reynolds' in The Longest Yard. UVA is also known for its Honor Code, embodying all of the virtues most other schools think are intuitive enough not to have to put into writing.
Up next: the surging 5-2 Panthers meet the 5-2 Buccaneers in a battle for Dirty Souf supremacy. Things to watch: on one side of the ball you have the Human Sack Machine, DE Julius Peppers. On the other side, you have QB Chris Simms, who looks like prison currency. Who would you go with? One other sidebar: in each of the past two years, Carolina DE Kavika Pittman has had his season ended after having his ACL torn by the Buccaneers. I don't really have anything to add to that if I could be anyone this Sunday, it wouldn't be Kavika Pittman.
Until next time.
Rrowrrrr!
Reenah: "I'm having a Halloween emergency! Come quick, I'm out of everything, and they keep coming. I had to borrow a bag of lollilops from my neighbor!"
Me: "I'm sorry, Reenah, I--"
Reenah: "I can't hold out much longer, they're everywhere! Please hurry!"
Splurging on the CVS Select chocolate bars, I ventured into Southeast D.C. to relieve Reenah at her post. She was down to doling out a single Dum Dum per trick-or-treater, which elicited a spectrum of reactions, from visible disappointment to "This is some bulls***." That last kid was 13 years old and easily outweighed Reenah and me by 100 pounds. I was ready to hop into a cab and get him a Ghirardelli basket, but Reenah held firm, and quietly asked me to stop urinating on myself.
They just kept coming and coming. I felt like we were Paul Newman and Robert Redford at the end of "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," expending our last bandoliers of chocolate bars into the relentless advance of the Bolivian army.
Growing up, Halloween had been a neighborly thing--you stopped by your neighbors' house, chatted for five minutes, they gave you some candy, then you did the same thing at the house next door. This was purely transactional. The high school kids didn't even bother with costumes, they just showed up with bookbags sullenly outstretched. Some kids made an effort, though. My favorite costume was the two brothers who split a Batman suit. One wore the suit. The other wore the Batman mask with a crisp sports shirt. Casual day at the Batcave.
The most volatile moment occurred when an eight-year-old girl, unfazed by the yards filled with skulls and tombstones and cackling goblins, was so terrified by the sight of Reenah's leftover tempura that she missed seeing Reenah drop candy in her bag. Then, when I tried to boot her off the porch, she started complaining loudly that we hadn't given her any candy. Luckily, her mother had seen everything, and told her she was mistaken.
In the girl's defense, however, it was only one Dum Dum.
On to the game. . .
After taking a bye week to allow the rest of the beleaguered league time to recuperate, the Tar Heel Terror Squad, America's Team, your CAROLINA PANTHERS hosted the infamous Minnesota Vikings this past Sunday. Before the game, Vikings CB Fred Smoot trash-talked Pro Bowl-bound WR Steve Smith.
The thing is, as any of you who have followed my posts for the past two years when Fred was a Redskin, Fred Smoot is vastly entertaining because 60% of what he says is unintelligible. It's entirely plausible for a guy like him to call in dinner reservations and end up with two boatloads of hookers. So I can't imagine what his trash-talk sounds like.
Smoot: Ergwt! Frert dwse grgyu!
Smith: I'm sorry, what was that again?
Smooth: Pokr sjijt wezz! Stlkj1!
Smith: I. . .are you asking me a question?
Smoot: Retj! Ujij! Slli tnno qwe!
Smith: Umm. . .(with great uncertainty) Tuesday.
Trailing 7-0 by the end of the first, a scrambling QB Daunte Culpepper got hit low but legally by CB Chris Gamble, tearing the anterior cruciate, medial collateral, and posterior cruciate ligaments in his knee (for those of you keeping score at home--there are no other ligaments in the knee). The hit left him entirely immobile, but still ahead of Michael Bennett on the RB depth chart.
Dominating on both sides of the ball, Carolina rang up a 24-0 lead by halftime, their receivers like mirages on the field, their defense like Estonian sumo star Baruto in the ring. What poise, what grace! By afternoon's end, as a dispirited Vikings squadron trudged slowly off the field savoring a 38-13 defeat, the general Jake Delhomme had posted 3 TDs on 21/30 for 341 yds
and the best WR in football in the past fifteen years, Steve Smith, had 11 recs for 201 and 1 TD.
Reader mail feature
From Brian B., in NYC:
"I was glad to see that the Ivy League Credentials feature of your blog make it's return, with a full paragraph devoted to HLS. Please keep it up."
You're right Brian, I should be spending an equal amount of time showcasing other fine academic institutions, for example, the University of Virginia. Located in Charlottesville, Virginia, UVA prides itself on being the best source of higher education in the region, no small feat when your competition is Uno's Management Training School and a state technical college whose football team fields more thugs than Burt Reynolds' in The Longest Yard. UVA is also known for its Honor Code, embodying all of the virtues most other schools think are intuitive enough not to have to put into writing.
Up next: the surging 5-2 Panthers meet the 5-2 Buccaneers in a battle for Dirty Souf supremacy. Things to watch: on one side of the ball you have the Human Sack Machine, DE Julius Peppers. On the other side, you have QB Chris Simms, who looks like prison currency. Who would you go with? One other sidebar: in each of the past two years, Carolina DE Kavika Pittman has had his season ended after having his ACL torn by the Buccaneers. I don't really have anything to add to that if I could be anyone this Sunday, it wouldn't be Kavika Pittman.
Until next time.
Rrowrrrr!
posted by Panther fan at 8:26 AM
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