Colorado: More Than Just Kobe and Columbine

Some states end up getting their names in the papers for all the wrong reasons. In my mind Colorado is one of them. Skiing? Sure. Lloyd Christmas looking for Mary Samsonite Swanson in “Asspin, CO” I remember that. Kobe laying pipe on some white bitch that had multiple jizz stains in her underoos? Ah, that’s the ticket!

Maybe I am in a small percentage of people that are like that. I remember the most screwed up things about random states. I should remember Kordell Stewart chunking the leather-wrapped watermelon 64 yards to Michael Westbrook to squeak past Michigan. Or should I remember John “I can throw a baseball from home plate over the left field fence” Elway finally getting over the hump and winning back-to-back Super Bowls.

What about when the Denver Nuggets…………changed their logo? Hmmm…that’s a tough one. Considering that they have retired 5 numbers in their history which are…

Alex English (2)

David Thompson (33)

Byron Beck (40)

Dan Issel (44)

Doug Moe (432)

No, I’m not drunk. He had #432 retired. Ok, I might be drunk. It is after 4 here. The reason he had 432 retired is because it is the number of regular season wins he had in Denver. I’m not trying to bag on AE or anything, but Denver is just begging for someone to come in there and do something for God’s sake.

I will say that the Rockies are still somewhat new so I can’t say too much bad stuff about them. They did have an all-star game there and who can resist Andres Galarraga? Hockey up there is kind of a given since they live in snow all year. (That’s what we think at least in Texas. Hey, you think we all ride horses and shit so shut it.)

Give Colorado a chance. Don’t just remember South Park or Pete Coors. Open yourself up to new sports horizons from our little box of the west.

Haha……box.

Poon

I'm Retired-ded

"what are you looking at?

I SAID WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU LOOKING AT!! oh."

Damn. Why didn’t I think of this? I’m pretty sure come Monday, I am going to march into my boss’s office and tell him that I am going to retire. However, if I do not find a company that wants me for more money or more opportunity that I have here, I’ll just come back so keep my cubicle warm for me. Thanks.

And to think, it was Corey “I look like I’m running with children on my legs now days” Dillon that made me realize this. In all honesty, I’ve never been a big fan of this jackwad. When he was in Cincy, he sucked….kinda…..well, he was ok…..shit. I really hate when I don’t like a guy and I’m ready to tear him a new one and then I realize th

at he was actually pretty good. He has averaged 1100 yards per year since he has been in this league, but that is kind of padded. Over the past 4 years he has had 541, 1635, 733 and 812. Really? Not that great to me. I know the 1635 is an OK season, but is the rest of his career going to be enough to put him in the Hall? My answer….YES!

Confused? I’ll bet you are my little servants. “Didn’t he say that he hates this guy and now he wants him in the HOF?” Maybe I did. Contradictory? Yes. Let me explain. The 2007 class included a guy tied for 2^nd most consecutive seasons in Browns history (seriously? Look at it, its his highlight), a guy that never had more than 42 receptions in a season and only 336 for his career and this guy that got voted in for having the coolest fucking hair ever. I will not get on a tangent about Irvin, Bruce Matthews or Thurman

Thomas because that will open up a whole new thing that I don’t need to get into. Corey Dillon just needs to wait for an off season for the Hall and he will slide in there just like the rest of the mediocre players that made it.

Congrats Corey. I hope that you retire and then in 27 years you get voted in and you can’t even walk up to the stage because your legs are so beaten from the playing you did. You see, I can be a nice person too. I could have just told him to eat shit and die, but I don’t roll like that.

Speaking of dying, I received a private call today at the house and I didn’t answer not thinking much of it. I heard that they left a voicemail so I went to see who it was. Sam Snead. Yeah, that Sam Snead. As PK kindly pointed out “I thought he would sound a little deader than that.” I thought so too. I did the ‘ol *69 on it just to see what I could find and it connected me directly to Hell. When they answered it went like this.

“Fuck you for calling Hell. This is Helen Keller how can I direct your call?” (yeah kinda surprised me too)

“This is –insert real name here-. Sam Snead called me and I was just returning his call.”

“Well, you will just have to wait another year to talk to him when you get down here. We can’t transfer to that area.”

“Is it a bad wing? I don’t get that….hey what do you mean another year before I get down there?”

“Oh nothing. Good luck in Vegas in April 2008. hahahahaahahahahaha”

*click*

What a bitch. And don’t ask how she could find the phone or even hear it when I talked. Jesus works miracles in Hell I guess.

Poon

SAVE THE CHIEF!!!

Down and Distant is sad to report that The University of Illinois has succumbed to the dogmatic NCAA and will officially retire Chief Illiniwek after 81 years. The Chief's last dance was last night during halftime of the Illini's 54-42 win over Michigan. The tasteful and honorable (my words) symbol of the University of Illinois has been deemed offensive to some.

Really?

It's not like other teams were bribing the Illini with liquor and guns to forfeit athletic contests. It is this blogger's opinion that the NCAA forcing Illinois' hand is symbolic of a larger problem that exists in our country today. Seems to me that people think they have a right to not be offended. Think about that for a minute.

Is that the case? Do we have a right to not be offended? I say no - not so long as we believe in free speech, the slipperiest of slopes. For example, each day in major metropolitan areas, trucks with pictures of aborted fetuses drive around trying to draw attention to the pro-life message of its sponsor. Am I offended by this? Yes. Do I think they have a right to do that. Yes. Is it done in poor taste? Of course, but free speech has nothing to do with good taste.

Trying to eliminate everything that is offensive to some is an exercise in futility and a waste of time - and, in my opinion, just another reason why America loses it's edge a little more each day. Wasting time and energy blaming others and complaining about every message we don't like.
So to those who would take away a university's right to have a dancing and prancing Indian Chief, I say SUCK IT - SAVE THE CHIEF!!

So, Mr. Martin, it says here on your resume that you spent some time as The Gimp.

From Mattel: Kids will love The Gimp action figure.

Batteries and Ball-gag sold separately

OK loyal readers of D and D (which, it bears mentioning is much cooler than being a loyal reader of D&D…you know who you are.), in the interest of providing a foundation for provocative discourse, we offer the following piece on The Gimp (from Pulp Fiction…you idiots).

How does one become The Gimp? I'm guessing it's not a job that has applicants lining-up. The downside is tremendous, isn't it?! I mean, aside from the almost unthinkable sexually deviant tasks The Gimp is asked/forced to perform, it may be the worst job EVER. I'd like to see that douche bag from the reality show Bad Jobs (or whatever the hell it's called) suit-up in the leather suit for even an hour. Do you think each new Gimp gets a fresh suit? No way. That thing has got to be more stinky than a broken fraternity house urinal (yes - we know what that smells like). And I'm sure you could grow some interesting bacteria samples with swabs from inside the suit and couple Petri dishes. In addition to the not-so-fresh scent, can you imagine the chaffing? OK - so we agree, the suit is bad news in and of itself.

So let's say you dig the suit and you're a freak like that, how do you entertain yourself for the 20+ hours a day when you're not a stinky, sweaty, messy sex slave? I'm guessing that pine box you live in probably doesn't have cable. In fact, a dime gets you a dollar that there's only one room in there - and it ain't a bathroom. Although one's own urine is sterile, I doubt very much that it would be fun to sit around in…ALL DAY LONG. Let's not even talk about #2. You thought Andy Dufraine had it bad crawling through 500 yards of excrement in Shawshank, try being The Gimp. Can you spare a Glade Stick-up for a brother?

Do you think the Gimp was just some salesman from out-of-town who was slipped a mickey? Did he lose a bet? Did he sign-up voluntarily? Did he stroll into the pawn shop trying to sell his collection of turquoise jewelry and fall for the age-old "would you like to see the inside of my small pine box in the basement" trick?

Filling the job of The Gimp would be a tough sell for a recruiter, no? How long after you zip-up the leather funk suit until you realize maybe this was a bad idea? Long before your first lunch break, I imagine. It's not like you're going to eat when the mouth hole is zipped-up anyway. Chances are you're OK with the mouth hole being zipped-up. As an aside, typing "mouth hole" makes me uncomfortable. Forget gastric bypass...you'd lose more than a couple pounds being The Gimp.

So I guess we can all feel better about our shitty jobs…it could be worse…you could be THE GIMP!

HAPPY VD

Retred of previously posted article by Savant - Good luck tonight big boy. Here's hoping you get to knock the bottom out of it tonight.

Buckeye Savant: Takes a break as a Full time chick magnet and part-time taint model

to share some very important tips on bagging "The Babes"

OK, boys, listen up! We here at Down and Distant are always looking-out for the common man. That's right, Joe Average, we've got your back - and to prove it, we are offering you these manly suggestions for Valentine's Day. You want to score with Jane Doe? Aside from the fact that Kobe already "hit that" a long time ago, we're all for it. Just follow these simple steps and you'll be ears deep even before the roofies kick-in:

1. Think positive. The ladies love a confident man so give yourself some quality self-affirmation with a little pre-date pep talk. Repeat any of these mantras: "I will remember to wash my butt crack," "I will be sophisticated and order white zinfandel," or "I am in control…baseball, baseball, baseball."

2. Never tell the truth. Aside from dropping the oh-so-obvious "Canadian girlfriend" line, embellish all you want, but plan ahead so she can't call you out on it later. Some good lies include: exaggerated high school sports accomplishments ("I would have been All-State if I hadn't broken my coccyx"), completely made-up celebrity run-ins ("I had drinks with Evel Knievel"), and how you broke-up with a really hot chick because she wasn't pretty "on the inside." Bad lies might include embellished penis size - length and/or girth and, well, I guess that's pretty much it for bad lies.

3. Dress to impress. Truth be told, there are two distinct schools of thought on this one - dress like you really want to get laid -or- dress like you don't give a damn. If you want to get laid, rock a great pair of jeans with an expensive shirt and a good tasteful watch. Also, match your shoes and belt, dumb ass - and apply copious amounts of a good cologne not called Brut, English Leather or anything with Karate in the name. If you are dressing like you don't give a damn, be sure to look like you don't give a damn ON PURPOSE. Avoid, at all costs, dark socks with non-athletic shorts, corduroy pants, and excessive gold jewelry. By "excessive." we mean "any."

4. Gift buying. Once again, there are two distinct strategies. First, good gifts - which include non-turquoise or non-cubic zirconium jewelry, flowers sent to her at work (so everyone sees them at her desk), and a certificate for a day at the spa. Bonus points for SPECIFIC spa certificates - like $50 toward a Brazilian or $25 toward clearing a landing strip. Next bad gifts - which are really good gifts...for YOU! Our suggestions include: a Sony Playstation (with Madden 2008), some seriously naughty lingerie, new best seller “Now Go Make Me a Turkey Pot Pie Bitch and other Post-Coitus Recipes for a Man” or a 12-month subscription to Barely Legal.

5. TIVO. We understand that you’d rather be home on the couch watching sports on TV than going out to Chez Suckhole restaurant. But that’s the genius of Tivo. You’ll be able to feign enjoyment of your wedge salad and Poached Salmon a la Crap for two, know that you viewing pleasure is ensured for later. You won’t have to miss American Idol, Ultimate Fighting and Grey’s Anatomy Spurs at Pistons.

So go forth, Man. Follow these steps, drive the lane and score dammit! SCORE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. Please be sure to tell us about it too. As some of us are married and will most likely be at home on the couch watching Spurs at Pistons American Idol, and will need the vicarious boner.

Okaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy!!!!

Lord what's wrong with me? I have been sitting on this for the better half of a week. What kind of excuse do I have for breaking this story so late? Squirts? No, that won't work. Busy with work? Keep trying. Computer problems? Yes, that's good, I'll roll with that. Why am I typing every word I am thinking? Shit. I like grizzly men. Really? That's odd. I never knew that before. You do now. Who was that? It's your subconcience. Why are you here and why the hell am I still typing everything I think? I don't know, your the dumbshit working the fingers. Just get to the story and shut the hell up. OK. OK.

This just in to the D and D home office laptop while I'm dropping the deuce...John Amaechi has come out of the closet. The greatest NBA center of all time random black man that played basketball emerged from his closet this week, saw his shadow and now that fucker has cursed us with 6 more years of gayness. With an exclusive statement with D and D Amaechi said this..
"Who are you guys again? Oh, and I'm gay. HOLLAAAAAAAA!!!!"

In a related story, Punxsutawney Phil confirmed reports this week that he in fact is gay. This started an uproar among the Christians of this great land and now they are refusing to take his advice. Rev. Lucy Furr had this to say,
"Fuck that little gay rat, I'll start spring when I feel like it."
D and D "A little harsh language there rev."
Rev. "Oh, sorry. I meant God hates gays and that rat will burn in hell. Praise Jesus."

Phil had this to say
"Who are you guys again? Oh, never heard of you. Anyways I have been coming out of the closet every fucking year since 1886. What is wrong with you people. And why aren't you wearing pants?"

With that, The pantless D and D crew took off drunk through the streets of Punxsutawney while children yelled "look Phil is coming out of his hole!"

Poon

WORD TO THE FELLAS - a how-to guide to giving Rosie McFisty a break and maybe score a little on Valentine's Day

Buckeye Savant: Takes a break as a Full time chick magnet and part-time taint model

to share some very important tips on bagging "The Babes"

OK, boys, listen up! We here at Down and Distant are always looking-out for the common man. That's right, Joe Average, we've got your back - and to prove it, we are offering you these manly suggestions for Valentine's Day. You want to score with Jane Doe? Aside from the fact that Kobe already "hit that" a long time ago, we're all for it. Just follow these simple steps and you'll be ears deep even before the roofies kick-in:

1. Think positive. The ladies love a confident man so give yourself some quality self-affirmation with a little pre-date pep talk. Repeat any of these mantras: "I will remember to wash my butt crack," "I will be sophisticated and order white zinfandel," or "I am in control…baseball, baseball, baseball."

2. Never tell the truth. Aside from dropping the oh-so-obvious "Canadian girlfriend" line, embellish all you want, but plan ahead so she can't call you out on it later. Some good lies include: exaggerated high school sports accomplishments ("I would have been All-State if I hadn't broken my coccyx"), completely made-up celebrity run-ins ("I had drinks with Evel Knievel"), and how you broke-up with a really hot chick because she wasn't pretty "on the inside." Bad lies might include embellished penis size - length and/or girth and, well, I guess that's pretty much it for bad lies.

3. Dress to impress. Truth be told, there are two distinct schools of thought on this one - dress like you really want to get laid -or- dress like you don't give a damn. If you want to get laid, rock a great pair of jeans with an expensive shirt and a good tasteful watch. Also, match your shoes and belt, dumb ass - and apply copious amounts of a good cologne not called Brut, English Leather or anything with Karate in the name. If you are dressing like you don't give a damn, be sure to look like you don't give a damn ON PURPOSE. Avoid, at all costs, dark socks with non-athletic shorts, corduroy pants, and excessive gold jewelry. By "excessive." we mean "any."

4. Gift buying. Once again, there are two distinct strategies. First, good gifts - which include non-turquoise or non-cubic zirconium jewelry, flowers sent to her at work (so everyone sees them at her desk), and a certificate for a day at the spa. Bonus points for SPECIFIC spa certificates - like $50 toward a Brazilian or $25 toward clearing a landing strip. Next bad gifts - which are really good gifts...for YOU! Our suggestions include: a Sony Playstation (with Madden 2008), some seriously naughty lingerie, new best seller “Now Go Make Me a Turkey Pot Pie Bitch and other Post-Coitus Recipes for a Man” or a 12-month subscription to Barely Legal.

5. TIVO. We understand that you’d rather be home on the couch watching sports on TV than going out to Chez Suckhole restaurant. But that’s the genius of Tivo. You’ll be able to feign enjoyment of your wedge salad and Poached Salmon a la Crap for two, know that you viewing pleasure is ensured for later. You won’t have to miss American Idol, Ultimate Fighting and Grey’s Anatomy Spurs at Pistons.

So go forth, Man. Follow these steps, drive the lane and score dammit! SCORE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. Please be sure to tell us about it too. As some of us are married and will most likely be at home on the couch watching Spurs at Pistons American Idol, and will need the vicarious boner.

Hey Sexy Mama With the Diaper!

I guess it's all over now. No more playoffs. No more Super Bowl. No more Jaws on Salisbury man sex.....what? Anyways, football in my book is done until August. Sure, we have the Pro Bowl Saturday (yeah Saturday, good football day for pros) and I suppose that I might watch the skills challenge just so feel worse about myself, but no real football.
......
..........
.....
Shit. I'm a boring human being without it. I wish that there was some way for me to get into some other sport. Well, at least I'm not Lisa Marie Nowak. It is one thing to go on a road trip and wear diapers, (going back to work after a Pancho's all-you-can-eat might be one reason....not that I know....or did that today) but she threw on a wig and a trench coat and tried to spray chemicals in the poor lady's car. What happened to the good old days where you could just work in a couple of stab wounds and chunk someone in the river. I miss the good old days. Well, what supposedly happened is in a state of rage over some dude that doesn't give two shits about her or probably even knew her name, Lisa Marie (note-all great killers use middle names) traveled from the beautiful smog hole of Houston to the great overrated "mom Goofy grabbed my ass" Orlando looking for ol' Colleen Shipman that was going down to hang with the captain. Meeting Colleen at the terminal, she then followed her to her rental car and tried to force her way into her car. When Colleen finally cracked her window, Lisa then sprayed chemicals in her car hoping to kill the stupid man stealing bitch. That is where we are now I suppose.
Good times. Who needs football when we have this kind of stuff going on in daily life. I have spent all day today trying to get my email strings straight to get some sort of exclusive on this story. I finally got ahold of my friend that works at NASA who did not want to be named, so we will call her Harriet Tubman. Harriet responded as follows...
"You're a dick and I hope you rot in hell. It burns when I pee now and I don't know how to get rid of these blisters on my mouth. If I ever see you again I will burn off your ball hair with a blow torch. Ass. Here is the only photo I have of her after the mission she went on.
Harriet
P.S. - send some more money or I'm shipping this kid back to you the way I got him....UPS. Dick."

Well, I appreciate that dumb bitch and here is the exclusive photo of Lisa Marie from only 2 months ago.


You're welcome.

Your first source for breaking news.....POON

P.S. - You're GD right Poon called the SB score. 2 points off mofo's. Poon OUT!

Universal Truths Update

Universal Truth #10045: The older you are the faster your earhair grows.

Universal Truth #10046: The more sexual the name of a drink, the less likely it is to get you sex – like “up all night having crazy howler monkey sex”

Universal Truth #10047: Your team is guaranteed to loose if your fast little returner runs the opening kick off back for a touchdown. Helpful Citations: Teddy Ginn Jr. in the “Disaster in the Desert” and Da Bears in last night’s Super Bowel. Conclusive proof. (slams trapper-keeper closed and pushes away from the table.)

Rodney Was Right--Can't We All Just Get Along?

What the hell has happened to civility these days, particularly in sports. Let me give you a what for. You see, the other day I’m toolin’ around town in my vintage 1985 Ditka Chicago Bears sweater vest, and all day long people took that fine piece of sartorial splendor as an invitation to take pot shots at yours truly. Now mind you, I didn’t even know half these people, and they felt compelled to lob verbal grenades in my direction. I just don’t get it. What these folks need is a primer on the fine art of diplomacy, and I’m just the guy to deliver. So, sit back, relax, and enjoy this short documentary demonstrating the fine art of mature, adult problem solving.

My Pick.......the Ambulance!

Well, it’s finally here. While drinking with some fellow great historical figures drunken ass clowns, we came to the conclusion that this is the longest 2 weeks in history. No football at all. Where is the AFL when you need it? XFL? NWFA? USFL? CFL? PDQ. LOL! ROFL! OMG! Jesus, I have to stop drinking. Anyways, I think I’m excited. I’m not for sure yet.

Basketball only held me over for so long before I needed to get my football fix. I will watch NFL Network (Don’t worry, you don’t have it because you have cable. Poon 1, You 0) for hours on end just to catch a peek of a Raiders vs. Lions preseason game from last year. Dear God, why do you do this to me? As if the knife drawer isn’t close enough to me as it is, just think of how this will go during baseball season. I might not make it. Even when the Souper Salad (I have to disguise it because we could get fined if we say Super Bowl. Shit.) does get underway, I have to hear some cheese dicks talk for 3 hours (plus the 45 minute national anthem and the 5 hour halftime show) about how big of a game this is for Peyton. You think? IT’S THE FUCKING SUPER BOWL!

I can’t wait to see some more coverage of the first family of football. I only wish that Cooper could have made it in so he could dominate the league just like his brothers. I think that he should at least play that Murderball crap that the other handicap people do. That would give him something to look forward to other than the cane pole beatings his heroic father gives him while reminding him of how great of a legacy he left behind.

I had a little downtime this morning so I decided to call up my close friend and see how things were going. So I called Cooper and I don’t think he meant to answer the phone because I hear some strange noises in the background.

“You worthless waste of semen! I should have blown my load in your uncle’s face rather than wasting my genes in his manhole!”

“I gotta number 2 daddy.”

“Shut up and shove that pathetic piece of meat into Strahan’s gap little brother. Who’s ballin’ now bitch.”

I decided it would be wise to hang up before it got really weird. Well, with that out of the way, I’m going to try not to kill myself before the magical glowing electrical picture box shows me just how much I hate the Manning family on Sunday. If for some reason this is the last you hear from me, you know that Archie tracked me down and plowed my field.

I know you guys are looking for a prediction from me so here it goes….

Barbaro – 27

Timothy Treadwell – 17

(too soon?)

Goodnight and good luck.

Poon