Fantasy Isthmus

Hey there ‘Redheads… I’m still coming down from the high of the first weekend of NFL football. By the time I fully recover, it’ll be time for kickoff again. This is the most wonderful sports time of the year. The first full slate of Sunday games nudged the status quo a little bit. The big shocker of the weekend was the upstart Texans beating the Colts while riding on the back of Arian Foster and his 231 yard/3 TD performance. I do feel bad for Arian Foster. He’s the newly minted star of the NFL season and he’s going to have a devil of a time finding a name for his fan club. “Arian Nation” is probably a bad idea, is all I’m sayin’… It was also nice to see the Redskins put on their yellow big boy pants and win a game. Or should I say, “not lose”… The only reason why the DC media jackals aren’t tearing them completely to shreds is because of that glaring holding call on Cowboy Alex Barron…I’ve taken a good look at the play from various angles and I’ve come to the conclusion that it wasn’t holding. It was a Cobra Clutch. He didn’t have much of a choice. It was either put Orakpo in the Million Dollar Dream or let him break Tony Romo into bite-size pieces. Kinda like what Ray Lewis did to the tight end from the Jets…

I’ll resist the urge to make an Old Spice body wash commercial reference. Instead, I’ll just say that Ray Lewis hit him so hard, it tore Kris Jenkins’ ACL. A lot of injuries in the first week. Packers RB, Ryan Grant is gone for the season, Eagles QB, Kevin Kolb got his brain meat tenderized, and Colts S, Bob Sanders got his annual catastrophic injury. It’s probably wrong, but most of football watching America doesn’t much care except for how their fantasy teams will be impacted. Screw these guys’ careers, I might lose $25. Speaking of which, I did ok in the first week of tripping the football fantastic. In one league, I scored the most points, and in another league, I ate a double-decker turd burger and scored the fewest. I went 2-2, the two wins coming in my money league and my keeper league, so I’ll take a slight setback in the other two.

But enough of that. I did manage to shower and extricate myself from the ass groove in my couch to take in some fine cinema at the local multiplex. I checked out the bloody burrito, Machete. It was everything it needed to be for my taste. A tortilla thin plot, bad guys getting their brains splattered like chunky salsa, and some tasteful nudity. I had my disbelief precariously dangling overhead, waiting for Robert Rodriguez to pummel it with his pulpy revenge fantasy until ludicrous candy spilled out. Steven Segal as a Mexican drug lord? Sure. Rappelling down the side of a building on a guy’s disemboweled intestines? Great. Jessica Alba falling for Danny Trejo, who makes Edward James Olmos look like Zac Efron? Sign me up. It was also nice to see Don Johnson found work. By the way, when you go see Machete, keep in mind that Danny Trejo is 66. That completely blew what was left of my mind. I’m steps away from 35 and I have about as much chance of being an action hero as BP does of getting a float in the Mardi Gras parade.

For those of you in various parts of Virginia, I’ll be in your neck of the woods this weekend. On Friday, I’m featuring at the Lynchburg Comedy Zone and on Saturday, I’ll be in Colonial Beach at The Riverboat with comedy compadres, Tommy Sinbazo and EJ Edmonds. Laugh at me, won’t you?

To be continued…

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