It's been quite some time since a friend of mine shared a comment made to him by someone within his inner circle of trusted folks. The whole story has actually kept me up at night...here and there. I really wanted to offer words of wisdom but I was so irate at the time, the only words that would come out were those of the four letter variety and just a whole lot of tough, New York slang. It really bothers me when I know that the situation calls for some fine advice delivered in poetic fashion and all that comes out is, "Yeah, fuck that asshole. He's a sack of shit anyway." We've got to be coming up on six or seven months since that night and I knew that, one day before my demise, I would find the right words to respond to what was said.
My friend, like me, is an artist. Musician, writer, actor, painter...whatever. The comment made was based on the fact that my friend has not hit "the big time" yet. Meanwhile, other people within the circle of friends have made quite the name for themselves. One of these people played a character in a movie some years ago and I'll put money on the fact that if you mention the character's name to anyone between the ages of sixteen and fifty, they'll know exactly who you are talking about. Half of those people will know the actor's real name and half of those people will call themselves a "big fan". Like I stated, I really had nothing of substance to say at the time I was told. I guess I needed the better part of a year to come up with something that satisfied my pride.
Here it is. Our friend who made himself a star and can't walk down the street without being hassled, gave up something. It's nice that he still rakes in cash from his role and it has led to more work, we're all genuinely happy for him but what does he carry around with him now? Here's my point. Every artist starts out somewhere. For me, it was a basement on Long Island when I sat down behind a drum set for the first time. The initial passion came from the basic need for attention. A lot of artists are going to rip into me but be honest, whether you act, sing, paint, shit in public...the first step is screaming, "Look at me!" If you didn't have that egotistic outlook, you wouldn't be doing this. I don't care how much of a shy guy Kurt Cobain was. He wrote music then he recorded that music and then he sold that music. If he didn't know what he was getting into when he signed the independant record deal, he sure as shit knew by the time he signed with a major label and released "NEVERMIND". Without the balls to want to show everyone what you can do and perform; that's a key word here, PERFORM; you don't chase the dream. Period. End of story. You never get on that stage or in front of that camera or sit in front of a blank canvas. I don't care how noble and deep you are. You do this because you know you're good enough to be recognized.
Now, I'm not saying that this simple human fault is all there is. Absolutley not. Once you've gone a decent way down the rabbit hole and have learned some pretty cool tricks and technique, it becomes more about the art and the growth one goes through as the artist. When you're young, you look at the great artists and think, "I wanna be there. I can do that." Visualizing a snap shot filled walk down the red carpet or tossing your drum sticks to the loving audience. After some time and maturation, that's maturation you sicko, you view the greats as the standard when it comes to technique, growth and the level of mastery in your respective craft. As a drummer I am in awe, absolute awe, of men like Danny Carey and Narada Michael Walden. As a writer it's all about Hunter Thompson, Neil Simon and Kerouac. Just like all my actor friends have their greats. Deniro, Brando, Day Lewis, etc. You view your heroes as a measuring stick. It's not about the money anymore. Sure it would be great to make a living writing for stage and screen. Overall that is the goal but once you die there isn't anything measured in terms of monetary wealth or fame. If I cross over and there's any mention of money, I'll be fighting my way back.
This is what our famous friend can't claim anymore. Not one aspiring artist will look back and say, "Hey, that guy really brought it. I wanna be like that." He will not be a measuring stick and he won't be recognized as he recognized his heroes. Now keep in mind that this person is quite talented and has done a few things which are well deserved of a strong applause but remember the initial comment made. It had everything to do with money, fame and stature within the entertainment industry and nothing to do with talent. My friend who was the recipient of the comment has worked until he was mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted to grow as an artist. There is no limit, and he's proved this, to how far he'll go to become the one that is looked at as the standard, the measuring stick, the hero. He never folded and took the money for work that would compromise his integrity and on one or two occasions, a stroke of shit luck took a great opportunity and squashed it. It's never about the money. If it was, you'd all know him by now and would probably be sick of him.
Regarding our famous friend, I'm not calling him a sell out. As a matter of fact, he's far from it. He was approached with an opportunity and he grabbed it with both hands and ran with it. That's what you do. At no point do I think he stays awake, in bed, flustered about his decision. If he does, he shouldn't. He furthered his career and kept the ball rolling which is a boat load more than I can say for other artists.
It is a thin line one walks between self respect and success. Especially in this business. I believe there are more artists who work for the love of it rather than the paycheck but most of the time it appears to be just that. All you can do is trudge along, never stop paying attention to what's worth your attention and remember you are just a part of the whole. There's always more to learn.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Malignaggi Gets Punched...A Lot
Despite the constant show boating and seemingly endless decline of ability, I still find myself screaming at the television whenever Paul Malignaggi is throwing hands. Sure, I'm a little biased, being a fellow Italian from New York but what can I say? I like the guy. However, my support of the "Magic Man" couldn't stop Amir Khan from slamming his fists into Paul's face for just a little over a half an hour before the ref stepped in and stopped the one sided fight in the 11th round.
The main questions asked of Paul after the bout regarded his lack of foot movement and his apparent decline in ability. I just want to know what he's going to do next. It's apparent that he can't hang with the top fighters in the 140 pound division and if he steps up in weight, what's the use? He can't stand and bang with the fighters who can punch out horses and if he runs into someone who has equal or greater speed, he stands in front of them taking abuse. I wish the kid nothing but the best and I hope he either finds an answer that will help him gain a little of that glory when he held a world title or moves on to something else. Other than fighting second tier fighters, I don't see Paul hanging with the best. Guys like Timothy Bradley, Devon Alexander, Juan Urango and Lamont Peterson just have too much for Paul to deal with.
As for Amir Khan...I'm impressed. He showed speed, power and most important of all, brains. He connected with punches at different rates throughout the fight. One punch here, another punch there. Then BOOM...a flurry that lands two or three solid shots. He beat Paul at his own game and kept his title belt. He's looking to take on Marcos Maidana, who has enough pop to lay out any Jr. Welterweight. Unfortunately, for him, that's almost all he has. He's the guy who will gladly take three of your punches just so he can deliver one of his and that one punch could be what takes him to the next level. If that fight does happen, I'll take Khan in an easy decision though. Khan can hang with the bets of this division and the plan he laid out for us in a post fight interview was as good a plan as I've ever heard from a boxer. He'll fight Maidana, two other top Jr. Welterweights will knock each other out and he'll take on who's left standing. Atta boy.
The other fight of the evening was Victor Ortiz taking out his frustrations on an aging and slowing Nate Campbell. From the opening bell to when the judges scores were read, it was all Ortiz. He didn't have to answer the questions about his will and let his hands go repeatedly, climbing a little further up the ladder after his loss to Marcos Maidana when he quit after taking some hard shots. See? I told you Maidana hits hard. Ortiz controlled the pace, the style and just about anything you can control inside a boxing ring while taking limited shots from a fighter who couldn't pull the trigger.
The main questions asked of Paul after the bout regarded his lack of foot movement and his apparent decline in ability. I just want to know what he's going to do next. It's apparent that he can't hang with the top fighters in the 140 pound division and if he steps up in weight, what's the use? He can't stand and bang with the fighters who can punch out horses and if he runs into someone who has equal or greater speed, he stands in front of them taking abuse. I wish the kid nothing but the best and I hope he either finds an answer that will help him gain a little of that glory when he held a world title or moves on to something else. Other than fighting second tier fighters, I don't see Paul hanging with the best. Guys like Timothy Bradley, Devon Alexander, Juan Urango and Lamont Peterson just have too much for Paul to deal with.
As for Amir Khan...I'm impressed. He showed speed, power and most important of all, brains. He connected with punches at different rates throughout the fight. One punch here, another punch there. Then BOOM...a flurry that lands two or three solid shots. He beat Paul at his own game and kept his title belt. He's looking to take on Marcos Maidana, who has enough pop to lay out any Jr. Welterweight. Unfortunately, for him, that's almost all he has. He's the guy who will gladly take three of your punches just so he can deliver one of his and that one punch could be what takes him to the next level. If that fight does happen, I'll take Khan in an easy decision though. Khan can hang with the bets of this division and the plan he laid out for us in a post fight interview was as good a plan as I've ever heard from a boxer. He'll fight Maidana, two other top Jr. Welterweights will knock each other out and he'll take on who's left standing. Atta boy.
The other fight of the evening was Victor Ortiz taking out his frustrations on an aging and slowing Nate Campbell. From the opening bell to when the judges scores were read, it was all Ortiz. He didn't have to answer the questions about his will and let his hands go repeatedly, climbing a little further up the ladder after his loss to Marcos Maidana when he quit after taking some hard shots. See? I told you Maidana hits hard. Ortiz controlled the pace, the style and just about anything you can control inside a boxing ring while taking limited shots from a fighter who couldn't pull the trigger.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Dora The Pain In My Ass
You got kids? I got kids. My oldest one, despite his testosterone trying to naturally pull him away, enjoys watching Dora. You know, the firey young Mexican who apparently has the freedom at the age of ten that most adults are jealous of. Imagine what would happen if you decided to hike five counties away when you were a kid. "Let's go Pick berries at the top of a mountain." Kiss my ass, kid.
She can't see worth a shit either. She'll be standing two feet away from a row boat and still have the balls to ask my son, "Do you see a row boat?" My son doesn't even bother answering anymore because he knows her and that prick monkey that follows her around are completely full of shit. And then just to top it all off she tells the kids to scream in spanish at six AM. "Ayuda Me! Ayuda Me!" And my son won't miss the oppurtunity to bellow before sunrise. I will get my revenge. When she's a plain old whore with six kids living on the outskirts of the drunken village of Irapuato, I'm gonna come out with my own show that'll have her kids screaming in Italian, "Va Fa Chulo"!
She can't see worth a shit either. She'll be standing two feet away from a row boat and still have the balls to ask my son, "Do you see a row boat?" My son doesn't even bother answering anymore because he knows her and that prick monkey that follows her around are completely full of shit. And then just to top it all off she tells the kids to scream in spanish at six AM. "Ayuda Me! Ayuda Me!" And my son won't miss the oppurtunity to bellow before sunrise. I will get my revenge. When she's a plain old whore with six kids living on the outskirts of the drunken village of Irapuato, I'm gonna come out with my own show that'll have her kids screaming in Italian, "Va Fa Chulo"!
Monday, December 24, 2007
May God Have Mercy On Your Ass!
Hemorrhoids. We all know them. We all love them. How many of you ever had a hemorrhoid? MMMM, Tasty. I got my first one the other day and it looks like my asshole is smoking a cigar. It's just my luck that my induction into the impacted anal gland family is with a three pounder. It actually woke me up this past saturday morning by singing, "Tiny Dancer". I told my mother and of course she had a reaction that would lead most people to believe that I told her I was really a black man in disguise. Then, of course, she had to tell everyone located east of the plains. The people she works with giggle at me now. I see them point at me then pat their ass. So I went to the doctor today, just what I'd hope to do on Christmas eve, and the nurse told me not to feel bad. I thanked her for the support then sent her tumbling down the hallway. The last thing to tell a man before he's about to get a finger in the pooper is not to feel bad. I feel like...well, I feel like my ass is growing a thumb. The doc came in checked it out. I felt bad. I had this image of him vomiting during his christmas dinner thinking about the third leg that I'm growing. But all was well. He actually chuckled a little and said, "Don't forget to feed that thing", before walking out, surely to share a hearty holiday laugh with his staff. I guess everyone's gotta take a shot to the ass every now and then.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Sports Talk With Jit Winkin
Another fine week has past and as I write this the Steelers are ass raping the Ravens which is sure to make perching a hard task. Let's see, I guess the big news would be Torre signing with the Dodgers. Good for him. I hope he has much success over in L.A. He'll have his work cut out for him considering that the Dodgers might be a bigger collection of bitches than Boston Cock Sox. Good Luck, Joe. And don't take no lovin in the ass.
The NBA kicked off it's '07-'08 season in style as usual. The Celtics showed off their new toy in Kevin Garnett, who after his night was finished, thanks to the 306 to 47 lead that they had with 2:00 left, stood by the bench repeatedly calling one of his teamates a motherfucker. Great job, KG. My Knicks unfortunately fell asleep on the floor during the 4th quarter of their first game and allowed Lebron to drop 45 on them. After the game it was reported that King James added insult to injury when he released a live panda in the visitor's dressing room. I hate fuckin' pandas. However, the Knicks won game #2 against the shitty Timberwolves. I think NY has a decent team this year and might actually see the post season.
So the Jets lost again and I discovered that the beams in my house aren't strong enough to support my hanging fat ass. This team is lost. It's obvious that they don't want to play for Mangini and they're just waiting for the next 7 weeks to pass. I watched the bastard Patriots take out Peyton and the Colts. I actually shit a little in my pants when they took the lead with 3:00 to go. What's with all these fucking Boston teams? The Celtics, The Red Anus' and the Patriots. SHIT!!!
In soccer news, and there go my readers, Juventus and Inter went 1-1 in a game that had as much hype in Italy than the Patriots-Colts did over hear. It was 90 minutes of really good soccer followed by 18 hours of firebombs and riots. My Neopolitan bretheren drew 1-1 with Reggina. What are you gonna do? Portsmouth dispatched Newcastle Utd. 3-1 with the help of a super goal by Pomarot in the 9th minute that made me slap my neighbor.
But the real story was the super-middleweight championship fight between Joe Calzaghe and Mikkel Kessler. What a fight! It went the distrance and they pounded eachother. It was the perfect mix of boxing and all-out brawling. Calzaghe came out on top winning on all three scorecards(117-111, 116-112, 116-112). He really solidified his name in the conversation of "Who is the best pound for pound fighter?" This saturday night Miguel Cotto, who I think has the best shot at dethroning Floyd Mayweather as the pound for pound king, will fight Sugar Shane Mosely. This could be the fight of the year. Cotto hits hard and has some serious skill. Sugar is still pretty fast and he's got a lot of experience. I think we'll see the referree stop the fight in the 7th round when Cotto imposes his will on Mosely. I like Shane but Cotto's a monster.
This edition of Sports Talk With Jit Winkin has been brought to you by Fancy Pants. "They're shiny and red and you look like a dick wearing them"
The NBA kicked off it's '07-'08 season in style as usual. The Celtics showed off their new toy in Kevin Garnett, who after his night was finished, thanks to the 306 to 47 lead that they had with 2:00 left, stood by the bench repeatedly calling one of his teamates a motherfucker. Great job, KG. My Knicks unfortunately fell asleep on the floor during the 4th quarter of their first game and allowed Lebron to drop 45 on them. After the game it was reported that King James added insult to injury when he released a live panda in the visitor's dressing room. I hate fuckin' pandas. However, the Knicks won game #2 against the shitty Timberwolves. I think NY has a decent team this year and might actually see the post season.
So the Jets lost again and I discovered that the beams in my house aren't strong enough to support my hanging fat ass. This team is lost. It's obvious that they don't want to play for Mangini and they're just waiting for the next 7 weeks to pass. I watched the bastard Patriots take out Peyton and the Colts. I actually shit a little in my pants when they took the lead with 3:00 to go. What's with all these fucking Boston teams? The Celtics, The Red Anus' and the Patriots. SHIT!!!
In soccer news, and there go my readers, Juventus and Inter went 1-1 in a game that had as much hype in Italy than the Patriots-Colts did over hear. It was 90 minutes of really good soccer followed by 18 hours of firebombs and riots. My Neopolitan bretheren drew 1-1 with Reggina. What are you gonna do? Portsmouth dispatched Newcastle Utd. 3-1 with the help of a super goal by Pomarot in the 9th minute that made me slap my neighbor.
But the real story was the super-middleweight championship fight between Joe Calzaghe and Mikkel Kessler. What a fight! It went the distrance and they pounded eachother. It was the perfect mix of boxing and all-out brawling. Calzaghe came out on top winning on all three scorecards(117-111, 116-112, 116-112). He really solidified his name in the conversation of "Who is the best pound for pound fighter?" This saturday night Miguel Cotto, who I think has the best shot at dethroning Floyd Mayweather as the pound for pound king, will fight Sugar Shane Mosely. This could be the fight of the year. Cotto hits hard and has some serious skill. Sugar is still pretty fast and he's got a lot of experience. I think we'll see the referree stop the fight in the 7th round when Cotto imposes his will on Mosely. I like Shane but Cotto's a monster.
This edition of Sports Talk With Jit Winkin has been brought to you by Fancy Pants. "They're shiny and red and you look like a dick wearing them"
Monday, October 29, 2007
Sports Talk with Nutty McBalls
It's been a good week if you're a bastard red sox fan. Please accept my dearest congratulations when I say, "Blow me!!!" Your world championship came second best to a rich boy who's seeking more money by opting out of his $25 million a year contract.
Yes indeed. A-ROD opted out of a contract which paid him in Jesus' chest hair to see if someone will give him 50 suitcases full of Kuwaiti Bouillion. I do not buy the bullshit about his discomfort due to the lack of certainty that is the make-up of the New York Yankees. It's all about money. Period. He's the type of guy that will do what is necessary to make sure that he and his children and their children and their children and . . . well you see where I'm going, will always be taken care of. He is the whitest Dominican I have ever come across. Whatever, god bless him.
Pettite, Rivera and Posada are all questionmarks as well. There is no good reason why they should be in a different uniform next year but I've seen some crazy shit in my life. For all I know Jorge Posada could be playing in the "Pock Mark" League based out of SouthTurkmenistan come next year. And my dear friend, Mr Torre, is gone forever. Unfortunately, I can't sympatize with the whole, "I'm insulted by the incentives", bullshit because every contract he's had with the Yankees was full of incentives but I do believe that they should've given him more than one year and without a drop in base pay. Thank god this season is over and I can concentrate on football. Both kinds.
First off, I'm a Jets fan and I've attempted suicide 8 times in the past 3 weeks. Pennington has the arm of a child and Kellen Clemens ain't there yet. On top of that, my boy, Jonathan Vilma, is out for the rest of the year. So until the playoffs, my interest in the NFL is limited. Now to football or soccer as we americans call it. That's right, bitches, I watch soccer and I love it. My beloved Napoli beat the shit out of powerhouse, Juventus, this past saturday and while some of you have lost interest in this blog now, I say, "Eat My Creamy Cadbury."
The score was 3-1 and I shit myself with joy. Forza Napoli!!! Also, Steven Gerrard, midfielder for Liverpool kicked a ball so hard that England now borders Galveston, Texas. Yes, he scored with that fine display of near murder but Arsenal equalized with a Fabregas goal with ten minutes left. WONDERFUL!!!
Now to boxing. I will have my eyes glued to the t.v. this saturday night as Joe Calzaghe, that's right, he's a ginzo just like me, and Mikkel Kessler are gonna punch eachother in the face over and over again to see who will be the one and only super middleweight champ. These are two guys who love to throw hands so if you're interested you can join me as I fire up some cognac and enjoy this championship bout on H.B.O. This edition of Sports talk with Nutty McBalls has been brought to you by "BOO-COCKY". "Have a nasty Halloween."
Yes indeed. A-ROD opted out of a contract which paid him in Jesus' chest hair to see if someone will give him 50 suitcases full of Kuwaiti Bouillion. I do not buy the bullshit about his discomfort due to the lack of certainty that is the make-up of the New York Yankees. It's all about money. Period. He's the type of guy that will do what is necessary to make sure that he and his children and their children and their children and . . . well you see where I'm going, will always be taken care of. He is the whitest Dominican I have ever come across. Whatever, god bless him.
Pettite, Rivera and Posada are all questionmarks as well. There is no good reason why they should be in a different uniform next year but I've seen some crazy shit in my life. For all I know Jorge Posada could be playing in the "Pock Mark" League based out of SouthTurkmenistan come next year. And my dear friend, Mr Torre, is gone forever. Unfortunately, I can't sympatize with the whole, "I'm insulted by the incentives", bullshit because every contract he's had with the Yankees was full of incentives but I do believe that they should've given him more than one year and without a drop in base pay. Thank god this season is over and I can concentrate on football. Both kinds.
First off, I'm a Jets fan and I've attempted suicide 8 times in the past 3 weeks. Pennington has the arm of a child and Kellen Clemens ain't there yet. On top of that, my boy, Jonathan Vilma, is out for the rest of the year. So until the playoffs, my interest in the NFL is limited. Now to football or soccer as we americans call it. That's right, bitches, I watch soccer and I love it. My beloved Napoli beat the shit out of powerhouse, Juventus, this past saturday and while some of you have lost interest in this blog now, I say, "Eat My Creamy Cadbury."
The score was 3-1 and I shit myself with joy. Forza Napoli!!! Also, Steven Gerrard, midfielder for Liverpool kicked a ball so hard that England now borders Galveston, Texas. Yes, he scored with that fine display of near murder but Arsenal equalized with a Fabregas goal with ten minutes left. WONDERFUL!!!
Now to boxing. I will have my eyes glued to the t.v. this saturday night as Joe Calzaghe, that's right, he's a ginzo just like me, and Mikkel Kessler are gonna punch eachother in the face over and over again to see who will be the one and only super middleweight champ. These are two guys who love to throw hands so if you're interested you can join me as I fire up some cognac and enjoy this championship bout on H.B.O. This edition of Sports talk with Nutty McBalls has been brought to you by "BOO-COCKY". "Have a nasty Halloween."
Sports Talk with Nutty McBalls
It's been a good week if you're a bastard red sox fan. Please accept my dearest congratulations when I say, "Blow me!!!" Your world championship came second best to a rich boy who's seeking more money by opting out of his $25 million a year contract.
Yes indeed. A-ROD opted out of a contract which paid him in Jesus' chest hair to see if someone will give him 50 suitcases full of Kuwaiti Bouillion. I do not buy the bullshit about his discomfort due to the lack of certainty that is the make-up of the New York Yankees. It's all about money. Period. He's the type of guy that will do what is necessary to make sure that he and his children and their children and their children and . . . well you see where I'm going, will always be taken care of. He is the whitest Dominican I have ever come across. Whatever, god bless him.
Pettite, Rivera and Posada are all questionmarks as well. There is no good reason why they should be in a different uniform next year but I've seen some crazy shit in my life. For all I know Jorge Posada could be playing in the "Pock Mark" League based out of SouthTurkmenistan come next year. And my dear friend, Mr Torre, is gone forever. Unfortunately, I can't sympatize with the whole, "I'm insulted by the incentives", bullshit because every contract he's had with the Yankees was full of incentives but I do believe that they should've given him more than one year and without a drop in base pay. Thank god this season is over and I can concentrate on football. Both kinds.
First off, I'm a Jets fan and I've attempted suicide 8 times in the past 3 weeks. Pennington has the arm of a child and Kellen Clemens ain't there yet. On top of that, my boy, Jonathan Vilma, is out for the rest of the year. So until the playoffs, my interest in the NFL is limited. Now to football or soccer as we americans call it. That's right, bitches, I watch soccer and I love it. My beloved Napoli beat the shit out of powerhouse, Juventus, this past saturday and while some of you have lost interest in this blog now, I say, "Eat My Creamy Cadbury."
The score was 3-1 and I shit myself with joy. Forza Napoli!!! Also, Steven Gerrard, midfielder for Liverpool kicked a ball so hard that England now borders Galveston, Texas. Yes, he scored with that fine display of near murder but Arsenal equalized with a Fabregas goal with ten minutes left. WONDERFUL!!!
Now to boxing. I will have my eyes glued to the t.v. this saturday night as Joe Calzaghe, that's right, he's a ginzo just like me, and Mikkel Kessler are gonna punch eachother in the face over and over again to see who will be the one and only super middleweight champ. These are two guys who love to throw hands so if you're interested you can join me as I fire up some cognac and enjoy this championship bout on H.B.O. This edition of Sports talk with Nutty McBalls has been brought to you by "BOO-COCKY". "Have a nasty Halloween."
Yes indeed. A-ROD opted out of a contract which paid him in Jesus' chest hair to see if someone will give him 50 suitcases full of Kuwaiti Bouillion. I do not buy the bullshit about his discomfort due to the lack of certainty that is the make-up of the New York Yankees. It's all about money. Period. He's the type of guy that will do what is necessary to make sure that he and his children and their children and their children and . . . well you see where I'm going, will always be taken care of. He is the whitest Dominican I have ever come across. Whatever, god bless him.
Pettite, Rivera and Posada are all questionmarks as well. There is no good reason why they should be in a different uniform next year but I've seen some crazy shit in my life. For all I know Jorge Posada could be playing in the "Pock Mark" League based out of SouthTurkmenistan come next year. And my dear friend, Mr Torre, is gone forever. Unfortunately, I can't sympatize with the whole, "I'm insulted by the incentives", bullshit because every contract he's had with the Yankees was full of incentives but I do believe that they should've given him more than one year and without a drop in base pay. Thank god this season is over and I can concentrate on football. Both kinds.
First off, I'm a Jets fan and I've attempted suicide 8 times in the past 3 weeks. Pennington has the arm of a child and Kellen Clemens ain't there yet. On top of that, my boy, Jonathan Vilma, is out for the rest of the year. So until the playoffs, my interest in the NFL is limited. Now to football or soccer as we americans call it. That's right, bitches, I watch soccer and I love it. My beloved Napoli beat the shit out of powerhouse, Juventus, this past saturday and while some of you have lost interest in this blog now, I say, "Eat My Creamy Cadbury."
The score was 3-1 and I shit myself with joy. Forza Napoli!!! Also, Steven Gerrard, midfielder for Liverpool kicked a ball so hard that England now borders Galveston, Texas. Yes, he scored with that fine display of near murder but Arsenal equalized with a Fabregas goal with ten minutes left. WONDERFUL!!!
Now to boxing. I will have my eyes glued to the t.v. this saturday night as Joe Calzaghe, that's right, he's a ginzo just like me, and Mikkel Kessler are gonna punch eachother in the face over and over again to see who will be the one and only super middleweight champ. These are two guys who love to throw hands so if you're interested you can join me as I fire up some cognac and enjoy this championship bout on H.B.O. This edition of Sports talk with Nutty McBalls has been brought to you by "BOO-COCKY". "Have a nasty Halloween."
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