Much is made about everyone's favorite herpes carrier Michael Vick and his ability as an NFL quarterback. After watching him on Monday night, I know exactly where I fall on this argument. This guy stinks. He's Kordell Stewart on crystal meth. Sure he can run, but as soon as the Jets started staying in their lanes, I thought that Anthony Wright locked Vick ina bathroon stall at halftime and stole Vick's jersey. The reason he succeeds in the league is because ich McKay and Jim Mora have created the perfect storm for him. Good defense, best Offensive line coach in football, a double complementary running back threat, and a tight end who can catch it in the middle of the field. The fact is the older Vick gets, the more he gets beat up, the slower he'll get, therefore the less effective he'll be, because when it comes to throwing the football, he can't hit a bull in the ass with a bass fiddle.
And while I'm on the NFL, I'd like to take a moment to mention the passing of NY Giant owner Wellington Mara. As a diehard Giant fan, I'll never watch a Giant game without thinking about the dignity and pride he brought to being a Giant fan. He was truly, the anti-Steinbrenner. Giant fans have as much passion and knowlegde as Yankee fans, but we also bring class and humility. Thats a reflection on Mr. Mara. He leaves a legacy for all of us not only to enjoy, but to take pride in as well.
So I'm at this golf outing the other day, and its like 45 degrees and windy. My windbreaker isn't warm enough and the only consolation is that the other 3 guys I'm with are freezing also. As one of them comments that he has to piss, I am reminded of the worst fate of doing an outdoor cold weather activity for a prolonged period, the eventual urge to urinate. So I begin to explain this phenomenon which goes something like this. If you think you're cold now, wait until that cold hand meets that warm pecker and you'll get a chill that won't go away for 5 hours. Well, I din't realize what physical and emotional dmage I had inflicted. Evidently, one of the other guys in my foursome was gripped with all this urination talk, and he has to go too. But these guys are afraid to go because of the "Cold Hand Effect". One guy waits two holes, while continually rubbing his hands inside his pocket, waiting for the perfect teperature to begin draining the wheez. The other guy actaully wouldn't go in the woods, because he needed a sink to run hot water on his hand before taking a leak. And even though my commentary virtully gave these guys urinary tract infections they were gratefuk for my warning which I refused to heed on the 15th hole, as I routinely went to take a piss on a tree. The chill was still running through me the next morning.