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Showing posts from October, 2005

The day the music died

Allow me to make a few observations from last night’s “Apprentice.” - At the beginning of the episode, Trump’s secretary calls the house to inform the contestants where to meet up that day, but she prefaces this information by saying, “Mr. Trump is very busy, but he’s still going to meet you this morning.” Apparently, Mr. Trump is extremely busy with matters that do not involve the successful television series starring him. Ya’ know, the one that he helped create, and the one that made him famous again. He doesn’t have time for “The Apprentice,” not when there are deals to be made. I mean, why did the secretary even say this? Are the contestants supposed to feel guilty about the fact that Donald Trump is going to appear in front of them, even though they stopped the regular routine of their everyday lives to be on Donald Trump’s show? No kidding Donald Trump is busy, you idiot. He still has a show to do. - I thoroughly enjoyed it when Trump is leaving his office, and he turns to his se

Tiki Barber: Under appreciated and overexposed

His team has been somewhat of a pleasant surprise in the early going of the NFL season, their most recent loss to the Cowboys notwithstanding. Of course, he himself is a huge reason why, as his stellar play has made things much easier for second-year quarterback Eli Manning. In fact, he already has four touchdowns in five games. “He” is Tiki Barber, and “he” has agreed to sit down with yours truly for an exclusive interview. And for his generosity in doing this, there is only one condition: I must admit that this is not a real interview, and that it is completely made up in my own demented head. So there. I admit it. After all, that’s why Tiki and I get along so well – we know how to compromise. Me: Tiki, three years ago it seemed as though your career would mirror that of Rodney Hampton, but now people are claiming that you just may be the best Giants’ running back since O.J. Simpson. How does that feel? Tiki: I think you mean O.J. Anderson. And he wasn’t even that good. I think I’ve

Championship dreams now six feet under

I wanted to sit down and write something important about the 2005 New York Yankees. About how, as a fan, it was darn near impossible to fall in love with this team. About how they teased us into thinking they were tough and resilient, but in the end, they were just underachievers. About how they managed to sleepwalk through various parts of the season, and then somehow expected to “turn it on” when it mattered, although ultimately they couldn’t. About how I refused to believe in the death of a dynasty after Game Seven in 2001, but now I’m convinced. But whatever. Who cares, right? The problems surrounding this team aren’t under the surface somewhere – they’re staring us all in the face. So I refuse to be one of the eight million people with a keyboard who is going to wax poetic about what, exactly, is wrong with a team whose payroll exceeds the next highest team by $100 million. Instead, I’m going to hand out individual epitaphs for every relevant 2005 Yankee. Because in the end, they