Conventional wisdom has held for last few years that Jerry Jones was nothing but a clueless hick with an expensive toy.  Today, it looks like he’s going to prove it.
Wade Phillips, who has a winning (slightly) regular-season record as a head coach with positively miserable teams (Beefalo, Denver) – but hasn’t won shit  in the playoffs – is poised to become the Dallas Cowgirls’ new head coach.
Welcome to the Bill Parcells Era, Part Deux.
This will necessitate a change in next season’s PFW.  My pro team will, instead of being the Cowgirls, now be whomever’s playing the Cowgirls. (Excluding, of course, the Phuckadelphia Beagles, the Washington Foreskins and the San Transexual Fairywhiners, who can bugger off AFAIC.)
Congratulations, Owner Jethro.  If justice has its way, you’re currently building the world’s largest mausoleum.  Here’s a toast to all those fans disguised as empty seats.
The general consensus is that the Super Bowl commercials were, by & large, uninspiring.  Can’t argue with that assessment.
My personal favorites were the Blockbuster spot and the one where the chicks in the car got the homeless Chippendale car wash.
But so help me Cthulu, I’m not having another one of these ever again.  (Never mind that I’m a diabetic and really can’t – if you’re gonna try and sell me a product, you damned well had best not offend me – and that spot was offensive in the extreme.)
Oh yeah, and congrats, Peyton Manning.  Good on ya.
Misha properly rips a new one for a Washington ComPost pussy-blogger for this piece of putrid bullshit.
As for me – Arkin, don’t ever let yourself get within 10 feet of me, chickenshit.  As Trace Adkins says, “The First Amendment protects you from the government.  Not from me.”