From The Desk Of The Commissioner: Why I'm Not Worried, I Swear.
Good Afternoon Gents,
I lost the Boner Bowl. That is the fact that hurts the most about this season so far. Not the season record, not CJ Spiller and certainly not the smack I receive for both (it's warranted as I'm an arrogant fella).
In Keith's post earlier today he put forth the quandary "I’m not sure what is going through John’s mind, whether he rides out his draft choices, attempts to make a big trade to fix his issues, or starts to look for valuable keepers for next year."(Friesen 2013, "Last Place Wisdom: 'Oh, you're thinking of the support group. I made that same mistake myself. They're called the Blue Man Group'"). Well it's quite simple really, I'm going to stick to the plan. What the plan is... is none of your bee's wax. Has my plan worked out quite yet? Not entirely, but neither has every member of my squad. There's plenty of football left folks and I have a feeling things are looking up for me. If not, refer to paragraph three.
Once, back in 1988, my Pampa (a colloquial term for grandfather in Scotland) brought me to see the panda exhibit at the Calgary zoo and one of my first memories was put into my consciousness. While moving past the gentle bamboo branch breakers I told Pampa "Gee, I'd sure like to go into that cage and play with one!" Maybe it was baby boomer realism or just a chance to give me quite a fright but he replied "Why he'd give you a good bludgeoning and swallow you whole!" This realization frightened me and as a quick way of calming me down he bought me ice cream. It was delicious. For some reason I've been thinking about this memory a lot so far this season. I can also manipulate it to relate to my current predicament. I'm no philosopher or televangelist but try this on for size: The panda would probably not have eaten me (unless it had become irritated by me according to wikipedia) but if I was to enter his world I have to play by his rules. So if he had chosen to nibble on my neck or try-a-bit of my torso I couldn't simply scream "That's not fair!" The panda doesn't know or care what's fair, he only desires irritatingly delicious intestines. Nobody at NFL.com promised the TFLOEG would be fair either. All I can control is how to react and figure out how to best proceed. I'm still in mostly good spirits I assure you, but it was the Boner Bowl and I really wanted that one.
In conclusion folks, I wouldn't hold it against you if you root for me to lose or if you feel better simply knowing that your team is outperforming mine this season. I truly like each of you as we are all chums, but I would never want you to feel you can't root against me. We're Men! We Compete! It's what we enjoy doing and truth be told I root against some of you more then others. BUT, let's remember one thing: Other then me, no one remembers records of previous years, we only remember champs. And like the Grail-shaped beacon shining over Castle Anthrax, a "TFLOEG Current Champion" glows over my abode.
Good luck for the rest of the season CHUMPS!*
-The Commish
(*except Curtis and Mike as former champs and therefore not chumps)
I lost the Boner Bowl. That is the fact that hurts the most about this season so far. Not the season record, not CJ Spiller and certainly not the smack I receive for both (it's warranted as I'm an arrogant fella).
In Keith's post earlier today he put forth the quandary "I’m not sure what is going through John’s mind, whether he rides out his draft choices, attempts to make a big trade to fix his issues, or starts to look for valuable keepers for next year."(Friesen 2013, "Last Place Wisdom: 'Oh, you're thinking of the support group. I made that same mistake myself. They're called the Blue Man Group'"). Well it's quite simple really, I'm going to stick to the plan. What the plan is... is none of your bee's wax. Has my plan worked out quite yet? Not entirely, but neither has every member of my squad. There's plenty of football left folks and I have a feeling things are looking up for me. If not, refer to paragraph three.
Once, back in 1988, my Pampa (a colloquial term for grandfather in Scotland) brought me to see the panda exhibit at the Calgary zoo and one of my first memories was put into my consciousness. While moving past the gentle bamboo branch breakers I told Pampa "Gee, I'd sure like to go into that cage and play with one!" Maybe it was baby boomer realism or just a chance to give me quite a fright but he replied "Why he'd give you a good bludgeoning and swallow you whole!" This realization frightened me and as a quick way of calming me down he bought me ice cream. It was delicious. For some reason I've been thinking about this memory a lot so far this season. I can also manipulate it to relate to my current predicament. I'm no philosopher or televangelist but try this on for size: The panda would probably not have eaten me (unless it had become irritated by me according to wikipedia) but if I was to enter his world I have to play by his rules. So if he had chosen to nibble on my neck or try-a-bit of my torso I couldn't simply scream "That's not fair!" The panda doesn't know or care what's fair, he only desires irritatingly delicious intestines. Nobody at NFL.com promised the TFLOEG would be fair either. All I can control is how to react and figure out how to best proceed. I'm still in mostly good spirits I assure you, but it was the Boner Bowl and I really wanted that one.
In conclusion folks, I wouldn't hold it against you if you root for me to lose or if you feel better simply knowing that your team is outperforming mine this season. I truly like each of you as we are all chums, but I would never want you to feel you can't root against me. We're Men! We Compete! It's what we enjoy doing and truth be told I root against some of you more then others. BUT, let's remember one thing: Other then me, no one remembers records of previous years, we only remember champs. And like the Grail-shaped beacon shining over Castle Anthrax, a "TFLOEG Current Champion" glows over my abode.
Good luck for the rest of the season CHUMPS!*
-The Commish
(*except Curtis and Mike as former champs and therefore not chumps)
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