Monday, July 12, 2010

Our Cup Overfloweth

(A moritorium, ad mejorem, for the last month of fantastic footy)

It started, as most legends do, with a single email. It's title: Oh Zidane. It's contents: A simple YouTube link that summed up the glory that is soccer on the world stage, in all of it's ridiculous hyperbole and grand showboats-manship. What evolved, as you will see below, is one of the better email threads your narrator has been privileged to be a part of on a lazy Friday afternoon. And so it is today that we post this thread as a eulogy, now that the World Cup is done and buried until Brazil 2014. Thank you, South Africa. And may your vuvuzelas rest in peace.

From: Joe
RE: Oh Zidane

Zidane on the dribble, past one defender, then another! Oh, he's finding coins behind everybody's ears tonight! Service to Henri, bending true...and he taps it home! Oh Zidane! Pure magic! Doves are flooding from those velvet sleeves! Oh Zidane! He's got that rabbit by the ears, doesn't he! And he's holding it up for ze world to see! 

From: Brian
RE: RE: Oh Zidane

Zidane downfield, wildly optimistic challenge by ze defender, Zidane now with ze wand firmly in hand, and Oh! It's a bouquet for ze lady! So much magic in zose sleeves! 

From: Joe
RE:RE:RE: Oh Zidane

Defender has Zidane by the lapel there, doesn't he? But no! It's merely the magician's handkerchief! And look at that handkerchief, it keeps going and going, doesn't it folks?! Every color of the rainbow, and a few dazzling hues this world has never seen! 

From: Marty
RE:RE:RE:RE: Oh Zidane

You guys are hilarious... please keep this going...

From: Joe
RE:RE:RE:RE:RE: Oh Zidane

Fetch your opera glasses, ladies and gentlemen, Zidane is on the attack! The ageless sorcerer! Oh and he's done it again! He cut that beautiful lady clean in half, didn't he folks?! Oh look at her, smiling wide and wiggling those beautiful gams. She's gay and giddy at the foot of the master! 

From: Brian
RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE: Oh Zidane

A cross pass to Zidane, wizard sleeves and hat gesticulating wildly as he composes a symphony of dancing brooms! Oh he is apprentice to no one on this fateful drive downfield! Fantasia indeed! He has tamed the fire breathing dragon!

From: Joe

Zidane dribbles right into the defender's goatee, as only he can. He fans the deck, eyebrows this your card OH YES it is! Another defender left stupefied in this old wizard's wake! 

From: Brian

Zidane, resplendent astride his white steed, charges headlong into Helms Deep. White robes billowing, he raises his staff, and vanquishes an entire line of Orc defenders! Not even the eye of Sauron himself can stop the magic flowing through the limbs of this white wizard! Listen to those hobbitts, joyously celebrating as they blow their vuvezelas!

From: Brad

Funniest chain of emails ever.  I have laughed out loud for the past 10 minutes reading these, starting to get strange looks.  I should probably just leave the office.

Friday, July 2, 2010

The Quote Jumble: New Orleans Edition

(The Fresh Appearance of Our Only Feature Recurrence)

Hazy memories and partially reconstructed events are the usual toll when one embarks on a celebration of a compadre's last remaining days of bachelorhood. Throw in the rowdiest city in the greater U.S., a few Hurricanes and Hand Grenades, and the kind of humidity that would melt a vodka cellar in the frozen tundra, and things get stickier than an oil-covered pelican. Which is why, dear internet friends, this situation calls for the least reliable form of raconteurism around: anonymous source quotes removed from any kind of context whatsoever. It's time for our spiciest Jumble-iya yet, served up Nawlins style.

"Ya'll seen any vampires yet?" "No, you're already there, remember?" "Guys, they're strippers... not people." "It's a casino. Just put it down and walk away." "Was this town built for me? Or was I built for this town?" "You want another water for your mangina?" "That's the whitest guy I've ever seen." "I used to date a girl that went out with Landon Donovan." "Here's the good news: We're not girls, so we don't have to stay together." "Give 'em some beads! It's a self esteem booster!" "Baby girl wants ice, she gets ice." "Make a hole and make it wide!" "He has a bow tie. I trust him." "Someone snuck in the room last night and crapped in my pants." "And that's the first time he tried to kill me." "Your friend is going to fall off this balcony if you don't watch him." "Tomorrow we're goin' on a swamp tour." "Oh crap, I gotta take my prozac." "I went to LSU, he went to Mississippi State. My parents called it an interracial marriage." "Please just keep calling us ya'll." "I've got a belt!" "Put some cabbage on that salad." "It was nice of Tyler Hansborough to stop by." "All! Night! Long!" "I will dance in your blood." "Somebody better hit him so it looks like an accident." "That wasn't a real ring. That was a decoy." "You're cute... want a valium?" "She's singing into her shoe." "And that's why we have guard rails folks." "It's 3 for 1, so you want 9?" "So are you really a real doctor?" " I assumed you had your own plane." "It's about the size of a marks-a-lot."

Can't you just taste the catfish? Oh Jumble, you're such a tease.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Don't Call It a Comeback

(A Non-Explanation in Celebration of a Prodigal Return)

The best benefit (okay, only benefit… allow us some hyperbole, would you please?) to writing a blog that nobody reads is that it’s possible to sneak away undetected for long periods of time. Like say, oh, a year and a half. What has your oh-so-unreliable narrator been filling his days with on such a hiatus? None of your damn business.

Certainly it didn't involve scouring the mountainous regions of the Pakistani-Afghani border, sword in hand and night-vision goggles-a-glowing in a misguided but noble quest for the most wanted terrorist mastermind of our time. Nor was it the kind of hike along the Appalachian Trail that leads to the loving embrace of a South American mistress, as well as the abandonment of and subsequent re-trenchment in one’s political office.

A fantastic story does not always a hiatus make. Just ask Michael Jordan's baseball career. And unlike the Cool James the Ladies Love so much, no maternal advice was given upon our return regarding any unconsciousness rendering directed in your general vicinity. So rejoice, if you will, oh non-existent readers, for the digital bullhorn has been plied with fresh batteries, and a slew of post-tastic punditry awaits. Unless we get a sweet spot in line for “Twilight”. Then it might be another two years before you hear from us again.