My downstairs neighbors have decided that the right way to celebrate Thanksgiving is to play rap music with the base cranked up to floor*-shaking levels.
Food poisoning would be too good for them.
*(My floor, that is.)
I think this ring-bearer would rather face Sauron himself than what this bride will do to him:
So, I’ve just turned off tonight’s Saints-Packers game. The second half turned into a blowout and it lost interest for me.
One thing struck me about tonight’s commentary: Tirico, Kornheiser, and Jaworski talked again and again about the controversy surrounding the decision to let Brett Favre go to the Jets this last summer.
“Controversy?” Hello? What none of the guys would mention, what no one on any network seems willing to mention, is that Brett Favre became a huge pain in the backfield because of his drama-queen behavior. How long’s it been? Three years since he started the “Will he or won’t he retire” dance? Four years? Five? He played with the Packers and his fans as if they were a yo-yo.
And then, when he finally does decide to retire, the NFL and the networks honor him with a year long paean to his greatness, including seemingly endless video of his wife singing his praises. With the end of the season, we all bid him a fond and well-deserved farewell.
So, of course, that summer, he says “not really!” I mean, honest to Pete, after the team has begun their transition to Aaron Rodgers, Favre comes back and says he wants to play. You just know that had to be causing all sort of disruption in the locker room, divided loyalties and whatnot. And what about Rodgers? What’s that supposed to do to his confidence thinking he’s the one, then he may not be? And all the plans management had made for the future, planning on life without Favre?
Feh. To Brett and his ego, that doesn’t matter. It really is all about a little kid who just can’t grow up.
And, to come back to my original point, not one person in the TV media has the guts to call him on it.
We supposedly had a drill to prepare for a massive earthquake today where I work, a major West Coast university. It caused quite the flutter among staff as we went back and forth over what signage to have, whether we should get under our desks to practice “duck and cover” for this pretend temblor, whether we would make visitors to our facility do the same, and whether we would participate in the “evacuation.”
Yep, that last part would entail having us leave our offices to line up and march to a designated gathering place, just like it was the end of recess in grammar school.
This had to be one of the dumbest exercises I’ve ever seen, probably proposed by some resume-building hack as a “consciousness raising” measure. In the end, it was useless.
Look, I support disaster preparedness, but real preparedness, not this Doctor Feelgood nonsense. Anyone who’s lived in an active earthquake zone knows to duck under some hard cover and stay away from windows during a quake. These Romper-Room games do nothing.
If they want real preparedness, then get staff certified in first aid, emergency response, and evacuation procedures — and pay them commensurately. Pay for storage lockers and supply them with enough food, water, and other emergency supplies to last the standard three days in which we might be without outside help.
Do that, and then I’ll think you’re serious about getting ready for the Big One.