Last week’s edition of my top five heroes of the week received a great deal of love. The stories were heartwarming and inspiring, and I’m thankful to all the peeps who chimed in with propers. So apologies in advance, because this weeks heroes post . . ain’t resembling last week’s. At all.
I decided to take a vacation from the sublime news stories and to feast on the ridiculous instead. Maybe I’ll mix and match these heroes posts in upcoming editions. Or maybe I’ll just go on the meds, after all.
Both. Definitely both . . .
5- The Blind Side: To paraphrase a well used aphorism, there is no bad deed that goes unrewarded when it comes to college football. So I wasn’t the least bit surprised when the Coaching God, Nick Saban, brought in the disgraced D.J. Durkin to be a consultant for the Alabama football program.
Durkin was the head coach at Maryland when 19 year old Jordan McNair collapsed and later died of heat stroke after one of Durkin’s boot camp practices. After a debacle of an investigation in which the coach was placed on paid leave, then re-instated and then fired when the resultant pushback threatened to bring down the program . . he was considered radioactive.
Until Saint Nick swooped in. And now, I have a new favorite team in next month’s college football playoff. Any team but Alabama.
4- You Sleigh Me: There’s been a lot of hate directed at this dude, and I ain’t seeing it. I mean, if anything . . he’s a great lesson for the young ‘uns.
It’s like this, kids. This Santa gives a shit about the holidays, because he has a J-O-B that puts him in direct contact with you little virus monsters when he could’ve scored a seasonal position at Chipotle. But he decided to forsake the best free lunches this side of Congress, as well as the respect of his girlfriend, so he could wear a facial pasty that itches like a motherfucker. All so that you can have your precious little fantasy about a gift giving old bastard. And . . he didn’t pull a George Costanza either!
Merry Fucking Christmas.
3- Way Up In The Air: Now, the cynical person might read my thoughts on Lil Pump and be like “Yo Marc, you’re profiling man!” . . and to that cynical person I say, yep . . matter of fact I am. Because if I see this dude hauling a bag around that smells like weed, Imma think some shaggy type shenanigans.
And so when Mr. Pump was booted off a flight because his bag smelled of weed, I get it. You’re not supposed to do that. But . . . here’s the thing. Why are we so fucking worried about weed on an airplane? Seriously, if you told me that a passenger on my flight was in possession of something illegal I would be like Oh shit! I should’ve listened to that fortune cookie and stayed home! But if you followed that up by telling me the illegal something was pot, I would say something to the effect of Well thank fucking Christ for that! Now can we go booty up on this tin pipe and get outta town already?
2- A ‘Reefer’endum: Rahm Emanuel hasn’t exactly been living his best life since scoring the job of Mob Boss (I mean Mayor) of Chicago in 2011. He’s presided over spiking crime rates and plummeting approval ratings and the end of the Cubs dynasty (before it even got started!). And while the Mayor ain’t scoring the Cubbies gig anytime soon, he is still plenty resourceful. He fought his way back from the Chicago PD scandal in 2015 that had the Chi-town faithful making a call to the bullpen. And his latest balls to the wall plan to pay down a debt that has gone to pot? Go with it.
Yep, Rahmbo wants to legalize marijuana.
If he changes his mind about another run, The Dude will definitely own the youth vote. Food and beverage lobbies are gonna be throwing their green (money) his way. Criminals will get lazy, and the Windy City is gonna possess a whole different kind of chill. So to all the haters . . .
That’ll Cheech you!
1- You Can’t Make This Shit Up (Part LVI): We’re at halftime (maybe) of the reign of Trump and man . . what a fucking trip so far, huh? And just when you thought it couldn’t get any more ridiculous, it done did when a disgraced former celebrity (is that redundant?) expressed an interest in the Chief of Staff vacancy.
Word on the street has it that Jose Canseco was about to pull his resume from Monster.com since he hadn’t scored his dream gig at Game Stop, until he caught wind of a Chief of Staff opening at the Taj on 1600. And now the country waits in breathless anticipation for Orson Welles to make the scene, fresh from his cryogenic nap and be like “Gotcha bitches!”
I knew reality shows were a sign of the apocalypse, but nobody listened.