>>> Casual Misanthropy
By staff writer JD Rebello
August 14, 2005
Ok, some of you have heard the heartbreaking story of my lost Old School baseball preview column. For those who haven’t (thanks for nothing, Peter Jennings!), you clearly don’t read my columns on a regular basis, and it’s too damn late to jump on the bandwagon. Go read Ali’s column, if you can make your way through it without thinking “Damn, I really want to bang Ali.” So far, I’ve had no luck.
Anyway, some of you have wondered what I thought of Wedding Crashers, apparently the early front-runner for Best Picture 2006, normally reserved for movies about boxing chicks who get paralyzed as Clint Eastwood casually rapes the audience. So what did I think? Well, funny I brought up Million Dollar Baby because for whatever reason, that movie reminded me of this one. Really solid for the first hour, then an inexplicable change of tone for the final act. For the first hour, Wilson and Vaughn are predictably awesome. Rachel McAdams is so hot she deserves her own column. I can’t even begin to describe how sexy and surprisingly funny she is. The entire supporting cast is good, particularly Gloria, Christopher Walken (duh), and the gay brother. The only character I didn’t like was the profane grandma, just because we’ve seen that done in about a dozen movies.
“He puts up great numbers, and would look downright sexy on my fantasy team, but let’s be honest, Peyton Manning is a little bitch.”
Now, I realize I’m about the 9,452nd person to claim Wedding Crashers has a horrible third act, but, well, it has a horrible third act. It’s long, boring, inexplicably keeps Wilson and Vaughn apart for long periods of time. Only a Will Ferrell cameo makes it watch-able. And yet, with all that said, I thought it was a solid movie. I mean, considering the other choices at the multiplex are a Jamie Foxx version of Top Gun, another Michael Bay cumfest, and Johnny Depp touching kiddies, there really is no other choice.
Ok, where the hell was I? Oh yeah. The Old School column. Anyway, I basically wrote a column previewing the baseball season back in April integrating quotes from the classic comedy, only to have my asshole of a computer delete the thing randomly, which made me almost as angry as when Sega Genesis lost my season of NHL ‘94 with Cam Neely gunning for a 200-goal season. God that pissed me off.
One last note on this column: you’re probably thinking, “Hey, doesn’t Bill Simmons do the same exact thing?” Stop thinking that. I also realize this comes mere days after Sports Guy did a similar column involving another Ferrell comedy. I don’t care. I’ve literally stopped caring.
So, I’ve decided to dig up that Old School column, and this time, use it as my NFL preview. You don’t like it? Well, go read Ali’s column. If you can handle it.
Here we go.
1. Mitch: True love is hard to find, sometimes you think you have true love and then you catch the early flight home from San Diego and a couple of nude people jump out of your bathroom blindfolded like a goddamn magic show ready to double team your girlfriend…
For all the teams that are bound to disappoint this season, including the Cowboys (ooh, a washed up Drew Bledsoe, start printing Super Bowl tickets), Saints (as per usual), Falcons, Chargers, Raiders, Chiefs (pretty much the AFC West), Ravens, Jets, and Packers. Yup, sorry Green Bay fans. In fact…
For Brett Favre. Sorry I’m not like the rest of the free world that thinks Christmas should be changed to Favre’s birthday. He WAS a great quarterback, no doubt: Super Bowl ring, three MVPs, hilarious cameo in “Something about Mary” (“I’m in town to play the Dolphins, dumbass”). But let’s face it, the guy is a train wreck on the field now, and he single-handedly cost his team that game against the Vikings in January. So let’s stop the lovefest, and all that “Look how much fun he’s having. He’s one of the great players of our time. I bet his poop tastes like caviar.” Let’s just move on. My prediction: Aaron Rodgers is the starting QB by Week 4.
Probably my favorite quote of the movie, just because it’s so unprovoked, deliberately vulgar, and unnecessary, just like my columns. But this one goes to Peyton Manning. Look, you already know how I feel. I wrote a whole column about this guy. He puts up great numbers, and would look downright sexy on my fantasy team, but let’s be honest, he’s a little bitch. He gets loads of attention, is constantly compared to the greats, but folds like a paper hat in a rainstorm every January, and couldn’t beat the Pats unless Brady and Belichick were buried naked in the desert. And for the love of God, NFL, stop adjusting the rules to favor this guy. I swear to God, if ten years go by, and this hick still doesn’t have a ring, the NFL will probably consider forcing defenses to only field nine players, none of which will be allowed to touch the quarterback. And free tampons for Peyton. Pussy.
4. Beanie: Mitch, I own six Speaker City’s. I am worth three and a half million dollars that the government knows about. I got more electronics up there than a damn KISS concert. You think I'm gonna roll out this type of red carpet for a fucking marching band? Just make sure you can see the stage.
To the Philadelphia Eagles. What can I say? If the Patriots didn’t exist, they are the gold standard of the NFL right now. Best QB in the game. Great wideout. Great running back. Great defense. Great coach. Dipshit fans and ugly city, but the rest is good. Anyway, they have to be the pick in the NFC right now, right? Who else can challenge them? The Panthers? The Falcons? Everyone else is just the Ashlee to Philly’s Jessica. There’s no comparison really. Speaking of the Eagles…
5. Beanie: Don't say sorry to me. You let down Frank. You let down me. Most importantly you let down Max. And right about now I'm having a hard time trying to figure out why I take time out of my schedule to help you get over… Max can you earmuff it for me? …That whore you dated.
For Terrell Owens. Ok, I want to like this guy. He won me over last year several times: having the balls to mock a fucking murderer, claiming it’s bullshit he gets all the bad pub when there are freaking drug dealers, and adulterers all over the league, playing hurt in the Super Bowl and actually being a factor. I’m just real distressed to see him in this mindless holdout situation. I’m not saying the intentions are wrong, that NFL players are constantly having their contracts dishonored by owners so why not the other way around, but a $49 million man is not the one to do it, particularly one who cried to get to Philly, and is playing with the only possible QB I can see him respecting (which of course he doesn’t). But hey, he has to feed his family, so whatever.
6. Beanie: I know that you had an awesome time. I think the entire town knows you had an awesome time.
For the New England Patriots. Yeah, I know us Pats fans are getting insufferable. I’ve already mentioned them several times in this column with condescending remarks about the 29 other runner-ups. But, I mean, three Super Bowls in four years? That’s really something. And sure, our spiritual leader is out next year. And yeah, our two coordinators are gone now. But how are they not the favorite for a fourth ring? The short answer: there is no answer. The long answer: Tom Brady is the fucking man. I don’t care what you say, or how many stats you throw at me to prove otherwise. Sorry if he doesn’t throw 49 touchdowns against sub-par defenses and then shit his pants in January. No, really. Keep disrespecting this team. They’ll just keep winning. Go ahead. I dare you. Bitch.
To the bitches of the NFL…and they are: Eli Manning (in fact, pretty much anyone with the last name Manning), Chad Pennington, any Eagles receiver not named Terrell Owens, and the biggest poontang of all, Ricky Williams. In fact…
8. Garry: You can use a little teeth but we don't want to be a biter. Now ladies these carrots are not gonna ejaculate themselves. Get into it!
Not really relevant, but I just wanted to use the most embarrassing quote possible to invoke Ricky Williams. First off, I am sick to death of the media praising this guy and his “comeback.” Let’s set the record straight: He quit on his teammates, returned only because he was financially forced, spent the last year smoking weed, is in horrible shape, and won’t play until Week 5 while the second overall pick in the draft runs in his stead. There is no fucking comeback. The guy had one great season. So did Brady Anderson. How the media can dick over T.O. but dub this guy an inspiration is beyond me.
9. Beanie: Who's life is ruined?
Mitch: Let’s see. Blue's dead. Frank’s divorced. I've lost my house. Nicole thinks I'm a total jackass. And we got nine kids who are gonna get expelled from school and you're not even gonna help them out.
To this year’s worst teams: my AFC Prediction: Miami. My NFC Prediction: Washington. Ok, probably not the most inspired picks, so let me go ahead and pick my surprise team this year. Last year, if you’ll remember (which would be impossible since I never mentioned it on PIC), I dubbed the Chargers the surprise team. Really, I said it. You can ask my friends. So who do I like this year? I’ll give you a sec.
Buffalo. Can’t you just feel it? Great running back. Solid enough defense. Decent QB who can ease himself in like Big Ben last year. I'd like them to grab a wild card spot, beat Indy. Yeah, that’s right, and be stomped by the Pats in the Divisional Playoffs. Just watch.
10. Frank: I told my wife I wouldn't drink tonight. Besides, I got a big day tomorrow. You guys have a great time.
College Student: A big day? Doing what?
Frank: Well, um, actually a pretty nice little Saturday, we're going to go to Home Depot. Yeah, buy some wallpaper, maybe get some flooring, stuff like that. Maybe Bed, Bath, & Beyond, I don't know, I don't know if we'll have enough time.
The most famous quote in the movie, and well-deserved. This is for my Super Bowl prediction, and well, call me uninspired (although that’s a big word for roughly 80% of my readers…so call me a shithead), but I like Pats-Eagles round 2. And sorry to be a homer, but I like the Pats to win it again, say, 28-24.
Now, let’s get the NFL season going, could we? Just ring the fucking bell, you pussy.