Thursday, October 8, 2026

Lost in translation

 (In which the Blob again escapes Sportsball World in the dead of night, intent on joining the circus. And let's face it, it's all just a great big circus these days.)

I debated writing this. 

I told myself that by writing what I'm about to write, I'd be doing exactly what the gremlins and warlocks of social media want me to do, which is dive down the rabbit holes I regularly lampoon. Don't do it, that still small voice of  reason whispered. Don't go there, because you know as surely as sunrise that people will misconstrue and distort it. Misconstruing and distorting are the national pastime now, after all.

Suffice to say I didn't listen. And the reason I didn't listen is because misconstruing and distortion go right to the heart of this matter.

The matter being, what President Donald John "Look, A Squirrel!" Trump said the other day at a rally in Nebraska. And what he did not say.

He did not, for instance, say he wishes Iran would "take out" Los Angeles and San Diego. As some internet trolls insist he did.

What he said, rather, has been parsed to mean whatever the competing wings of our national divide wish it to mean, neither of which more than brushes up against the truth.

What Squirrel Boy did say, in its full context, is this:

"With the war it's just artificial, it's a little high, it's a small price to pay for keeping the world safe, keeping our country safe. They could take out a city!* Let 'em take out Los Angeles!* Let 'em take out San Diego!* It's a small price to pay."

(*Exclamation points mine).

The subject was gas prices. The message, or so it seems clear to me, was lost in translation as usual by our Dotty Old Grandpa In Chief.  He's never had more than a nodding acquaintance with the English language, and now that creeping senility has set in he frequently seems to have abandoned our most prominent tongue entirely.

In other words: I think his distortion has in turn been distorted by the aforementioned divide, which sometimes leans toward hysteria if not out-and-out psychosis.

And, yes, I know what's coming next. I know those on one side of the divide are going to say I'm making excuses for Der Fuhrer, that he did indeed mean he'd be happy if Iran took out two American cities, and that anyone who believes otherwise is an apologist and an enabler.

And on the other side?

They'll say how dare you call our Fearless Leader senile, to claim he's not in his right mind, to portray him as some mumbling ancient drooling in his soup.

Here's what I'll say to both of them: Whatever, dude.

Here's what I'll also say: Distortion is not the exclusive property of the left or the right -- although out-and-out lying does seem to have been cornered by the latter. The folks on the right outraged by the folks on the left twisting Fearless Leader's words, after all, are the same folks who regularly (and far more blatantly) twist the words of people they don't like. 

Most of whom seem to be brown or Muslim these days. Or both.

In this case, however, I'll take the other side to task, because I expect it to be smarter than this. See, to me, by claiming their nemesis was doing anything more than fear-mongering ("He's saying L.A. and San Diego should be destroyed!"), they provide him cover. They give him and his acolytes corroboration for their false narratives ("The left always lies!"), and obscure the most troubling aspects of this whole episode.

For instance: The worst part about Squirrel Boy talking about the Iranians "taking out" American cities is it indicates just what a fantasy world he inhabits these days. It reveals his obsession with Iran's imaginary nuclear capability, and indicates he's forgotten what he himself said a little over a year ago.

Which is that the United States had totally destroyed Iran's nuclear capability.

Yet now they're suddenly going to rain hellfire on L.A. and San Diego if we don't continue to do whatever it is we're doing over there? Sure, Jan.

And as for portraying high gas prices as some minor annoyance ...

Yet more evidence of the massive disconnect between this let-them-eat-cake Regime and its people. It's easy for Fearless Leader to brush off high gas prices when he never has to worry about buying gas, or balancing a checkbook, or robbing Peter to pay Paul. But for those who do have to worry about that, four-buck-a-gallon gas is a hell of a lot more than a temporary inconvenience.

That's the real problem with Squirrel Boy's latest babble. That, and one more thing:

When he said "Take out Los Angeles! Take out San Diego!" out there in Nebraska, the allegedly God-fearing patriots in attendance cheered. Cheered. At the thought of two American cities and millions of their fellow Americans being incinerated.

And did the President of the United States wave his hand and say, "Hey, wait a minute, don't be cheering that, you asshats"?

No he did not. 

You want to be outraged about something?

Be outraged about that.

Wednesday, October 7, 2026

No Gurlz Allowed

 Dumb stuff always becomes a thing when the Intertoobal poodles start yapping, and this week, I guess, the thing is about Colts owner Carlie Irsay-Gordon. 

She's on the sidelines for every game, you see. With a clipboard. Taking notes.

Rational folks would say this just shows she's engaged in the operation of her team, which isn't a bad thing for the owner of a gazillion-dollar business. Besides, she's just there taking notes. She's not pestering the coaches or players or insisting Shane Steichen roll out the old Statue of Liberty play. So what's the problem?

Ah, but the poodles ...

Well. The most prominent among them -- the super-annoying Bill Simmons -- says it's "bonkers" Irsay-Gordon does this. He says it's "crackers," and "nuts" and a bunch of other words. He says if she were a male owner, like, say, fellow sideline stalkers Jerry Jones or Falcons owner Arthur Blank, people would be raising perdition.

This, of course, is exactly backward.

If she were a male owner taking notes on the sideline, Bill-O and the rest of the Magical Twitter/X/Instagram/Podcast-al crowd wouldn't be saying a word.

Let's take Jones, for instance. Or as everyone calls him, "Jerry."

Jerry stalks the Cowboys sideline as regularly as Irsay-Gordon, and, unlike her, he never met a camera he wouldn't chase down to put his face in front of. He's the biggest attention-hound in America. And yet when's the last time you heard Bill-O call HIM bonkers or crackers or nuts?

Hint: Never.

 "So all this much-ado is because she's a woman?" you're saying now.

Of course it's because she's a woman. What, you think the sun rises in the west now?

It's because she's a youngish woman in a world populated by mostly ancient men -- many of whom, one suspects, she's a heck of a lot smarter than. In fact the NFL, you could argue, is the foremost bastion of male hegemony in all of Spfaortsball World. If it were a treehouse, there'd be a faded No Gurlz Allowed sign hanging out front.

Faded, because its time is long past. Still hanging there, because -- Irsay-Gordon aside -- the ancient men still nostalgically cling to it.

Aided and abetted by poodles like Bill Simmons, apparently.

Geez, people. Get with the times, why doncha.


Tuesday, October 6, 2026

A few brief thoughts on NFL Week 4

 And now this week's edition of The NFL In So Many Words -- the yin-and-yang Blob feature that's either really, really good or really, really bad, and of which critics have said "Bad! I'll take bad!", and also, "I got a good fist and a bad fist. You choose which one you want for your knuckle hoagie":

1. The Packers edged the 0-4 Buccaneers 17-14. The Cowboys had to come from behind to beat the 0-4 Texans 34-30.

2. "Ha! See? Told ya we didn't suck!" (The Packers, who, let's face, still pretty much suck)

3. "Ha! See? We are BACK, baby! We are sooooo back!" (The Cowboys, who probably aren't as back as everyone always says they are when they win one)

4. In other news, the Dolphins remained winless after losing to the undefeated Vikings. The Chargers remained winless after losing to the 3-1 Seahawks.

5. "Are we the best team in the NFL? Hell, yeah, we're the best team in the NFL!" (The Vikings, who might be the best team in the NFL, but also might not even be the best team in the NFC North)

6. "Are we still the champs? Hell, yeah, we're still the champs!" (The Seahawks, forgetting the unbeaten 49ers are still in their division)

7. "Are we still in the division? Hell, yeah we're still in the division!" (The 49ers)

8. Meanwhile, the Bills jacked around and lost at home to the Patriots (which they always seem to do),  and the Cardinals jacked around and lost to the Giants (and Jameis Winston)

9. "Gah! How do we always jack around and lose to the Patriots?" (The Bills)

10. "Gah! How did we jack around and lose to Jameis Winston?" (The Cardinals)"

Monday, October 5, 2026

The great unanswerable

 People who know what I did for a living for four decades ask me questions now, and almost always they come away disappointed. This is because they assume I know all things Sportsball, and frankly I don't. 

Exhibit A: What happened the other day.

"So, the Colts," someone said, or words to that effect. "What do you think? Are they any good?"

"Beats me," I replied.

I said that not because I didn't want to talk about the Colts, but because it honestly beats me. I don't know if they're any good or not. I suspect they're OK when healthy, which they're not at the moment. But by "OK", I mean, "No one's going to pick them to go to the Super Bowl, unless they live in London and don't know bad American football from good American football."

London, after all, is where the Colts beat the Commanders 30-13 yesterday, which wasn't exactly a monumental achievement but might have looked like it to the Brits natives. ("By Jove, these Colts are world-beaters!" I imagine them saying). The Commanders, after all, are beat up and pretty crummy right now. Yesterday they were down to their third quarterback, someone named Athan Kaliakmanis -- or, as he was known to most viewers, "Who the hell is THAT?"

"That" turned out to be a seventh-round draft pick from Rutgers, not exactly a football power. He's 23 years old. He's got a great smile, which he showed off more than once yesterday. This is because, as a seventh-round pick, he likely didn't expect to be playing in a real live NFL game anytime soon.

But Marcus Mariota got hurt, and Jayden Daniels remains sidelined with a dislocated elbow, so here came Athan. He wasn't bad: 15-of-33, 186 yards, one touchdown and one pick. And even though he lost big,  his QBR was actually better than that of his Colts counterpart Daniel Jones, who put up more beige numbers in what so far has been a beige year for him.

Jones completed 19-of-34 passes for 143 yards. He threw no touchdown passes and one fairly awful pick.

Not that it was all his fault, mind you. He's still recovering from the Achilles injury that knocked him onto the sidelines last year. And his receiver corps banged up, too; his top target yesterday was backup wideout Laquon Treadwell, who caught five balls for 42 yards.

In the end, the Colts won because they said, "Well, screw this," and handed the ball to Jonathan Taylor, who ran for 85 yards and two scores on 20 carries. So now they're 2-2 with back-to-back wins over Houston and Washington, which sounds great until you realize Houston and Washington are a combined 1-7.

Therefore the question remains the great unanswerable for now.

 Are the Colts any good?

Beats me.

Sunday, October 4, 2026

The glory of fall

 October came in this weekend as mellow sunlight in a blue dome of sky, and a flannel-shirt breeze, and a farmer's market hawking pumpkins and squash and sourdough bread and the last peppers of the season.

It came in with  playoff baseball (Go, you White Sox!), and winter peeking around the corner when you surfed the remote and there were the by-god Chicago Blackhawks playing the by-god Buffalo Sabres, and college football -- the very voice of fall --  everywhere, everywhere, 

It was lying on the couch in the aforementioned flannel shirt, watching Minnesota beat Michigan at home for the first time in half a century, then seeing one of the oldest rivalry keepsakes in the game  (the Little Brown Jug) tossing on a sea of gold-and-maroon.

It was watching Missouri finally win a big one, flambe-ing No. 8 Florida a week after Florida flambe-d then No. 4 Ole Miss. It was Indiana over Rutgers big; Ohio State over Iowa big; Purdue beating Illinois in Champaign; Notre Dame winning in the rain in North Carolina.

Alabama crushed Mississippi State in Starkville, suggesting it might be ALABAMA! again. Air Force beat Navy in a service-academy game. And of course the alma mater, dear old Ball State, lost at home to Toledo, but at least put up a fight this time.

The glory of fall is all of that.

The glory of fall is 63 degrees that feels like 58, and maroon and orange and neon yellow in the trees, and the Minnesota student section becoming the Missouri student section becoming the student section of every football school in America celebrating its undiluted youth on a perfect afternoon.

"Wow. You sure red-lined the old Maudlin Meter with this one," you're saying now.

Yeah, well. Sometimes I just can't help myself. 

Saturday, October 3, 2026

A fair shake?

 Your Cleveland Browns are now 3-1 after edging Pittsburgh 27-24 on Thursday night, and now everyone's wondering if the Browns are actually good or just, you know, playing the usual cruel tricks on their ever-suffering fan base.

It was a game in which a lot of stuff happened -- including Steelers head coach Mike McCarthy getting caught calling his quarterback, Aaron Rodgers, a "(bleeping) (bleep)hole," for which he profusely apologized even though, let's face it, he wasn't wrong. Meanwhile, Browns quarterback Deshaun Watson once again played effectively, completing 24-of-33 passes for 268 yards and a touchdown.

It continued Watson's brisk start to the season, during which he's thrown for 855 yards and six touchdowns in four games. It also continued some folks' attempt to sell this as some sort of half-assed redemption story, which is absurd if not exactly surprising given the national zeitgeist these days. 

Watson, see, was sued by 20-plus women between 2021 and 2024 for sexual misconduct during massage sessions, which suggests at the very least that the guy has a problem keeping his hands (and perhaps other appendages) to himself. In the midst of all that, the Browns handed him a ginormous stack of money to come play for them. This is because, well, they're the Browns. 

Then he got hurt. Now he's returned, a "comeback" which Prime broadcasters Al Michael and Kirk Herbstreit treated with what seemed undue sympathy.

Rational people, of course, would suggest the sympathy was misplaced, because Watson was solely responsible for derailing his own career. Framing his current success as something inspiring -- Hey, he made some mistakes, but he's a generally good guy who hung in there despite his travails-- therefore seemed a trifle ...

I was going to say "obscene."  But I'm not unreasonable. I'll settle for "distasteful."

No, obscene is closer to what President Donald John Trump said the other day, on the subject of the Cornell 7.

Now, unless you've been living on Tom Hanks' island in "Castaway" lately, you know this story: A young woman and former Cornell student has sued seven members of the Chi Phi fraternity for gang-raping her a couple of years ago.

 The suit alleges that seven Chi Phis took advantage of a drunk 20-year-old, dosed her with fetanyl, and spent the next seven or so hours having their way with her. One of the entitled little snots even sent out text messages to his fellow frat bros that there was "free p****" available and to come join in.

What's remarkable about that (or not), is that none of the fellow frat bros responded by saying "What the HELL??"  There were 57 of them, and not one tried to put a stop to it. Not ... a single ... one.

Who's raising these kids? What kind of twisted values are they being taught? And who's doing the teaching?

I'll tell you who.

The broadcasters trying to suggest Deshaun Watson's journey is a redemptive one, as if his troubles were not well-deserved. And the aforementioned President of the United States, who the other day said he feared the Cornell 7 wouldn't get a "fair shake" because the lead prosecutor in the upcoming criminal proceedings is Letitia James, whom Fearless Leader has been mad at since she dared to prosecute his corrupt ass in New York.

A "fair shake"?

One wonders what kind of fair shake F.L. thinks that young woman got when the Cornell 7 allegedly treated her like a piece of meat on that dark endless night. Hey, guys! Free p****!

Now that's obscene.

So is what Kirk Herbstreit contended on Thursday.

"You want the fans to get behind you, and that goes for pretty much any market," Herbie said to Michaels. "This is an extreme case because of what you laid out with Deshaun Watson, but if you convert third downs, you hit passes, you lead this team to victories, those boos turn into cheers."

And what was obscene about that?

He was absolutely right.

Friday, October 2, 2026

Sports vs. Dummies

 OK, so, I wasn't going to write about this. Hand to God.

I wasn't going to write about a certain senator from Missouri (Eric Schmitt, R-Nitwit) trying to  catch special prosecutor Jack Smith in a lie by claiming he was at an Atlanta Hawks home game on such-and-such a date. Oops! Turns out Smith was actually in Maryland at a Terps women's game against Caitlin Clark's Iowa Hawkeyes.

Which is why Smith seemed honestly puzzled when Schmitt -- who was in full sanctimony mode, calling Smith a "dirtbag" who'd just been caught perjuring himself -- brought up the Hawks game. To put it more bluntly, he looked at Schmitt like he had two heads.

Both of them apparently empty.

(A brief aside: This all happened during the Republicans' attempt to paint President Donald John "I Don't Know Nothin' 'Bout Birthin' No Attempted Insurrections" Trump as the persecuted victim of a vindictive Smith and the Department of Justice vis-a-vis January 6. It's apparently part of a more general scheme to present Fearless Leader as a martyr to the cause, and to recast January 6 as just a group of high-spirited lads getting a bit out of hand on a tour of the Capitol building.)

Anyway ...

Anyway, the whole Hawks/Hawkeyes thing has made a laughingstock of Sen. Schmitt on social media, and reminds the Blob of one of its basic principles: That politicians should be extremely skittish about entering Sportsball World, because it hardly ever ends well.

I wasn't going to write about this because I've written about it a dozen times. But since the Hawks/Hawkeyes memes refuse to die (and are frankly hilarious), here goes again. 

You know why politicians should be extremely skittish about entering Sportsball World?

Because most of them don't know jack doody about it.

Oh, this isn't always the case. Among presidents in particular, Richard Nixon was a devoted and informed follower of pro football. George W. Bush actually owned the Texas Rangers for a  bit, so he knew baseball. Barack Obama knew his White Sox and his hoops, and even Fearless Leader seems to know his Knicks, although his advancing senility makes it increasingly difficult to determine what he knows about much of anything.

Those, however, are the exceptions.

The rule?

The rule is Hillary Clinton, a lifelong Cubs fan, donning a New York Yankees cap while running for the Senate in New York. No true Cubs fan would ever be caught dead wearing a Yankees cap. You'd think Hillary would have known this, but, nah.

And how about John Kerry shouting "Go, Buckeyes!" in an Ohio-Michigan border town that was, um, resolutely Michigan Wolverines territory?

That went well.

Of course, it doesn't just stop with individual gaffes. Congress has decided to go Sportsball World meddling with such measures as the Protection of Women and Girls in Sports Act, an anti-transgender measure that addresses the virtually non-existent issue (i.e., fewer than 10 transgender athletes among 510,000 in NCAA sports) of  male transgenders competing in women's sports.

And then there's Congress' attempt to regulate college sports, which just passed the Senate with overwhelming support. Allegedly it's intended to regulate the currently lawless landscape of big-boy college sports, which ain't a bad idea. But in its present form it mostly seems to protect the  bidness of college sports by imposing almost all of its restrictions on the "student-athletes" while conferring antitrust protections on the schools and conferences. 

Oh, the kids will still get their NIL dough. But the measure currently headed to the House would put a cap on it, because the schools are adamant that something must be done to curtail their skyrocketing costs. Meanwhile, the proposed law would impose no such ceiling on coaches' salaries, so they'll still be paid like CEOs instead of the educators they purport to be. 

Speaking of, you know, curtailing skyrocketing costs.

(The Blob has addressed this issue, too, by the by. You want college sports to become college sports again? Fine. Pay Coach Slobberknocker like any other member of the faculty and require him to teach a history class. Restore freshmen ineligibility so your "student-athletes" can spend at least one year focused on their classes and not their NIL portfolios. And negotiate TV deals that put scheduling back in the university's hands and not ESPN's.)

But enough about that. We've strayed a bit off-topic here -- the topic being politicians consistently starring in episodes of "Sports vs. Dummies."

Eric Schmitt being only the latest example.