No Joy in Cheeseville

The outlook isn't brilliant for Packers fans today;
Number 4 is gone, for the New York Jets he’ll play.
When Murphy spoke the sorry words we hoped we’d never hear,
the Cheeseheads were heard sobbing, right into their cold beer.

Most went to bed in deep despair, in need of a good night’s rest
The Packers brass they slandered, all night they second-guessed.
They thought, “if only Brett was back in his rightful starting role,
we’d put up even money now that he’d take us to the Bowl.”

In March when he retired, there rose a lusty yell
It rumbled through Fox valley, it rattled in the Dells;
It pounded down to Brew Town and resounded with a crack
“Don’t do it, Brett, we love you! We hope that you’ll be back!”

But Bears fans in the flatlands rejoiced upon the news
21 different quarterbacks there, one iron man did we use.
He looked into the camera said, “I’ve nothing left to give.”
His 16 years in Green Bay gave us plenty to relive.

There was ease in Brett Favre's manner as he came off the plane;
There was pride in Brett's bearing and a graying in his mane.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt that Brett had won the spat.

But Thompson stood his ground, and his coach he followed suit
If Rodgers doesn’t deliver, they both might get the boot.
So upon that stricken multitude, grim melancholy sat;
For now there’s not a prayer in hell of Brett Favre coming back.

Oh, in the land of frozen tundra, it’s a cold dark day indeed,
Curly Lambeau’s rolling over, in green and gold we bleed.
In New Jersey men are laughing, and little children shout
But there is no joy in Cheeseville, mighty Brett Favre has struck out.

_____

Good luck, Brett. Thanks for the memories.

Mike

Be Kind To Cows

Milk prices continue to rise to record levels and yet, as far as I can tell, not one single cow is making a dime. So where’s the outrage?

Not even PETA, the ACLU for animals, is taking advantage of higher milk prices to raise cow awareness. Oh sure, they have a standing opposition to humans confining cows and treating them as “milk-producing machines.”

PETA claims that, “Given the chance, cows nurture their young and form lifelong friendships with one another. They play games, have a wide range of emotions, and demonstrate personality traits, such as vanity.”

I can’t remember the last time I saw a wild herd of cows roaming free long enough to observe such traits, but I’ll take PETA’s word for it. (No doubt Elsie and the girls would put on a little makeup if only they had opposable thumbs.)

The cows don’t even have Darwin on their side from the looks of it. Cuz if his theory of evolution extended to cows, at some point they’d get wise to their situation and grow wings or develop a shut-off valve or maybe form a union.

In Hinduism cows are considered sacred. As a result, in some areas of India, they roam freely. But Hindus drink cow’s milk, and make cheese and other dairy products.

Not having been to India, I can only assume small gangs of itinerant dairy farmers follow the cows around the countryside and when the cows stop to rest, the milknappers whip out a bucket and start tuggin’ teat. I’m sure that’s much more humane, but whaddya suppose a gallon of milk would cost if it was collected one bucketful at a time?

Be thankful we don’t have herds of cows roaming the streets of downtown Chicago or New York and every time you wanted milk, you had to chase one down and squeeze a glassful right from the tap.

So if you're a consumer of dairy products, next time you drive by a farm, stop and thank the cows. And be sure to tell them they look nice.

Hoop Dreams

It appears as though my career as a bad amateur basketball player is all but over.

There was no farewell tour. No season-ending tournament game in front of thousands of cheering fans. My moment of glory didn’t make the highlight reel on ESPN’s Sports Center. Hell, it wasn’t even captured on home video, which is too bad because American TV audiences evidently find video clips of people getting hurt to be endlessly amusing.

My hoop dreams ended in a high school gymnasium on a Sunday afternoon 15 minutes into the first game. The only witnesses were the other 9 players and 2 guys waiting for the next game. I got the ball in the paint, went hard to my right to go around the defender, pushed off my right foot towards the hole and… down I went.

I tore the medial meniscus in my right knee so badly that it had flipped over and lodged between the knee joint, preventing me from straightening my leg.

That night, I maneuvered myself around the house by resting the foot of my bent leg on a chair. I’d take a step with my good leg, stop, move the chair and my right leg at the same time, and repeat.

At the Sports Clinic the next day, the surgeon told me he’d have to manually straighten my leg before they could do anything. It turns out I’m not nearly as tough in reality as I am in my imagination.

As the doctor sloooooowly pushed down on my knee, tears streamed from both eyes, and I made noises that would’ve no doubt frightened away lions or possibly even crack-addict burglars with handguns.

My doctor (who I’m guessing skipped his med-school sessions on bedside manners) apparently felt as though I was overreacting because at one point he said, “Come on, now. This is getting ridiculous.”

When I said, “So are your fees,” I’m pretty sure he pushed harder.

The next day, he removed 75% of the meniscus. At the follow up a week later, he strongly recommended that I stop playing hoops unless the prospect of knee-replacement surgery in 10-15 years was appealing to me.

“Plus,” he added, “I’ve seen you play.”

“Very funny, doc” I said. “At least you didn’t suggest I work this into my act.”

Health Advice

According to medical statistics, most heart attacks occur on Monday mornings.

So starting this Monday, do what I do: Sleep in until noon, just to be safe.

Tell those busy bodies in HR that, going forward, you’ll be coming in at 1:00 on Mondays as a preventive measure.

When they ask how you’ll make up for the lost time, say, “Slow down a minute, sister. I’ve been risking my life dragging my ass in here every Monday at 8:00 a.m. for the last 15 years. The way I figure it, you owe me 750 Monday mornings off. So if you know what’s good for you, just let it go or else I’m calling the ACLU.”

And if you really want to prove your point, call the HR lady at home on a Sunday night to tell her the news...

Milk Prices

I went to the grocery store today. A gallon of milk was $3.45.

Which means I have a family with an almost $30-a-week milk addiction.

I'm going to have to start start selling drugs just to support our milk habit.

If prices keep going up, we might all have to go to milk rehab...

Levitra commercial

"When I first learned that my high blood pressure was causing my erectile dysfunction, I was surprised. So my doctor described Levitra."

Geez, maybe your doctor should have prescribed some high blood pressure medication. Your veins are so constricted that your blood pressure is high enough to ram a golf ball though a garden hose but you're worried about getting a woody?
Unless your idea of stiff includes rigor mortis, you might want to get a second opinion.