Rain Falls on Everyone…

Pitter. Patter. Pitter. Patter. Pitter. Patter.

For three days, I’ve been listening to this rain and I can’t help but think of how fucking out of the ordinary this is. Baby-sweetie and I have been watching the weather off and on, catching dopplers and analysis, listening to the forcasts calling for 80% coverage on such and such day and 60% coverage on such and such day. Flood warnings grace the screen with the same frequency as the dead in Iraq and I can’t help but sit back and think: I wonder how fun puddle jumping would be at 22.

When I got to work yesterday evening, I talked to baby-sweetie for a little bit and while I stood back in music listening to the shuffling of CD’s and DVD’s from customers who didn’t want a damn thing to do with me, I debated on which animals I would take on the metaphorical arc I was going to build in the event that Mother Nature’s bitchy joke doesn’t end within the next 48 hours.

Dogs? Of course. I love doggies. Man’s best friend. Loyal, awesome, and whatnot.
Cats? Yeah… maybe. Probably so, some people like cats.

So, I had combed through all of the domestic animals and decided to bring them because in Perry Farrell’s words, “They make great pets”. Yet, I decided the real challenge was with the animals of the savage plains and the disapperaing rain forests and whatnot.

After some careful thinking, I decided to abandon the project. It wouldn’t work out anyway. With my luck, I’d probably figure out some way to sink the arc, whether it be through structural problems or the fact that I am, in fact, Robbie, and have a track record of freak accidents on vehicles. My old bike is still in that creek, after all.

So, I did my CD sweeps and pretty much waded through my redundant three-hour Sunday shift that jipped me out of the last eight minutes of the 49ers/Cardinals game (yep, I love the Niners THAT much).

Sports has been really interesting this weekend, on and off the field. Friday night was the NBA Hall-Of-Fame Ceremony for the class of 2009 and for those of you who have been living under a rock (or in Mississippi) for the last couple of months, you know that 2009 was a wicked class.

David Robinson… Spurs Center… kick ass dunker and shot blocker… nicknamed “The Admiral”.

John Stockton… Jazz Point Guard… best all-time in assists and steals

Jerry Sloan… over 1,100 career wins… longest tenured coach of any team, any sport, all-time

C. Vivian Stringer… only NCAA basketball coach male or female to make Final 4 with three different schools.

And…

His Royal Airness…

Michael

“Air”

Jordan.

I need not to explain his career achievements. They’ll be teaching them in school soon.

It really was a gripping ceremony, full of tears and laughs (and Sir Charles), but Michael Jordan’s speech was really cool. Not only did he say “shit” and wasn’t bleeped or anything (granted it was live), but he made a crack about pulling a Brett Favre and coming back at 50. It was met with laughs and an MJ who seemed kind of serious when he said “don’t laugh”.

Hmm… Michael Jordan coming back to the NBA at 50.

He could still lay the smack down on LeBron. Just saying.

The Rangers were essentially rain delayed all weekend, but still managed to play their double header on Sunday night, going 1-1 with the Mariners and going a total of 1-2 against them for the weekend series. Hopefully they can make the post-season. I’d love to see that again.

The Madden cover struck again last Thursday, with Steelers safety Troy Polamalu spraining his MCL in the 13-10 overtime win over Tennessee. Now, I wonder what could become of Cardinals’ wide reciever Larry Fitzgerald since he too has been doomed by the cover of the single best looking sports game I have ever had the privelege of playing.

Maybe the 49ers’ 20-16 win over the defending NFC champions could have injured his pride, but I’m thinking maybe something more along the lines of a leg injury of some kind. That sounds really bad of me to say, but every single player on the Madden cover has been inured the year they were featured and since I still believe in the Pottsville curse ruining the Cardinals franchise, I think it could be something to that effect. Just saying.

In other NFL news, Drew Bress just made many fantasy football players cum themselves with a 350-yard, six touchdown game against the Lions. Mark Sanchez won his first game. The Giants and Redskins made Vince McMahon proud in their game and Brett Favre won his first game with the Purple People Eaters. Not bad for week one.

And now, boys and girls, I will not go on one of my typical tirades involving this, that, or the other thing in the world of pop-culture, news, and other forms of media that have bastardized the American free-thinking.

1. Why the hell hasn’t that death angel Conrad Murray been arrested yet?
This is the LAPD were talking about here.

2. Why can’t Dick Cheney (who looks remarkably like the Penguin) shut up about Obama?
Because he is a bitter little man who is mad because another bitter little man lost the election.

3. Why is Bill O’Reilly still breathing?
I should consult God on this one.

4. Why do I not have a bagel in my hand right now?
It really sounds good.

5. Why can’t the makers of RockBand just stop already?
Because the choice between it and Guitar Hero has all the stupid little Hot Topic kids shelling out their parents money on that mind numbing crap and box sets of MTV’s Rob & Big.

6. Why wont it stop raining?
Because it just affirms how much of a joke Lewisville really is.

7. Why is Lewisville a joke?
Because it is…

8. You didn’t answer my question.
I said, BECAUSE IT IS…

9. You’re stupid.
You’re stupid.

Sorry, I got a little carried away for a second. Sometimes that happens.

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About Robert L. Franklin

Ah, the About Me section - social networking's excuse for you sounding like an elitist prick. Hmm... what to say? What to say?
This entry was posted in America: The Blog, Back Page Sports. Bookmark the permalink.

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