Anybody have any?

I’m not telling anyone who I’m rooting for to win, because whichever team I pick — matters not the sport — always loses. So shhhhhhh. Be vewwy quiet.

Besides, I’ve always felt that until MY team plays in the Super Bowl, it’s just another football game, which explains why I never have any plans for Super Bowl Sunday. (And likely never will.)

Now you just have yourself a fabulous Thursday, because you know what tomorrow is.

…but no.

Fred Flintstone and his gang got the best of the Browns again last night. I’m too tired to put the disappointment into words, so I’ll just leave white space and you can imagine me doing it, k?

K.

~

FO

I know. Schadenfreude is not nice. Let’s just call it, mehhh…justice.

Did you notice how, after the game, Dwayne Wade and other Heat players stayed on the court to congratulate the Dallas guys, but Mr. I’ma Take My Talents to Souf Beach exited stage left without speaking to anyone? Such telling moments define character, one way or the other.

The Heat will likely win a championship or five, if the planets align and they all play their best in the playoff stretch. I’m just glad it wasn’t this year. Reeeeally glad.

Schadenfink out.

…in a weary world.

OK, back to lamenting the hapless Browns (and the future of the NFL in general).

Mondays can be fun. I thought that thought as I picked up my broken carcass off the sidewalk after taking one step down the stairs to let Rousseau out, and going airborne. Hot shower and aspirin: breakfast of champions.

Image: New York Times

Sorry for the lack of finkiness today, luvs. Spent all my morning time reading about the Mangini issue. Blah! Now I’m running late…

Mas tarde.