Gotta respect the commitment.

Hilarity.

“There’s nothin’ like a nice piece of hickory.”

Not today, snake boy.

So the Golden State Warriors (GSW in the glorious tweet below) blew a 31-point lead to the Clippers in the playoffs last night, and it was like watching a slow death right before your eyes. I don’t know if its just that I have a lot of experience watching basketball or what, but when the Clippers trimmed the lead to 25 I started getting a weird vibe that it might happen, and I even told a couple people. Kevin Durant was being his normal petulant self as Pat Beverely was establishing permanent residence in his head, everyone seemed discombobulated and Draymond Green was calling everyone on his own team bitches right on National TV. Sure, the Warriors will win the series but at the very least they lost 3-days of valuable rest by blowing that game last night. Still, the best part of the game was Draymond’s mother and her epic reaction to the loss. Check out her tweet below. She’s not only ticked off, she’s ticked all the way off. Good stuff man.

Yikes.

So some guy on the worldwide interweb posted a list of all the animals his grandfather has brought home over the years and it is AMAZING. I mean, I’ma n animal lover but this guy is next level stuff. Grandpa has to be a pretty cool cat in my book.

SCENE

Enigmatic gunslinger Shane rides into a small Wyoming town with hopes of quietly settling down as a farmhand. Taking a job on homesteader Joe Starrett’s farm, Shane is drawn into a battle between the townsfolk and ruthless cattle baron Rufus Ryker. Shane’s growing attraction to Starrett’s wife, Marian, and his fondness for their son Joey, who idolizes Shane, forces Shane to realize that he must thwart Ryker’s plan of taking over the Starrett’s land. Ryker brings in legendary gunfighter Jack Wilson to kill Shane, and the following gunfight ensues.

Quite possibly the greatest comeback ever.

Phelps may have wanted this more than Tiger. GOATS, man.

Close calls indeed.

Dumb.

Tyson, man. Dude’s batshit crazy. Favorite quotes:

My style is impetuous, my defense impregnable, and I’m ferocious. I want to eat his children. Praise be to Allah.”

“I don’t want to be a tycoon. I just want to conquer people and their souls.”

“My power is discombobulatingly devastating. I could feel his muscle tissues collapse under my force. It’s ludicrous these mortals even attempt to enter my realm.”

“I think I’ll take a bath in his blood.”

“I don’t know, man. I guess I’m gonna fade into Bolivian.”

Nothing needs to be added here.

Florida- Authorities say a 72-year-old Florida man was killed when the rotor of a helicopter trying to make an emergency hard landing on a busy highway struck a pickup truck, decapitating a man.

The agency says Deodat Persaud Gangsapersaud was in a pickup truck being driven by his 35-year-old son Ryan Anthony Persaud when the rotor struck the vehicle.

Troopers say 38-year-old pilot Bryan Messick and 21-year-old co-pilot Joshua Wells weren’t injured.

Hillsborough County Sheriff Chad Chronister says Messick was “highly trained” and that the helicopter had just been serviced.

Man, tough day for Deodat Persaud Gangsapersaud, amirite? One minute dude is cruising downtown Tampa and the next minute he’s decapitated by a goddamn helicopter. I mean, what are the odds? When a helicopter crashes the people who are supposed to die are the people inside the helicopter, not some innocent old coot on the ground. That’s a tough break, man. And how about Hillsborough County Sheriff Chad Chronister immediately covering his ass? No, “We’re sorry for this terrible accident”, just, “Hey, the helicopter had just been serviced. Not our fault!” I half expected him to blame Ryan Anthony Persaud for driving in the wrong lane or something. Florida, man.

img_5960.jpgI had a lot of amazing experiences as a kid and have written about them on this site quite a bit. I was lucky enough to have a father (and several uncles) who were into sports and they took myself and my cousins to games all the time. We’d load up and head to Cincinnati to see the Reds, Bengals and Royals (the old NBA team), to Columbus to watch Ohio State basketball and football games, Columbus Checkers hockey games, and even make the journey to Cleveland for the occasional Browns or Indians game.

We almost always had good tickets, for between Dad and my Uncle Myrl we had the connections to make it happen. Myrl was State Representative (and later Lt. Governor) who obtained tickets through political channels, and my Dad was Purchasing Manager at Mead Corporation, a prominent paper company in our area. Dad’s job required buying anything and everything the company required, so as you can imagine salesmen were always bombarding him with gifts to sway his decisions. This was before the ethics laws tightened up, thank God. Anyway, great tickets.

My family had a pretty intense interest in sports, and our traditional Thanksgiving weekend basketball games were legendary. There was no such thing as “friendly” competition, and after one particularly spirited game featuring some broken ribs, a black-eye, some shattered eyeglasses and what might have been a ruptured spleen, Aunt Dorothy put a stop to it. After all, we were aged mid-20s and upwards at that point so it seemed like the prudent thing to do.

But back to high school. Most of us were pretty good athletes, and some were better than good. Among these were Mick Shoemaker, a 1st Team All-Ohioan in basketball, baseball and football who went on the receive a D1 scholarship to the University of Cincinnati, and John  Shoemaker, a terrific athlete who played basketball at Miami of Ohio, was drafted by the Chicago Bulls, but chose to play baseball after being drafted by the Los Angeles Dodgers. There were many others from back then (let’s not forget Mark Litter, a 1st Team All-American middle linebacker football player) and plenty of others, way too many to mention (sorry Mike, Todd, Lisa, etc.).

However, without a doubt the best of all was Greg Cook. Greg was the nephew of my Aunt Dorothy, which technically made him not my cousin, although he always called me Cousin Dave and even signed a football and sweatshirt in that fashion. Hell, he probably thought I was his cousin because I was always with his cousins Keith, Kevin, Brenda, Mick and Deb.

Anyway, Greg played football at Chillicothe, then at the University of Cincinnati, and finally for the Cincinnati Bengals, who drafted him in the 1st Round of the 1969 draft. Because of Greg all of us got to go into the locker room after games, where we got to meet a lot of famous players. I remember meeting guys like Joe Namath, Daryl Lamonica and even OJ Simpson. Pretty big deal for a 13-year old kid as you might imagine.

Bottom line, Greg was really good and a big deal at the time. He was even selected as the NFL Rookie of the Year. Coach Bill Walsh, while talking to NFL Films, said Greg “threw, by far, the best deep ball of any quarterback I ever saw”. Walsh called him “A combination of Terry Bradshaw’s size and strength with Joe Montana’s instincts and feel for the game”.

Keep in mind that Bill Walsh coached the Super Bowl Champion San Francisco 49ers and Joe Montana, kids.

But while going to games, getting great seats, and going to the locker room were all great, those aren’t my favorite memories of Greg Cook. What I remember are the days when he’d come to visit my Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Myrl.

It was always during the off-season of course, and if I wasn’t already at the house (like I said, I practically lived there), somebody would call me with the news:

“Greg’s coming. Get up here.”

And up there I would get, as fast as my 1966 Schwinn Stingray bike with the banana seat, rear slick and sissy bar would take me.

Some days Greg would just sit and watch TV while I would cast furtive glances his way, amazed that a famous NFL quarterback was watching the Reds-Dodgers game with us. But on other, even more special days, he’d ask us if we all wanted to go outside to run through some passing drills with him.

Well, hell yes we did, and we just happened to have a few footballs at the ready for that very thing.

Sometimes we’d go out behind the old Twin Elementary School (right beside the house), other times we’d all pile in Uncle Myrl’s pickup truck and head to our local high school, Paint Valley, where we’d actually play on the field there. Cousin Mike was the high school coach there at the time so we were good to go.

I’ll never forget Greg’s workouts with us. To begin, the man with the strongest arm in the NFL would get on one knee at the 10-yard line, instruct my cousins and I on which routes to run, and begin zipping passes to us. After 20-30 throws he’d move back to the 20, then the 30, and continue on until he was on the 50-yard line, firing passes to us, all the time while on one knee.

So yeah, strong arm.

Those were great days for a Bourneville kid, man, running routes and catching footballs from an NFL quarterback.

Sadly, Greg’s career was cut short due to a rotator cuff injury, an injury that went untreated for too long and, incredibly, could be fixed rather easily by today’s doctors.

Although he went on to be a motivational speaker and continue a lifelong love of painting, Greg was always remembered as the player whose greatness was cut short by injury, a name that begs the question “what might have been.”

Greg died in 2012, and he was only 65. His life, like his career, cut short.

But for me, it’s not only watching him play in Nippert Stadium and Riverfront Coliseum that I remember, it’s those days behind Twin School or on the Paint Valley HS field, long blonde hair blowing in the breeze, smiling as he rifled those passes to a few of his lucky little cousins.

1969 Bengals Signed Football

Great video about Greg:

https://youtu.be/tVzDtrgybjc

Beautiful.

Most of the time, geese and ducks sleep at night right on the water. Eagles and hawks aren’t a threat because they also sleep during the night, and any predator swimming after the birds would send vibrations through the water, waking them up. A few geese stay up as sentinels, watching for enemies.

Love this one.

https://youtu.be/f0rWJdy3hgA

Animals, man. Can’t get enough of them.

Ingwelala Private Nature Reserve in South Africa was shaken with the screams of a man who was attacked and killed by Pride of Lion in private game reserve near the Kruger National Park. Before the lions were dispersed with the help of gun-shots, they had eaten most of the body barring the head that was untouched. Police initially thought that the victim was a tractor driver who worked in this private reserve. But later on when the driver appeared alive the suspicion began to grow. A hunting rifle was recovered near the remains of the dead that almost confirmed it to be a poacher who had sneaked into the private reserve. The man was killed viciously and the incident had been very disturbing and terrifying. Nevertheless, sympathy does not stand with the victim who had been hunting in the private reserve. The man had killed 3 Baboon families and spread the bodies around to attract and distract the lions to make them easier to hunt.

Man, there’s nothing better than seeing animal killers eaten by animals, huh? Karma just keeps kicking ass all over the planet, man. Cheetahs mauling wanna be selfie-takers, bears eating their human tormentors, the list continues to grow. And now we have this poacher who killed baboon families to bait lions, only to end up as the bait himself. It’s poetic really, and it made my freakin’ day.

Note: I love how the lions always leave the head, like a calling card or something. Lions, man.

Asshole.

French luxury sports car brand started showing off the new Bugatti La Voiture Noire, which has an eye-popping price tag of nearly $19-million. Bugatti rolled out the one-off supercar to celebrate the brand’s 110th anniversary and to pay homage to the Bugatti Type 57SC Atlantic, an extremely rare all-black luxury coupe it made in the 1930s. The car is notable for an all-black, one piece exterior “without any irritating lines” in its design. In fact, the company says the “bumpers are smoothly integrated into the body and the windscreen seems to flow seamlessly into the windows at the sides, like the visor on a helmet.”

Cool car and all, but I’d take that 1930s model over it in a heartbeat, wouldn’t you? And is it me or does every new car model looks like a Toyota Camry? Let’s see some creativity, car people. You’re better’n’at.

PS- A $19-million car, bought on a 5-year plan, would be around $320,000 a month. Seems reasonable.

PPS- This is the only car of its kind. Rich people annoy me, man.

 

Love this one.

So yeah, Russia Slap Fighting looks fun.


Nothing to see here. Just a damn turkey stopping traffic to let his peeps cross a busy highway. Then once everyone is across he nonchalantly ambles onward because it ain’t no thing, just turkeys being turkeys.

[Click the link. Video won’t post for some reason]

https://youtu.be/DCPwOKvwugc

Man, this little dude don’t give a damn about nuthin’, amirite? That tree rat is just mocking the Symbol of America like you read about. The photographer said the squirrel was darting about, just daring that Bald Eagle to take its shot. Stay outta my tree, bro. Thankfully the bird flew off before any of its buddies saw what was happening. That’s just embarrassing for birds of prey everywhere. Squirrels, man.