Decomissioned Smoke Stacks Were Unavailable, Sadly

Koupa

-A remembrance

Forward: As one of two people who can comprehend Bee’s communication, I feel it is my duty to relay her sentiments regarding this tragic event. These are her thoughts and feelings, translated to the best of my ability. I hope I am capable of expressing how much she loved and respected him. As did I.
Honestly I don't think I could ever say enough.

"Somewhere far beyond this world- I feel nothing anymore..."

My brother, playmate, and friend: Please forgive me for not being by your side. I hope he told you what you meant to him, what you meant to all of us. Did he explain to you why, or just walk away? You were scared, confused… alone for the first time- and I wasn’t there for you. I didn’t know. I couldn’t know.
You stood proudly in the presence of greatness, but never in my shadow. Always willing to fly with me, your heart gave you more horsepower than the manual fathomed. Your spirit was so much greater than the sum of your foreign-made parts. Your greatness could not be measured in statistics. Cutting through the night as though you were born of it, you always kept up. You never backed down.
We protected each other in dangerous places. You sat with me when I was sad. You shouldered my burdens when I was tired. Cast to the ends of the earth, I knew I would never see you again, but that you would always be with me. Even in the darkest times, I can still see your comforting red glow, and I know I can follow it home. Though I drive alone now, I know that I am not.

I will always leave the spot next to me open for you. We will be together again, little brother. In this life or the scrap. I will not say goodbye.

The Batffleck Cometh

And with it comes the inevitable criticism which goes hand and hand with the casting of a well-known and much beloved character the good people of this great nation have grown up imagining. Especially when they fuck it up this bad.

Now I will admit I was skeptical at first when Henry Cavill was announced as the Man of Steel. I love Superman. And I loved Henry Cavill in The Tudors- but would I love them together? I’ve always been of the mindset that no one would ever be good enough to don that red cape; no one would ever be Christopher Reeve again. I was not very outspoken against the choice though, as honestly I could think of no other actor I would choose to take the role. I got the pleasure of being pleasantly staggered at the midnight premiere of Man of Steel, when Cavill stepped into that costume and owned it. Owned it like it was, and had always been, meant for him. So naturally the next step is to completely screw the franchise and turn his amazing portrayal into a farce by making his sequel into what is quite possibly the cruelest joke ever to be played on Geekdom- and make Ben Affleck the new Batman. When I first heard the news, I sent a mass text:

“The world has just ended. They’ve casted Ben Affleck as Batman. I’ll be in the apocalypse panic room eating spam.” And began to grieve.

I wonder how this could have possibly come to pass. I can’t imagine the phrase: “Do you know what this franchise really needs? Ben Affleck! He was so great in Gigli!” coming out of anyone’s mouth ever, so it probably went more like this:

“Well gee Wally, we really need to think about this. We’re sitting on a potential gold mine here, we’re really going to have to put a lot of legwork into finding the right guy. Or we could just use Affleck. He’s outside anyway.”

I can think of a whole host of things that would make a better Batman than Ben Affleck:

-The Aflac duck in a mask

-Laser cats

-My right foot

-A mannequin (actually that’s pretty much even keel)

-Snuffaluffagus (sp?)

-Kristen Stewart

In all seriousness, unlike when I was worried about Man of Steel there actually ARE actors I would prefer to see put on the cowl. Sit back and imagine for a moment the glory that would be Karl Urban as Batman. Let that sink in and lament for what should have been.

Now I actually liked Argo. I really did. Does one good movie make him a good enough actor to play Batman though? Are we really answering the immortal question "Where's Bane?" with "Argo fuck yourself?"

I received an email this morning, an attempt to talk me off of the ledge with all the soothing “ooba” of a maternity droid. I was reminded of the backlash and horror when Heath Ledger was first cast in what he made an iconic role as The Joker. I was reminded there are people with actual brains in their heads behind this decision. People who would not make this choice lightly over a mason jar of moonshine and a watermelon bong. And so I will calm down and give it a chance.

Better make it good, Armageddon man. Or it truly will be.

Thank You, Dude on AM1350 in Pueblo

This guy on the radio is discussing the Patriot Way, as it has been the subject of much debate lately. He is not even a Pat's fan, but is contesting the claims that the Patriot Way is dead and gone. He's saying: “The Patriot Way? What, you mean WINNING? Is that the Patriot way? Because they’re the winningest team in the NFL in the past decade? The Patriot way is winning with these unknown guys SOMEHOW. The Patriot Way is that you get arrested, you’re OUT. Patriots don’t do drugs in college. Patriots aren’t out getting injured in fights in strip clubs. The Patriot Way is NOT Tebowmania, it’s Tom Brady, who hasn't said one word about the loss of his favorite receiver.” It goes on and on but I’m just gonna sit here and beam a minute, and bask in the glow of my epiphany that despite the trades this off season, we’re gonna pull through. And as he’s going on and on about what the Patriot Way is to him, I am comforted in the way that a well-written sermon may comfort a Christian in need. I feel the fuzzy glow of winningness. The warmth of the Patriot Way radiates within me once again. Patriots walk through the fire, they don’t get burned by it. So thank you, whoever you are, guy on the Pueblo AM station that I can barely hear through the static of the aging radio and the clattering of the impact printers behind me. Guy whose voice is calling me through the ringing phone and annoying office chitchat. YOU have restored my faith in my team.

Anakin, You're Going Down a Path I Can't Follow

I've never been a "fair weather fan" of the Patriots- but to be fair, the weather has ALWAYS been fair in New England. Even when we're not winning, we're still never really losing. I can always count on them to be a strong playoff team, and the people that hate them only hate because they wish they were that good. I can be proud of my team, and hecklers can be silenced quickly with fact. This off-season however, I've been forced into a corner with mouth agape and soul aching, able to do nothing but wonder: What the bloody hell are they thinking? Few pairing in the NFL were as magically synched as Tom Brady and Wes Welker. The Supercouple were unstoppable together, their brains seamlessly weaving plays up and down the field for record holding stats. So they decided not to re-sign Welker, and instead let him go to the Broncos to play under my secondmost hated enemy- Peyton Manning. Why would they hurt me in this way? I lamented for weeks the loss of my favorite Patriot. The hurt is still ebbing within my poor broken football heart. My DubDub....signed to the team I've sworn to despise since being exiled to this awful expanse of misery. Top that off with losing Danny Woodhead, tiny missile extraordinnaire....and I thought things couldn't get worse. Oh, but they got worse. Much, MUCH, worse. With the announcement that Tim Tebow is being signed, the bottom caved out of my pain and fandom is spiraling downward uncontrollably. I have hated Tim Tebow and everything about him since first hearing his name. A schmeh performance, quickly followed by a media explosion. Really, is that all it takes to get Denver excited now? An OK player with a gimmick? Soon there were t-shirts, memes, and the vomit inducing mass amounts of "Tebowing." I seethed every time I heard his overhyped name. And now, they're bringing him to New England. To MY team. To MY boys, where this ridiculous attention whore surely does NOT belong. I tried to forget what I'd heard. I tried to ignore it. I tried to look at it as though he's a lost puppy and we're the good guys for adopting him so he can be trained properly- but that wont make him any less Tebow. And it won't make his name taste any better when i venomously spit it out. After hearing my maniacal raving on the matter, Nighthawk offered this: "I wouldnt be so quick to write this off. 1-Belichick(as much as I hate to admit it) seems to be ahead of the power curve in most respects. 2-Tebow has been working out since the draft with renowned quarterback's coach Steve Clarkson who says he's managed to fix Tebow's mechanics 2a-This was also signed off on by quarterbacks coach Chris Weinke 3-hellmushamouthamuthfuckasingingscreamin HALLELUJAH GOAT 4-He's shed 20+ pounds and more in football shape 5-you know old man brady will get hurt at some point and you'll see him, so prepare for it now." ~~ Note that point 3 was in reference to a different part of the conversation~~ EVEN IF he does well, EVEN IF the team can still function after losing vital players...he's still Tebow. The LAST person on EARTH that deserves to be a Patriot. Why are they doing this to me? Are they testing my loyalty by removing everything I love about the team and adding someone I need a stronger word than hate to describe? One thing is for sure- While I'm not giving up on my Pats, my Ravens and Eagles jerseys will be heavy in the rotation this season.

Quoth the Ravens, "LOMBARDI BITCHEZ!!"

Once upon an evening dreary, Colin pondered, weak and weary, Over a many quaint and curious volume of forgotten plays. While he pondered, seeming napping, suddenly Jim came a slapping whilst beyonce was a' rapping, tapping heels across the floor. "Tis only halftime now" he muttered, "stop slapping my locker door." He tried his best, and nothing more. Ah, distinctly he remembered, that it was the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly he wished the morrow; - vainly he had sought to borrow from his books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lombardi - For the rare and radiant trophy whom the angels named Lombardi - stolen here, just like the score. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled him, filled him with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of his heart, he stood repeating `'Tis some nightmare, for surely this just cannot be the score - Some late prank entreating effecting what is called the score; - This it is, and nothing more,' Presently his soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, `Sir,' said he, `or Harbaugh, truly your forgiveness I implore; But its halftime, I was napping, and so rudely you came rapping, And so faintly you came flapping, flapping gums about the score, That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here he opened wide the door; - Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long he stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lombardi!' This he whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lombardi' Merely this and nothing more. Back onto the field now turning, all his soul within him burning, Soon again he heard a murmuring, somewhat louder than before. `Surely,' said he 'surely that is something at my left, Let me see then, where's the threat, and how is this the score - Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; - 'Tis the wind and nothing more!' Spinning here he flung with shudder, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the college days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above where showed the score - Perched upon a field sublime, just above where showed the score - Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling Colin's sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, `Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' he said, `art sure no craven. Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore - Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's New Orleans shore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' Kaepernick marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, (Shortened because I'm tired of typing.) `Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' Colin shrieked upstarting - `Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's New Orleans shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the field, go out the door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my score!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'