What to do, what to do? The befuddled masses make their final stand of the regular season, and methinks there will be some death dealt this week. With a roster of teams that includes the Saints, Titans, Steelers, Chargers, and Giants, plus a handful of bolder playoff-burning Seahawks and Patriots selections, how can there not be? That sound you hear in the back of your mind is the Reaper polishing the scythe. How many will toe the playoff line? The answers await on the Sunday flipside. That is all.
The finish line is near. A very boring Week Sixteen yielded no losses, and brings 18 brave souls to the last lap before extra innings, to muddle several sports themes together. Three undefeateds remain. Will they reach the finish line unscathed? A tough Week Seventeen stands in their way. That is all.
There is a statement to be made, as per the usual, with the photographic choice attached to this post. No, there are not the skid marks left on the bodies of those deceased, nor those left in the unmentionables of those who narrowly escaped defeat this past weekend (ahem, the Raiders, really?). Rubber, meet Road. Yes, this is the time of year when the rubber meets the road, where the seriousness of Suicide events casts long shadows and consumes all manner of thought for those who remain. Six took losses in the Suicide, with four perishing for the final time. We are down to three undefeateds---including the Mad Dog, who has strung together successive successful seasons---and fifteen one-loss participants, including perennially successful Chuck Dis, CB, and Back Nine Ben. The Second Life saw two-thirds (67%) of the group bite the bullet, or eat the pavement as the analogy goes for this particular post. We're all squared up in Second Life---no undefeateds remain, with eleven battling out for the scraps of Suicide. Choice and consequence, and the checkered flag in sight. 'Tis the season. That is all.
Ah, yes, everyone loves the Beloveds in Week Fifteen. The Saints and the Lions, too, and perhaps a smattering of others, but the heavy action lies in Miamiland. Which means the majority will undoubtedly move on unscathed, as surely the Fish is mightier than the Jag. The Swami and his minions no longer survive, and so while there is no official Root, the masses have their own roots to encourage. We will see how much energy the masses have left, as we draw down these last weeks of the regular season. That is all.
Well, that went well. For those of you, and it was most of you, who rode the Seahawks this weekend, 'twas an enjoyable flight. The game was in doubt for all of about two minutes. Week 14 Statistics 135 participants 5 undefeateds 17 with one loss 113 dearly departed Little carnage, therefore, to speak of. I am beginning to yearn for those bygone days of yore, when the Reaper walked among you making liberal use of his scythe. You know, like Weeks Two and Three. I'll say this, with three weeks left in the regular season, and few viable options available without burning teams for the playoffs, I have a feeling someone is sitting by his roaring hearth, polishing up his steel, preparing for his return. That is all. . . . *Congrats to one of this week's departed, Abercrombie and Fitz, who won the Dec 09 history challenge. In her words, a nice "consolation prize".
On this most revered and holiest of days, December 09, the 344th day of this leapt year, in which there are scant 12 days remaining before the extinction of man and, barring that, 22 days before the dawn of the new year, it is perhaps most fitting to bring you, the masses, our participants, my degenerates, a history lesson. Notables brought forth on this day, those who share kindred Swami spirits, include the great Milton of Paradise, a saintly Peruvian, Harris and his Uncle Remus, the Muse of Automatic Writing, the father of Babar, Spartacus, M, Teddy KGB, and the Swami himself. And now, in the great and glorious tradition of putting those around oneself to work on needless tasks, a competition: the participant who first emails me the names of each person listed above, their true and given name, will receive one free entry to the Suicide Pool next year. Regarding the pool, the action moves in myriad ways again, though the Seahawks seem the have the devil's share. Bucs, 49ers, Colts, Bengals, and even the Browns make their way into Suicide or Second Life, and I'm sure there will be more to follow. As for this new competition, to the pair of you likely to expend the effort, I just want to tell you both good luck, we're all counting on you. That is all.
Can you feel it? It begins with a ringing in your ears, subtle at first, but slowly gaining strength and rising until the high-pitched squeal is nearly overwhelming. You feel it next on your face, the burning sensation, the heaving, breathless, breathing flames on the side of your face, the heat and fire rolling around to engulf you ears. The sweat follows, the beads of moisture welling up at the hairline, sliding down from the collarbone, percolating at the back of your neck. You pass a hand across your brow. You run your fingers through your hair. You loosen the collar, or perhaps tug on the shirt to air yourself out . . . but there is no release. The ringing continues unabated, the fires rage, and the sweat now just has new avenues to travel, past nape and neck, past shoulder blades, past cleavage. Can you feel it? The pressure mounts. The noose tightens. The faint of heart cower low in their beds. Who will falter, who will fall, who will rise up and claim destiny's mantle? Twenty-five and four weeks remain. The end is nigh. That is all.
For those who've survived long enough to see this point of the season in past years, which we lovingly call Marino Week in the Suicide Pool, you will know how ridiculous the pool becomes in the waning weeks of the regular season. For those who are new, good luck to you. This is where the hair-pulling gets really intense. Case in point: the first eight emails I received with picks had eight different teams selected. Bills, Jets, Chargers, Panthers, Broncos, Cowboys, 49ers, Packers, Lions, Patriots, Ravens. The Spawn? Slot them on the Raiders. Light has struck, and the masses have scattered for cover. And so the only thing there is really for you to do, mister or missus surviving participant, is to hope and pray to whatever or whomever you pray to that the team you have selected survives. It's the only way to fly in Marino Week. As I said, good luck to you. That is all.
