Friday Taunt I

Good lord, you should see what comes up when one googles 'Fallen Saint'. I thought it fitting, of course, given the fallen Saints accounted for over 50 losses on this past first weekend of football. For those counting at home, with the Lions loss and the Steelers tie (loss), that's more than 1/3 of the pool felt the first swipe of the scythe.

The initial update is later than usual; lots of new names and faces to prep. We are holding at 159 entries, a solid number, and just enough to whet the appetite for the long season ahead -- at least, long for some of us. Some of us will certainly feel the uno dos, adios call on Sunday next.

Weekend Statistics
159 participants
97 undefeated at 1-0
67 with one loss
no deceased

The Ravens were popular, although why there were not MORESO is beyond me. Against Nathan Peterman. Still, the Swami and Clan move forth unscathed on the back of Poe's team - and the rocket arm of Flickety Flacco.

Onward we merrily roll to Week Two, when you would be best not to meet the Reaper this week.

That is all.

The Root of the Week I

Hello my lovelies, my beautieus, and welcome to another great and glorious year of the Swami Pool. For those who do not know, the Swami shall visit this space each and every week to post his own particular picks, so as to ensure honesty and transparency in a crazy mixed up world.

There will be witticisms and the occasional reference to this or to that, smiles and laughs encouraged if not required. This particular week, the first week for some, a week yet to come, a week long past, the Swami will roll into the beginning with the men of Poe, who will toil and labor greatly en route to sizable victory over the Ta-Tonka Men of Northern New York.

Normally, the Swami saves Baltimore for a later week and then inserts some fun little paragraph quoting the Raven -- "Nevermore" -- but this week sees the clock turning well into the morning hours, and the bed beckons.

Therefore, and for the newbies, a simple Swami Picks Baltimore for the Win will suffice, along with a comment that many different teams have been picked for this first week, although the Saints seem to be getting significant action, and onward we merrily roll -- those who survive -- into Week Two.

That is all.

Friday Taunt XV (Plus the Root of the Week XVI)

The Reaper sat this last week out as the favorites went 14-0 ... and it really wasn't close. So our courageous eleven remaining souls venture into Week Sixteen, which is a much tougher prospect. 

Week 15 Stats
159 participants
1 undefeated soul
10 with one loss
148 deceased

Will the group make it to the end of the regular season?

Will anyone roll with the Bears against the Browns?

Will Cleveland succeed in its last best shot at a win?

Will the Swami Clan live to see another week?

So many questions ... stay tuned for answers ...

There is one answer however that can be given now. The Swami Clan in the form of the Factor will roll with Poe's Ravens to best the unLucky Colts in Week 16. In the battle of Bird vs Beast, who will reign supreme? Even answers bring more questions in this topsy-turvy 2017 NFL season.

That is all.

The Root of the Week VII

The whole of the Swami brood is undefeated at present, a lovely and enjoyable place to be, and yet instead of rolling en masse on our picks as we have done through the first six weeks, we now will branch out on our own, seeking the elusive and majestic Trifecta win.

We begin with the Spawn, who have elected to ride the HOF arm of one Mr. Peyton Manning. The Broncos of Denver shall best the 49ers of San Francisco, whose pans will come up empty once again in Mile High.

We move next to the Factor, the beautiful spouse of Swami, who is miffed the Spawn has taken the Broncos, and instead will settle for the HOF arm of the horseshoe heir, Mr. Andrew Luck. The Colts of Indianapolis shall best the Bengals of Cincinnati, and continue the tiger tailspin.

Last, we move to the Swami himself, who always like a little Poe in his life. And so open here I fling the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, in there steps a raven of the saintly days of yore. And this raven, never flitting, still with patient perch is sitting, on the gleaming statue of the Swami by the door. And his eyes have all the seeming of that Swami who is dreaming, of the spawn and wife who family mantle burdens bore. And this raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, on this night shall ease my plight, and yield a safely winning score.

That is all.

The Root of the Week XII

"Alea Iacta Est."

Yes, my friends, the die is cast. There is not turning back, and the end of this Suicide season will come now only after long struggle and much devastation.

Do not make the mistake of taking this point lightly; others have done so, and others have perished. Cast your dice in the face of suffering and prepare yourself for the unknown tumbling, for there can be no controlling them once they leave your hand. Tumble they will, and tumble true, but the truth may not be that which you envision.

And so in Week Twelve, as 133 participants watch from the safety of their homes, licking their wounds as they begin the countdown to 2014, I ask those who remain to stand boldly, and proudly, and cast in their lots.

My own lot lies with Poe this week, who as in years past has granted use of those immortal words: "And so open here I fling the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, in there steps a Raven of the yesteryears of yore . . ." Yes, I return to Baltimore to make my mark, while the masses are most heavily upon the Texans (at 2-9) and the Lions of Detriot. Good luck to all, and to all a good night.

Alea Iacta Est, and greatness awaits.

That is all.

The Suicide Pool Presents . . . Expert Picks & Dialogue

On the eve of the biggest dance of the year, as the Rays Lewis and Rice prepare to waltz with the long-legged Colin and his prospecting band, as the Harbrothers sit down to dine together before the great divergence, we present for the first time a special treat for the masses still satisfying their need for dialogue and whimsy via the Suicide Blog.

Fresh from the mountain, the dungeon, the wench house, and the crypt, and along with yours truly, the once and future Swami, we bring you expert picks and expert dialogue to savor and digest as you will.

From his dank crypt the Master of the Macabre picks:  49ers 28-17.
"Joe Flacco < Alex Smith < Colin Kaepernick. Also, I think the Ravens will give 100%, but the Niners are gonna give it 110%, even 120%."


From his office, offering unbilled advice, Man of Wench says:  Ravens 28-24.
"Kaep comes back to earth. Swami remains clueless."


From the depths of the darkside and the desk of the Hooded Fiend:  Ravens 27-24.     "The Ravens will be victorious, as America cheers on 'feel good' story of the post-season Ray Lewis in his quest to match Super Bowl rings with murders. Slight coaching advantage goes to the Harbaugh brother who doesn't wear a pen around his neck."

From atop the Zugspitze Ze German rants:  49ers 21-17.

"Mostly because I want blowhard sports commentators like Colin Cowherd, who say the Pistol is a gimmick, to shut up. Also, as human beings, the Ravens are just awful. Haloti Ngata broke RG3's knee, Joe Flacco forces his friends and wife to take douchie wedding photos (click here) and Ray Lewis is a murdering deer antler-licker. Plus, any post-game where I have to endure Ray Lewis's endless crying and Terrell Suggs's insufferable gloating will make me want to vomit. Auf Weidersehen, Ze German"

From my happy place the Swami says:  Ravens 31-26.

"In a game full of idiot players---arm kissers, rainbow haters, spray eaters, Junior Ginn, etc---I'll take Anquan Boldin, Michael Oher, and the honorable Harbrother. How d'ya like them nuggets?"

We wish those remaining at the end of all things, at the end of this phenomenal season of football, the best of luck. I will leave you with one last thought, for those contemplating thoughts of winning or losing: Carla was the prom queen.

That is all.

The Root of Week IV (Thursday Edition)

And so open here I fling the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, in there steps a raven of the saintly days of yore.

And this raven, never flitting, still with patient perch is sitting, on the gleaming statue of the Swami by the door.

And his eyes have all the seeming of that Swami who is dreaming, of the spawn and wife who family mantle burdens bore,

And this raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, on this night shall ease their plight, and bear them past Week Four*.

That is all.

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*The Spawn and Factor, and whole lot of other people.

The Root of the Week III

Oh my, this could be good.

Right now, on the eve of our third week, considering the possibilities for tomorrow's carnage, it's like I'm in a glass case of emotion. I want to say something. I'm going to put it out there: if you like it, you can take it; if not, send it right back.

You people are all $&@%# nuts.

I have three rules in Suicide, as anyone who's entered the pool before knows: (1) do not pick a team to win on the road (2) do not pick a team to win against divisional foe (3) do not pick the Chargers to win before Week Seven.

Of these rules, #1 and #2 are really more like guidelines, as it would be nearly impossible to complete a season without breaking them. In fact, this week I'm breaking the first of those rules. But the one rule I've never broken, the one rule above all others which has proven true time and time again---and one good reason why I always make it past Week Six, at least---is #3. DO NOT PICK THE CHARGERS BEFORE WEEK SEVEN.

What's funny is that you all know this. You all know the Chargers begin every season 2-4, with at least one bad loss to one really bad team. Usually, the loss happens at home. And yet the vast majority has picked the Chargers this week, knowing full well the danger, even commenting pithily about nervousness and unease and uncertainly and doubt over the selection. The Bolts have KC at home, however, and should easily win.

Still, they won't.

The Chargers will lose and will take a massive chunk of people with them. Sure, there is action on the Pats, Steelers, Titans, and select others, but the Chargers have the lion's share---and it is my expectation that on the morrow, you Bolts-bearers will all be expressing your inner anguish through the majesty of song.

As for me, in an interesting coincidence, I'll repeat my pick from Week Three last year. Not because it makes for wonderful prose, the words of which I shall cut and paste below to plagiarize both myself and Poe, but because it makes decent sense, and there is no way in the name of whatever god it is you worship that my money will sit upon, beneath, or beside the Saint Diegoans prior to the passing of the sixth week.

"And so open here I fling the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, in there steps a raven of the saintly days of yore, and this raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, on the morrow shall ease my sorrow, and take me straight into Week Four."

That is all.

The Root of the Week III

As Richard Jeni would say, the sports world is always looking for the Bigger, Better Deal. One such BBD craze, the latest to cycle 'round again despite its long history, is that of the Big Three, which is to say the stockpiling of superstars and the labeling of them as surefire winners. What began long ago in that wonderfully colored medium of the illustrated page has practically overtaken the basketball world; we saw it in Boston with Garnett, Pierce, and Allen in '08 and we saw it last summer in Miami with the King, D-Wade, and that other guy.

Suicide 2010 is no different, it seems, and fitting it is that in Week Three of our season, we find our steadfast participants dialing up their own version of a Big Three in Baltimore, New England, and Minnesota. Everyone and their mother is on one of these teams, truly -- my own mother emailed me her pick and she's on the Pats. Rasmussen currently estimates the Big Three will probably top 95% of the participant picks when all is said and done. Sure, we've got a smattering of Bengals, Eagles, Redskins, 49ers, and even a very bold Bears-lover, but these are few and far between.

There is no herd this week; there are three smaller spheres, and a great deal of overlap therein. Suicide is survival, however, and while I think anyone riding the Viking ship is destined for the halls of Valhalla, the Pats and Birds are both safe picks, and safety is the name of the game in the early going.

And so open here I fling the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, in there steps a stately raven of the saintly days of yore, and this raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, on the morrow shall ease my sorrow, and take me straight into Week Four.

That is all.