A Very American Coup By Michael – Louis Ingram, Editor-in-Chief...
Straight No Chaser: The Big Picture
Herman Edward’s Chiefs’, and that’s an insult to cats like Cochise and Crazy Horse… finally got a win, buying Herman some time before they prop his ass up like Morgan Freeman in Unforgiven…
Same stands-to-reason for Romeo’s Lovers. These little brown Basset Hounds can’t be fighters, can they….? Scott What-ever-in-the-hell-his-last name is, or rather was in St-Louis …. gone, good riddance, don’t let the locker room door hit ya’.
Replaced by another wind-up toy coach, Jim Hasslett. He’ll get yet another chance to lead a NFL team onto the field of battle…. While Denny Green and Karl Dorrell wait and watch…..
Where’s Aaron Brooks?
Lane Kiffin is finally gone; Now where’s Mr. Intensity, Mike Singletary? I guess he’s not as qualified as the regulars, Jim Hasslet, Young Mora, son of the moron – those dudes will get a call at the end-of-the-season, as will most of the relics on Brontosaurs Alley….
Man, I’m sorry, but I just can’t phantom Singletary not being anal enough, intensely anal. His name and face is what’s given in the dictionary for anal/<… He’s smart, and he is a leader, a motivator of men, he’d win wherever he goes because he will mobilize his men.
Where’s Ty Willingham? He earned a shot if Kiffin ever did….
Rashard Mendenhall….out. This come’s in his first NFL career start. The kid was plastered by Ray-Ray. He was to be the power-back to go with fast-ass Willie Parker’s jet-like speed, but the rookies first season ended after only 19 carries….
Welcome to the NFL, son.
Here in the Mile Hi Metropolis, Travis “Sex Machine” Henry, one time NFL running back, sperm supplier to nine, count them nine babies was caught by the long-ass-arm of Johnny Law , Pushing weed and coke all the way up into Montana…..
This man is the poster boy for dumb-asses, Henry has failed in a variety of ways, a number of different times, He’s not just a joke, his behavior and lifestyle feeds all the pimp/pusher/player…all one-in-the-same stereotypes which abound…..
Anquan Boldin – resting peaceably at home early in the week, still in a semi-coma. about a day after being carted off the field following the head-on collision in the Cardinals’ 56-35 loss to the Re-Farv-enated Jets down in the Meadowlands.
Eric Smith slapped Boldin flippin’ silly. Smith is now the villain, punished for playing too ruff, in a sport which bills itself as not a contact sport, but rather a collision sport….
Yet, in all this male soap-opera stuff… what ties one’s testicles up in a tight knot….what gets lost in the mix? The ordeal Jacksonville’s Jaguars O-lineman Richard Collier, is enduring.
Recall, Collier – who was shot while sitting in a car outside an apartment complex earlier this month – is now paralyzed, below the waist, and his left leg was amputated, his doctor said Monday.
His NFL career is dead, upon arrival. His life…. forever changed. In the wrong place at the wrong, wrong, wrong time. Perhaps a innocent victim, or a player who actually was a playa’ and got caught up in the game of life ain’t nothing but bitches and money…. I personally don’t know and won’t pass judgment,
And since I mentioned D.O.A… Norman “Pooh” Griffith a Pahokee High School Blue Devils football standout, who was shot in the head in the wee hours last Saturday as he drove away from a post-game dance in BelleGlade.
Yes, another high school player, blown away….and not by the Klan. Another incidence where there were no hooded White men rounding up all the darkies. No, instead you’ve got Black men chasing down one-another, pumping lead into each other, because you brandish the wrong colors. Team or gang.
My grandmothers words play in my head, “Honey, you know right from wrong, we’ve taught you that….” so, every time I run through the sports headlines, I don’t know who to blame, the lost young Afro-American man, a millionaire with a 11th grade public school education, unaware Fredrick Douglass is running for President….against John Wayne, or Neil A. Armstrong….
Or, is the responsibility and blame to be shared with the racist individuals and institutions with-in this nation – who’re up past the midnight hour, plotting and planning to keep people in their proper position?
Every time I run thru the business headlines, I wonder if these elitist bastards had grandmothers. I ask myself if these Harvard and Yale men know right from wrong, if the nannies, maids or butlers ever taught it to them….
In all this, I think Ricky Williams, back down in South Beach, is one of the only real men on the field of play; a collection of contradictions…. who is man enough, candid, frank, straight forwarded enough… to admit to them, able to confess he has both yearnings, and the self-control not to act on his every thought.
He shows growth and maturity, something I can’t say for the country club nobility which, if they don’t get bailed out of this financial crisis, will destroy the entire game for everybody.
I’ll take that human honesty over a weasel like Ol’ Blood and Guts, George W. Bush, who can’t say I’m wrong even in the face of obvious failure.