Detritus

Signing in, your weekend correspondent. I tossed forth a few when the week was young but now I'm drinking vodka instead of something like this.

Greg Oden's going pro, the Sox and the Yanks are at it, the Nuggets and Spurs tip it tomorrow at 7, and Barbaro lives. Lotta stuff happening...you know, sorry for even mentioning the horse. That's really these guys' schtick. We'll stick to what we know: the big three sports (since there are only three and if there were a fourth someone would have told us about it) a note on soccer every four years and this stuff.

You might call we HoGers focused. You might call us specialists. You might call us specialistic focusaters, but if you did we'd totally make fun of you because that doesn't mean anything.

The NFL Draft happens next week. Our Administrator's team was predicted to win the AFC West by a chicken that picks stocks on public television. Picked it, the damn thing did, to go 11-5 and beat my beloved Denver Broncos not once but twice. Twice! In the same season, even, not consecutive ones. Chickens. What're you gonna do?

I've already addressed the future of my favorite footballing squad. You all, and by you all I mean our nonexistent readership, probably read it on this here site. To borrow a conceit from a fat man who loves John Elway and might be taking over for Don Imus on New York's WFAN, cut that shit out, put it on your refrigerator, refer to it constantly over the season. It's like peering into the future. You read that and you're a goddamn time traveler.

More to come when I refill.