NFL Draft, Live Blog Edition Alpha

Dunno why I picked that title, but that's what we're rolling with today...

This morning at the Cecil Household has been a freakin' rollercoaster. First thing I saw when I took the dog outside was another dog--a Borzoi, a purebred dog that probably cost some yuppie $1,000, hunched up in the space next to my neighbor's house.

It was a stray, I tried to grab it, it ran, we chased it into a neighbor's abandoned yard. Gave it some food--it was starving, obviously. But Denver Animal Control, who I called first, couldn't trespass--and fuck those bureaucratic dog murderers anyway. Dumb Friends League couldn't do anything either, so right now my wife is sitting in a snowstorm trying to leash someone's Borzoi with the help of a dude from the local no-kill shelter.

But at least that situation appears to now be under control (Brandy is a true dog rescuin' hero. Poor thing wouldn't come within 10 feet of me) so we can all take a deep breath and concentrate, just in time, on the goddamn motherscratchin' draft.

A few notes before the fun starts.

*No. 7 brought up a notion, which I happen to find fascinating, even if it won't come true: what if McFadden dropped to #12?

I say that the Broncos would have to take him. And then deal him downward, probably to the Cowboys, for a couple of picks this year and next...

*Keyshawn Johnson has hell of fashion sense.

*I know we just wrote the full collection of Thomas Hardy's worth of material on the subject, but man, it sounds like there's a pack of fans at this thing. I tried selling the idea of traveling to New York this weekend to the wife, but you can all see how that worked out for me.