It's that time of year again.

A couple of years ago, I wrote a really amazing, insightful piece on the glory of fantasy football for Link. It essentially told of how my team, Hobo Bush, gave my life meaning . . . Hobo Bush gave me power that my dad's spankings couldn't take from me, and so on and so forth. Since then, though, a lot of people have been whining about how fantasy football reduces a great sport to mere stats. Well, I say show me a sport without stats and I'll show you the WNBA. Look, the only thing fantasy football reduces is the time millions of men spend with their wives. And that's not its only benefit; fantasy football is great for professional football.

I'm a college sports fan at heart. I think that's safe to say about most folks in SEC and ACC country. College sports are filled with pride and with student-athletes who'll "go pro in something else" or whatever those commercials say. College kids give 110% because they care about wins and losses. And getting laid after the game. It's not for the money. At least not necessarily.

However, pro athletes, for the most part, are in it for the money. When the good college players leave for the pros, their true careers begin. And like most careers, it's first and foremost about the bacon. Because of that, and this thing called free agency, there is little loyalty in professional sports. Look at Johnny Damon. Or Tom Glavine. They're both now playing for their old team's bitter rival - thanks to money. As Seinfeld observed, when you're rooting for your team, you're pretty much just pulling for a jersey.

And remember that awesome movie with the brilliant Tom Cruise? Cuba Gooding Jr. was like "Show me the sacks of gold!" And then Tom Cruise showed Cuba the sacks of gold and they lived happily ever after. Or something like that. Anyway, it, along with every impromptu TO press conference and preseason holdout, proves my point. Like other professional sports, pro football is a business. A business for freaky talent, crybabies and gazillionaires. Yep, money tainted the game, but not fantasy football money.

So these days it's kinda hard to root, root, root for the home team when the home team consists of (not entirely, to be fair) ungrateful, selfish idiots. Fantasy football allows me to put that aside for a while and cheer for those players - and for their teams/corporations. It makes me care about the games. All of them. It makes me aware of 3rd string running backs and defensive coordinators. I know who Ernest Wilford is. And Matt Stover. And Doug Jolley. And if it weren't for fantasy football, they'd be household names in pretty much their houses only. But thanks to the horde of gamblers out there like me, they're getting recognition they're otherwise likely to never get. (You don't have to thank me, guys. Just give me some nice stat lines one Sunday when my regular starters are on their bye week.) So when you start bitching to me about how fantasy football is bad for the game, why don't you try naming Chester Taylor's backup's backup.

Oh, off the subject completely, but how about that John M. Karr character? What I wouldn't do to spend one night in his arms! Great job detectives. And don't you just know Jon Benet's dad was like, "Holy Shit! Maybe my wife didn't kill her."

Man, I sure wish I'd joined the Armed Forces. Anyway, in the coming months you'll be able to find my cards in Link, the Upstate's answer to those pesky Creative Loafing types with their bounty of ad dollars. Funny story, Link put one of those papers out of business. Hilarious! But I don't dislike Link. I certainly like competition. And Link doesn't pretend to be anything other than what it is: fluff. It's fun to read. And did I mention easy? There are no politics in Link. There are few honest critiques of anything, for fear of upsetting those ad dollars, I guess. It's an oasis considering all of the bad news we're trudging through these days. So pick it up, bitch, and forget for a moment that we're spiraling into hell.

The format will basically be one of my cards, kinda like a cartoon panel, along with a relevant rant or list or something of the sort. You can expect to see my tat guide and maybe this:

By now we're all familiar with those mythic porn "moves". You know, the ones where someone, if not everyone, is dehumanized and, typically, someone has a lot cleaning up to do. We're talking about the Rusty Trombone, the Dirty Sanchez, the Cleveland Steamer, the ole Donkey Punch. All deplorable. All completely made up. Just like God. Kidding. God exists. I know this because if God didn't exist we'd all be running around naked giving each other Rusty Trombones and Star Jones would still be on The View. Until that day comes, I'll have a little faith. Anyway, though the aforementioned "moves" are little more than Man Show fodder, there are some moves/positions/tactics out there that are real, that do actually take place between a man and a woman, among others. Frank Costanza's "Stopping Short" was one. And then there's the Kama Sutra. Still, those occur infrequently, at least in my world of hand holding and clothed spooning. So the following list relates to cowardly, yet effective ways of ending a relationship, all of them much more common than most anything you'll find in the Kama Sutra. Unfortunately. And, yes, banging your boyfriend's best friend is a great way out, but it's by no means cowardly. That takes onions. These here take little more than Kotex:

The Fizzle: This is when you let things continue to unravel, making days and nights with you so unbearable that the other person has no choice but to dump you. Hint: Think Debbie Downer meets Deuce Bigalow. Dan has perfected The Fizzle in such a way that he hasn't had to break up with one girl in the past 9 years; he's been dumped 12 times, lucky bastard!

Welcome to Mexico: Okay, all you need for this is bus fare or an extra kidney. Both would be great. Just buy a one-way ticket to the land of pinatas, hop on a bus and learn to say "el bano". Warning: You can come back to the States in 4 years, but you have to come as a migrant worker. Josh gave Sally the ole 'Welcome to Mexico' and we haven't heard from him since, lucky bastard.

Tres Gay: If you can fake an orgasm or a career, you can certainly fake being gay long enough for this to work. Though it's a much easier task in bigger cities, you can still tip your rainbow-colored hat to your new orientation in Small Town, USA. If you're a man, start wearing chaps out to dinner, shave your chest and work out more regularly. Also, it helps if you wear designer clothes and have sex with other men. If you're a woman, do the exact opposite. Except for the chaps part. You can wear them out to dinner, too. Chaps are hot! Man, Mike went Tres Gay on Dana two months ago and he's still having sex with men, lucky bastard!

The Reverse Jared: As if Jared alone wasn't bad enough. Play a Subway commercial backwards and you'll get the idea. Eat. Eat. Eat. Sooner or later your significant other will leave you for fear of being steamrolled in bed. Yeah, the novelty of plugging away at a morbidly obese body will wear off somewhere between stretchmarks and bouts of labored breathing. Unless you date Peter. Shannon gave Bart the 'Reverse Jared' and, though she said it was kinky and ineffective at first, has spent the past three Friday nights at home with her cat and a gross of Hot Pockets, lucky fatass.

The Grim Reaper: The only downside to this relationship killer is that you die. Still, there are tons of people out there who'd tell you that worse things could happen. Well, if they weren't so dead. Old age is without a doubt the most pusillanimous way down this route. But don't wait til you're 90. If you're gonna die to get out of a relationship, try to be a hero or something. Hint: Most heroes can fly - I bet you can! Chad, I met your wife the other day; have you ever considered 'The Grim Reaper'?

The L Bomb: Shower that special someone in your life with love. Tons of love. Drop the 'L Bomb' prematurely. Drop it often. Drop it inappropriately. It's "I Love You" over lunch. "I Love You" at the bank. "I Love You" at the ballgame. In fact, if you can make "I Love You" the answer to all of the questions he or she asks you, you'll pretty much be dateless in less than one week. Katherine dropped the 'L Bomb' on our second date - I'm not gonna call her back, even though she is the hottest girl at work.

The Spank Spank: Possibly the most enjoyable, yet still cowardly way out of any relationship, The Spank Spank is just what it sounds like: lots of masturbation. Similar to the 'L Bomb' and just as effective, the Spank Spank might not be as socially acceptable as some of the other tactics, but it'll definitely 'git r dun'. You just have to do it openly, i.e., you have to get caught. Try it during reruns of Frazier! Tip: The Spank Spank will not work if you're a female; unfortunately, it will have the opposite effect on your partner. Brock's been pulling the 'Spank Spank' out on his girlfriend for the past 3 weeks; he'll be single any day now, lucky bastard!

Marriage: Nothing more cowardly than this. Just go ahead and back right into it. And don't worry about looking behind you; you've got it, man! So how's 'marriage' going for you guys? Great! We haven't had sex in 3 years.

# posted by keller @ 10:01 AM 10 comments