The Blackout Bowl and the Return of Papa Nizz

The last post I left on this blog was a preview of the Giants-Patriots Superbowl from last year. That's a full twelve months without activity. For those wondering: no, I did not go into a self-destructive tailspin after watching Eli Manning win his second Superbowl MVP in five years, nor did I slide into a crippling depression after the Eagles only won four games this year. I've simply been busy with work and life (weak excuse, I know), and haven't had the time to give this thing my full attention, which is something that's important to me. No one wants to read one post a month or anything like that. Ideally, I'd like to be able to post something every day, but I'm not sure how realistic that is. For now, I'm planning on trying to get something up here every couple days or so, so stick with me people. Papa Nizz's Story Corner: Take Two!

OMG he's back!!!

Since my last post was about the Superbowl, I figured it'd only be right for my first post back to cover the Superbowl as well. This year's game, as anyone who watched knows, was pretty awesome, even without a true rooting interest. Either team could've won and I would've been fine with it. Basically, it was the opposite of last year, when I was rooting for a third team to inexplicably show up at half-time, rush the field, cash in the NFL version of the Money in the Bank briefcase from pro wrestling, and win the title themselves. If only Vince McMahon ran the NFL, right? A guy can dream...

 

Anyway, I was stuck with the Ravens and Niners, two teams that I honestly had no problem with. So how did I decide who to root for? Simple, I used math...or more accurately a combination of math and self-delusion. But mostly math. Now follow my logic here: the Eagles beat the Ravens in week 2 of the season, clearing proving they were the superior team. So if the Ravens were to beat the Niners and win the Superbowl (becoming the alleged "best team in the league") then, by the transitive property, the Eagles would end up the top team in the whole NFL instead of, you know, the fourth worst. In the words of White Goodman: ipso facto...we're the champs. That, combined with the chance to tease my buddy Tmo (a diehard Steelers fan), made the choice an easy one for me. For one night, I was a Ravens fan.   

 

Things looked good for the first 31 minutes of the game, as the Ravens raced out to a 28-6 lead on the first play of the second half. After that, things got weird. First, the power went out in half the stadium (New Orleans revenge on Roger Goodell?), leaving the CBS crew and sideline reporters to fumble their way through a half hour of dead airtime. Then, minutes before the blackout ended, coach John Harbaugh was shown laying into a stadium employee or official of some kind while Temper Tantrum Jimmy remained relatively calm (this obviously didn't mean anything, I just thought it was weird that big bro John would lose his cool while binky-wielding Jim kept it together). Lastly, the Niners went on a 23-3 run after the blackout ended to bring the score within 2, prompting the normal media nutjobs to start screaming words like "conspiracy" and "asterisk" as if the Niners had purposely concocted some diabolical scheme to stop the Ravens momentum.

 

For a moment, I felt the Eagles title chances slipping away. I could barely believe the Ravens would ruin this for them. It just seemed like such a selfish, childish thing to do. Apparently, the Ravens players agreed, because they mananged to pull themselves together to get the 34-31 win, with or without an assist from the officials, depending on what team you were rooting for.   

 

What's that, Jimmy? You don't agree with the call?

Just like that, the Ravens were Superbowl champions, and, by the transitive property, the Eagles were something more. Ipso facto...we're the champs. Delusional? Maybe. Logical? Yes. Will I be holding my own parade in Oxford this weekend? Yes. Aside from that, was it a great game? Definitely.

 

Thanks for stopping in people!

-Nate



 

 

 

 





Giants vs. Patriots II: Well, Shit…

Now that I’ve had a couple weeks to cool off a bit from the Conference Championship games, I think it’s time to talk a little bit about what went down and what we can expect from our Superbowl matchup this Sunday. Let me preface this by saying that I have no allegiance to either team; far from it. In fact, if I could pick any two teams in the league that I absolutely would NOT want to see in the Championship Game, it would probably be the Giants and the Patriots (with the Cowboys/Jets coming in a close third/fourth). Alas, football is as much a game of luck and momentum as it is a game of skill (a fact that truly kills me sometimes), and someone has to win. Unfortunately, my gut is telling me that that someone will probably be our dreaded NFC East Rivals, the New York Giants.

Signs the Mayans were right: This guy may have two rings by this time next week.

For those of you who don’t know, I’m a huge Philadelphia Eagles fan (2012 here we come!), and as such have had the pleasure (or maybe more appropriately, the discomfort) of following Eli Manning and the Giants over the years. As bad as I’ve seen them play, and as incompetent as they can seem at times, it’s hard not to admit that they always seem have some sort of divine force on their side that pulls them through at the most crucial of times. When the Eagles stormed back from their 1-4 start this year to threaten for the NFC East crown, Eli and company ran through the Jets and Cowboys (both on convenient downswings) like a buzzsaw, propelling themselves into the playoffs and gaining the confidence needed to make a deep run. When finally matched up with a team just as physical as them in the 49ers, Special Teams blunders and missed opportunities helped them move on. The ball just seems to bounce their way at times, simple as that, and as horrible as it is to watch a 9-7 team that I don’t personally find all that talented get a chance to compete in the Superbowl, that’s just the way this game works sometimes. You can’t get as far as they have without some amount luck on your side. If you don’t believe that, just look at the Patriots.

The Patriots season has been even more confusing for me to try to follow than the Giants. At times, they seemed dominant, and yet, at others, soft and untalented. Their division, which looked to be one of the best in football at the start of the season, ended up being a bunch of creampuffs. Looking at the journey they’ve taken to get to this point, I don’t think I can say I’ve ever seen an easier path to the Championship. The Patriots played five games against winnings teams all season and won only one of them: the AFC Championship game against the Ravens, with a little help from Billy Cundiff (who I fully expect to end up missing on the back of a milk carton any day now). The one team that seemed to have their number—the Steelers—were inexplicably defeated by the Being Formerly Known as Tim Tebow. Simply put, a lot of things went right for them to get where they are, despite a porous defense and an abundance of youth. Will that be able to continue against the Giants, who are coming in hot and with a divine grace of their own? I’m not so sure. All I know is that the thought of Julian Edlemen (a converted wide receiver playing the Nickel corner for New England) trying to cover that Salsa-dancing d-bag Victor Cruz (…sorry, inner Eagles fan came out for a moment…) scares the hell out of me. Also, Jason Pierre-Paul is a god damn freak.

Absolutely meaningless predictions:

Final Score: Giants 35 – Patriots 31 followed by:

-One emotional scene of doofy Eli raising the Lombardi Trophy

-One shot of the Giants wide receivers three-way kissing in the end zone (did you see the orgy that almost broke out against the 49ers???)

-One moronic debate over which Manning brother is the better quarterback

-One impossibly sad Nizzlebear

Enjoy the game people!

-Nate

What's So Scary About a Little Rain?

We’re into the second week of January now and somehow it’s still raining up here in good old Connecticut, which means, for those of us unfortunate enough to have significant commutes, we’ve had to endure the phenomenon known as “Scare-of-rain CT Drivers” for about two more months than we’d intended. Frankly, it’s been exhausting.

The worst part of my day is the time I spend trapped in my car, idly making my way to and from work at the speed of a crawling infant, and the last thing I really need is to have that process extended because a bunch of hybrid-driving suburban folks just discovered the concept of weather. We live in New England. This place is famous for its extremes, from blizzards to heat waves, dry spells to hurricanes. Should we really be all that surprised when it tends to rain every now and then? I don’t think so. And yet, still, time and time again I find myself caught in the fallout of this phenomenon, be it accident-induced traffic or just a painfully timid driver, and I can’t help but wonder why. Why does this happen? What goes through people’s heads to make them this way? It’s one thing to be safe, that I understand, but it’s another thing entirely to just suddenly forget how to drive. I want to be able to understand that. I need to be able to understand that, for my own sanity. So I’ve come up with a couple of possible explanations, and I’ll let you fine folks decide which seems the most realistic. As always, more to come after the jump.

Keeping Up With the Work

Hi all,

Just wanted to take a quick moment to apologize for not being as active on here as I have for the past couple of weeks. It turns out that in the real world, people like to wait to the last minute on just about everything they do, just like in school. So we're left with a nice little end of the year rush to get everything settled for the start of next year (preferably done in time for all the execs and higher ups to take a nice long vacation to close out the year).

I'll try to get something posted on here soon for your entertainment/enjoyment, and in the meantime I hope you all keep checking back! Feel free to share with your friends!

Thanks,
Nate

TLDR: I can't write as much because I'm busy at work. Get the f off my back!

+5 to Social Stamina

I’ll admit that I’m not quite sure how to start this. I know what I want to talk about, I know what I want to say, I even know how I want to say it…I just don’t know where to begin. So I guess I’ll just throw out a general statement and run with it: I don’t agree with the way social pressures have begun to affect our perception and judgment as individuals. There, I said it, in all its pretentious, overbearing glory. Now, forget all that for a moment and allow me to explain.

Peer pressure has existed since the dawn of time, dating all the way back to the moment the devil tempted Eve to eat the forbidden fruit by telling her repeatedly “You won’t do it! You won’t do it!” Since then, however, it’s grown and evolved into something much more subtle and arguably something much more powerful. No longer do we as people need to be persuaded what to do and how to act; the world simply does it for us. No longer do we need to be shown what’s good and right, what’s allegedly “cool”; it’s built into the very fabric of society. This social pressure exists all around us and we hardly even notice it. But look hard enough and you might find that it’s affected even you.

Now here’s where I’m gonna take a sharp left turn and steer this thing in a different direction. Instead of getting into some long, boring diatribe where I debate whether or not I agree with adolescents drinking and smoking (I don’t) or whether knowing how to read and do math somehow makes you uncool (it doesn’t), I’ve decided to focus on something a little more general, a little less personal: the fantasy genre.

More after the jump.

Flaunt it if you’ve got it, right?.....right!?

Warning: Post contains crude language and imagery. If you are uncomfortable with this (or simply don’t want to read a post about male nudity), please turn back now. You’ve been warned. 

Sorry 'Bout It Snow Storm!

This weekend was an interesting one. Instead of just heeding Mother Nature’s warning and accepting defeat, we decided to try and extend the magic of Halloween an additional week with a good, old-fashioned Hobart Halloween (Part II) Party. Now, for those of you who don’t know what Hobart is, Hobart is a magical place nestled tightly between Southern Connecticut State University and the University of New Haven, just off Whalley Avenue. It’s an old and cold three-story manor, filled with dust and asbestos and all things college. It also happens to be home to some of the most interesting and entertaining people you will ever meet in your life. In true Halloween fashion, these brilliant, lovely young men and women were on full display Saturday night.

Walking into the dimly lit basement, the first thing you would’ve noticed beyond atmosphere of glowing lights and bumping music was the sheer range of costumes that came out for the night. Some elected to be champions of humor (Steve Irwin comes to mind…RIP), while other chose to appeal to the opposite gender (I’m gonna go with the Captain Underpants twins…no one tell them I just admitted that please…) Others still chose to do both (Hellooo Cherub Nizzzzz) or even neither (various athletes and other fantastical characters). The one true constant was that everyone had a choice. For one night, you could be whoever you wanted to be, live any life you wanted to live. If you wanted to be a chubby, hairy baby angel, you could do it. If you wanted to come as Dr. Feltersnatch, the more power to you. There was no judgment, simply good times. Such is the magic of Hobart. 

Seduction...by Calvin Klein

Moving past the initial first glance and the multitude of costumes, you'd have a chance to meet the people themselves. I’d never admit this to any of them (and since most won't read this I think I’ll be okay, haha) but I couldn’t ask for a better group of people to spend a night with. They’re funny, they’re (for the most part) thick-skinned, they know how to enjoy themselves, and yet they aren’t without care for one another. Someone gets hurt or sick, and everyone pays attention. Someone tries to start trouble with someone else, and a swarm of onlookers squashes the tension before it can become anything more. This is the thing for me that separates Hobart from the countless house parties I attended in college. There’s no drunken girl left passed out in the bathroom all alone. There’re no backyard brawls or childish pissing contests between friends. For the most parts, there’s no real animosity between anyone at all. It’s just a group of friends having a good time while we pretend that the other, less attractive parts of our lives (school/work) don’t exist. I for one wouldn’t trade that for anything.

So kudos guys and girls, another weekend well done! I apologize to those I may have offended, both with my unyielding ridicule and relentless dancing, as well as my pasty white angel thighs. I hope you all still managed to have as fun a time as I did!

Until next year!

-Nate