Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Cubicle Sit In!

The Nazis are marching once again. You may not realize this, but they are back in full force. However, they are very difficult to spot for most. These Nazis have traded in their uniforms for striped ties, their Lugers for coffee mugs, and their German Shepards for framed Successories posters. Well, this Lugar (er...Montgomery) isn't fooled. How can I be when they impose their imperialistic will upon me daily? Why would they do this to me, you ask? Why pick on Noel? Isn't it obvious? Let me help you. The maiden name of one of my great-grandparents was Gould. Gould. Are you starting to put the pieces together? That's right. I'm 1/8 Jewish.

My boss' adorable children

The Powers That Abuse have decreed that no internet usage unless business related shall be allowed at work. Well, this Jew just so happens to be the #1 offender of this policy. But what do they expect me to do while I'm on hold all day? I can't do any other work, so why shouldn't I be able to read the news and entertain my tens of readers with these informative and exclusive blog entries? If I'm getting my work done, impressing the clients, and doing more than my other team members, then management shouldn't worry about my occasional exposure to the world via the internet. Screw their rules. I'm breakin' them. Fire me. The Nazis will only hurt themselves, and I'm leaving soon anyway.

They're standing right behind me. Aren't they?

Changing the subject, I have a special announcement to make. There has been a new birth in my family, and I am the proud father. Early this morning, at 12:30am, I gave birth to a strong, healthy abdominal muscle. He's upper left and beautiful. I'm naming him Abby, but don't worry about him getting picked on. He's tough as nails.

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Aaaaaah! Oh, they're in my eyes!!!

Wickerman just made the top of my Netflix queue.

Monday, February 26, 2007

Don't worry about the script.

Thank God Little Miss Sunshine didn't win Best Picture. It was the only one of the nominated movies that I have seen, and I loved it. However, it had these flaws that just killed me. Script flaws. Story flaws. Serious script story flaws. And it won for Original Screenplay which is a complete traveshamockery! You might say that I'm being picky with my criticisms here, but this is the Oscars! It's supposed to be the best of the best, and if some hack wannabe writer in Carmel, Indiana can spot giant blemishes in a script then certainly the Academy should as well.

Huge Flaw #1:
At a gas station in the middle of nowhere, Frank (Steve Carell) bumps into his ex-lover and his rival. This bothered the hell out of me. Coincidence as a drving force in a script is weak writing. I read recently on a site that agrees with me that this moment brought new meaning to the term Convenience Store. Terrible, horrible B-movie stuff there, and this moment alone should have knocked this movie out of the running for any screenwriting awards.

I needed one of these after that scene.

Semi-Huge flaw #2:
Olive (Abigail Breslin) is giving her brother Dwayne (Paul Dano) an eye test in the car and he discovers that he's color blind and won't be able to fly in the Air Force which is all he lives for. More crap. When I first saw this moment, I thought it was going to be a joke. Who finds out they're color blind when they're 17? Don't they test for that in school anymore? I remember taking this test many times before highschool. Whatever, it doesn't matter anyways because the previous flaw was so huge that the integrity of the script was already ruined.

Can you spot the sailboat?

Don't get me wrong. I loved this movie. The fact that I thoroughly enjoyed it despite these problems is a testament to how entertaining it is. Yet, the fact that it was nominated for Best Picture and won Best Original Screenplay is a testament to how poor movies are lately.

I don't even care about movies that much lately. I'm much more interested in my sit-ups. I've taken my addiction to sit-ups too far and hurt myself. I pulled something somewhere. I was only doing about 300 crunches-a-day. What's the problem with that? Well, now I've got pain in my lower right abdomen, so I've got to chill out for a little while. I still did 40 this morning, though.

Maybe my ab pain is why I'm so cranky about the Oscars. Maybe I'm sexually frustrated. Well, I'm definitely sexually frustrated, but I really don't think I'm that cranky about anything really. I am without worry. I read On The Road by Jack Keroac recently and there is this great passage about people worrying that highly effected me. Mainly, the idea that people who worry realize that they worry and that worries them, too! So, I have cut worrying out of my diet. I'm still aware that things need to be accomplished, but now I just do them without the worry.

I have no woman in my life. No worries, I'll just take the steps to help change this. I'll keep in better contact with the girls I know, I'll work to meet more women, and I'll stay healthy.

I have no career. No worries, I'll just continue to create daily, and allow opportunities to present themselves.

I'm stuck in the writing of the third episode of Highly Effective Device. No worries, I'll just steal from other cartoons.

See? I be happy already!

Friday, February 23, 2007

I don't want to freak you out...too late.

You all are deformed!

This is what a girl in my third grade class once shouted to everybody in the class while our teacher was out of the room. She was a girl that used to get picked on a little, but she was far from an innocent, sympathetic character as she started most of the arguments she got into. I can't remember her name, but I do remember her calling us deformed, and I remember that we ratted her out when the teacher returned. Did I even know what it meant to be deformed? Usually the insult du jour was to call someone a retard or say they were retarded or call them a retarded retard. But deformed? That was a new one and probably why I can still remember it.

As far as I can tell, I am not deformed. However, one of my close friends is. She only recently learned of her deformity, though she suspected it all along. I cannot say that I thought she was deformed. Just a little off, that's all. She's always been able to do this interesting trick with her hands where she would bend her fingers in an unnatural way that made it look like she had claws. We thought she was double jointed, but according to the doctor, it turns out that she's deformed. She has Swan Neck Deformity.

Swan Neck Deformity

Now that I know that she is deformed, everything changes. I have to treat her differently, like I would treat any deformed person. These are trying times for her, and she needs my support. You better believe I'll be there for her, too. Let's say for example that we are out grocery shopping and some aggressive soccer mom cuts my friend off with her cart in order to grab the last box of Snackwells. I can no longer stand by silently when something like this happens. Instead, now I will forcefully say to this woman, "Hey! Watch where you're going, you insensitive cow! You just cut off my friend! Can't you see that she's deformed?? Or maybe you did see that she's deformed and that's why you cut her off! Just because she's deformed doesn't give you that right! Now if you would please move your cart to the side, we would like to head to frozen foods. Clear the way, people! Deformed girl coming through!"

I see you're a little different.

Her fiancé will most likely leave her soon. It's hard to be too angry with him. Being in a relationship with someone who has a deformity can be a difficult thing, and for some it is just simply asking too much. Of course, I will still be around to support her through this. When she's ready, I will help her fill out her application to in the deformity division, so she can find that "special" someone like herself who is just as grossly disfigured as she is. It's best for people with specific disabilities to be in relationships with others that have the same challenges. I mean, it's practically a rule of nature. Midgets often date midgets, deaf people with other deaf people, blind with blind, fat and ugly with fat and ugly. And, of course, the deformed with the deformed. And I'll be there to help lead her on this path toward acceptance and healing, to point her towards the other deformed who will be waiting for her with open, mangled arms.

I really shouldn't. Aw hell, just one--CHOMP!

Does being friends with someone who has deformity make me a better person? I think it does. I have learned much about the struggles of living with deformity, and it's helped me grow not only in understanding but spiritually as well. I feel that my aura has strengthened. As an added bonus, I have also grown more physically attactive. This is just a pleasant side effect of being around a deformed person. I am so satisfied with the benefits I have received from having a deformed friend that I am considering beginning a program where you can be matched with your own deformed friend. It's like a deformity outreach program. I'll call it Big Brothers and Big Deformities....or Deformities on Wheels or something. Now remember. You're not supposed to get romantic with your assigned deformed friend, not unless you find that you are deformed as well.

I am also considering starting a Deformed Parade for Deformity Awareness. Everyday, the deformed have to put up with the constant gawking and pointing from strangers as they go out in public. Instead, let's have a day when all of the deformed ride on giant floats through the downtown streets of every major city nationwide and the normal/non-deformed citizens come out to see all of them at once and collectively as a group. This will be the annual Day of Staring when everyone gets all the gawking out of their system at once and the rest of the year, the deformed can go about their daily routines without feeling like everyone's looking at them. This is such a good idea, that I will no doubt get nominated for some major awards and probably get to go on Oprah. But it's not about me, you see. No, no. It's about the deformed. It's about looking at the deformed and learning. It's about looking at my deformed friend and learning about her deformity. You know, since the parade is my idea, I'm going to go ahead and crown the Queen of the Deformed right now. This honor goes to my good (and deformed) friend, Queen Jade. She's not a retarded retard. Nope, just deformed.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

A Real Ass

Apparently, I got fooled by the most incredible butt prosthesis of all time! Good one, Niecy. You got me...and many others. According to that article she lost a bunch of weight from Jenny Craig. I knew that she had dropped a bunch of poundage, too. I guess I just assumed it came back with a vengeance when I saw that first picture. You really have to hand it to Jenny Craig. Apparently, they've expanded their methods to beyond just dieting and exercise and now offer miracles as well.

I remember seeing Ms. Nash barely being able to walk with a cane after she "hurt her back", and it was a very slimming accident indeed. Now, it's not a bad thing to "hurt your back". That is just fine. Go on with your back injuring, butt slicing, thigh sucking self. Just don't be telling the world that Jenny Craig deserves the credit!

Monday, February 19, 2007

Smooth Flavor

The women in Indiana are smokin'!!!

Seriously, they all smoke. Almost every girl at work can be seen periodically outside the door of shame smoking a cigarette in 10 degree weather. I don't pass irreconcilable judgement against them for smoking, as I was once a smoker, and I do not fool myself to believe that I absolutely will never again be under the vice of nicotine addiction. However, smokers smell. They just do. And everytime a girl who was outside smoking walks by my cube and I get that stale odor wafting by my partially stuffed sinuses, I can't help but be a little repulsed.

I suppose I could be in a relationship with a girl that smoked. It's possible. But I may just have to start smoking again myself, just so we both stink. Every smoker knows that they are impervious to the stale smell of a cigarette smoked. When you consume a cigarette you are immediately blessed with the Radiating Shield of Funk. This shield not only protects you from funk, it repels others by putting off a funk of it's own. Putting on this shield is like telling others, "Funk me? Funk me??? Funk you, Buddy!!"

Man, now I kind of want a cigarette. You see how crazy these things are? Once you've smoked and then quit, you will constantly be hounded by the desire to smoke again! That's another problem with seeing all these people smoke all the time. It's silent peer pressure.

There. It's passed. I'm fine. I have enough other addictions to satisfy me now situps. I'm on a crazy situp kick. I'm determined to get a six-pack. Once I get six-pack abs, I will be able to conquer the world. And once I conquer the world, I'll be able to play as many video games as I want. Which is really what life is about. The freedom to play video games.

Friday, February 16, 2007

Not to mention large tracts of land...

When I worked as a producer for Clean House on the Style Network, one of my duties was to type up and oversee the voice over sessions with Niecy Nash. These sessions can be very frustrating with a lot of actors, because the recordings are so sensitive to each tiny flub, hiccup, scratch, and accent. However, Niecy was gold. She has this natural ability when it comes to performing and would fly through these sessions. We could record a whole one-hour show's worth of voice overs in 25 minutes! Needless to say, Niecy is blessed with a lot of talent. I mean, seriously! Look at the size of her talent! Have you ever seen talent that huge?? Holy talent!!!

Thursday, February 15, 2007

The White Stuff

It's time I got off gay people.

We got destroyed with snow again. I have shoveled the driveway too many times now, however I'm excited with the arm and back workout I got. It's rivaling my P90x extreme routine. If it keeps snowing, I'll be a monster in no time.

Hooray for pictures!

Moses was here

Child labor comes cheap

The last picture of my nephew alive

Carmel Glacier

Look at the potatoes on that guy.

My attempt at making millions by announcing that I am a gay NBA player has fallen short. In fact, I can't be sure that more than one person even read my confession.

Tim Hardaway apparently hateth the gayeth. Of course, the predictable outrage will follow and his public speaking days are most likely over. However, I can't help but think that a huge percentage of people watching this story on ESPN were thinking to themselves, "Hell, I hate gay people, too! They don't belong in this world!" At least Timmy was up front with his feelings. What he said will do more to lead to understanding and sexual (orientation) healing than when I heard Rip Hamilton of the Detroit Pistons say that he couldn't know how he'd react if he found out a teammate was gay but that as long as the guy played hard and yada yada poop.

Gays are generally least here in the Midwest. I had an incident while visiting Purdue a couple weeks ago. After many beers, I went with a few friends to Triple XXX, a greasy diner for some 3am eggs and potatoes. The place was packed with drunken, jovial students. I ordered the breakfast special, got some coffee, and started cracking jokes. There was this girl a few seats down who was beyond Thunderdome. She was with her embarrassed boyfriend and I would soon learn a couple other people, and she was shouting at people all over the room. I mean, she was aggro shouting and trying to start a fight apparently. I don't understand girls like this, and I really don't understand guys that are with them. But, hey! If you're getting laid you're getting laid, right?

So the she beast starts yelling that someone is queer. I don't know who, but by this time I was ready to join the fun. I asked her, "Who's queer? I'm queer? You think I'm queer?" To which she predictably responded with "Yep, you queer! You're queer!" It's difficult for me to describe the tone and voice I was using for this next exchange. I call it blubbering hick, kind of a heavy crying, heavy whining, heavy Indiana accent, loud shout voice. Regardless, believe you me that it was hilarious. I used this voice to exclaim with fake tears, "She's callin' me queer, and I'm just tryin' to eat mah potatoes! I just came here to eat mah potatoes, and she's callin' me queer! I can't buhlieve it! She's callin' me queer! I just want some potatoes!"

The whole diner busts up laughing except for one guy I discover as someone grabs my shirt from behind and pulls back. I turn around to see who wants a piece of this, and see a thin farmboy with a whispy goatee who's drunk as hell. He says, "I think you're queer. I think you're gay."

I size him up quickly and realize he isn't a threat, so I told him to go outside and that I'd be out there in a minute. That's exactly what he did as I turn back to my friends and say that finally someone wants to fight with me and he actually skinnier than I am. Of course, I had no intention of fighting with a drunken stranger because I embarrassed some sloshed chicken who was asking for it. It was less than 10 degrees outside, and predictably he left after a few minutes while my friends and I finished our potatoes.

The morale of this story isn't that I almost got in a fight, because that happens almost everytime I go out in Indiana. It's just interesting how hate for gay people can come out completely unprovoked and unmotivated. Actually, one of my friends that I was with is gay. He stayed silent throught the whole thing, and I wasn't about to ask him about it.

For those of you reading this that are wondering if I actually might be gay, let me ask you this. Does it matter? Do you really care? For those of you who definitely think I'm gay, let me say this.

You're callin' me queer, and I'm just tryin' to make a blog entry! I just want to blog, and yer callin' me queer! I can't buhlieve it!

Monday, February 12, 2007

Coming Out of the Locker

Cuban says a gay NBA player would rake.

I would like to announce that I am a gay NBA player. I've been silent for far too long, and it's time I told the world.

Noel, what is the toughest part about being gay in the NBA?

I'd have to say boxing out and being boxed out. That and the post-game showers. These eyes, they be a wanderin'!

Some say that you are using this announcement to cash in with book deals and other endorsements. Is this true?

Absolutely not. This is about awareness. This is about letting the world know that there are gays everywhere and in every sport, not just the WNBA and men's figure skating. If I happen to make a little money in the process of getting my message out, well then I guess that's just the frosting on the tip of the penis. Er...icing on the cake.

What are your plans for when you retire?

Well, I may retire from being a basketball player, but I will never retire from being gay. I look forward to becoming a gay basketball coach, a gay basketball analyst, a gay entrepreneur, a gay spokesman for hair growth products, and yes possibly a gay politician. My main focus when I retire is to help the children. I want our young gay athletes to not be afraid of letting everyone around them know about their sexual preference. And for the non-gay young athletes, I want to teach them how to accept their gay peers and possibly to experiment with becoming gay themselves. They say that everyone's a six-pack away, but I am totally against underage drinking. That's why I like to say that everyone is a pint of Gatorade away.

Uh oh! I smell endorsement!

It's a good thing I bring it.

My legs are tired today! It's because zombies were chasing me all night. These weren't your run of the mill limping, creeping, Pepe Le Pew slow-moving brain eaters, and they also weren't the 40 Days Later amphetamine popping track athlete zombies either. They were somewhere in between. Not so fast that I couldn't get away from them but fast enough that I had to constantly keep moving. Luckily, I've been bringing it almost daily with my P90x workouts, so I am in shape enough that I was able to protect my brain, but now I'm spent and have a whole day of work ahead of me. I'm not mad at those zombies for trying to feast on my grey matter. They were hungry, they eat brains, and I have a brain. It's natural. However, I am a little annoyed that they chose last night to chase me around. Friday night would have been much better considering I didn't have to work on Saturday. Damn inconsiderate zombies.

I spoke with my brother about the cartoon last night and received my first legitimate criticism of the script. I didn't cut enough of the dialogue. I knew this, too, but I chose to ignore it. It was pretty difficult considering that I have to explain so much in such a short amount of time and make it funny. I tried to develop the characters too much too early. Oh well. At least the writing should get easier once everything is established. I'm working on the rest of the script now, and I've already been hacking it apart. I'm in the third episode, totally disgusted with what I've written, and ready to attack the Backspace key with vigor. Ivan's animation continues to improve impressively and so should my writing if I'm to keep up. We're knee deep in creating the next installment, and I think Episode 2 will be a big hit as it includes mysterious sticky substances, anal probing, and an unhealthy obsession with a B-list celebrity. This is high brow comedy at its finest.

I just figured out why zombies were chasing me last night. I ate a frozen pizza yesterday, and cheese messes me up, man. I'm not supposed to have cheese, but I was so lazy yesterday, didn't want to cook, and there are all these pizzas in the freezer. I took a couple Lactaid pills, and those definitely helped me in the plumbing department, however they did not ward off the zombies. They need to put a warning on the Lactaid box that reads, "Will not protect you from zombie attack."

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Garry and Chee Chee

This is a project my friend has been working on. Scarface meets Perfect excellent combination.

Garry and Chee Chee: Episode 1

Garry and Chee Chee: Episode 2

My friend is Zach Johnson who plays Chee Chee, so watch what you say bitches! Haha, I'm just joking. No, but seriously. Watch it. He'll kill you.

Save Boston from the Mooninites!

...if you really care that much.

I did not make this, but I deem it gas station pizza.

Thursday, February 08, 2007


In a ridiculous attempt to sway media attention away from the premiere of Highly Effective Device and onto herself, Anna Nicole Smith died today. At the moment, I have a team of lawyers looking into any possible legal options I may have as I feel that valuable worldwide publicity was intentionally and egregiously stolen from the launch of the website. You may think that to be a little extreme, but I turned on CNN tonight, and I kid you not, I saw not one story on the premiere of Highly Effective Device!

You want tits? We got tits! Ivan worked for days on these tits! Let's show a little appreciation, CNN. Try to act like a reputable news organization for once and give the world what it wants: internet cartoons.

I mean, come on! Look at the detail in the shading, there! Hours upon hours upon hours of sketching, molding, and masturbation were put into that character!

Fine. We'll just have to re-launch, I suppose. But you watch yourself, Miss Anna Nicole! My lawyers are ready to pounce if you try something like this again!

And there was much rejoicing.

We are officially open for business! ...well, with no way of making any actual money, but Capitalism is not what I'm about. I'm about comedy and entertainment and writing and stuff and stuff. The first episode of Highly Effective Device is now officially linked on the website. Check it out. Let me know what you think.

There's some other stuff on the site, too. You can play a game that you'll be sick of after a few tries. You can also download the swanky music we created for the background in the first scene. It's entitled Ring My Dingleberry Bells, performed by the legendary Martian Elaine, and some say it's his best track off of the universally popular album Martian Elaine's Songs 2 Get Sweaty 2.

There's also a Make Your Own Review page, where you can tear us a new one if you'd like. I noticed that Dan has already participated in that. Thanks for the support, Daniel! I also created a bio page for me and Ivan, and it's probably better written than the cartoon itself. Go figure. I like talking about me.

While driving home from Ivan's after finishing up a couple touches to the site and doing our P90x extreme workout (That's right. We bring it, nightly.), I made a couple calls to my friends in Los Angeles to make them watch the cartoon. David was busy playing Madden (he's a very busy man), Jade was MIA (probably cooking for her fiance), but Nathaniel was home and decided to watch it with me over the phone. I'm pretty nervous about how the toon will be received, but this was a perfect way to start as he was very complimentary.

The script for the second episode is already complete except for a little polishing, and the sets and a new character are being drawn. Here's hoping it doesn't take us six months to make this next one.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Have shovel, will travel.....very far away.

"We've got so much shit to do and just not enough time to do it in."
-What I overheard one bundled up girl say to another bundled up girl in the elevator before they went outside to smoke a cigarette.

There is a lot to be done, but priorities come first. Since I quit smoking a while ago, I can cross that off. Next on the list, plan my escape from Indiana. Don't get me wrong. I have enjoyed my time here. It has been productive and memorable. What a blessing for me to be in Indianapolis for the Colts Super Bowl victory. Watching the game with friends and then partying at a bar filled with Colts is an experience I would have missed in Los Angeles. High five laps around the bar, the victory cigars I handed out and enjoyed, the countless beers and the one shot of Jagermeister too much, the chants of Let's Go Colts!'s all permanently ingrained in my mind.

Now that football is over, the only thing that's keeping me here is the cartoon. The first episode is finished, and I have no idea if it's funny. We haven't had an official release, because there are a couple kinks to work out, and the webpage needs some tweaking. You could find it if you tried hard enough, though. The webpage even has a link to my blog, so I fully expect my readership to double.

But I do have to get out of here. It's stupid how cold it is. It's snowing right now. How am I going to get home for lunch today? I have to risk my life for a ham sandwich? Who am I? Mama Cass? Don't tell me I'm going to have to shovel a driveway at 7am. I can't handle that. I'm a lover, not a snow shoveler.

I'm supposed to do comedy tonight, but I am predictably underprepared. There are even supposed to be some people coming to this show, but it looks like the snow may save me. Who wants to trek through a snowstorm for open mic comedy? Hopefully no one. I would like to do some material about the commercials during the Super Bowl...though I haven't written any jokes about them. All I could think about while they played is how blatantly violent they were and for no apparent reason! I'm all for violence in entertainment, but it has to have a purpose...and loving chips isn't a good enough reason. In a Doritos ad, some guy got into a car accident, and then a girl rushed out into traffic to help him and got hit by a car! Mmmm...Doritos. I guess the joke is that they're worth dying for, but I'm not laughing. Just having people getting hurt doesn't equate humor. Creativity is supposed to be involved in these commercials! Is that too much to ask? For some decent writing?? I mean, they only cost millions of dollars to produce! Screw Doritos. I'm officially boycotting them for insulting my intelligence with their frivolously violent crap. I suppose next year they'll run a spot where some guy is eating from a bag of Doritos and then some other dude walks up to him, shoots him in the head, and takes the bag. Mmm...Doritos. Worth killing for.

And people said the best commercial involved talking lions. Come on...talking animals? Are we still doing that? The best commercial I saw (and granted, I was paying MUCH more attention to the actual game) was the Coca Cola "Grand Theft Auto" commercial. There was some violence in it, but it was resolved with perfect balance. I liked it so much that I'm enjoying a Coke right now. However, you will find no Doritos on my desk.

Monday, February 05, 2007


Friday, February 02, 2007

I hope you like football.

Indianapolis deserves a championship. Indiana deserves a chamionship. We need a championship. I need a championship. And this Sunday, when the Colts win the Superbowl, I will have that championship.

The majority of sports fans in major cities are spoiled. New York, Boston, Los Angeles, Chicago, and all the other meccas have countless professional sports championships. Indiana has none. Well, nothing since the days of the ABA. Personally, none of the teams that I route for have won it all since the 1990 Cincinnati Reds, and then I was too young and not educated enough to truly appreciate it. The fans of teams that have won multiple championships don't understand what it's like to bond with a small market team that has the odds against them. There's something special about that relationship; the bond between fan and team is stronger becuase it's based on hardship. With the big's like a relationship between a hot girl and a good looking guy. Sure, the physical attration is strong, and the sex is probably great, but do they really care about each other? Aren't they quicker to turn on each other when things aren't going well? Those weak relationships are headed for divorce, and who suffers there? That's right. The kids. Think about the children, you weak-minded sports fans! Think about the children!

I take pride in the struggles I have faced as a sports fan, and I use them as an analogy to my life. All the difficulties I face and hurdles I have to overcome will be worth it when success I finally meet success. It will be all the more sweeter. It's appropriate that Prince is the halftime entertainment for this Superbowl, because come Sunday night, I'll be partying like it's 1999.

Enough of this who deserve what talk. It's time to break down the game. Oh, I know Xs and Os. I know Xs and Os very much.

Bears fans are grasping at anything they can hold onto to say that they have an advantage in this game. The most common argument I'm hearing is that the Colts can't stop the running game. Well, I suppose these Bears fans haven't been paying as much attention to the Colts performances this season and postseason as I have...but then again, I'm a fan and have seen every game. Here's what has happened with the Colts D. They're used to big games in the playoffs. They're addicted to them. So, the regular season games just don't have the same appeal, and it's hard to exert the energy necessary in them when you're waiting for the playoffs. And defense is 80% heart. Add that to some major injuries during the season and you get one of the worst regular season run defenses in history. But now we're in the playoffs and fairly healthy.

In the playoffs, the Colts D has been a completely different animal. Bob Sanders is back (he was being saved for the playoffs) and the defense has a new attitude. In each of the past three playoff games, the Colts were supposed to get run over. Well, instead they stuffed it. Bottled it up. Shipped it Fed Ex. The experts say they can't explain it...well the experts should talk to me, because it's all clear as day over here.

And still! Still, the Bears fans say that the Colts can't stop the run! They say that the stats show that the Chiefs, the Ravens, and the Patriots didn't run enough, that those teams gave up on the run too soon. Did they? Did they really? I hear that the Colts offense was the reason why the Chiefs hardly had the ball and couldn't run. Let's look at that.

There is no debating that the Colts stuffed Larry Johnson. The reason the Colts had the ball so much is that the Chiefs went 3-and-out almost everytime after the Colts D stuffed the run twice and got an incompletion or sack. It was the defense that allowed the Colts offense to have the ball for that long.

I hear that the Ravens had success when they ran, but they just gave up on it too much. Well, the Ravens were playing from behind, and if you watched the game you should have seen that the Colts stopped the Ravens running game when it mattered. It's not about YPC (Yards Per Carry) and total yards (though these numbers were way below what the Colts surrendered on the season). It's about getting to third and long and forcing a pass. The Colts stopped the run when they had to and put the ball in McNair's hands...who then put it into Bethea's hands.

Third, let's look a little more in depth at the AFC Championship game. Bears fans are really harping on this game saying that the Patriots were killing the Colts with the run and simply gave up on it too soon. I admit that the Patriots running game started off well. The Patriots are one of the best teams in football, and they had a couple great drives to start the game. However, a huge chunk of their run production was on a huge run by Corey Dillon (35 yards). I've heard how you can't eliminate large runs when talking about YPC, but this situation is a little different. It was 4th and 1 from midfield, and the Colts stacked the line. In these situations, if the runner breaks the first tackle then he's going to go a long way. Both teams took a risk and the Colts got burnt. You have to discount judging the Colts run D a little on this play, though.

Halfway through the second quarter, the Colts run defense woke up. Check, check, check it out.

Look at all the negative runs. This is why New England stopped running. They were moving backwards. Here, check out the third quarter.

Besides the first Faulk run for 8 yards, the other two runs are negative. Both drives go 3-and-out. In the fourth quarter, the Patriots start off with one more negative run. Since halfway through the second quarter, every Patriots running play except for one went for negative yards. This is why Belichick starting passing every down, and so would any other coach that had a tired defense and knew that he had to move the ball to win the game.

Sure, if you look at the stats through hopeful Chicagoan eyes, it might appear that the Colts were not as successful at defending the run as they were. But it's about the flow of the game and not just blanket stats. The Colts are completely capable of shutting down the Bears running game.

The Colts should win this game. They will win this game. They better f'ing fucking win this game.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Giant Pixelated Explosions

My aversion to the city of Boston has been tempered by the Colts win in the AFC Championship game. Though I had at least five different coronaries watching it, the satisfaction of coming back from the largest deficit in Championship history to win was well worth the pain I suffered watching it. It wasn't the Patriots and their fans that were the real losers in this game, though. No, that would be all the atheists in the world, because now we have proof that yes, there is a God.

Overall, I have felt that most Patriot fans have been very gracious in defeat, and this is also helping to repair the damaged reputation Boston has in my mind. I've even heard that many of these same fans who chided the Colts as chokers and Indiana residents as hicks will be supporting our team in the Super Bowl. I have to say that, that makes this hick get a little choked up. Bonds are forming. Camaraderie is developing. Wounds are healing. And now a Super Bowl needs to be won. Before I get to discussing the upcoming football game, let me talk about Boston for hopefully the last time for a long while.

Boston had a bomb scare yesterday. Apparently, the city was attacked by invaders...from the moon! That's right, the Mooninites landed and deservingly gave Boston the finger. (I know, I know, wounds healing. This was the final piece of the reparation pie, though.) At night on the Cartoon Network, a segment of the network called Adult Swim plays cartoons that are adult-oriented and that I am addicted to watching. Probably the most popular cartoon played (besides Family Guy because it doesn't count for being syndicated) is Aqua Teen Hunger Force. The Mooninites are characters in this show that make appearances in occasional episodes touting how superior their moon ways are to the ways of the Earth. They often drive their point across by raising a pixelated middle finger at those they encounter and sometimes at the Earth itself from the comfort of their spaceship. Yesterday, they decided to spread their message to the millions of residents of the city of Boston.

Dozens of battery-powered, magnetic light boards were placed around the city that depict Ur, the smaller and fiestier of the Mooninites, in all his glorious fury. Apparently, the majority of Boston residents aren't like me and don't watch late night cartoons, and neither does their mayor, their police, their fire departments, nor their bomb squads who were called in the shut down the city and protect its citizens from this alien terrorist threat. Now there's a huge uproar about this, people have been arrested, Adult Swim has posted an apology, and the mayor is screaming for retribution. I understand that if you don't know what a Mooninite is, you might see one of the displays with it's little battery pack and possibly think it's a bomb, but wasn't there someone...anyone in power in Boston that had enough pop culture knowledge to recognize this character? No one that could say, "Oh, hey! That's a Mooninite! Funny!" Someone had to, right?

I guess not. Well, let's hope not, because if someone did recognize the Aqua Teen character and still thought it might be a terrorist attack then we really are out of touch. I'm not saying that I know terrorists all that well, but I think I can be brazen enough to say that they don't watch late night cartoons. Watchers of these programs are for the most part pacifists, and while they do occasionally make crafts, their creations rarely explode.

Cartoon Watcher 1: Dude, check out this bomb I made.
Cartoon Watcher 2: Dude, you made a bomb??
Cartoon Watcher 1: No, dude! I said bong!
Cartoon Watcher 2: Oh....awesome!
(bubbling noises)