This Squeeky Wheel Gets No Griese

I'm not surprised by Sunday's loss. I am dizzy from the slew of injuries. That's the NFL, folks. I wish some more offensive players would get injured or, spontaneously combust so that Jerry Angelo and the Muffin would start beating the bushes for some offensive talent. I warned you about this quarterback thing. It is a band-aid on a severed aorta. Blood everywhere. We ignored the offense all off-season, and now, it is biting us in the ass. Normally, I take no solace in another's misery when attempting to soothe my wounds. Alas, this is a new day, season, miserable situation. I could be a Charger fan. They fire their coach after a 14-2 season. They hire a coach with a losing record. They have the best running back in football. Everyone is more relaxed and comfortable. They are planning for a trip to Arizona for SB42. WHAM!! They are 1-3 and staring into the abyss (Pats and Colts). Lost at home to the CHIEF. At least they have great weather. Shit, that would make THERE better than HERE. I am not feeling well again. Time to move on.

I also take some solace in the knowledge that no one is beating the Pats or the Colts. You have to watch the Patriots any time they are on the tube. I have not seen such domination since, well, hmmmm, the Patriots of 2003-2004. More dominant than that group, at least offensively. Great players, great coaches, great management, great ownership, you getting the picture. Not great weather, however.

I tried the Portillo's chocolate shake. I should say, "I attempted to try the Portillo's chocolate shake." It did not go over so well. I drove with Maggie to the Portillo's on Ogden at 7:30 p.m. on Saturday. The drive-thru was jammed, so we decided to go inside. There were 1,500 people in there. No wonder why Americans are so fat; you can't eat dinner, especially that food, so late at night. Unless they are hitting the treadmill later that evening, that gut bomb is with you until the a.m. I am sure they are removing the buns and fries. Nevertheless, we ordered two small chocolate milkshakes and proceeded to weave through the sea of humanity to await our dessert. We waited and waited. After Maggie and I solved several domestic policy problems for the Bush administration, our shakes arrived. Only they were "Chocolate Cake Shakes." Yes, that's right, and they tasted as bad as you are now imagining. No way was I going back into that quagmire of Naper-villains; I just wanted out. Anyway, their shakes come out of a dispenser which automatically eliminates Portillo's as a contender. Oberweiss Forever.