Oh wait. That was the Bangles -an American all-female band that originated in the early 1980s. They were cute an all, but this other band ‘The Go-Go’s” has probably had them all killed by now.
The Bengals are a bit more germane to the HBFFL juggernaut of titanic, hard-hitting sports journalism you’ve come to expect here. So if you don‘t mind I would prefer to skip your weird preoccupation with 80s trivia and get down to the number-crunching scientific football insights. Don’t get me wrong. I could go on and on about 80s crap forever -I might have to someday for historic purposes: in the wake of an oasis of cocaine, dense concentrations of hairspray, and highly combustible automobiles, there‘s only like six of us left.
Watching Sunday’s game against the Panthers … well, I don’t want to single anyone out, but I immediately wanted Carson Palmer dead. There should be a 54th place on the roster for a guy who does that: the coach should signal for him, and he comes out onto the field; cradling the wayward quarterback's head in his lap, rocking softly, he soothingly instructs the guy think about happy thoughts like his first kiss or something, then pow, puts a 45-caliber slug right through his fucking noggin. I‘ll bet you would see those interceptions and fumbles dry up real fast, too: nothing is better for Predator Press morale than the Predator Press Halftime Show.
The weird thing is Bengals won. One so-called editorialist went as far as to say that the Bengals won in spite of Carson Palmer. Then I discovered a lot of news people are ripping off our idea to do sports commentary! ESPN, Fox … O holy Christ there’s like a dozen of them already.
So yeah -now I am furious with Carson Palmer again.
But it‘s been 24 hours now, and I‘ve ‘cooled off‘ a bit. It occurs Carson Palmer being dead will make him virtually impossible to trade. Another thing? He’s playin freakin Cleveland next week … who wants to see the Browns get beat by a team with a dead quarterback?
How much worse can it get, really?