Plaxico Burress has been
everywhere lately – the TV, the newspapers, blogs, in my nightmares. And, actually, it’s not just lately, it’s
been all season. From Plax’s disregard for Giants’ team policy to
fines, suspension and finally popping a cap into his own thigh; well, we’ve
finally had enough of this guy. Granted, Burress’ bonehead moves provide
us with material on a weekly basis, but we just can’t take it any longer. The guy needs to go away.
We understand that Jared
used to be the size of a monster truck and has now shrunk to that of a Mini
Cooper. For downgrading from pants that could blanket a small village, we
Many times, the gossip
focuses on the enormously popular and heavily political Triple H, husband to
WWE Princess Stephanie McMahon. Since inserting himself into the royal family
of pro wrestling in 2003, Mr. H has been criticized by dirt sheet “journalists” about the perks he receives from being married to WWE Chairman Vince McMahon’s
She’s pregnant. She’s getting divorced. She’s pregnant again. She’s shaving her head! She looks loopy on stage performing one of her formulaic pop musical ditties at some lame awards show. She’s admitted to a problem. She’s finding her inner self. She’s releasing a new record. She needs more money!
Whether or not Brit is
locked up in the loony bin doesn’t stop us from watching sports, but she still needs to take a hike. We’re asking from the bottom of our black heart’s to please keep her off of our television sets unless it’s the replay of the “Baby One
Chad Johnson or Chad Ocho Cinco
Chad: Play football. Score
touchdowns. Do your dances. Win championships, then talk as much as you want. But
you’re a Bengal, and that’s in the cat family, which associates you
the Lions. That means no talking.