Thursday, October 07, 2004

October Magic in the Bronx

I live for moments like earlier this evening. Bottom of the 12th. Yankees down one run. The Twins came back in a game that looked more like a heavyweight fight than the baseball playoffs. They cracked the Yankees ace reliever only to succumb to yet another wave of October magic in the Bronx.

I cashed out $200 of my Party Poker bankroll and bought my brother playoff tickets for his upcoming birthday. You only live once. Originally I bought bleacher tickets from a ticket broker but those tickets fell through at the last minute due to an error in at the broker's company. After I bitched for about thirty seconds, I was given better seats in the Upper Level. They were more expensive ($250 for 2... when they should have been $45 each) but I got them for $200 as replacement tickets. I was a little irked. I wanted bleacher seats. I wanted to hangout with the Bleacher Creatures. I wanted to be a part of the infamous "roll call" at the beginning of the game when all the fans sitting in the right field bleachers shout the name of every starter, one by one, until they turn around and acknowledge their presence. It's one of those cool unique things that make trips to Yankee Stadium much different from your average baseball game. I had envisioned shouting Derek Jeter's name and having him quickly waved back at us in between pitches.

Derek and I pre-partied at the same bar in front of the stadium where I took Al Cant Hang and Mrs. Hang in June. After a few drinks in the crowded bar, we navigated through a bevy of uniformed police officers on patrol and fans streaming inside. I swear I must have seen a cop every ten feet surrounding Yankee Stadium. Derek bought a $4 pretzel from a street vendor and we made our way up to our seats. They were better than I expected. I was exactly half way between the pitcher's mound and homeplate on the third base side four rows back in the upper tier. The only blindspot was the left field corner. But from my seat, I could view home plate and the Yankees dugout easily.

Before the game began, I ate fries and a footlong hotdog and Derek had an Italian Sausage on a roll. Throw in a $4.50 bottle of water and a large soda... and that made us $30 poorer. Beers were $7.50. Oils cans of Fosters were going for $9.75. Man, we dropped $250 and the first pitch hadn't even been thrown out! I was a little concerned about the high price I paid for the tickets. I'm not what you call a material person. I own not one piece of jewelry. I don't even own a watch. I don't have a car and I never fly first class. I rarely eat fine cuisine. My clothes are non-hipster friendly. All my money goes towards books, traveling, and maintaining a steady high. I had a tinge of buyer's remorse the last few days. I could have put $200 towards paying off my tax bills (those damn capital gains taxes are killing me) or using it to fund my upcoming trips to Rhode Island and Las Vegas. I was worried that I foolishly spent $200 on a shitty game where the Yankees get blown out and I could have watched it on TV instead. Alas, I love to live in the moment. And where else could finer moments happen than at Yankee Stadium?

I always get goosebumps when I hear the National Anthem at Yankee Stadium as you stare at the American flag whipping around in the wind on it's pole in Monument Park surrounded by the memorials of the Yankee greatest players of all time. The fashionably late NYC crowd was still making it's way inside when Paul O'Neill threw out the first pitch. They missed the action. The Twins got off to a fast start, tagging John Leiber for a run in the first inning. The Yankees struck back right away at the bottom of the first when Derek Jeter crushed a home run to deep centerfield off of Brad Radke, knocking a shot into the "black seats". Only two other players have done that in the postseason (Reggie Jackson and Jay Buhner). Instantly, I knew that I was going to be a part of something special.

The Twins came right back in the second with two more runs. The Yankees waited until the third inning to respond when Gary Sheffield rocked a home run to left field to tie the game. I have never seen any player hit the ball harder than Sheffield. Even my brother said, "He hits the ball harder in person." I've been impressed with his season long contribution as the MVP of the Yankees. When he slowly walked back out to the field at the end of the third inning, the fans in right field gave him a standing ovation. Chants of "MVP! MVP!" echoed throughout the now full stadium. Despite the six combined runs the game was moving at a quick pace. Lieber and Radke walked the least amount of players in the AL. They worked fast. And the Yankees were knocking Radke all over the place after they had been shut out the night before. The first five innings last just 1 hour and 15 minutes. At that pace the game was going to be over by 9:30!

Alex Rodriguez hit a solo homerun in the fifth to give the Yankees their first lead of the night. They started out behind, like they had been doing all season long. The Yankees compiled 61 come from behind wins, tops in both leagues. They were a team that knew how to hang on and rally late in games.

Then the game slowed down. ARod picked up his second RBI of the night when he singled in the seventh. The Yanks had a two run lead and things were falling right into place. Flash Gordon came out in the seventh to shut down the Twins. He faltered in the next inning. With one out, he struck out Jacque Jones who reached first base from a wild pitch. That's one of the rarest plays in baseball and I knew it was going to come back and haunt the Yankees. After giving up a single to the next batter, Joe Torre made a questionable move. With 5 outs to go, he brought in closer Mariano Rivera. Prior to the game he has only blown 2 out if his last 33 postseason save opportunities. It made me wonder that if perhaps the Yankees were ahead 1-0 in the series... then he would have let Flash Gordon work his way out of the jam. Instead he went right for Mo Rivera.

I get goosebumps when he jogs out of the bullpen to his well-known background music... Metallica's Enter Sandman. It should have been a done deal. Mo's coming in. It's a done deal. That didn't happen and he gave up two runs which tied the game at 5. The entire stadium was shocked. The boisterous rowdy crowd had been silenced. The invincible Rivera was brought back to Earth. After a scoreless ninth inning, the game headed into extra innings. Free baseball. At least I was getting my money's worth.

Late in the game, home plate umpire Mark Wegner blew several calls. He squeezed Yankee relievers and everytime he missed a borderline call, the crowd grumbled. At one point, he finally called a strike and the restless crowd sarcastically rose to give Wegner a standing ovation. It was not pretty. He called a very inconsistent game which was angering the Yankees and their fans.

In the bottom of the 12th, I'd say that 1/4 of the crowd had left. Those who remained got to see another HR from Torii Hunter. He's been killing the Yanks. It didn't look good. The emotional highs and lows were fast and fierce. I went from pure joy and anticipation when Mo RIvera came in... to utter desperation with one out of the bottom of the 12th.


Arod's clutch hit in the 12th inning.

Luckily the Twins manager bad a poor decision (almost along the lines of Grady Little and Pedro last year in the ALCS) and left his closer in for a third inning. Bad move which cost him the game. Even Wegner's generous strike zone was not good enough for Nathan's loss of control. He walked Miguel Cairo and Derek Jeter on eight straight pitches. With two runners on, ARod came up. He belted a shot to left field and missed a homerun. The ground-rule double was his fourth hit of the night and Derek Jeter should have scored on the play, but the umpires sent him back to third base. For about twenty seconds, the entire crowd thought the Yankees won the game. Not quite. What did happen was something crucial for ARod's future with the Yankees. He officially earned his pinstripes with that clutch hit in extra innings. That's why the Boss pays him an enormous salary. Big time players get big time hits in hairy situations. The Yankee magic rubbed off on ARod, which was exactly what he needed. He's been hitting .600 in the postseason this year and looks like he's not going to let up.

Sheffield was walked intentionally to load the bases for Hideki Matsui. With one out, I liked our chances of winning the game right there. Matsui is the team's best contact hitter. I knew he was at least going to make a productive out. He lined a rocket to right field. Unfortunately, a speedy Jeter tagged up at third base and beat the throw home. The Yankee came from behind, again!

As the crowd left the game, the PA speakers were blasting the usual version of New York, New York by old blue eyes himself. Nothings better than singing along to that song after a Yankees October victory.... four hours and twenty minutes after the game started.

Someday I hope you can attend a live playoff game at Yankee Stadium. There is no other comparable experience in professional sports. The energy, enthusiasm, and excitement are overwhelming.

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

Dear Loser

I have a great sense of humor. And I'm a very tolerant person when it comes to incompetence. So what did I do to deserve an insulting comment? I loathe people who leave anonymous flames. I welcome plenty of different opinions, but I will not tolerate anonymous comments. If they just left their name I would have shrugged off the vainless attempt to discredit me. But since the anonymous poster decided to hide like a six year old... and because I'm irked that the Yankees lost and I'm drunk as hell after pounding beers at the Yankee Tavern seconds after jury duty... I decided to attack. Yesterday, some nimrod took their time to leave an anonymous flame in my comments:
Dude- Shut the hell up already! No one cares this much about your life. You're so god damn pathetic. I know, great, you like Phish. And you saw them in Japan. Big fucking deal. I bet you got into Phish in like 1999 and are one of those newbie freaks who feels the need to prove his Phish knowledge at any opportunity.This blog is so ridiculous it's almost scary, and you my friend are the most self-obsessed egomaniac I have ever come across.
And you all know how little I think of persons who do stuff like that. I'd have more respect if that person left their name, number, and email address. But they didn't and I shall flame away. I know this for sure. The anonymous poster's IP address is: 12.134.12.40 and was referred by http://www.prodly.blogspot.com/. Here's the information that sitemeter gave me:
Time of Visit: Oct 05 2004 5:45:13 pm
Visit Length: 7 minutes and 35 seconds
Page Views: 4
Referring URL: http://www.prodly.blogspot.com/
I know that the anonymous poster is not the author of that blog. So please don't harass him!!

The facts are simple. The Tao of Pauly was referred from that blog site. I have discovered that the anonymous poster is a regular/daily reader of Prodly's blog (I was able to view his sitemeter). So Prodly, if this person is one of your friends please forward them this. It's not cool to have your friends or readers or followers anonymously trash me like they did. Not cool. You should teach your friends some manners and blog etiquette. How would you like it if one of my readers decided to insult you or your politics or your dogs? And in a pussy move did not leave their name in your comments? You'd be pretty pissed.

If they are not associated with you... I apologize in advance for grouping you in with scumbags like that. I understand that you cannot control all of your readers. But at this time, you are the sole link to this asswipe and are indirectly responsible for sending that person my way. In the meantime, I would appreciate if you would remove my blog link from your site. I'd prefer that you do not funnel me harassing visitors. I left your link still up in a gesture of good faith. If you are a stand up guy like I think you are, I am sure you will quickly find out who this person is and give me their identity so we can clear this whole mess up. And it would be nice if you assure me that you're not involved in any of this flame war. Like I said, you seem pretty cool and I hate to get you involved in this mess... but unfortunately you're stuck right in the middle.

Let's address this line by line, shall we?

Loser wrote: Dude- Shut the hell up already! No one cares this much about your life.

Dude? What am I friggin' Jeff Spicoli? This is my blog. I'll write whatever I want. I have never written for anyone else. I don't give a shit who reads my blogs and that is part of the reason why so many people choose to waste their time with me. I write from the heart, like right now, you ass muncher! My blogs are read on six continents. I have a diverse audience spanning 43 countries. Jealous? Me thinks so. In case you were wondering, plenty of other influential people think very highly of my blogs. My poker blog was featured in All In Magazine. It's also made the Top 10 Poker Blogs List. I've been linked up by one of the most famous bloggers in bloggerdom. I get more than 5000 hits a week and a lot of that traffic spills over here. So it's a known fact that people do care. And if you read the comments on this entry, you'll see just how much people do care about me. I'm lucky to have an amazing support group. Sounds like no one cares about your putrid life and you have to lash out at others just to feel some sort of satsifaction to boost your ground scrapping self-esteem. That's what happens to two bit punks with bad acne, hairy knuckles, testicles the size of peanuts, and too much free time on their hands flaming other people's blogs. Hey dipshit, send me your address and I'll mail you $1500 so you can find a blind hooker to fuck you. Sounds like someone needs to get laid. I'm sure my generous readers will donate money to get you some professional help with your obvious numerous pyschological disorders. Yep, looks like someone has a bad case of small dick syndrome.

Loser wrote: You're so god damn pathetic.

Pathetic? Good one. Pathetic would define your gutless attempt to anonymously flame my blog. Get a life. Get your own blog so I can post spineless messages about what a loser you are. Ah, that's what I'll devote today's energy for. Flaming anonymous dickwads such as yourself. And let's leave God out of this. He could care less about my blog.

Loser wrote: I know, great, you like Phish. And you saw them in Japan. Big fucking deal.

I know, great, that you have a small penis! And you need tweezers to masturbate. I love Phish (not as much as The Grateful Dead) and yes, Japan is a big fucking deal. The 2000 Phish tour to Japan changed my life. Obviously you never had an experience that overwhelms you to the point of never wanting to go back home... since you still live with your mommy. I became closer friends with the people I traveled with and created life long friendships with some of the coolest Japanese folks in the world despite the obvious communication obstacles. I instantly became a part of the Japhamily community... the collection of Phisheads (American & Japanese) who collectively experienced that 2000 tour. There's not a day that goes by where I don't think about Japan and how music truly brings people together. Idiots like you drive people apart. Sounds like you're jealous that you didn't get to go! Your loss. And you know what... Japan was a kick ass time. I've traveled most of my adult life and without a doubt, it was my greatest Pauly & Senor adventure ever. Someday I hope to write a novel about the greatest week of my life. I'll send you a copy, fucknuts.

Loser wrote: I bet you got into Phish in like 1999 and are one of those newbie freaks who feels the need to prove his Phish knowledge at any opportunity.

I'll bet my entire bankroll, you three day old pussyfart!! Obviously you failed to do your research. The author of the Tao of Pauly first saw Phish in 1989 and has been to 151 shows (possibly more) with almost 1/3 of them before 1998. I saw Phish 40 times in 1999. Amazing run that someday I hope to write up in a novel. Those guys have taken me all over this great country of ours and I could bury you with the thousands of stories I have to tell. Sounds like you're a gutless newbie freak who wanted to go to more shows, but mommy wouldn't let you go or you were a slave to conventional thinking and wouldn't get off your ass to have a good time if I put a gun to your thick head. And I don't need to prove my knowledge of Phish to anyone. My phriends know that I've seen more shows than anyone they know. When you have people coming up to you that you've never met before and ask, "Didn't I see you at Deer Creek? You're the guy with the red jacket!" it's an amazing feeling. I had one guy walk up to me in Osaka, Japan and he told me he recognized me from every Phish show in several different Japanese cities!! That's something awesome which you'll never experience. I'm a tour rat. I'm a tour celebrity. If you went to more than two shows you'd know that I'm as infamous in tour circles as Lawn Boy and the kid in the skirt with the Chiquita banana. And the best part? Phish is just a small bit of my life and my passions. There's plenty more to my life than one band.

Loser wrote: This blog is so ridiculous it's almost scary

Scary is the last person who actually had sexual intercourse with you. Scary is what your momma said after she squirted you outta her womb. Scary is the reality that our troops abroad have to face everyday. And lastly, scary is just one of the many adjectives you'll use after I track you down and call you up at 3am and taunt you with Monty Python-esque tomfoolery.

Loser wrote: and you my friend are the most self-obsessed egomaniac I have ever come across.

You are not my friend. Don't pretend to be, you gutless hipster. Who the hell are you by the way? You made an enemy here. And I can't wait to sic my minions on you. You wanna talk about scary? How would you like a couple of hundred degenerate gamblers calling you up in the middle of the night? Or worse, how about a bunch of freaked out hippies stalking your every move? I know a lot of people in low places that would love to harass you for nothing more than $3 and a jelly donut. And I'm not fucking around. Consider this a warning. Try it again and you will find someone following you home. I'd be looking over both shoulders if I were you.

And as far as the ego-maniac thing goes... you obviously never met me and I could point out a half a dozen people in my life who make me look as meek as Ned Flanders. Obviously you never understood the intent of this blog... Tao is another word for "the way". This is called the way of Pauly. It goes without saying that stuff I post is my internal chatter. And right now all I can think about is how much of a loser you are and how close my computer geek friends are to finding out your true identity and your personal information... which I will quickly pass along to those 5,000 weekly visitors to my infamous poker blog.

I've said what I said. And now I'll let my fans, friends, and stalkers continue to rip you a new asshole. I make no excuses for my behavior. I was goaded into this flame war and I will get the last laugh. I'm the luckiest person I know. I have the coolest brother and I have amazing friends. I get to surf through our society, unstuck in that 9-5 grind everyone else is trying to escape from. I travel all over the world and all over America gambling, partying, and even occasionally having sex with women way out of my league. Do you know why 5000 people read my poker blog every week? Do you know why I get to run rampant in Vegas? Do you know why I have such a good time? Personality. I got one and you wish you had one. Obviously you don't have a clue. I used to feel sorry for pathetic duds like yourself. No more. The biggest mistake made in your world... was the decision your mother made to give birth to a nebbish nonentiy like yourself. She should be proud to have given birth to a wet squib and unfortunate stooge who's greatest accomplishment is getting flamed on my blog! You should find the first tall building and jump off of it. Please don't breed and infect our gene pool with future generations of small penis, pencil neck, nimrods like yourself.

Ooooh, I can't wait to read what Iggy is going to say about your pathetic comments! Hell hath no fury like a pissed off and drunk Iggy sticking up for his friends!

Here's what Jessica recently posted in my defense:
Hey, , I guess you weren't around the last time someone tried to flame Pauly in his own blog.

It wasn't pretty.
And guess what?
This is about to get uglier.

Rule number one about the internet: If you don't like it, DON'T FUCKING READ IT. Neither Pauly nor any of his friends have forced you to read his blog. I mean, the moment you found out that he saw Phish in Japan and that that fact pissed you off, maybe you should have closed the window and never returned. No, it seems to me that you came back again and again. After all, you seem to know an awful lot about someone you profess to detest. Stalker much?

Get over yourself.

Question: Is that all you got? You see that Pauly likes Phish... and you base your assessment of -- what was it now, ASSHOLE -- "This blog is so ridiculous it's almost scary" -- on that?

Have you even read this blog, you illiterate piece of filth? Obviously not, or you would never have made that statement in the first place.

And my favorite statement of the FUCKING YEAR: "you my friend are the most self-obsessed egomaniac I have ever come across."

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH that's cute, you fucktard. Look, Pauly is intelligent. You, not so much. Pauly is talented. You, I highly doubt it. Pauly has friends. You, I don't think so, or you wouldn't have wasted your time on your eloquent piece of criticism.

So let's recap.

Pauly: smart, witty, gregarious, talented.

You: stupid, vapid (big word for ya, killer?), a fucking LOSER, and a hack and whatever it is you do.

Although if what you do falls under the heading of sitting in your Mommy's basement (thank you, Haley) beating off to Japanese anime tentacle porn, then I'd imagine you're a FUCKING PRO.

Don't be bitter, you small dicked asshole. And do yourself a favor and DON'T question my authority on the matter. Because since I, too, am intelligent, I can tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt that only a self-concerned jagoff with a miniscule penis puts other people down in order to feel better about themselves.

See? It worked for me.

And another thing... WHY do you have to be anonymous? Why won't you put your name to your "scathing" commentary.? And I'd like to add that by "scathing" I mean "utterly pathetic." Unlike you, Pauly isn't afraid of the words he gives to the world. And neither am I.

My name is Jess. Come and get it, you fucking prick.
Thanks Jess! And thanks to everyone for their support.

Tuesday, October 05, 2004

Pieces of Pauly

What did I eat Monday? For breakfast, I ate a chocolate frosted donut and an orange gatorade. I ate at the Courthouse Diner for lunch... a bacon and swiss cheeseburger deluse (with fries) and a iced tea with lemon. Before lunch ended and I had to go back in for jury duty, I grabbed two quick pints of Stella Artois at the Yankees Tavern. Dinner was cheese ravioli with marinara sauce.


Last 5 Books I Saw People Reading at Jury Duty...
1. Blue Mars by Kim Stanley Robinson
2. The Holy Bible
3. The Other Woman by Eric Jerome Dickey
4. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J. K. Rowling
5. Rich Dad, Poor Dad: What the Rich Teach Their Kids About Money - That the Poor and Middle Class Do Not! by Robert T. Kiyosaki & Sharon L. Lechter

Monday, October 04, 2004

Stormy Monday
"If some great catastrophe is not announced every morning, we feel a certain void." - Paul Valery
The real ugly news is that I got nailed by The Man for jury duty. Not fun. I'll have to pop a couple of Percosetts every morning just to make things interesting. You can betcha I'll be drinking heavily at lunch. Anything to survive the brutal insanity of the New York City court system.



I'll have a few books with me. Marty Beckerman is my new favorite author. Man, I wish I wrote like that fucker when I was 21. And yeah, I got Wil's latest book to keep me entertained.

I made it to another month. Another lonely season begins as I start my treacherous Monday. Same shit, different day? Sure, my writing gets recognition these days, even by some of the more influential pokerati types. People identity with my writing style. Others have been ripping it off. Sadly, I'm not making a living off it. No money is coming my way while I'm worried that my faltering inspiration will lead me into a series of tedious dead end jobs which are lining up to greet me with misery in the near future. I'm blessed with the good and fun things in life solely from the mistakes and misfortunes and nimble mischances of other degenerate gamblers. I can't sleep some nights because I know that every day when another person gets killed by a brutal war over black gold... then all my oil stocks go up and that money covers my traveling and other incurred Las Vegas expenses. I am the personification of Capitalistic Exploitation with my numerous pernicious investments. I should be shot. I should be jailed. Yet I roam the streets of your cities freely and without anything holding me back. If I made the wrong turn down a side street in Karachi, I'd have my severed head served up for worm food. Talk about luck of the draw.

At least it's October, and the Yankees are in the playoffs. Again. I bought my brother tickets to Game 2 of the first round of the playoffs for his birthday on Wednesday night. Look in the bleachers for us.

I funded my fifth online poker account the other day; Party Poker, Choice Poker, Planet Poker, Pacific Poker and now Poker Stars. I sent yet another Western Union wire transfer to a yet another South American country. Incidentally, I have two accounts with off shore sports books in Curacao and Aruba. I'm not Euro trash enough to have a Swiss Bank account, but I do have accounts in two very sunny "island nations." It's a matter of time before my banking transactions are flagged by the Federalies. Even my mother began quizzing me on the numerous Fed Ex envelopes from Gibraltar (Party Poker) that her doorman was saving for me. And I told her, "When they stop coming... that's when you have to worry."

I've been sick the last few days. Eleven months of partying and traveling and sleep deprivation had finally taken it's toll. I was greeted by a dark cloud of fatigue earlier this week, coupled with a nasty head cold. It had gotten so bad that I couldn't play poker and not even write. I had no choice but to shut everything down for a few days in order to recuperate. My health is vastly improving, but now I'm not looking forward to the mountain of work I have ahead of me. I have fallen behind in updating my blogs and working on a few side projects. I wanted to write pages and pages about the debate or the hurricanes or the impending eruption at Mt. St. Helens or why I can't seem to fold AK. All that was put on hold. I haven't had time to play cards which directly affects my banking situation. Debts on my credit card are mounting with trips scheduled to Rhode Island and Vegas. And with Jury Duty this week, my online poker time is severely limited.

I told someone recently that I'd rather have sex with Tina Fey than Britney Spears. A long silence followed my comment before a boisterous, "Bullshit!" OK, I'd rather talk to Tina Fey after sex than talk to Britney Spears. I like nerdy girls. Which reminds me of an old joke.
Q. What did Britney Spears say after the first time she had sex?
A. Roll over Daddy! You're crushing my cigarettes.
While I was sick, I tortured myself by watching Honey. Not even Jessica Alba shaking her booty in every scene was enough for me to stomach 98 minutes of wasted film stock. $17 Million to make that flick? And they shot it in Toronto instead of NYC, which would have doubled the film's budget. I only need $1 Million to shoot The Baby & Winky Movie. Any investors out there?

I picked four winning horses on Saturday; Funny Cide, Light Jig, Twining Glow, and X Box. I was wicked pissed when Commencerate lost in the 7th race at Belmot. Serves me right for wagering on a friggin' French horse.

It goes without saying that all of my blogs will be on hiatus until after I successfully served my civic duty.
Today in Phishtory



10.4.00 Chula Vista, CA
Set I: Moma Dance, It's Ice, Bouncin', Funky Bitch, Reba, Dog Faced Boy, Antelope

Set II: Rock & Roll > 2001, Sample in a Jar, Gotta Jibboo, Bug, Harry Hood, Cavern

Encore: Loving Cup

Awesome show. Was on tour with the Japhans... Yuh, Jun, and Ryugi! I love the venue at Chula Vista. San Diego was a lot of fun. Second set was a lot of fun.

Sunday, October 03, 2004

NFL Week 4 Best Bets

Last week I was out of town and I forgot to publish my picks of the week. Not to worry, our experts submitted picks and they'll get credit!

Picks of the Week
Chicago Bob (2-0): Jags +4 over the Colts
Zobo (2-1): NY Giants +& over Green Bay
Dr. Pauly (2-1): NE Pats -5 1/2 over the Bills
Jodd (2-0): The Jets -6 over the Fish
Poker Blogger of the Week... Snail Trax (2-0): KC +5 1/2 to upend the Ravens
Rib Boy (2-1): Rams -3 1/2 over the Niners

Parlay of the Week (0-3): Jets -6, Pats -5 1/2, and the Under in the Redskins/Browns

Upset of the Week (0-2): KC +5 1/2 over Baltimore

Rib Boy's Beating of the Week (1-2): The Seachickens whooped the Niners. This week the Eagles over da Bears.

Week 4: Jodd loves the Jets. Rib Boy likes the Seachickens against da Bears and the Rams. Zobo likes the Giants at Lambeau Field. Daddy from Snail Trax is digging a KC upset. And we all know Chicago Bob loves HOME DOGS!