Hmmm....Can I Ask You Something?

Every now and again, I find a portion of Packers.com that I haven’t visited before. Yesterday it was the FAQ section. Admitting I don’t know something is not a strength of mine, so I never had a need to click on this page. Boredom led me here late last night after watching the Brian Bulaga press conference 4 times (I love this guy). Now, most of these questions I understand, but the “Does the Packers Organization take phone calls regarding fantasy football?” is ridiculous. I hate to tell you this, but if you need help from a pro team about fantasy football, you’ve already lost your league…plus, the Packers have more important things to deal with than The Chmura Pool Cleaner’s start or sit questions. Also, the answer to the cheerleader question which points to “fan indifference” as the reason for no Packers cheerleaders, is a flat out lie. I love cheerleaders.

I’d like to take this time to submit some questions I have (I guess I don’t know everything) that I am flat-out positive other die-hard Packer fans have too.

1. How does Lambeau Field and the surrounding environs not implode under the sheer magnitude of its own awesomeness? (This would likely need a physicist to answer, but I’m sure Stephen Hawking is a Packer fan, he’s a pretty smart guy.)
2. I was unable to find a pair of green and gold, corduroy slacks at the Packers Pro Shop. Are they on back order? How do I get on the waiting list?
3. How the hell did the greatest special teams player in the history of mankind get released? (You know who)
4. How many Leinie’s are sold during each game at Lambeau Field? Brats?
5. When I die, can my ashes be spread on the Visitors’ sideline, so I can feel the fear and sense of futility permeating the Packers opponents for all of eternity?
6. What is the status of my job application?
7. Bill Miller’s title for the Packers is Plumber/Beverage Systems Technician…ummm…WHAT?!?!
8. I have a good friend who has his single-engine pilot’s license, how do we apply to be an aircraft involved in a pre-game flyover?
9. On more than a few occasions, I have seen opposing fans at Lambeau during the games. While I am more than willing to let these misguided individuals study the greatness of the Packers at the Packers Hall of Fame, is there a way to step up security so that these asshats aren’t allowed inside the hallowed halls of Lambeau?

I’m sure you all have questions too. Please feel free to add any questions you may have for the Packers in the comment section, and I will forward them on to the Packers FAQ Department…wait, how do I that?

Pick Him

Green Bay Packers
Human Resources
1265 Lombardi Ave
Green Bay, WI 54307

To Whom It May Concern:

I am writing to express my enthusiastic recommendation for Franklin Hillside to be the first-ever Packers Draft Room Hydration and Sustenance Specialist.

Outside of Leinenkugels, hyperbole and the classic movie Willow, I rarely make such passionate endorsements. But Franklin is the exception. He is knowledgeable, considerate and quick on his feet. So fleet are his feet in fact, that he could make a strong case for special teams. (With the sometimes noticeable absence of Tracy White, please keep that in mind.)

Equal parts Grill Master and Master Bartender, Franklin’s expertise is only limited by the imagination. I once saw him roll a string of sausages using only his feet while mixing Mojitos in one hand and resuscitating an albino squirrel in the other. Keep in mind this is all while he was blackout drunk off Everclear and Mad Dog 20/20! Obviously, the man knows how to party, and just as importantly, be productive. Just imagine what he can accomplish sober!

I know what you’re thinking – that there must be a catch. You’re thinking this guy’s either insanely expensive or just mentally unstable, likely to get caught selling Jolly’s jock strap on ebay or start tickling Ted mid-pick or something. These are legitimate concerns and I will answer them in order. 1) Franklin will work for free or close to it and 2) he has not been committed yet to my knowledge (joking, but seriously). To sum it up, Franklin Hillside as your Draft Room Hydration and Sustenance Specialist is an idea so crazy it just might work.

Feel free to contact me for anything further. Just not Tuesdays. And never before 10 am. Weekends are 50/50. Any other time should work.

Regards,

Robert Greenfield

Pick me! Pick me!

Green Bay Packers
Human Resources
1265 Lombardi Ave
Green Bay, WI 54307


To Whom It May Concern:

This past week I have come to the realization that regardless of the obnoxious format of this year’s NFL Draft, I have become overly excited for the event. I fought this enthusiasm with every fiber of my being, but it was inevitable. My desire to be a part of the Draft in some fashion has prompted much contemplation on my part. This brainstorming has brought me to the conclusion that I would like to work for the Packers during draft weekend.

As such, I am writing to express my interest in a temporary position with the Green Bay Packers. I feel that I am excellent candidate for Green Bay Packers Draft Room Hydration and Sustenance Specialist I. I understand that this is not currently a position that exists with the Green Bay Packers, but I feel strongly that it both should be created, and that I would be the best suited candidate.

The hours spent pouring over draft charts, 40 times, and character notes may not be physically draining, but it is most certainly a mental drain. The best way to combat this is proper hydration and a balanced meal of grilled meats, baked beans, and a steady supply of beef or turkey jerky. Also, for those not intimately involved, drowsiness is a very real concern which can be combated by either a strong cup of coffee or a 32 oz. vodka-Red Bull, depending on Mr. McCarthy’s preferences (I have noticed he seems uninterested in the draft process)

I have extensive experience pouring libations both for myself and others. I do not mean to sound boastful, but I am able to perform this task pretty much non-stop for hours on end, which is exactly how long the draft lasts. I am unsure of how Mr. Thompson prefers his brats prepared, but I have numerous methods and am very flexible in that regard.

Currently, I work in a library, so rest assured that I understand the value of being silent. I will not attempt to interact with other Packers’ staff members unless specifically addressed by one. However, I must also point out my extensive fantasy football drafting prowess, so in the unlikely event that Mr. Thompson cannot decide between two future Packers, I am suited to provide a high level of input.

I understand the timeline is too short to be a part of the Packers’ Draft Team this year, but I look forward to hearing from you and beginning in 2011.

Sincerely,


Franklin Hillside


References available upon request

Eat More Lightning. Crap More Thunder.

Occasional Thought: If someone told me Michael Bay randomly decided his next remake would be Rocky starring Shia LaBeouf, I would be devastated. But then I would laugh after learning the movie is really about Rocky the Robot Truck, which Shia is voicing, and not Rocky the greatest boxing/underdog movie series the world will ever know.

Not long ago, Franklin and his ladyfriend came to a pivotal, potential game-changing moment in their relationship. They were about to donate some gently used items to their local thrift store. As they were strapping boxes to his hog, Franklin noticed a stack of records and among them, the Rocky IV soundtrack. Obviously, he had not packed that particular box.

Now, at mere the sight of such an atrocity, some men in Franklin’s shoes probably would’ve gone ballistic in the parking lot, causing a scene so wild and furious the neighbors would’ve been streaming the event live to the Youtubes under the title “crazy neighbors!! wtf!!” Not Franklin. After cracking two Spotted Cows, he sat down and had a long heart-to-heart, explaining that this wasn’t just the greatest soundtrack of all time, it was symbolic of a man – a man who had nothing in this cruel world but heart – a heart so strong it was only surpassed by his courage – courage to defy enormous odds – odds stacked up so high you’d need an elevator. But this man didn’t have a magic elevator. Just some turtles. But that’s beside the point, which is that the man in question wasn’t a man at all – that man was AMERICA!

I can only assume a very sincere apology and epic make-out session took place afterwards. I couldn’t tell you because after Franklin said “America” something inside me clicked and I just started running through the streets humming the choruses of those lengendary tracks (…There’s no easy way out…BOM-BOM. There’s no short-cut ho-ome!... BOM-BOM!…), shadow punching, dipping and dodging along the way.

Being the smallest market in the NFL but with a fiercely loyal fan base, (Green Bay and) the Packers will always have some ol’ Rock in them. (That’s despite what Philly may argue.) Our progress from nobody underdogs to champion over the last 20 years speaks to this. However, we seem to be somewhat stuck in a holding pattern of having mostly very good teams that, for whatever reason, don’t take it to the next and highest level. In other words, we’re like the well-groomed Rocky with the money, the mansion and the badass robot Paulie wants to nail. Our team is downright sexy – like Cindy Crawford circa 1990 wearing nothing but a string cheese bikini. Who’s hungry? WOOF!

Trading passion for glory and losing the dreams on the past and basically everything else that Survivor says can happen. Not saying it has, but it can. I have full faith that we have the talent and personnel to get this done – I think most people are in the same Trans Am. But a little more fight in the dog; a little more us against the world mentality never hurt. In fact, it can bring world peace. I’ve seen it.

I'm Always Home. I'm Uncool.

I'll be completely honest and forthright with you all right now, I hate draft hype. I think it's 90% B.S. and 10% advertising revenue. Well, that was probably the old ratio, now with the brain-trust down at NFL Headquarters stretching the draft out this year, it's probably more like 80-20, but people can come up with statistics to prove anything, 14% of all people know that.

The so-called experts proclaim to know who's going when, what teams need what, who they're going to draft, and whether the GM wears boxers or briefs. This is a house of lies! Then you take the Packers, and the so-called experts who already know nothing, know even less. It would take Professor Charles Xavier to actually know what Ted's going to do with each of his picks, and that's only if he ripped it from Ted's mind. Thompson will take a draft prediction and destroy it before you can say, "trade-down".  From here on out, I am only interested in what is real. Real people, real feelings, that's it. That's all I'm interested in..... But hey, mock drafts drive traffic right?  Ha! You bet they do.

So now you think I'm going to do a Packers' mock draft don't you?  Nope, not even close, so move along if that's what you're after. Because mock drafts aren't cool, and regardless if the only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone when you're uncool, I refuse to stoop to doing a mock draft. 1) Because I'd have a better chance hitting the jackpot at Oneida Casino than accurately predicting who the Packers will take and 2) I've already found the sure-fire means for figuring out the future of the Packers:

Listen to THIS with a candle burning and you'll see the Packers entire future.


As good friend of the Ranter, D the Dragon, said the other day: "ESPN? Mel Kiper? He's a drunken buffoon posing as a poet.  Give me The Packer Ranter. They got the courage to be drunken buffoons, which makes them poetic."

So.....who goes at 23?

Mild Jackassery

Occasional Thought: One time I saw Dustin Diamond at a Walmart in West Bend. He noticed me gawking and said, “Hey what’s up man” as he walked by. I realized then and there he should’ve played Zach Morris. What a cool dude.

In a rare deviation from football, I recently attended the first round of the NCAA tournament in Milwaukee with some beanbag-tossing cohorts. The first thing everybody pointed out was that the Bradley Center wasn’t serving alcohol. We all had done our homework. So we pooled some money and went on a fast and furious booze run, clearing out the liquor store’s selection of airplane bottles minus the gin.

Getting through security at the game was a breeze thanks in part to our good friend, Dingleberry. His ingenious plan of duct-taping the bottles to his leg and then wrapping bunch of Ace bandages over it and limping in as if he got hit by a car totally worked. Once in, we maneuvered through the crowd to the nearest bathroom where we unwrapped Dingleberry and divvied up the goods. I ended up with ten Jagermeisters, seven Absolute Citrons, some Jameson and a Sex on the Beach (nice!) for the day. I was set.

Unfortunately, it was probably the most boring first round in the entire tournament but the group was content to enjoy ourselves with some outrageous banter, numerous bets and the occasional nudie pic courtesy of Woody and his fancy iPhone. As the empty bottles piled up, we got louder and more obnoxious (shocking). Then, as we were discussing the cheerleaders at the concession area, Dingleberry interjects, “There’s AJ Hawk!”

Sure enough, #50 and his unmistakable medieval warrior hair walked right by us. My whole world turned upside down. It was the last place I would think to see a Packer. But then again, his alma mater Ohio State was playing. Of course!

“AJ!!” I blasted. He looked and I froze. “Um…2010! Best…year…EVER!” He continued walking without a reaction.

I immediately came to the realization I was Drunk Fan. You know, the one who screams whatever comes to mind because the alcohol had dissolved the verbal filter he once had. I felt especially bad doing this to one of the Packers. Any other team/player, fine. But not one of our own. When the players talk about Green Bay and living in Wisconsin, it’s not uncommon for them to mention that community all knows who they are but let them go about their business without making a deal out of their celebrity. No one else among the hundred crowded in the concession area bothered Hawk. Just me.

Woody then noted he heard Rodgers was in the building, too.

“WHERE??!!” I demanded to know. Surely I could’ve prepared something better for him.

Don't Be Hasty

Two wise men once said, "What an absolutely beautiful day. Warm sun, beautiful women..." "and the air is just right for drinking."

Not only is the air just right for drinking, it's also just right for prepping your yard for the summer. The unseasonably warm weather is most welcome, and it allows for a everyone to get a jump-start on their raking, pruning, planting, and general mucking about in their yards. I tend to maintain a modest yard with a classic landscaping look. In other words, I stay away from the sculptures, the Trans Am up on blocks, and the fountains. However, I was feeling a little bolder this year, and thought I would show off my Packer pride. Living in Minnesota, my only logical move was to visit the Packers Pro Shop.

I've never really found a Packer product that I didn't like (Other than last year's special teams. Boom!), but then I found this. My only reaction: Is this a joke? Look, I get being tacky ironically; I love Zubaz, but this is absurd.

"Add some character to your trees!" Ummm... it's a tree, it has character because it's a tree. Adding a pedophile face to it is not giving it character, it's torturing it. The last time someone tortured a tree like this, he got his ass kicked by Treebeard and the rest of Fangorn Forest. Not only does it looking like a peeping Tom, it looks like a peeping Tom with terrible taste in headwear. Would you like to wake up in the morning and have this tree-man staring you in the face while you sip your coffee? Me neither.

Do yourself a favor and get this little guy. "Sure to be a conversation starter..." Conversation starter, indeed.

"Hey, that's a Packer gnome."

"Yep."

"You want another beer?"

"Yep."

On second thought, maybe I'll just plant a shrub.

Caption Contest

This gem of a snapshot that Franklin sent me tells at least a thousand jokes, most of them probably good. You’ve got McCarthy glued to something in the distance, Ted waist deep in his charts, ESPN/Mel Kiper in the background and the walls plastered with team depth charts.

There’s an ocean of comedic opportunity here. Let’s see what you got. What are Ted and Mike thinking?

Meet Your Neighbor

In an effort to better understand what makes Packer fans tick in our Packer Neighborhood, I have come up with a list of questions that, in my humble opinion, will tell you everything you’ll ever need to know about the people behind the scenes of the numerous and exceptional Packers’ blogs. These are the guys Robert and I read on a daily basis and you should too if you call yourself a fan.

Now up: the one and only Aaron Nagler from over at Cheesehead TV. Robert and I are honored that Aaron was able to take time from his prodigious tweeting, feeding the info-hungry Packer masses with new blog posts, and hob-nobbing with the NFL media-elite at the NFL Draft Combine to answer some questions. Aaron definitely kept up the high standard that Alex and Brian set before him.

1) If you woke up in the middle of the night, and Ted Thompson was standing over your bed watching you sleep, what would you offer him to drink? (that's the polite thing to do) Why? Definitely a Newcastle Brown Ale, because it’s all I’d have in the fridge other than approximately a thousand juice boxes. I’ve been told Ted doesn’t imbibe, but damn it, if he’s going to wake me up in the middle of the night, he’ll take what he’s given.

2) What's your favorite '80s hair band, and how do you relate them to the Packers? (this is relative, you may hate 80's hair bands, but if you had to choose one, who would it be) I do indeed, and did then, hate 80s hair bands. But the obvious answer here is…um…Ratt? Because the Packers make the world go…Round and Round?

3) Which cheddar is beddar: mild, medium, or sharp? Subquestion: How the hell does California think they can make cheese? Sharp by a mile. California thinks it can do a lot of things – and then realizes it has no money and has a faded action star as its Governor. Wisconsin, on the other hand, knows what it does well and sticks to that. Cheese, beer, brats and, of course, Packers football.

4) If John Rambo, in his prime of First Blood Part II, played for the Packers, which position would he play? Is he Pro Bowl material, or just a serviceable player? I’ll take the second part first – not only is he a perennial Pro Bowler, he’s a first Ballot Hall of Famer. Like Bart Starr, he was a nobody until he found someone who believed in him. For Starr it was Vince Lombardi, for Rambo it was Sam Trautman. As for what position he would play – very, very Strong Safety.

5) Ty Webb or Jeffrey Lebowski? I already know the answer to this, so who's your favorite subcharacter: Bunny, Jackie Treehorn, Brandt, Karl Hungus, Woo, Knox Harrington, or Larry Sellers? How do you leave Jesus Quintana off this list? 8 year olds dude. 8 year olds.

6) If you woke up tomorrow and the Packers ceased to exist and no one but you remembered them, how would you convince everyone they are the greatest organization in sports? I would tell them about the last time I ever saw my grandmother, my mother’s mother, Violet Rose Wilson. (Yes, Violet Rose) – I would tell them how the last time we ever had lunch together I learned more about her than I had ever known and all because we talked about the Packers. She told me the most amazing story of going to watch the Packers play back when they were still playing in a farmer’s field. Have you seen the opening scenes of Leatherheads, where George Clooney and the pro teams are playing ball with a bunch of cows watching while the college game is being played in a huge stadium? That was EXACTLY the picture she painted at that lunch. That conversation meant more to me than anything. It happened while I was still in college down in North Carolina, over Thanksgiving break and she had passed by the time Christmas came along. I will never forget how close we were that afternoon. And it never would have happened without the Packers.

7) Don Hutson basically invented the receiver position, what's your favorite invention: the Cheesehead, the truck-bed tailgate, or the Green Bay Sweep? While tailgating is fun and the Sweep is awe-inspiring, I have to go with the Cheesehead here, both for the obvious reason and because a Cheesehead once saved a man’s life in a plane crash. True story.

I added a few more questions since I feel that inquiring minds would want to know these things:

8) Corey seems to be a shadowy figure that appears during Cheesehead Nation broadcasts and then retreats to his lair, if you could compare the two of you to a Superhero duo, who would it be and why? Well, there’s nothing SuperHeroish about us. Not even remotely. I think we’re probably closer to Vladimir and Estragon. Only instead of waiting for a title character that never shows, we’re waiting hopelessly for the NFL Network to give us a ton of money to do our show.

9) Say the internet died tomorrow, I'm talking a gruesome, bloody death. What would you do with your spare time? (I think you may have a lot of it. Lol) Lol? Who are you, Nick Barnett? I’d probably get a lot more done.

10) Lombardi. You have expressed your and Corey's desire to be in the film, and seeing as how you made it to the NFL Combine, I have faith that you somehow will be. However, the only spot left in the film is playing a schlub being drilled by Ray Nitschke (who I personally think should be played by a bulked up Timothy Olyphant. Thoughts?). However, the take isn't going right, and it has to be done over and over and over and over... You don't get a stuntman, extra, how many hits could you take? First off, love the Olyphant idea. (Anything to get him out of a damn cowboy hat. Justified? Really?) As for the role and number of hits – Over/under is set at 2. I’ll let the readers take what they will.

11) Last but not least, other than Tim Tebow, what's the oddest thing you saw at the NFL combine? John Clayton's hair.

Fantastic answers, all of them. I would be completely and utterly convinced of the greatness of the Packers after hearing about the afternoon with your Grandmother. Great, and touching story.

Do you think Godot will ever show up? The waiting is the hardest part.

In my defense, Aaron, nobody f%&*s with the Jesus, and I always thought John Turturro turned him into a major character. But, yes, 8 year-olds, Dude.

G-Men Origins: The Green & Gold Surfer

Born Aaronoldius Rodgers in the idyllic planet California, the Surfer possesses a surplus of gifts that combine otherworldly strength, stamima and accuracy, whether firing leather lasers or scampering about like the boys. His profound accuracy was later discovered to originate from his mental bond to the pigskin, which moves in response to his mental commands, which are vast and fast, much like the women of his home planet.

The Green & Gold Surfer originally made a promise with SilverHair to lead the G-Men after Greybeard’s inevitable exodus. He spent years in a purgartory-like state, biding his time and secretly honing the skills that would eventually dominate the Norse Galaxy.

Despite fears his natural armor would be easily exposed, the Surfer has shown the ability to absorb energy blows, even when his protective shield was acting more like Swiss Cheese (not mentioning any G-Men names though… Barbre Shop). He also displays keen senses of detecting foul beings of mostly purple and blue shades.

The Surfer does not sleep and is known for maintaining a Zen-like balance. He can survive and thrive in almost any environment, whether sub-zero tundra or black holes. The G-Men proved wise in agreeing to terms with the Surfer that would allow him to lead the team for years to come.

Mark Murphy, You're Our Only Hope

The interweb was abuzz this week, at least the small corner related to the Packers. Legendary actor, Robert DeNiro, star of Raging Bull, Taxi Driver, Deer Hunter, and The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle, will play legendary coach Vince Lombardi. Awesome. Seems like a good fit to me.

Following up on this, Packers President, Mark Murphy, indicated he had been in contact with the filmmakers and there was some talk of filming in Green Bay, a no-brainer if you ask me, and also….drum-roll please…holding the premiere at Lambeau Field. (Thanks, Brian)

I’ve only been to two film premieres in my life. One, on accident, was for Any Given Sunday in London. After a few too many pints down the pub, I stumbled into a crowd of people and just stood there for awhile, nothing draws a crowd, like a crowd as it were. To my enjoyment, I saw Cameron Diaz (yes, she is in fact hot), but soon got bored with the hoopla and left. The other premiere was for this (doyourself a favor and scroll down to the "Recommendations" section) Anyway, I watched the filming of Twister’s Revenge during the summer of 1987 while I was camping at Council Grounds State Park just outside of Merrill, Wisconsin. The film (term loosely used here) was shot in Merrill and nearby Gleason, and had a small premiere at Merrill’s Cosmo Theatre. The cast pulled up in the monster truck, Mister Twister…. did I forget to mention how glitzy and glamorous all of this was? The premiere was truly special indeed, and it harkened back to simpler time in moviemaking, back when product placement and cross-marketing didn’t drive scripts.

Getting back to Murphy’s comment about the premiere at Lambeau. Having been to a film premiere like Twister’s Revenge, I can tell you a premiere at Lambeau would be highly entertaining for both the film’s cast and crew, as well as Packer fans. Now, I’m not talking about a premiere with red carpet, paparazzi, Louis Vuitton, and champagne. I’m more of the opinion that this premiere should be tailgating, Packer fans, jerseys and a fedora or two, and Leinenkugel’s. Now, maybe Murphy and the filmmakers meant a small premiere consisting of VIPs, but I implore you, Mr. Murphy open this up to the people that made the Packers: the fans.
I want to be at Lambeau and watch this movie with a packed stadium. I want to cheer on Lombardi, Starr, Hornung, and Kramer, and get chills with other Packer fans hearing stuff like this: “There is no room for second place. There is only one place in my game and that is first place. I have finished second twice in my time at Green Bay, and I never want to finish second again” and this classic. Let's be honest, a movie is always better when you see it in a full theatre, what could be better than a full stadium?

Mark Murphy, please make this happen, or Mister Twister may become angry, and you won’t like him when he’s angry. Trust me, I’ve seen his revenge.

The Kinter – Too Much Too Ask?

Last season, I had the privilege of introducing a not-too-shabby sheila from Shiocton to the game of football. She came from a family of huge NASCAR fans and had always watched the NFL/Packers with little more than a casual interest.

However, she was more than willing to listen to me explain the rules and nuances of the game over a few Leinies one MNF. Of course I started from the very beginning (a very good place to start). Soon, she was firing zingers left and right. They were the kind of zingers that can keep a man up at night, lost in thought, frustration and sometimes revelation.

She asked me, “Why is it called football? I’ve always wondered that. I mean, if you think about it, they use their hands way more than their feet. It should really be called handball.” Wow. That was a really really good point. I honestly had never thought about that before. “It’s tradition,” I responded firmly, trying my best to sound like I knew what I was talking about.

Later, as I was outlining special teams coverage, she pointed out that the punter was different from the field goal kicker. “So there’s two guys on the team and all they do is kick the ball? That’s kind of weird. Why can’t just one guy do both?” she asked. “No, no, no.” I scoffed. “They’re specialists. Trained for a specific job, you see. It’s complicated.” “Whatever, that’s dumb,” she replied.

But as I laughed her “ridiculous” question, a shiny revelation came to light – she was absolutely right. Why can’t one guy handle all the kicking duties? Simply combine the kicker and punter positions into one: the Kinter. why hasn’t this been thought of before? It’s probably the most logical evolution since Red Bull/Vodka.

Seriously, if you’re a kicking specialist; as in all you do is kick footballs, what’s the problem? You’ve obviously got the leg strength and have proven you can place your foot where you want on the ball. It’s still special teams. For adding just one natural extension of your abilities, you could make yourself that much more valuable to your team. Hell, you’d probably get paid twice as much! You’d open a roster spot. And best of all, you’d be an innovator; the guy who finally stood up and said, “Wait a minute. I’m pretty sure this is dumb. Yep, this is stupid.”

Happy B-Day, Johnny!

Men are not responsible for either remembering buddies' birthdays, or buying them gifts in the rare event that they should happen to remember. This would only really happen if some other reason for remembering the day came into play, like it was St. Patrick's Day or August 11th. All that can be expected from another guy is the following conversation:

"Dude, it's your birthday today? Cool."
"Yeah, petty sweet."
"Man, I didn't know that, how old are you now?"
"The big ____-____"
"Sweet. Here's a shot. Let me get you another beer."

Transaction complete. Now, of course it is customary for it to proceed farther than that, but if not, the previous conversation is all that is required between men.

That is, of course, unless you find the ultimate, one-of-kind, perfect gift for the Cliff to your Norm. Millhouse to your Bart. Egon to your Ray. Well, Robert and I found that gift for good friend of the Packer Ranter, John Johnson, aka The Company Man. I was surfing around this new website called "eBay". Okay, okay, I understand that it's not new, but auctions scare me. They would scare you too if you went to an auction with your grandpa as a child and accidentally bought him a $20,000 snow plow. I still owe him $5,000, and Mr. Plow doesn't forgive debts. Anyway, we found the greatest gift that Ted Thompson's #1 fan could get for his birthday:



That's right, Robert and I got John Johnson a custom-made 4x6 Ted Thompson picture and an authentic 2009 Brookfield Police Ted Thompson card...both autographed by the man himself. Who would want autographed GM memorabilia? Well, you've never met John Johnson, I guess. The most damning criticism of Ted Thompson, I've heard from him? "Hmmm....that's a big contract for Grant. Not sure about that. Well, In Ted I Trust." (Turns out it was a pretty good deal, in Ted he trusts, indeed)

Well, that may have been damning criticism, but the best praise I heard: "This is the best birthday gift I got."

Hell. Yeah. Now, how old are you?

Summer Rubber Had Me a Blast

Some things are not easy to admit.

Like the time I soiled my pants very badly in junior high after eating a moldy bologna sammy on a triple-dog-dare.

Or the day my mom walked in on me kissing a mirror when I was seven (it was practice for the big game someday hopefully with Greta Heinemann).

However, the summer when I was five became more than just an embarrassing moment, it was a season of shame. You see, I had these reoccurring dreams – night terrors, really – of Darth Vader chasing me up the stairs. I would try and climb as fast as I could, but the stairs turned into quicksand and I got stuck. Right before D.V. would grab me, I would wake up. And the bed would be wet.

This happened 2-3x/week, my mom tells me, for a good month before my parents did something about it. No, they didn’t get me a therapist or apologize for letting me watch Star Wars too young, they got me a twin-size rubber sheet… with a giant Packers “G” logo on it.

You see, my parents knew the one thing in my life that I would never try and harm in any way would my turtle Mortimer or the Packers. They must’ve been out of the ocean-themed rubber sheets so they got the Packers ones instead. And I’ll tell you, they worked like a charm. No, they didn’t stop the Vader dreams right away but after we started using the rubber sheets, I would only wake up screaming… the bed was dry!

My nighttime confidence grew so much that one night I gave Vader a swift kick to the helmet and he stopped chasing me. It was the last Star Wars nightmare I would ever have until the real-life nightmare that was Jar Jar Binks.

Out of curiosity, I emailed my mom to ask where they bought the Packer rubber sheet. Apparently, it wasn’t a sheet at all – it was an all-weather XL grill cover that they cut up and bungee-corded to the bed. Well played!

The List: Item #63

As we have gotten older, Robert and I have become more responsible, especially in regards to our tailgating experiences. Our initial forays into tailgating were successful, if Spartan. We would get to the parking lot with the barest essentials, but invariably would have forgotten a key component: kraut, or buns, or spicy brown mustard, or a bottle opener. Lucky for us, tailgating Packer fans are the most generous subsection of humans on the planet discovered to date, so we would always barter beers (That was one item that never seemed to be forgotten. We may be forgetful in our excitement for game day, but we’re not morons) or extra meats for the lacking items.

However, our early experiences have taught us well, and now we rarely forget anything. The reason? We have begun to compile a list of essential items that we deem mandatory for Packer fans in search of maximum tailgating enjoyment. We simply refer to it as “The List”. It is an ever-evolving collection of things that get packed into Robert’s Tercel early morning on gameday. As Packer fans have been generous to us in the past, we now hope to pay them back by sharing “The List” with them. Over the course of the offseason, The Ranter will be highlighting items from “The List” with the intent of helping others achieve an Impressive tailgating experience.

Without further adieu, The List: Item #63: A set of Perfect Fit Buttons

Unless you are blessed enough to have a pair of Zubaz, or you are one of the few, the proud, the “I wear sweatpants in public” crowd, you probably will be wearing a pair of pants to the game that have a button. The problem with this is, you will also be eating copious amounts of grilled meat, baked beans, chips, chili, and not to mention consuming a lion’s share of beer. While this is enjoyable, the resulting expansion of your midsection is uncomfortable at best, and painful at worst. Hence, Item #63, an inconspicuous means of releasing the pressure of your waistband for the next few hours. This will ensure that you will be able to stand and scream in comfort for all of the Packers’ plays, while continuing to fill your gullet with Leinies. In addition, thanks to your Perfect Fit Buttons, the post game celebration at Stadium View or Anduzzi’s will be able to continue into the wee hours of the morning. Ahhhhh…..

You can thank us this fall.

Once Upon a Pie

Every industry has its peak season. For those in the business of making pizza pies in the US of A, it coincides with the NFL season. During those four months, you can expect to generate 2/3 of your revenue for the year. If you’ve worked it, you know it’s as chaotic as it gets and definitely not for those who like to dilly dally/fiddle faddle/lolly gag. But if you can somehow grind your way through, it can pay off big.

During the ’96 season, pizza delivery was really booming in Wisconsin, and especially for our store. We had what some call the perfect storm of success. It was beautiful. After cutting ties with some major turdlingers, we realized we had kind of a Pro Bowl Pizza team. That is, we had quality tossers, efficient drivers (yours truly), smooth operators and to top it off, one of the pies we concocted one drunk Tuesday – the Triple Bacon Cheese Dripper – became successful beyond our wildest imaginations.

My store had almost 5,000 deliveries alone (a franchise record to this day, my friends) and I put almost 25k on my Tercel that season (that’s with taking game days off per my arrangement with my boss). Yeah, we were working double and triple shifts but almost always with a smile on our face. After all, we were making unprecedented money (I had a stack of tips smashed as thick as phone book). And almost as good, our customers loved seeing us. Some simply tipped more, others offered homemade knickknacks, and it wasn’t unheard of to be invited in for beers and yes, even the occasional motorboat. Life was good!

Our store performed so well that we each received a bonus from corporate of $150 (before taxes) and five vouchers for a free large one-topping with the expiration date missing (suckers!). It was the kind of reward that dissolved your cynicism and rejuvenated your faith in mankind – it truly felt that great.

But as much as I like to reminisce about that year, we owe it all to the Packers. Without a doubt, they were the hypodermic needle for the greater Green Bay/Wisconsin economy. Our store, like so many others, was simply riding the crest of that magical Packers season. I think that season was best summed upped by my coworker Geoff, a promising young tosser with webbed feet. He said, “Dude. You know what I just realized? When the Packers win, we all win!”

That’s damn right, Geoff.

The Ranter Needs Your Help!

Some people (especially radio guys it seems) hate it when you ask them, gently suggest, or flat out tell them what to talk about. Here at the Ranter, we take no such stance. We like to think of ourselves as a collective, a commune if you will. We take suggestions, we take questions, and sometimes we’ll even take direct orders, usually not without a snarky comment, but we’ll still take it. Our ultimate goal is your happiness, and not like the happiness created by booze; well, at least a strong pairing for the boozy happiness that so many of our readers, all eight of you, drift along in.

So here’s my request to you, let us know what you want to read about. Because, contrary to popular belief, it’s not easy to come up with the stuff that graces the posts of The Ranter, regardless of how easy Greenfield makes it seem. Let’s be honest, the offseason is too damn long for us to come up with original stuff every day. Hell, it took me ten minutes to come up with the idea of doing a Rant with no idea other than asking for Rant ideas. Brilliant! Thank you!

Do you want more G-Men Origins? Who do you want ‘The Chronicler’ to immortalize next? Classic G-men characters like ‘24 Karat Hornung’ or newer heroes like ‘The Green and Gold Surfer’?

Do you want G-Men Nemesis Rants? ‘The Grey Ghost’, ‘Rodeo Clown’, and ‘The Weeper’?

Do you want more in-depth draft analysis? A mock, mock if you will? For example: would you rather draft Mel Kipers freak-show hair in the first round, or trade down and draft the idiot, over-reactive Jets fans that always make the draft hilarious to watch?

Do you want more interviews with other Packers bloggers? I know Alex Tallitsch and Brian Carriveau really set the bar high, but I think we can get to know some of these people who spend their time writing for the interwebs about all things Packers. Any specific questions you want asked?

Do you want to know how many times Robert rode the mechanical bull outside Stadium View after the Packer/Viking game this year? And why? Or as I like to call it: “Adventures in Tailgating”. Sorry, no Elisabeth Shue…at least not THIS year.

Do you want more Guest Rants by wordsmiths like Lony Olec, D the Dragon, or The Company Man: John Johnson (Ted Thompson’s #1 Fan)?

Do you want something so crazy, that it would violently tear at our sanity, and make us laugh hysterically?!?!? I’m not that clever, so the topic will have to come from you.

Do you want me to stop being lazy and just think up stuff on my own? Fine, but tell Greenfield he has to buy better beer then, the Duff’s is just leaving me sluggish.

If you’ve got an idea or want to have your voice heard and responded to, leave a comment or send an email…it’s a long offseason, so we will get to it. If not, Robert is Director of The Ranter Complaint Department.

G-Men Origins: Iron Thigh

Born Masonathan Gargomel Crosby IV, he is a G-Men specialist and socialite playboy whose right leg was engineered into a high-powered bionic weapon known as Iron Thigh.

As a teenager, Mason’s young thigh showed promise. It was girthier than the other boys and more defined as well. He routinely triumphed in Herculean-like challenges – the Texas leg press, the leg push-up, kick the keg and so on. The legend of Mason’s thigh grew and earned him an opportunity to serve with the Buffaloes of Colorado. There, his leg ego ran wild. He charged women to touch it, convinced the alchemy club to bronze it, and even ordered biomedical department to routinely experiment on his thigh lest he use his legs as a nutcracker and their heads as giant walnuts… or something.

After several failed experiments, Iron Thigh was completed. Upon graduation, he enlisted with the G-Men and proved to be immediately effective. The pressures have since mounted for Iron Thigh and although his leg remains as powerful as ever, it’s less about the length and more about the width these days.

Subsequent re-imaginings of Iron Thigh have placed him in both the Civil War as a cannonball kicker and also as the star of Kicked Off, a dating show where he sends unwanted women into the abyss with an otherworldly booming kick. For now, Iron Thigh seeks to regain his seemingly lost reputation as a mighty leg specialist for the G-Men.

With the 23rd Pick...

I was told at an early age that if you don’t toot your own horn, no one else will. So here I go. I read Don Banks’ first mock draft last week, and I was pleasantly surprised by his excellent choice for the Packers at #23. He went with Maryland junior offensive tackle, Bruce Campbell. Here’s my toot. I liked this pick a couple weeks before Banks did. Ha! …and most of you think I don’t know what I am talking about.

That’s about the entire extent of similarity in our pick; mainly, that we agree it should be Campbell. Banks offers up legitimate football reasoning mostly that he is a hulking, man-beast. My rationale for this pick is purely selfish. I’ve never seen Campbell play, I don’t know if he’s ever going to be a great left tackle for the Packers, but I do know his selection by the Packers will make gamedays even more enjoyable. I know you’re thinking: not possible, gamedays are like beer, the only way they can get better is to have more of them, and the Packers won’t play 16 times a week. Well, hold on and let me explain. You see, whenever I hear the name Bruce Campbell, I can’t help but think about shopping smart, shopping S-Mart. (If that doesn’t ring the awesome-gong in your melon, go buy this and come back.)

The fact is this could be your gameday:

Campbell gets called for illegal hands to the face: “It got into my hand and it went bad, so I lopped it off at the wrist.”

Campbell lines up across from Jared Allen: “Yo, she-bitch! Let’s go!”

Campbell and Rodgers in the huddle:
C: “34 Clatto Verata Nicto veer option”
R: “Well, repeat them.
C: “34 Clatto Verata Nicto veer option”
R: “Again.”
C: “I got it, I got it! I know your damn plays, alright?”

Campell staring at the Bears’ defense: “Now I swear the next one of you primates even touches me…”

Campbell recovers a fumble: “Got you, didn’t I? You little sucker.”

Campbell pancakes a D-end and stands above him: “Hail to the king, baby.”

Campbell shakes hands at the coin toss: “Name’s Ash. Housewares.”

Colledge misses a block and James Campen screams at Campbell and Colledge:
DC: “My bad.”
BC: “Good. Bad. I’m the one with the guns.” {flexes both massive arms}

Seriously, I could go on all day, but the point is having Campbell at left tackle would lead to your Sunday afternoon being filled with grooovy quotes like these. The question you must ask yourself is would you rather listen to Ash…or Joe Buck?

I thought so. Give me some sugar, baby

G-Men Origins: Lion King

Lion King is a member of the family Secondarie where males reach upwards of 14 stone. Visually, Lion King is highly distinctive and easily recognized by his Predator-like black mane. With uncanny speed and power to match, Lion King can easily take down prey of similar size or larger.

After seeing limited battlefield action under the Elephant Seal (not to be confused with the Walrus), Lion King was subsequently traded to the G-Men for a quaff of mead and some battle armor in the year of our Lord, three and two-thousand. This proved a very unwise action by the Elephant Seal but extremely fortuitous for the G-Men.

In his time defending the G-Men, Lion King has displayed great feats of athleticism, strength and cunning. Like many in the family Secondarie, Lion King spends half his time resting and the other half in intermittent bursts of activity, usually in coordinated hunts with Woodchuck. He has encountered numerous enemies, consistently rendering them powerless and ineffectual.

Dedicated and highly durable, Lion King recently suffered a rare injury only a level six Liger could heal .This leaves Lion King’s future with the G-Men somewhat in doubt. What is certain is that when Lion King is on the field, the G-Men have an increased chance of victory.

I Can Admit It

Looks like Lony got his wish.

I was incredibly ambivalent last year when Favre was in New York. It didn’t bother me, and it didn’t instill any emotions whatsoever. However, put Favre in my front yard wearing purple, and I was forced to feel something. My feeling amounted to raging disgust, and an even greater hatred for the Vikings than I already had. I know, I know, I didn’t even think that was possible. Living in the heart of Vikings’ territory means I had a front row seat to the Savior Bandwagon being gassed, loaded, and peeling out of the station. It made me gag and choke on the awful fumes.

I’ll never even remotely come close to rooting for the Vikings, but I didn’t hate Favre, disgust is different than hate. (Disgust aside, I was impressed by the fact that he kept getting back up after being beaten like a piñata all evening.) So yeah, watching the game, I was cheering against the Vikings and that includes #4. I couldn’t have written a better ending to this than the one that played out yesterday. The Vikings lost, and Favre was a pretty big part of that. I enjoyed the irony of it playing out eerily similar to how it played out for the Packers in 2007. I was happy, very happy, and then something happened that totally rocked my foundation of disgust. I realized I couldn’t enjoy the Vikings’ loss without admitting this…

Inner monologue:

“No, Franklin, you can’t do it.”
“I have to! I need to get it off my chest!”
“You will lose your credibility and bring scorn upon the House of Hillside.”
“What credibility?!?”
“….good point. Have at.”

Okay, so here it is, you want an admission? I’ll give you an admission: I had a momentary lapse of disgust. I felt…empathy. After that 16 year-old kicker hit the winning field goal, the camera went to Favre on the sideline with a blank look on his face…and I felt bad for him. Then he looked on the verge of tears when he was talking to Drew Brees, and I was sympthetic. No matter how you felt about him over the course of the season, I bet that you did too. For some reason, Favre elicits emotions that others don’t or wouldn’t, and you know what? That’s cool.

But you know what else happened? My eyes refocused, I saw the jersey he was wearing, and I returned to feelings of…no, not disgust this time, but to ambivalence.

So, here’s to future ambivalence towards #4.

One Man's Opinion

LXIV Caliber
By Lony Olec

Let’s get one thing straight: I don’t hate Brett Favre. He took us to the big show twice, won it once, and came within spitting distance plenty of times. He allowed me to hold my head up high as a Packer backer, which is difficult when you are a fan of America’s greatest sports institution in a city as barbaric as Chicago, where holding your head up high for the Green Bay Packers, the finest collection of humanitarians and athletes ever assembled, is considered a cue for the Molesters of the Midway to throw bottles at your face. So when I finally quite my job as an engineer in the nineties and moved to De Pere to be closer to my team, I was glad that I traded in a $87,000-a-year position to start as a new guy in the electricians’ union at $9 an hour, a tradition of football excellence that any human whose heart still pumps blood could be proud of, AND a winning season. So I don’t hate Brett Favre. I just want him to rue the day he took the fans and the people of Green Bay for granted.

I want him to be injured early in either the NFC Championship game or Super Bowl XLIV – not much, maybe a low spinal or both of his femurs broken – and then, while he watches from his hospital bed, I want his team, the ‘greatest team he ever played on’, to collapse. I want the opposing team to crush the Vikings, the way a 400-lb. lineman crushed Brett’s pelvis – the way that Mississippi drama queen crushed our hearts.

That’s all. I am not a vengeful guy. I just want Brett to realize that he should have quit when he said he would. I want him to realize that he would never have found a greater family than the Packer family, and that he should have just appreciated that he was able to play, and play well, for the greatest football city in the world, rather than head to some minor league dump like New York or Minneapolis and try to be a big fish in a little pond. You always were a big fish, Brett! You were always the biggest fish!

And when Brett hobbles around his home after he finally retires for good, requiring a walker because of his shattered knees, or has to have ramps installed because he is paralyzed from the waist down, I want him to consider the blob of tapioca pudding staining his t-shirt, dribbled from his mouth when his nursing assistant fed him, and say to himself, “Man, I had a good thing in Green Bay.”

I just want justice.

The views of Lony Olec do not necessarily reflect those of the Packer Ranter.

G-Men Origins: Hawkman

Part Midwestern humanoid and part Broad-Winger, the Hawkman is known for his bulkish figure and attacking ferocity. Thought to be the reincarnation of an ancient Nordic prince, the Hawkman’s conspicuous long, blonde hair is reminiscent of a violent medieval warrior but also serves as a female attractor when not in combat.

As a first-class graduate, the Hawkman was believed to have mythical abilities that would help lead the G-Men for centuries. However, success was mixed for the Hawkman, and he was relegated by Silver Hair to serve on special missions instead of patrolling the main battlefield.

The Hawkman remains a controversial figure. There are those who believe he will someday help lead the G-Men to victory while others suggest he would not yield a return more substantial than a skin of goat’s milk from a one-eyed gypsy.

Views from the Hillside.

Here you go Ranter fans, my season-ending Views from the Hillside. You may not want, but...you've got it. When you're as meat drunk on red meat as I am, your mind can't think longer than bullet points.

• Each year after the season is over, I go to the store, buy a big fat steak, grill it while drinking PBR tallboys, and then work my way through it. By the time I’m done savoring each morsel, I’ve come to grips with the end of Packer football for another year. If I feel like haven’t completely reconciled my feelings and let go, I do the same thing the following evening….I’ve had four steaks this week, and it seems like a fifth is on the menu for tonight (hence, the meat drunkeness). Man, this is getting expensive.
• I will not be in Minneapolis this weekend which is fantastic because the smell emanating from the Metrodome would probably kill me. Jerry Jones, Tony Romo, Brent, and Jared Allen are all in the same place at the same time? The EPA should declare a preemptive toxic spill now and just hope they can stop the overflow from polluting the Mississippi more than it all ready is.
• Two of Greg Jennings receptions on Sunday were absolutely insane…and I don’t think either involved a push-off.
• I’ve been told to quit complaining about the refs more than once this week, and you know what? I’m not going to do it. Do I really, truly believe they were the reason we lost the game? Of course not, but they didn’t help, and if I want to bitch about it, I can. There’s only one reason for it: it’s CATHARTIC. Plain and simple. Some people blame Mike McCarthy, some blame Mason Crosby, some blame Robert (he even blames himself), some blame Jarrett Bush, but in the end it all achieves the same purpose: it helps you feel better about losing the game and the season being over.
• The refs stunk…HA! Maybe I don’t need another porterhouse tonight.
• It’s a long offseason but 88+12+85+21+52+25+77=Optimism
• I don’t know if you pray, meditate, worship wood nymphs, or believe in nussing, and I don’t care; but keep the people of Haiti in your thoughts, and give something if you can spare it. It’s the right thing to do.
• I’ll step off my soapbox now…
• My one goal in 2010 has nothing to do with the Packers, work, or my personal life. Prior to the kickoff of the 2010 season, I plan to find out why Fox uses the robot. I know people who have never watched football in their lives who have walked into a room, looked at the TV, and said, “What’s that robot doing, and what does it have to do with this football-thing you’re watching?” Then it makes ME look stupid trying to explain it, when the whole problem actually is: THE ROBOT IS STUPID! And just an fyi: that robot is making you stupid, and I think you have the right to at least know why it exists before you end up like this.
• Bring on the draft…what's the date today? {sigh}

I Blame Myself

I thought I did everything right. I wore my Packer Zubaz to bed the night before. I sipped coffee from my lucky Packer mug in the morning. I recited Lombardi’s will to win speech to my dog after I put on her Packer collar and before we played fetch with my Aaron “The Camping Man” prototype. I set the meat out to defrost and whistled some. Everything was perfect.

But there was still seven hours until kickoff. And when I went to get the Bloody mix from the garage, a lifetime’s worth of clutter lay there, taunting me like some tormenting devil child.

“Go on, Greenfield,” the clutter spoketh. “Stop staring. Get your booze mix and leave me to revel in my chaos and filth… just like you do every other day.”

“Quiet, beast!” I yelled. “Or I shall void thee back into the abyss!”

The clutter was amused. “You silly Ranter. Have you forgotten what day it is? Did it slip your mind that your precious Green Bay Packers are in the playoffs today and you have your famous cheeseburger surprise to prepare and possibly a Rant to write? You talk to yourself, by the way. Which is how I know all this.”

“I have had just about enough of you!” I flipped on the lights, exposing the clutter for all its vile worth. I started pushing things aside. Aha! Behind the cooler and under some (collector editions, nice) nudy mags I found the shelves I bought in summer the last time I felt motivated to clean the garage.

Seven hours and ten garbage bags later, I was putting the last of the “miscellaneous shelf” items away. I had no idea what time it was because there are no clocks in there. I figured it would be fine though because pregame coverage of the GB game on the radio would let me know when I should stop working and commence my own pregame rituals. Before I knew it, an update announced that Rodgers had thrown an INT. I had the wrong station on, idiot!

I literally began choking on my Leinenkugels. Coughing and somewhat disoriented, I stumbled inside to see for myself. Like you, I then remained in shock as the Cards put up a quick 14.

Now, I’m probably being too hard on myself when I say it’s my fault the Packers lost, but I can’t help it. It’s just so abnormal for me not to be ready with plenty of time to spare for any Packer game, let alone a playoff game. Such bad joo-joo! I guess we are all questioning things right now. I just need some time to think.

Green and Gold Samurai

Samurai. Got your attention?

The warrior-elite of feudal Japan have become the stuff of legend. Known for their battlefield prowess, they were also scholars, poets, and prolific zen-gardeners (You can’t fight all the time; you need a place to tend to your wounds every now and then). They were known for their honor and respect of tradition, both within their own samurai culture and the Japanese society as a whole. But let’s be honest, ultimately a samurai is understood to be a master of combat. A sword, staff, spear, bow and arrows, are all creative tools of their death-dealing trade. Modern fictional versions of the samurai include: Jedi Knights, The Bride, this Dude, not this Dude, and even Wolverine. I could even make a wild assertion that these guys were modern version of the samurai.

The reason this all comes up is because I just watched Ronin again. For those not versed in Japanese, ronin is the term given to samurai who have no master and are motivated by the acquisition of wealth…and possibly women, but I haven’t ever heard that second part, it’s more of a personal inference. Anyway, Ronin... ronin… samurai… Ghostbusters… Nick Barnett. You don’t need to see my connections, but the point being is I got there today. Well, the Ghostbusters are actually irrelevant to this argument, but anytime you can try to justify in your head a claim that Peter Venkman and Ray Stantz are samurai, you know it’s a good day.

Back to Nick Barnett. Green Bay’s very own samurai is having a phenomenal season, which I’m sure you’re all aware of. He leads the Packers in tackles, has four sacks, and he has done all this in a new defense and while recovering from a shredded knee. Barnett must have a pretty sweet zen-garden to meditate and recover in to pull off the recovery that he has. His resume for this season and in years past speaks to the dedication he has to his craft. Yet, something always creeps into the Nick Barnett discussion, and it boggles my mind. Some Packer fans question his samurai sword celebration.

I still read or hear about people being bugged by it, or thinking it’s not being used at the appropriate time. To this I say, you’re lucky you’re not dead already. In feudal Japan, samurai had the right to kill commoners when they saw fit, and it’s lucky Barnett hasn’t seen fit to eliminate you critics with his katana. You are only breathing because #56 is merciful and doesn’t want to waste time cleaning the blood from his blade after he separates your head from your torso for your insolence.

I’ve never questioned the Barnett samurai sword. EVER. In fact, I love it. I can always see it coming, and I stand up and copy it (not nearly as well). I do this for two reasons: 1) it, and samurai, are freakin’ cool and 2) I don’t want Nick Barnett to become angered by my lack of enthusiasm. I like my head attached to my torso, thank you very much.

So, Nick, if you’re reading this, congrats on the great season, good luck in the playoffs, and here’s to many, many more samurai sword celebrations this postseason and beyond.

Aaron Rodgers MVP? Not Even Close!

The one knock that somehow keeps coming up is that Aaron Rodgers’ personality is well, not as exciting as his play. Since his game appears to be borderline flawless, some Turdvilles have latched on to the fact that Rodgers tends to remain calm and level-headed despite every opportunity to completely lose control of his emotions. Like Tim Duncan or Albert Pujols, all Aaron Rodgers does is perform at an incredibly elite level but the man can’t even take a moment to impersonate the Governator or crack a good fart joke at the presser. What the hell?

Of course I have to take this criticism with a grain of salt because it usually comes from A) casual fans or B) Favre fans. But it did get me thinking – if Aaron Rodgers is among the best players in all of pro sports but has one of the worst personalities (supposedly), who would his opposite? In other words, who might suck on gameday but could MC a roast of the great Don Rickles that night? Who, my friends, is sports’ Most Valuable Personality (MVP)?

Bubba Smith. Sure he played nine seasons in the NFL, but what he’s most known for is playing hulkish officer Hightower in the Police Academy series, aka the Gutenberg years.

Bob Uecker. A self-proclaimed awful player during his time, Uecker actually made it into the baseball HOF as an announcer. For over 30 years, Bob has been the voice behind the mic for own Milwaukee Brewers. Along the way, he yucked it up in Mr. Belvedere, awesome Miller Lite commercials, and even became most memorable sports announcer in the history of cinema. Folks, this guy is not only a Wisconsin classic, he is also a national treasure.

Jeremy Kapinos. Rumor is that our very own Packer punter is known for his hysterical practical jokes around the locker room. I heard that one of his favorite things to do is tell people they are cut during training camp. When they start to breakdown or go ballistic, Kapinos announces, “Just Kidding!” and gives them a business card that says, “You’ve just been fooled out of your jockstrap by Jeremy “Just Kidding” Kapinos. Now available for corporate events and private parties.” Just what I heard.

OK, so Rodgers is more likely to show up on the MVP or Super Bowl stage before the Saturday Night Live stage. So what? I can’t even believe I feel like I have to reiterate this, but THAT IS A GOOD THING. There is no such thing as a perfect athlete and we’ve learned that no athlete is untouchable. If it’s not their performance, it’s their personality. If it’s not their personality, it’s their behavior, and so on. But if you’d rather have someone who specializes in showmanship over leadership, you may need to question whether winning really is that important to your team. Give me Rodgers any day of the week and twice on Sunday.

Ryan Grant for Pro Bowl

I’m loving Ryan Grant and his 4.4 YPC (5.0 in December) right now and his 1200+ rushing yards and 10 TDs. And when I saw Adrian Peterson fumble away another ball (six now on the season) Monday night, I delighted in the fact that Ryan Grant has only one fumble all year. That was back in week two, btw.

Through the first couple games of the year, there were stories suggesting Grant was a talentless meathead and others saying that Thompson was irate about the contract he handed him. At the time, those knocks seemed borderline legit even though Grant's short career suggested he might be a second-half player and even though our line was more chaotic than a police riot.

At this point in the season, #25 looks to be emanating with confidence and rightfully so. He’s third in the NFC in rushing yards and second in TDs. Hell, the man is even a top ten RB in most fantasy leagues. But the thing I admire most is his attitude. He seems to have a desire to reach his potential and the work ethic, competitive spirit and humbleness to match. In other words, Ryan Grant is Packer people.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s a travesty if Grant doesn’t get in because we all know it’s a popularity contest and maybe he came on a little too late this season. But there is no question that #25 deserves the honor. Because of his numbers. Because of his attitude. Because Ryan Grant is one of the best running backs in the NFC. Period.

Bookends Make a Great Gift

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Spending my days in a library has made me realize the value of a good set of bookends. Their versatility is rarely noticed, but I have found many uses. They obviously are designed to hold up books, but they can be used as doorstops, DVD and video game holders for the less literary, and even aquariums. Flip them upside down, attach to a wall, set a piece of 1x6 between the two and you’ve got a shelf…of course then you’d need another set of bookends to keep your books on it. I’ve decided what better Christmas gift than a good set of bookends?

For Uncle Larry. He's kind of nerdy... then again, so am I.

For Grandma Beatrice.

For Robert Greenfield.

The nice thing for all Packer fans is that they have all gotten a nice set of bookends this Christmas. Brand new, strong, and versatile, plus, these bookends will only get better with age. One was a little banged up at after UPS dropped it off, and the set wasn’t sent complete at first, but they are now together and look to be an excellent set. Clay Matthews and Brad Jones look to be an excellent set of bookends for the Packers linebacking corps, one is already a star and should be a Pro Bowler. The other is contributing in his first year despite being a 7th round pick of the 2009 draft class, which is like finding this bookend set in a thrift store for $0.50. Kevin Greene will keep these bookends in top working order, as he knows a little about being a bookend himself.

I hope everyone enjoys their Christmas, regardless if you get a set of sweet bookends from a friend or loved one, take comfort in knowing that Ted Thompson already got you a pair for Christmas.

Pretty Sure I Could Do That

In my youth, I dreamed of being the next Jerry Rice or Walter Payton with some Lawrence Taylor thrown in (hey, it was the 80s and we sucked). It’s hard to say since I was unstoppable on both sides of the ball during recess. But as the playground got bigger, I got weeded out for guys that were bigger/stronger/faster and had the early puberty and the whatnot. Before I knew it, that dream was gone and I was selling crapperware in Oshkosh to make the rent.

Now, as a beer-guzzling, couch-potato blogger, I don’t even joke about playing the NFL (I could get hurt really bad!) but do still enjoy the comical image of me ceding the last toilet stall in the locker room to a demanding nose tackle even though I may have to go much much worse. I just know I couldn’t make it – the league is too gifted and talented. These guys might as well be another planet as far as I’m concerned.

Then Mason Crosby came along and gave me hope.

I generally do not like ripping on players, but ol’ Colorado Thunder Thighs has been sucking more than a litter of kittens off a twenty-teat Tabby cat lately. I don’t care what McCarthy says, he is *this* close to bagging groceries at Piggly Wiggly. And if that happens, who’s going to take his place? You? You, Lieutenant Weinberg? Well, what about me, Robert Greenfield.

I’m completely serious.

I played competitive soccer for years (anyone who says soccer is for wussies never played beyond 5th grade) and was the go-to guy for penalty kicks. That means that A) I know how to kick and 2) I am clutch. Sure, it may take a few days to get my leg back into shape, but I can guarantee right now that I would be cash-money from inside 35 yards. Give me a little practice and one of those kicking tees, and in a couple of weeks I believe I could start booting them – with consistency – from 45+. Now that’s not the best in the league but it’s better than you got right now and you’ve got nowhere else to turn.

You don’t believe me, Packers scouting guy reading this post!? Try me. I will come to Lambeau this week at my own expense (I live near the Walmart). I would only ask you give me a day’s notice so I could get another driver to take my shift. As a bonus, I will bring you some delicious homemade curds and schnitzel for letting my tryout (again, a day’s notice to prepare these items is appreciated).

In all honesty, when I was just a little guy, my all-time favorite wish – the only I always replayed in my head – was me winning the Super Bowl for the Packers. I know you want to win the Super Bowl too. Let’s help each other. So, ah… we feeling pretty good about this dealio?