Rise and Prep

After semi to mostly-extensive research, I have come to this indisuputable conclusion...there is nothing on TV on Tuesday nigh....wait. WAIT. WHAT IN GOD'S NAME IS THIS BEAUTIFUL PROGRAM?!?!?

"I've given up being socially acceptable."

"Yellowstone Super-Volcano. Total Financial Collapse. Over Population. Government Takeover.  Worldwide Pandemic. Skynet."


Yep, I stumbled upon “Doomsday Preppers” on NatGeo. If you are unfamiliar with this intimate glimpse into the lives of the proud and paranoid Americans who will be our post-apocalyptic overlords, let me try and give a brief overview. Quick and dirty premise: the world is going to collapse, these people are going to survive and be just fine as their preparations for this collapse will allow them to survive and thrive. It's almost as if these people were meant to live in a time and place where no one else had to interact with them...on any level. My apologies, I shouldn't call them "these people", they refer to themselves as "preppers". As near as I can tell, preppers fall into two categories. Individuals who believe that an armory larger than the local National Guard base and faith in God Almighty will save them, and individuals who believe that their solar and wind power-run organic farm will be all they need to live out their days in patchouli-scented peace. There's a third category: individuals diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia recently released from the secure psych ward of their local hospital...I'm fairly certain this category encompasses the two previously mentioned categories.


After each prepper explains the catastrophe they think will end the world, they explain how they have, and are continuing to prepare for it, how they're not crazy, and how their family (really, truly, wholeheartedly) agrees with their chosen lifestyle. Once you get to see their bunker, their bullets, and the car running on nothing but bacon grease and positive vibes, the "experts" give them a score (how they became experts is unclear).


Still reading? Good. You score high on patience. This will be needed when you have to wait for 1,000 years for radiation levels to be safe following a nuclear reactor meltdown.


All this talk of killer monkey hordes learning to talk and taking over the world got me thinking, what have I done to get ready for the apocalypse? It didn't take much time to ponder...I have a bottle of good Scotch and that's about the extent of it. I can most likely trade this for food, or be drunk for the inevitable knock on my door from the T-1000's. Do T-1000's knock? 


Resigned to my fate, I sat down at my desk and started to draw up my Apocalypse Health Care Directive (I'll put one together for you for a modest $49.99). 

"If (when) the birds of Earth go crazy and attack and I am left pecked and clawed but still breathing, smash my head with a brick. Do not waste your ammunition, as you will need it."

...and so it continued well into the night. The events described in the show may happen, but I believe that getting invaded by aliens, attacked by zombies, or machines evolving and using us as batteries is more likely, so I had a lot of writing to do. Personally? The sheer number of documentaries about zombie apocalypses has made me certain this will happen in my lifetime, so the zombie section was easy, if not extensive.

"If bitten, end me. Do not under any circumstances keep me locked up in a barn with other zombies while you wait for a nonexistent cure. Also, if, during the zombie apocalypse, my wife and kid turn out to be evil, soul-sucking trolls, please just let my best friend kill me."

It continued for pages and pages...like I said, extensive.


At some point, I fell asleep at my desk and began to dream about trying to save my Packers stock from a horde of Viking fan undead. It was a vivid dream even if it is often difficult to tell a zombie Viking fan from a living, breathing one. Waking up, I glanced at my Packers share hanging on the wall and had an epiphany. I may not have prepped in the crazy, tin foil hat kind of way, but I was the proud owner of the perfect post-apocolyptic domicile. As an owner of Packers, I hereby stake my claim on Lambeau Field as my doomsday bunker. 


"Franklin, you have no backup food supplies, you lack adequate access to fresh, uncontaminated water, your security measures consist of a six-iron, a frying pan, and a three foot length of 2x4, you currently reside in the middle of Minneapolis, surrounded by Viking fans who will likely not provide support during a catastrophe...

...however...
 ...you were given ownership of the Green Bay Packers as a gift, from someone who obviously is watching out for your well-being. If, during a zombie apocalypse, you hole up in Lambeau Field, you have an excellent chance of survival. Lambeau Field has an enormous supply of food, and if your stay there is indefinite, you will be able to grow crops and raise animals on the field. The number of cold and hot tubs, water bottles, and gatorade jugs means you will have plenty of storage for your water supplies. The security at Lambeau Field is impeccable. Franklin, you are not a zombie whose sole focus is eating brains, and you were unable to breach Lambeau's walls. You will have clear sight lines due to the height of the stadium and the open parking lots surrounding the stadium. A high-powered rifle will allow you to pick off the undead as needed. If you need to venture from the stadium, there is plenty of armor in the form of pads and helmets that will help protect you. I would recommend enlisting the support of Tom Crabtree, as he has a vote of confidence from those close to him in the event of a zombie apocalypse. Also, his Modern Warfare experience and extensive viewing of "The Walking Dead" should increase your chances of survival. If you are able to learn the intricacies of solar and wind energy, you should be able to generate enough electricity to power the HD video screen to watch movies, play video games, and watch Ted Thompson's DII scouting films to gain some distraction from the monotony of the end of the world.


All in all, you will most likely survive the zombie apocalypse in Lambeau Field, however, several others may claim the stadium as their survival bunker. We recommend that you quietly start auditioning these people to determine which will be most beneficial to you while living in Zombieland. This one has promise, but you must do the research on your own."


Those weren't direct quotes from the producers, but I'm sure they wouldn't be far off. I know some of you may also claim ownership, but this post serves as my post-apocalyptic claim. Rest assured, if you send in your proposal as to why you would make an exceptional bunker mate, I will review them all and respond in a timely fashion. Extra consideration will be given to those who can make cheese or beer. Bears or Vikings fans need not apply. 


Oh, one more thing, you have to like R.E.M.

Hello, I'm Frank. Remember me?

I believe it is said that you learn things about yourself in times of hardship.  That may be true, but then the flip-side should is also true: you learn things about yourself in times of prosperity. I would hazard a guess that most people would consider a Super Bowl victory and subsequent 15-1 season to be a time of relative prosperity...probably not even relative prosperity, just flat-out swim around in your money-bin, dance-of-joy, golden ticket prosperity. 

You know what I learned in this new age of Packers’ prosperity?  

Prosperity makes me soft.

As you’re aware...or maybe not...probably not, actually. The number of posts around this joint started decreasing, my vitriol towards moronic Bears and Vikings fans faded, and I started viewing things through a very fashionable set of rose-colored glasses over the last year. My discussions about the Packers were void of passion, my email debates were forced and lacked conviction. After all, what did I really have to debate? The Packers were clearly the best team in the league, I felt no need to point out flaws or analyze potential chinks in the level 35 Armor of Invincibility (+20 Ranged Offense, -15 Ranged Resistance). The Chiefs loss bothered me, but it was more the “Huh. I’m Kind of Bummed Out This Week, But It Will Be Resolved Come Sunday” kind of feeling. Lo and behold, it was resolved. I’m a damn prophet. What is there to get worked up about when even with Matt Flynn at the helm, the Packers turned in a win when Flynn decided to write his own paycheck for the this year.

Then something happened that should have woken me up....Oh, the Packers got smacked around by the Giants? Oh. Well, that’s too bad, but they had a great season, and they won it last year.  Can’t be too upset. There’s always next year.  They’re a great, young team, they’ll be fine next year.

Ummm...what?!?!

Never in my life would I have predicted thoughts like this would enter my mind let alone be verbalized to others...like I said, SOFT. Soft like this, and this, and this.

I am Franklin’s walking shame bucket.

You know what happens when you go soft? You wake up one day and realize that your fellow Ranter with the fabulous hair has vacated the premises (although he left me three red bulls in the mini fridge, so that was nice...or maybe just forgetful), one of your favorite Packers of all time has traded in his cleats (temporarily) for tap shoes, and a neighbor has hit the bigtime. 

Wow. A lot has changed.

Moving forward, I vow that this softness and apathy will not happen again...okay, I strongly believe that this won’t happen again...okay, I can promise you that my vitriol towards Vikings and Bears fan will never lessen again, but the whole lack of posts thing may be recurring, especially since Robert found an exit and made it back to Zion without me. Also, the rose-colored glasses will probably persist, if for no other reason than I find it tiresome to always be angry at the teams I cheer for. How do people do that? They've got to be miserable.

Anyway, I’ve already got two new posts queued up, so maybe you can be entertained for 3-4 minutes...then again, maybe not.

I think Fast Eddie Felson said it best:

Catch You on the Flip Side

“I will always love you,” was sung Dolly Parton and later Whitney Houston in truly various forms. Dolly’s version was poetic, beautiful and truly heartfelt and then Whitney and her neverending lungfulls of ear-aching commercial stank blasts came along and ruined the song for a lot – a LOT – of people, damnit.

 And while you can’t hear it, I now sing those lyrics to you – hopefully with more Dolly than diva. After some deliberation, more beers and several more nights in my GOIBER, I’ve decided to take a leave of absence from the Ranter. This has nothing to do with the Packers recent outcome and everything to do with my desire to focus my attention starting the nation’s first Telekinesis Camp for Aspiring Jedis and Anyone Else Interested (website coming soon!) or something else totally unrelated.

Rest assured the Ranter is in good hands with co-founder, Editor-in-Cheese and Tracy White fanatic, Franklin Hillside. While you might not want to bank on a rush of new Rants, you can find Franklin working the Twitters just about every day as he has done from the start. And if you want more Ranter or Robert, just read the archives (hey, that's alliterative - nice). I’ll see ya when I see ya. Go Pack! ~Robert

You Like Apples?

Robert and I have a good buddy from grade school who works for the Packers.  He’s a part-time intern for the assistant to the advisor to quarterbacks coach Tom Clements.  Pretty lofty position if you ask me. I’d like to say that he has extensive knowledge of the offense and of the QB position itself, and that this knowledge got him the job. I’d like to say that. In reality, he got the job because in grade school he was able to pen long, extensive love notes (in code so the teacher could never read to the class,mind you) on 4x6 notecards. You’ve never seen such a Lothario. While this doesn’t seem like it would transfer to working for an NFL franchise, you’d be wrong. He’s perfect for putting together those little QB wristbands that have plays and formations on them. It’s remarkable how well he has fit into this position, and his flexible hours with the Packers let him continue to work his dream job as the key-maker at the ACE Hardware.

Anyway, as he was fitting Graham Harrell for a custom, two-tone wristband complete with the non-screen, screen play that Matt Flynn threw against the Lions on it, he overheard Aaron Rodgers and Matt Flynn having the conversation below. For those wondering about the fate of #10, it seems like Flynn is very happy and might want to stay in Green Bay next year after all:

Flynn: What do I wanna way outta here for? I'm gonna live in Green Bay the rest of my {expletive deleted} life. We'll be neighbors, have little kids, take 'em to Little League up at Optimist Field.

Rodgers: Look, you're my best friend, so don't take this the wrong way but, next year if you're still livin' here, comin' over to my house, watchin' game film, workin' as my backup, I'll {expletive deleted} kill ya. That's not a threat, that's a fact, I'll {expletive deleted} kill ya.

Flynn: What the {expletive deleted} you talkin' about?

Rodgers: You got somethin' none of these other clowns have...

Flynn: Oh, come on! What? Why is it always this? I mean, I {expletive deleted} owe it to myself to do this or that. What if I don't want to?

Rodgers: No. No, no no no. {expletive deleted} you, you don't owe it to yourself man, you owe it to football fans. Cuz tomorrow I'm gonna wake up, and I'll have started 10 straight seasons, and I'll still be dominating this league. And that's all right. That's fine. I mean, you're sittin' on a winnin' lottery ticket. And you're too comfortable here in Green Bay to cash it in, and that's {expletive deleted}. 'Cause Caleb Hanie’d do {expletive deleted} anything to have what you got. So would Curtis Painter, Rex Grossman, Mark Sanchez, any of these {expletive deleted} guys. It'd be an insult to them if you're still here next year. Hangin' around the Hutson Center is a {expletive deleted} waste of your time.

I have to be honest, after hearing this, if I was Flynn, I’d pack up my things and be ready to start somewhere the day free agency starts. No goodbye. No see you later. No nothing. I’d just leave. I don’t know much, but I know that.

EPIC FAIL

Feel free to post your own caption in the comments section, but I think EPIC FAIL really sums this one up.

My Early Christmas Gift From El_Prez29

Sifting through emails yesterday, after a typically fantastic weekend in Green Bay, I came across one from el_prez29@packers.com with the subject line: "Merry Christmas, Frank, thanks for your support". I opened it and proceeded to spit a mouthful of coffee all over my computer screen. Normally, this would frustrate me to no end...especially since I was still in recovery mode yesterday, but a java covered screen didn't bother me one bit.

Now, I know that Mark Murphy was a occasional reader of The Ranter. How do I know? Somethings you just know. What I didn't know was that Murphy was tracking my spending at Lambeau Field this past Sunday, as well as my extensive purchases at the Packers Pro Shop on Monday morning. I may not have spent $275 like a share purchase, but it wasn't far off. Being the great steward of the Packers that he is, El_Prez29, Mark Murphy, took it upon himself to reward me with one of my requests from my previous post. I never would have imagined he would have been able to set this up on such short notice, but it just goes to show you the power that comes with being the President of the Green Bay Packers.

This is what he sent in his email that had me spewing coffee all over my desk:

I told you they looked alike.

Thanks, Mr. Murphy, for recognizing that fans support the team in different ways, and thanks for rewarding us for that.

(PS - Big thanks to friend of the Ranter and frequent commentor, Johnny Vicious. I can't believe they posed for you for 6 hours to get this shot right. That's a long time to hold a wand.)

I Got Next...Maybe.

Happy New Packer Owners' Day to all those out there who purchased a part of the greatest organization in the sporting world...and to those who didn't, like myself. Unfortunately, due to attending the game this weekend against the Raiders and plans forming to attend at least one playoff game, the funding stream doesn't exist to actually BUY the team. Just visit.

While daydreaming about my upcoming firsthand view of the Carson Palmer "I-Should-Have-Stayed-Retired" Tour, I started thinking about what could entice me to me break the Hillside Federal Bank and contribute to the Lambeau Field expansion, not to mention broaden my investment portfolio.

I came up with a list of things that, had they been included with the Packers share mailed to my house, may have tipped the scales and enticed me to pull the trigger on a purchase.

• One game per year that I control the music in Lambeau Field. Sorry, "Jock Jams," you're out.
• The sauerkraut at one Lambeau food stand is called "Frank's Kraut". Wait, there's trademark issues with that name?!?!
• A personal urinal for whatever game I attend during the season. No one else is allowed to use this urinal except me...unless they tell me an acceptable Bears joke, then they have a 45 second window to get in and get out.
• Five whole minutes to take any picture I so choose with the Lombardi statue outside of the atrium. For anyone who has tried to do this, you know this is worth a lot...maybe more than one share.
• A personal shopper at the Packers' Pro Shop that will guide me through the store. Not that I'm not familiar with it, I just want to get to Curly's sooner.
• A tiny picture of myself displayed somewhere in Ted Thompson's office. It doesn't even have to be visible to visitors, just the fact that I know it's there is worth $275 for me.
• A sponsored cold tub with daily reports on who uses it and for how long. Yes, as part of this ownership, I would do post-season cleaning of said cold tub. That is considered part of the purchase.
• Souvenir, game-worn, ankle tape from a random Packers' player from each game. What would I do with this? I don't have the faintest idea, but I think it would be cool to say I have a pile of Packers'  ankle tape in my basement.
• A Ted Thompson, draft-warroom-worn, pastel yellow, Packers button-down shirt. (I'd buy three shares for this)
• A "Packers Shareholder" T-shirt autographed by the Packers' staffer who processed my stock purchase. I think it would make the share a much more personal possession then.
• Mark Murphy to reenact a Ron Weasley scene from the one of the Harry Potter movies and post it on YouTube....What? They kind of look alike...they're both gingers.
• A Christmas card from someone on the practice squad. It better sound heartfelt too.
• A play drawn up by Mike McCarthy on a Lambeau Field napkin.
• A taxi cab in Green Bay when I need it on game night...okay, that's selfish, I know NO ONE gets that.
• The declassified file on why Tracy White was cut.

Hmmm...these all seem ver reasonable to me.  Maybe in 10, 15, 20 or 30 years when the next stock offering occurs, I hope to see one or two of these as an accompaniment to my share. (Please make it the last one)

Congrats to all the owners.

Top 9 Things to Avoid When Making a Packers Science Fiction Movie

The good ol’ Packer science fiction movie cliché. It’s as old as the Packer science fiction movie genre itself.

We at the Packer Ranter are sick of studios dumbing down our beloved Packer science fiction movies with clichés out of fear the movie will fail. That’s why we’ve put together a list of the top thing to avoid when making a Packers Science Fiction Movie. Now, eliminating these clichés is not going to solve the epidemic, but hopefully inspire a few more creative risks that will keep Packers science fiction movies entertaining and edgy for years to come.

1. Don’t make the QB/Aaron Rodgers the hero. Can you think of a more clichéd hero for your Packers science fiction movie? Rodgers is already the QB, MVP and face of the franchise. With Rodgers as the lead, the audience already knows he’s going to overthrow the dark overlords and free the digital slaves from having their memories completely erased. You want to pick a lead who's lesser known and somewhat edgy. Someone who you’re not quite sure about, but could see rooting for. Think Tom Crabree or Sam Shields, for instance. This will keep the audience guessing and give you the creative latitude you need when crafting your epic sci-fi thriller off the rings of Saturn.

2. No journey. A good sci-fi adventure will probably include some sort of journey. It's always important to make the destination some exotic planet or country. Coming from the Hoth-like Frozen Tundra, there should be a visit to a domed city or a warm-weather locale...or both like the Planet N'Awlins-7.89-Bourbalox.

3. Your spaceship should not be a giant football helmet. How many times have we seen a Packer sci-fi movie start out so promising only to disappoint in the space battle scene with flying Green and Gold helmets start swirling around like a bunch of Pacmen gone wild? That’s right, way too many. You really need to nail your Packers spacecraft for the battle with the Bears in the sky. Why couldn’t your spaceship be a winged team bus with supercharged engines? Or a flying version of the Atrium powered by Donald Driver’s shimmy? Your spaceship is really an opportunity to let your creativity soar – don’t disappoint.

4. Going back to change your Packers sci-fi movie, claiming to be updating it. The Packers team will change, adding and losing players, but your movie shouldn't. That's the cast you started with, that's the team at the time, stop tinkering with it...you're ruining it. Rodgers shot first.

5. For the love of Lambeau, no more retro-futurist alien races! I’ve seen everything from farming, Amish-like communities to vintage 80s societies who like to break dance. Look around. Whether clothing or culture, our world is extremely diverse – why would your alien population be any different?

6. Bleeding is for sissies! Throughout your Packers sci-fi movie, your hero will undoubtedly get into some serious fights (let’s hope so anyway!). What normally happens is an exchange of violent blows in which either your hero or villain may get scratched but never really injured. Huh?? Last I checked football is a dangerous sport. Players get more than just nicked up, they experience serious bodily harm, season-ending IR or worse – your characters should be the same. So be sure James Starks’ arm is cut off if the villain slices it off with a plasma laser sword, Ok people? That will just make his eventual triumph that much more meaningful.

7. Ted Thompson as some cliched zen-like mentor/teacher character. That’s too easy. Instead have him be your ship's mechanic. He can have a few lines like, "We are always exploring options to upgrade the warp-drive" and "I like where our flight crew's at right now", but other than that he should just be covered in grease and scowl a lot.

8. Don't overlook the spaceship or other vessel as a character to be developed. When you can make the Kessel Run in under 12 parsecs, or you can make 70,000 people go out-of-their-minds-crazy when they hear a simple music riff or a song by Todd Rundgren, there is something to be explored there.

9. Overuse/reliance of the “Touchdown” celebration. Ok, we get it – people love a great touchdown celebration. And when you your Packer hero(s) finally blows up the Vikings mothership or renders Megatron futile, you’re going to want to celebrate. That’s fine – great even. Just don’t resort to Riverdancing on fallen enemies or pretending to photon-blast your mechanical thigh holster for a cheap thrill. Unless you can think of something truly original (risky), a simple fist pump or barbaric space yawp will do.

Did we get them all?

Great Greg

Most guys get by just being good.

For some guys though, that’s not gonna do.

Like this one Greg guy in Green and Gold

Gets after “great” like no other Greg before.

Greg’s goal is to just be great

And Greg gets after it every day.

Greg’s gifted with some great genetics,

But Greg’s greatness is no gimmick.

The gravity of Greg’s greatness is so genius,

Greg should get his own genre – believe it.

There’s no gap in Greg’s greatness.
If you say there is, well that’s just garbage.

Now give it up for your Greg – GREG!
Now give it up for your Greg – GREG!

G to the J all the way…

Greg Jennings y’all….

Be great Packer fans....

Jordy Kent?

Faster than a speeding bullet. More powerful than a locomotive. Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. From Kansas. Parents are farmers. Received the Nice Guy Award at the annual Doug Jirschele Sports Awards Banquet in Clintonville, WI. (Okay, I can only confirm one got that, but I'm sure the other would qualify as well)

Look at the picture below. Now, close your eyes and picture Jordy in blue spandex and wearing a bright red cape. Not too far fetched, is it?

I have no idea if Jordy Nelson's arch-enemy is a bald, criminal mastermind who coached high school basketball in Indiana the fifties, but I ask you this: have you ever seen Superman and Jordy Nelson in the same place at the same time?

I didn't think so.

You be the judge.

Looks pretty good, but I prefer him in Green and Gold.

My Apologies

Brett Favre thinks I should have posted something sooner.

Sorry. I'll get something this week.  I've been crazy busy.

Go Pack.

Packers Secret Halloween Party - Caught on Camera!

Yesterday the Packers held a private Halloween Party in a secret location outside of Green Bay. If you happened to be on Twitter from 2-4am, an unidentified user was sending out photos taken from the event earlier in the day. Thankfully, the Ranter intern staff was able to capture these awesome photos of the Packers in Halloween costumes before they were deleted from Twitter. Check ‘em out.

Donald Driver in epic homemade Death Star costume

John Kuhn as a vending machine

Desmond Bishop and Jordy Nelson ain't afraid of no ghost

Mike McCarthy, proud Trekkie

And everyone’s favorite Teddy, TT himself.

Who's YOUR favorite?

Rant Club

This week, each one of you has a homework assignment, you're going to go out and make a Viking fan give you the AJ Hawk salute.

What?

Okay, fine. I'm geting ahead of myself. 

The NFL hype machine has got us watching games that don't matter and hearing about players that can't play. There's no competition for the Packers, so we, as fans have become complacent. We're stuck complaining that Packers didn't score enough, that there were too many mistakes made even in overwhelming and convincing victory.

I see so much potential for more.

That's why we've formed Rant Club.

Rule number one of Rant Club: you talk about Rant Club ALL THE TIME. 

Rule number two of Rant Club: You. Talk. About. Rant Club. All. The. Time.

Rule number three of Rant Club: Someone yells, "Go, Pack!" you respond with, "Go, Pack!" Always.

Fourth rule: As many people Rant as want to Rant.

Fifth rule: One man on the grill at all times. You tailgate in all weather. 

Sixth rule: Green and Gold gear at all times...unless it's Throwbacks.

Seventh rule: Packers talk will go on as long as it has too.

Eighth rule: If this is your first time at Rant Club...you bring the beer.

Robert and I came to Rant Club for the first time, and our asses were wads of cheese curds. After a few weeks, we became tough, sinewy beef jerky. After Ranting, everything in your life will get the volume turned down.

Are you talking about Rant Club, yet? Good. Where's my beer?

I am Franklin's over-inflated sense of superiority due to being a Packer fan. 

Aaron Rodgers at the Science Fair

Science is simply common sense at its best. ~Thomas Huxley

How can you argue with science? Answer: You can’t. ~Unknown

Long Distance Request and Dedication

Congrats, Detroit Lions. You're 4-0. Big accomplishment. 

I dedicate this song to you:

The one thing about luck? It always runs out.

Complex

Attention span – I rarely have one. If you have a good one, congratulations. Like a lot of people, I am often easily distracted by the “shiny bunny” (that is, whatever louder, more colorful, or cooler-looking thing crosses my path). Sure, I blame society and pop culture and the media, but that’s for another Rant.

This lack of focus is usually not a problem when I’m at home or at my desk, and can hunt for the next shiny bunny – usually in the form of channel/web/radio surfing with occasional bouts of productivity and creative cooking. But it becomes an issue when my precious media devices and refrigerator are simply not accessible and I’m forced to just sit there.

Think lectures. Think church. Think meetings.

Let’s be honest, if the topic doesn’t interest you, what are you going to do? Sleep? No, you’re going to look around and daydream. Note: you can really kill some time harkening back to simpler times or brainstorming weapons of mass zombie destruction. While those remain some of my back-pocket options, my go-to daydreaming adventure – the thing I do most often in these situations – has got to be winging imaginary footballs off prominent objects in the room.

I simply cannot help it. A window. A poster. A lamp. A pattern on the wall. Someone’s melon. Hut-hut-hike! Whether I’m checking down off some dude’s drink, threading the needle at a podium microphone or throwing a bomb out of the conference center window, I’m peppering all these objects with tightly bound spirals of destruction… in my head. (You have no idea how much I crave a real football after these situations.)

To those people reading this who teach or monologue in front of others, if you see someone zinging imaginary footballs during your lecture, take it as a sign you need to work on your presentation skills. You’re welcome.

Emergency Protocol Enacted

Following today's torching of the Denver Broncos, we have learned from our sources deep inside the bowels of Lambeau that the Packers' equipment staff have been forced to enact Emergency Protocol 12.0

The Ranter has obtained a transcript of an exchange between a mid-level equipment manager and their supervisor shortly following the team's exit from the locker room.

"Sir, we have an issue here...I....I....I think it's time."

"Are you sure? You have to be absolutely positive before this happens."

"Sir, I think we need to do it...it's not safe here otherwise, for him or for others."

"Okay. Okay. You know what to do."

"Yes sir. I will inform the others that we are....enacting Emergency Protocol Twelve-Point-O."

"We knew this day would come. You have all been trained for it.  Now is when you will rely on that training."

"Yes, sir. We are ready."

"Good. I'm confident you will make the Packers' organization proud."

"Thank you...ummm...sir?"

"Yes?"

"How long does Emergency Protocol Twelve-Point-O last?"

"Well, your guess is as good as mine...but you've seen everything I have. There is no indication that this will stop....for a long time."

Pretty telling conversation, I thought.

For those of you wondering what Emergency Protocol 12.0 is, our crack research team has obtained a copy of the Green Bay Packers Top Secret Policy and Protocol Manual. (Don't ask how we got it. If we told you, we'd have to kill you. And we like you. All of you.)

On page 783, EP-12.0 is outlined:

"In the event that player #12 begins to display unnatural temperature levels on the field, specifically temperatures exceeding those any normal human should have, his uniform, pads, helmet, and cleats shall be removed from his normal locker and stored in the specially designed locker pictured below."

"Player #12's equipment should only be removed 30 minutes prior to the following week's game and then only by trained individuals wearing their protective high-temperature gear."

I think we all saw this day coming. I, for one, am glad that the Packers' equipment staff are well-trained for this event. Also, it looks as though we are dangerously close to enacting Emergency Protocol 85.0 and Emergency Protocol 21.0.

We, as fans, could be so lucky.

Stay safe, equipment staffers.

You're Suspect, Denver

This week isn’t Packers/Bears. It isn’t Packers/Vikings and it isn’t even close. This week, the lowly AFC Denver Broncos come to town probably just hoping to escape injury because they most likely aren't going to escape embarrassment. The intensity, smack and rivalry you look for in the NFL games just isn’t going to be there. That’s fine. We’ll take the win and start preparing for Atlanta.

That said, I thought it would be nice to come up with a few interesting things about broncos as a fun little filler piece. I figured I could talk about how the Ford Bronco was cool back in the day, get into the legend that is Bronko Nagurski, and maybe even joke how Kyle Orton looks like that nerdy kid from the mostly forgettable movie, Gentlemen Broncos (I already did the photoshop, so I’m going to show it, damn it).

But in my research, I came across something that at first made me read it twice, then turned me off, then boiled my blood. Did you know that the official symbol for the State of Wyoming is a cowboy on a bronco? That’s right, a bronco. You know the image I’m talking about – it’s a great one. I mean, this says it all – the Wild West.

So naturally, this begs the question, WTF Denver? Doesn’t Colorado have enough going for them already? Beautiful state, nice metro area, hippie adventure spots galore, etc. So why in the hell did Denver/Colorado steal the symbol of a bronco for their NFL team when it so clearly belongs to Wyoming?

I’ll tell you why – insecurity and insane jealously.

Is it just me or does Colorado seem to lay claim to just about any and everything that comes even remotely near their state? How about this so-called “Colorado” River? Only like 1/5th of the entire river system goes through their state. Or what about the Colorado Rockies. The Rocky Mountains cover numerous states, thousands of miles, and stretch further into Canada alone than through their entire state. Yet, Colorado’s crack tourism and marketing wizards took the cheap “I called it first!” route when naming their precious baseball team (yet another team name fail).

Look, I know Coloradoans’ only sense of direction is two-fold (toward the mountains/away from the mountains) and their main food groups are granola and tofu, but what right does that give them to adopt the Rockies as their own? And by the way, who names their team after a rock? Honestly.

You know what I think, Colorado? I think you're still pissed about your demarcation lines. Yeah, that’s right. Don’t think the rest of the world hasn’t noticed your unbelievable boring state shape – that of a rectangle. No one, and I mean NO ONE, wants their state to be a rectangle. I know it’s not your fault per se, but you didn’t have to take it out on Wyoming by stealing their state symbol. Now, what are they left with? A park.

But now that I look at the US map, the only other rectangular state is... Wyoming. NOW I’m starting see the bigger picture. This is your way of proving you are better than your “neighbor” to the North. The jealousy runs deeper than I thought, my friends. Colorado, in your quest to prove yourself appear more desirable than you actually are, you have made yourself look more cartoon than cool.

I take solace in the fact that there’s apparently two types of broncos. First, there’s the cool, retro broncos who live the majority of their lives in the wild, untrained and untamed. Those are the broncos you see in imagery for Wyoming as in the license plate above. Then there’s the “modern” bronco. This new-age bronco, while still strong and imposing, was bred and pampered to be showcased to the world. As Doctor Wikipedia says, these “Denver” broncos are nothing more than “spoiled riding horses.” You might lay claim to being the least obese state, Colorado, but you are certainly among the most spoiled.

Colorado? The Denver Broncos? Phhrrrt. Give me Wyoming any day of the week. They might not look like much, but at least they’re a quadrilateral with integrity. Enjoy getting your ass whipped Sunday, Denver.

Sit. Stand. Stay Home.

Robert and I had a blast a couple weeks ago in Green Bay for the Saints game. Some of our shenanigans cannot be discussed here, as I'm pretty sure we are now being monitored by numerous security agencies, both domestic and foreign. Don't worry though, my tin-foil hat will keep them out....and also all my thoughts in.

It has taken a couple weeks for the hazy green and gold glow to wear off, and while 99.65% of our experiences were positive, I began to have an uneasy feeling that all was not right during the 2011 Merry Ranters' Lambeau Adventure. I couldn't put my finger on it. It was like an itch that I couldn't scratch with an extra large BBQ tongs, a hunger that I could not satiate with a thousand bratwurst, a hangover that I could not weaken with a bucket of Bloody Mary's.

However, it all came back to me when I visited a local Packer bar to watch the Bears game. I ambled in, most likely smelling strongly of the previous night's libations. The hostess smiled and said, "Have a seat anywhere."

Have a seat....Sit....SIT DOWN!

I immediately started to sweat and shake with rage. The reason? Robert and I had an unfortunate experience at the Packers/Saints game, one that has occurred in prior years, but one that I had apparently repressed until this past Sunday. By some stroke of luck, Robert's aunt has amazing season tickets, and we are fortunate enough to be able to use them for one game a year. The issue we are faced with though is we have a large number of people behind us, namely everyone, and among these Packer fans are some very vocal curmudgeons. These individuals have taken it upon themselves to be Lambeau Field's volunteer ushers. Any time Robert and I would stand up, we would immediately be pelted with, "Sit down!" and "Down in front!" exclamations. At first, my tailgating courage allowed me to ignore these people and remain standing, but slowly, I realized that it would be best to just acquiesce as they would never stop and may turn to throwing things at us...us fellow Packer fans. Several times I turned around to see who these jackwagons were, but they remained hidden and blended in with the sea of cheeseheads and jerseys, not courageous enough to make their location known.

By halftime, I had sufficiently been beaten down, and only stood when all others around had taken their feet. Well, tonight I've gotten my courage back, as well as my rage, and I have something to say to these people who feel the need to impart their self-created Lambeau-cheering protocols upon other Packer fans:

STAY THE @$#% HOME IF YOU DON'T WANT TO STAND UP!

That's right. You've been spoiled by your season tickets. You no longer get excited by attending a Packers game like others do. You feel that because you go to every game, you can tell others how to cheer for their team. You know what? You can't, and I won't let you anymore. I like to cheer standing up, and that's my Saint Vince-given right. You prefer to sit on your fat, spoiled ass and watch like you are on your couch. Well, I say stay in your living room and tell your family and friends how to watch the game, not people you don't know who are enjoying themselves. You can watch your HD TV, drink your own beer, and eat your own food with no one standing in front of you for the entire 3 hours.

In the end, you'll be happier, and I sure as hell will be happier. You know why? Because I appreciate being at the game more than you do, and if I want to stand, I should damn well be able to do so without having a so-called Packer fan telling me to sit down. Certainly not one who yells "Sit down!" and then hides in the crowd.

Okay, I have to calm down now, it's bedtime, but in parting I have this message for you: Man the @$#% up...and stand the @$#% up while you're at it. The game is better from up here.

Helmet

“My roommate’s melon is huge. He’s got this giant, blue, custom-made football helmet that was like $600. It’s true. The helmet was so abnormal that they didn’t offer returns so when he tore his MCL he was basically screwed because no one wanted to buy it – even on craigslist. Now it’s just sitting in his closet. We could just put a giant orange “C” on the side – it’s perfect.”

How big are we talking? We measured the circumference to be slightly over four feet, which is the likely the largest this side – if not both sides – of the Mississippi.”

“I don’t know but I’m telling you it’s enormous. He was once offered a job traveling with this freak show. They wanted to shave his head, dress him up like a supervillain and call him “The Brainiac.” His booth was going to be right next to this bodybuilder guy called the “The Veiniac,” a dude with hundreds of purple earthworm veins popping out all over his body. The only reason he didn’t do it was because they didn’t have a website and his dad told him never to trust a company without a website, which I kind of agree with.”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever you! Google Image Search “Veiniac” or “King of Veins” and you’ll get like a hundred results. They’ve got his arms next to Stallone’s and Maddonna’s in a few pictures too – puts ‘em both to shame. And he’s got a blog.

“Oh yeah, what’s the URL?”

“Imsovein.com. You know, spelled V-E-I-N.”

“I get it. But if we’re really going to make a Cutler Bear/Pig Halloween costume we need a dang Cutler jersey. Even though he sucks and is douchey, they’re still pretty expensive.”

“We could always revisit Sloth Pig. I figure since Scuttlebutt already has that yellow tuft of hair we could just throw on a cheap Superman tee from Walmart, sweatpants, some red suspenders and we’re good to go.”

“Yeah, but the Superman “S” emblem is on the chest so it’d be facing the ground. People might not get that it’s Sloth unless you put the shirt on backwards but that’d just be stupid. I really think we should reconsider Cutler Bear/Pig. I know I can get that helmet.”

“You put a helmet on this pig and he’s gonna go nuts. Remember when we put a Santa hat on him for Christmas and he would not stop running around, squealing like someone was branding him with a hot poker. He stopped eating for a week and has since become incredibly skiddish about being touched on the head. And that was just with a Santa hat.”

“What kind of hat was it?”

“Santa, you idiot. I just said that.”

“No, I mean what material – you know, fabric? Yarn, cotton, velvet?”

“Dude, I don’t know. Cotton, I think.”

“You should’ve gone with hemp. Recent developments in the way they process it make it incredibly light and soft. I’ve got some hemp underwear and half the time it feels like I’m going commando – they’re that comfortable.”

“Just how much of a pothead are you nowadays? You’re always incorporating your hemp propaganda into everything, no matter how far it seemingly is from the realm of conversation.”

“That’s because it’s everywhere! There’s hemp paper, plastics, clothes, ah….food, fuel….ah….construction materials. Hemp seed can even be used as fishing bait! And it all comes from a single plant!”

“Whatever, you’ve changed. That’s what mom and dad get for sending you to the University of Boulder.”

“This coming from a temp! A freaking temp!”

“Least I got a job.”

“Fine. Cutler Bear/Pig.”

Do You Choose Battle Or Truce?

A solitary man stands on a small ridge, his stoic face set in grim acceptance of what lies before him. A flag planted in the hard ground next to him whips in the stiff autumn breeze. The flag is simple, nothing more than a green background with several white diagonal lines crossing it. In the distance, the man sees a solitary figure moving toward him along the ridge, his silhouette outlined against the gray sky. His pace is neither fast nor slow, but steady and determined. The second man approaches the first, glances up at the flag, and simply says, “Ditto.” They nod to each other and turn to the broad plain stretched out before them.

A loud, blood-curdling scream erupts from behind them. Both men tense and reach for their swords as they turn. A third man, shirtless and painted completely in green with white diagonal stripes is sprinting towards them. Both men relax, and marvel at the long, flowing hair trailing the man, the mane in sharp contrast to the close-cropped, flat locks that adorn the crown of his head. He stops next to the two men, salutes the green flag, thumps his right fist to his chest and smiles, “It’s a great day for party.”

The three turn back and survey the expansive plain spread out before them. The first man grips the hilt of his sword, repeatedly twisting his gloved hand slowly around it, the other hand propped up on an enormous shield. The shield is scratched and battered, the large “G” adorning its front side barely able to be seen. The second man leans on an ornate longbow and flicks the bowstring absently as he stares ahead. The third man, alternately hopping back and forth on his bare, calloused feet, pounds a giant club into the damp turf, mud splattering with every impact. He carries no other weapon…other than a look of crazed anticipation, a look that has struck fear into the heart of many a battled-hardened man.

The three men stare ahead, undaunted by what faces them. Across a muddy expanse of grass strewn with cleaved helmets, broken spears, and rusted swords, all remnants of past battles, stands a horde of blood-thirsty warriors. These warriors are adorned in shiny, new battle garb. Much of their raiment still has the manufacturers' tags. Each warrior carries a handheld device, from which they rarely remove their eyes. At the rear of the army stands a giant screen, the images portrayed upon it are impossible to discern from actual living, breathing beings. Huge speakers blast what the opposing army must consider to be music, but to the three, it sounds like a mortally wounded dragon, screeching in pain as it slowly succumbs to its wounds.


The first man steps forward. He looks up the at the simple flag behind him and sighs before addressing the enemy horde. In a booming voice, the ruggedly handsome warrior begins to speak, "You have entered our lands without leave to do so. Yes, these are lands that we once shared. Yes, we have been allies in the past, but you have succumbed to a magic spell cast by a dark wizard. This wizard has succeeded in distracting you from what we both once shared, a need and love for a common castle and those that dwell within, as well as all that accompanied it: much food, flowing libations, and competitions of strength and skill. We have expressed our allegiance to the olden ways, a simpler time, when these competitions were more pure, and bright lights, loud music, and visions on a screen did not distract from these competitions. Our fondness for the plain green with stripes is not a rejection of the current state of affairs, but rather an appreciation of where the kingdom has come from. The appreciation of the old armor in shades of blue, gold, and brown is not an indication of disdain for the current green and gold."


The third man slams his club into the ground and whispers, "Are we going to do battle, or monologue them into submission?"


The second warrior chuckles, as the first continues, "Rather this is a way of honoring our forefathers and their subjects, brave men and women who have served this kingdom for eons prior to us. Respect for them is something to be nutured, not swept away and rejected. If you wish to ignore them, and move forward without them, scorning their ways and views as simplistic and backward, you will have to do so over our breathless corpses. You do not have to change and go back to their ways, but we will not be scorned for our belief that their ways must be honored."


Members of the warrior horde glance at each other, doubt slowly creeping into their minds. They...


Awww, jeez, I just can't keep this up...I LIKED THE PLAIN END ZONES WITH THE WHITE STRIPES. Sue me. I also love the throwbacks, brown pants, brown helmet included. You're free to disagree, but you'll have to do it while I wear my new Acme Packers winter hat.


Go, Pack. Now...who needs some mead?

Hear That? That's the Sound of Awesome Sauce

GOIBER (n.) An acronym, which stands for "Greenfield's Observations, Inventions, Brainstorms & Experiments Room." Also known as my basement.

GOIBER rule #14: No matter what the purpose of entry, bring enough sustenance* to last eight days – you never know what could happen.

*Acceptable forms of sustenance include, but are not limited to, jerky, water, alcohol, Cheez It’s® and gummi bears.

Good ideas can come from anyone. Great ideas require a little more – ingenuity, passion, the courage to forge ahead despite your family, friends, coworkers and trolls calling you a damned fool. That, and a secret room.

Some time ago, after getting twisted in my vacuum cord for the umpteenth time, I decided to do something about it. I locked myself for a week in my GOIBER, determined to formulate a mathematical solution for cordless electricity based only on the principles derived from the Faraday cage and Mortal Kombat’s Raiden. But I lacked true focus. Theories led to tangents which led to endless streams of disruptive equations. It was ugly. Then the Dirt Devil came out, and life was good again.

As a Packer fan, you are undoubtedly excited about the recently announced stadium expansion, which will create a so-called “wall of sound.” According to the Packers, these new 6,600 seats in the South End Zone will make a “tremendous impact on the noise level of the stadium.” To me it, it’s like sound on steroids (which, at the moment, cannot be tested but once enough stadiums adopt this practice, the regulatory dweebs with surely intercede...groan).

Until we experience this new and improved G-Force for ourselves, it will have to be left to the imagination. But as novice idea generator myself, I want to give the Packers their due props for this concept. It could, in some way, revolutionize the Lambeau experience – a thought so powerful one can only presume it came from the mysterious LOIBER (Lombardi’s Observations, Inventions, Brainstorms & Experiments Room) hidden deep within the bosom of Lambeau Field.

Well done, Packers. Well done indeed.



The Dominating Trees - Live at Stadium View 2011

Trolling the interwebs yesterday afternoon, I was insanely pleased to find out that the Indomitable Brian Carriveau has begun his Best & Worst Case Scenario series over at Cheesehead TV. If you are unfamiliar with these pieces, Brianimal takes each position group on the Packers and gives the best and worst possible outcome for each player for the upcoming season. Yesterday, he attacked my favorite position: the tight ends.

I'm not usually one to criticize anyone else's writing or opinions, or even their choice of favorite cheese curds (I mean you've seen some of the stuff I've written here, it's amazing the Guardians of the Intertubes even let me on the internet). However, I found one small omission from Brian's piece on the Packers' tight ends, an omission I thought important enough to share with Packer fans. This omission comes under the "Best Case Scenario: Tom Crabtree".  Knowing Brian's thoroughness (he's a good man and he's thorough), I'm sure this second paragraph was edited out due to space concerns against his strong arguments. We here at The Ranter have no such space restrictions, and we felt we should share this potential scenario for Mr. Crabtree.

Tom Crabtree
Best Case Scenario (Paragraph 2):

In addition to his work on the field, Tom starts a three-piece alt/metal band called, The Dominating Trees. The Trees, as they are known to their loyal fan base, get a standing gig playing at Stadium View following Packers' home games. Starting out playing Jane's Addiction covers, Tom (lead guitar, vocals) begins writing his own songs. The Trees gradually work these into their set list and receive favorable responses from the drunken revelers celebrating Packers' victories at Stadium View. One of these songs, "Crabmeat", starts getting requested more and more. Noticing this popularity, record mogul Aaron Rodgers invites The Trees to his studio during the bye week. They record four original songs, and distribute the album to Green Bay radio stations. The response is positive, but it doesn't reach much farther than Wausau. However, due to Tom's prodigious promotion on Twitter, "Crabmeat", catches on nationally. The video, a live taping at Stadium View, goes viral on YouTube, and sales on iTunes skyrocket. "Crabmeat" eventually debuts at #79 on the Billboard Charts. With the increased exposure of a 2nd Super Bowl appearance, and strong showing there: 3 catches 46 yards and a TD, The Trees are able to schedule a four state midwest tour in the Spring of 2012, culminating with an appearance with punter and funnyman Chris Kluwe's band, Tripping Icarus, at First Avenue in Minneapolis.

All in all, a good year for Tom Crabtree.

Keep up the great work, Brian!