Author Archives: Frank McCabe

About Frank McCabe

Frank McCabe is an avid relaxer and Chinese food (i.e. Mai Tai) connoisseur. When he is not tending to his 'real' job, his wife and three children, Frank escapes reality by writing and inventing anything "funny" that pops in his head. With a Bachelors degree in Silliness, Frank subscribes to the theory that life is short...and, well, that kinda sucks, doesn't it? In his downtime Frank enjoys skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid. @fhmccabe

Voter’s Remorse

100 days in.  Remorse is growing stronger….

Written 1/12/17

————————–

I voted for Donald Trump.

I did.

Like (obviously) many Americans, I was/am ready for a change.  Like any Average Joe, I do not feel as if the country was doing the best it could for me and my family.  I am ready for change.

Step back a year.  As the election race evolved, I became weary.  I can’t vote for Hillary (certainly not Bernie) but reality -TV-crazy-man, Donald Trump, surely won’t win the nomination? No way. I’ll wait this out.  It will be fine.  Someone great will surface.

But s/he didn’t.  Months turned to weeks.  Weeks turned to days.  Holy shit.  Donald Trump is the Republican National Party’s nominee for President of the United States of America?

Ok.  Deep breath.  This could be a good thing?

Right?

Time for  a major change.  An evolution.  Turn things upside down.

Right?

That’s what I tried to buy in to.

As November grew closer I got more and more apprehensive.  Watching the Saturday Night Live-fodder made me even more nervous.  This guy is not built for President.  He is just a giant, orange, obnoxious, rich bully.  He is an asshole.  I hate him.  Everyone hates him.

After 3 debates, it was quite clear Hillary Rodham Clinton would be the (first woman) next President.  I was a bit apathetic, so I entered that voting booth and figured ‘What the hell, Donald.  Have my vote.  Doesn’t matter and anything is better than Hillary.  You can’t win anyway”.  

Right?

And then this shit actually happened.  He won.

Wow.  Well, maybe this is OK?

Right?

Healthy change in the country.  Cant be a bad thing?

Right?

And then I REALLY started to pay attention.  Like a moment of clarity, I was filled with regret.  This guy is a narcissistic, ego-maniacal, shallow, spoiled, childish asswipe…and he will be MY President.  What have I done?

While I am, by no means, an Obama guy, I reflect on where I sit as a human.  Love or hate his politics, Barack Obama appears to be a ‘good dude’.

Right?

A family man. A gentleman.  A good husband and father.  Classy.  The qualities I certainly aspire to possess.  Dare I say Barack Obama was certainly, “Presidential“?

And then I watched this presentation of the Medal of Freedom he bestowed upon his Veep, Joe Biden.  Like Mr. Obama, I am not necessarily a Biden guy either, but if I step back, Joe Biden is the guy you totally want to hang with.

Right?

Fun, funny, charming, charismatic and, most notably, good hearted.  Joe Biden is the guy you would be grilling burgers and sneaky smoking (legal) weed with on a Friday night.  He just is.

And isn’t that what America is about?  Isn’t that what you want a leader to be?  A person like you.  Relatable.  Basic. Kind.  Real.

Right?

And now we have this orange, soulless, baseless,  useless a-hole about to lead the free world.

Donald Trump is the guy who would cheap shot punch you during gym class when no one was looking?  He is guy that cuts you in the lunch line cause his Dad bought the team uniforms.  The guy that pays for his kid to be on the varsity team.  The guy that has no time for a couple Budweisers and some football talk with you.  The guy that actually makes fun of special needs people.  He is a fucking dickhead.  And I cast a vote for him…in the name of change.

And while I had/have no interest in Bill-ary leading our country…this guy?  Big mistake…and I aided it.  Why can’t we just have a “do over”?

Right?

So, I am sorry ladies and gentlemen.  We fucked up.  Can’t we all just poetically exclaim in unison”You’re fired!“?

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TOP 10: What I would do with Tom Brady during his suspension…

The Greatest Football Player of All Time, Thomas Edward Patrick Brady (Christ, that might be the greatest freaking NAME of all time!) is about to be mortal.  He is about to become a regular person.  Human.

In the coming days, our beloved TB12 has to join the rest of us “fans” and simply sit back and watch the first 4 weeks of NFL action.  Tom will be sitting at home and watching HIS Patriots play their first four games like he was just another Joe (Montana).  It is hard to imagine.  Hard to digest.  Hard to believe.  And while this is a devastating blow to the Pats, this is the one team in professional sports that can likely manage it, even with TFB sidelined (insert gratuitous FUCK YOU, GOODELL!)

And so, got me thinking.  What to do during this black hole in Boston sports history?  Of course I will remain glued to the TV each week with the rest of you but also…what will Tom be doing?  Per his suspension he can have no contact with his teammates.  Can’t visit the stadium, sit on the sidelines, throw a pass, communicate in any way with anyone in the NFL. (Yeah sure.  As if Coach Bill and J McD don’t have more burner phones hidden than Anthony Weiner’s weiner)

Got thinking more – what would I do if I could spend these 4 weeks with Tom Brady?

(SIDEBAR: If Tom was ever actually willing to host a contest where one lucky fan could spend the suspension month with him, the funds raised would make the entire history of The Jimmy Fund Radiothon look like a 6 year old’s $.25/cup lemonade stand. He’d probably cure cancer too.  Just sayin’.)

What would you do with Tom if you got that opportunity?

The listing of possible activities is endless, but here is my top 10. (all entries are rooted in strict hetero-sexuality, I assure you)

10.  Grooming:

Lets get this one off the table, who would not want to assist in assembling the G.O.A.T. everyday?  What the hell kind of magic potions, ointments, soaps, shampoos, lotions, creams, etc. create that level of magnificence?  Even this new, ah hem, ‘interesting’ hair style.  So what.  I need to know.

Image result for tom brady new hair

9. Go to the mall:

Yup, I bet TB never can do this given his fame, but I want that experience.  I want to walk in to Structure and watch the heads turn.  I want to pepper spray oncoming crazed fans.  I want to be the one protecting him.  I want to hold his hand in the food court while waiting in line for an Orange Julius.

8.  Prank calls to Sports Radio:

I want to be the Bart Simpson or Baba Booey to these stations that loath the Patriots and Tommy Boy.  I would use Tom to legitimize the call and then scream drunken obscenities (see #5 before they could cut us off.  Then #12 and I would giggle and have a quick pillow fight before our next call to glory.

7Image result for karate in the garage

Enough said here.

6. Tandem-Bike-Ride (could be substituted for Motorcycle with sidecar, but whatever, whatever) -through-Boston-to-Duck-Boats-Sit-on-Good-Will-Hunting-Bench-for-3 -Hours-in-Silence

(or something generally along those lines)

5.  Drinking

Yes, I know, Tom is not completely fueled and energized by booze like the rest of Patriots Nation, but this is fantasy.  In this world, Tom and I hit the bottle hard…every afternoon.  And I’m not talking about ‘sitting around the house sipping on some Bad Larrys’-kind of drinking.  I mean bar hopping from Back Bay to Brighton to Barnstable.  I mean jello shots with every Barstool Smokeshow since 2010.  White Girl wasted.  Watching the Greatest throw up a little late night Moons Over My Hammie in a Denny’s parking lot would be a privilege and an honor.

4.  Get arrested…

…for streaking…at Gillette Stadium, but during a Revolution practice.  Cause…Fuck you twice Goodell!

Image result for streaker football game

3.  Visit a Michigan University Sorority House. 

Be like hunting with nuclear weapons.

Image result for michigan university sororities

2. Potato Sack Race Against the Manning Brothers (no, not you Cooper.  Sit back down)

Win, lose or draw the Mannings are going in those sacks and being thrown off the Tobin.

Image result for manning brothers

1. PLAY CATCH!  DUH!

Image result for tom brady playing catch

Period.

And so, may the month of September fly by as fast as the salmon of Capistrano!

GO PATS!!!!

 

Back to School

Image result for back to school funny

Dedicated to Botto, Ellen, Boogie, Skeets, Shauno and the rest of you dedicated educators

(Reblog from 2013, because laziness is the hallmark of starting school)

No matter your color, creed, political affiliation or ethnicity when you hear the phrase “back to school” it elicits an emotionFrom the time we can comprehend the concept until we are in our golden years those three words mean something to just about everyone; especially students, teachers and parents.  But even for those beyond the educational starting-line that is “back to school”, the expression conjures up some feeling be it past, present or future.  Every one of us has had to manage the passage of returning to school for some portion of our lives and later, many need to manage this annual happening with our offspring.

With the beginnings of another school year upon us again I began to think about the feelings that are mustered up when we hear those three little words  And so, here is my review of the emotional roller coaster we each ride over the course of our lifetime when we hear that timeless expression.

Age 7: Wonder & Excitement

First grade baby!  Are you kidding me?  What on earth is better than 1st grade?  You have already survived the politics and mind games that you surely confronted in kindergarten.  Now it’s time to party.  No more naps.  No more half days. You have your own little friend posse and you are ready to take it out for a spin.  First grade may be the last grade you enter with no real expectations or demands put upon you.  Show up, shut up and smile…you’ll get straight ‘A’s’.  Fact.

Age 11: Confusion & Uncertainty

Well, you have now dominated elementary school.  You have been to the top of the mountain.  King or Queen of that K-5 hill and now it’s time for the next chapter.  But, not so fast my friend.  It’s not that simple.  Not only are you entering into those years with perhaps the largest age bracket of punks, sneaks and (future) criminals, you are in an all-out war with your hormones.  For the fellas, they are noticing they are growing hair on more than their heads.  What is this?  Not to mention your voice sounds like you are the next of kin of Michael J. Fox and Peter Brady.  Oh and let’s not forget about your, ah hem, newfound acquaintance with your…never mind.  As for the young ladies, you are meeting two new close “friends” and not sure how you should manage their inauguration.  That’s all I really know about girls  (back then and now).  As for the academics?  Spanish?  Algebra?  More than ONE teacher to deal with?  How do I get out of this one?  Junior High sucks…on most levels.

Age 14: Fear & Loathing

Congratulations!  You have managed the daily minefield that was Junior High School but now it’s time to take off the training wheels.  It’s a brave new world. While you almost have your newfound adult form in check, you are now the littlest of tadpoles in the big pond.  For the young men, you are getting pounded by the upper classmen; on the field, in the gym, in the hallways, in the parking lot.  NO escape.  Your only saving grace is there are REAL women here for you to gawk at!  Yeowza!  No more wearing sweatpants to school.  I’ll leave it at that.  And for you poor freshmen girls…that is how you are viewed by your elders; ‘girls’.  Prepare yourself to be mocked ad nauseum by every single older female you come across.  They will judge your clothes, your hair, your shoes, your friends…everything.  Even if you are a squeaky clean all-American girl, you will be mocked and probably be rumored to have made out with the janitor, Carl, before Columbus Day.  For you early developing 9th grade ladies, I always hated you.  Why?  Because you were not wasting your time with a silly co-ed freshmen boy like me when the senior captain of the basketball team named ‘Scooter’ has just asked you to the prom during orientation.

Age 18: Hip Hip HOORAY!!!

You made it!  Graduated high school.  You can vote.  In some places you can drink!  You have big dreams and ambitions.  The world is your oyster.  Oh, here is the really good part for the lucky ones; COLLEGE baby!  On your own.  No more parents and curfews.  New friends to meet.  Ridiculous theme parties. Fraternities. Tailgates.  Awesomeness aplenty.  Going ‘back to school’ for the 18 year old is the apex of life…so far.  Breathe in that higher educational air, start an ultimate Frisbee game, and chug that beer!

Age 21: Depressed & Scared

Where the hell did college go?  What do you mean it’s over?  Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?  What do you mean I am not going ‘back to school’?  I need to pay my own bills?  What in God’s name is going on?  Even for you brainy slicksters that continue on to law, med or grad school, the joke is on you.  The school work is harder, the party has ended and, likely, so has your parents’ generosity.  For the rest of you, grab a helmet and welcome to the real world.  It sucks.

Age 30: Jealousy and Bitterness

You are likely at some mid-level job you hate.  You may have gotten married.  You may even have a kid or 2 of your own.  Life has become just too real to fathom.  When you see all those ads for ‘back to school’, you muster up intense feelings of envy and sadness.  You can finally appreciate just how awesome school really was compared to the ‘real world’.  You contemplate if there is any possible human way to turn back the clock?  There isn’t.  Put your head down…you are in for a long haul.

Age 40:  Hopefulness and Joy

By 40, you probably have a few kiddos of your own running around the school hallways.  You have channeled your previous anger and jealousy for the college years into positive feelings of hope and excitement for your children.  For many of us, ‘back to school’ is once again awesome…but for totally different reasons.  Those summer-time-dependents of yours are, once again, someone else’s problem for six hours a day for the next 10 months.  Break out the bubbly!

Age 50:  Oh Crap

By 50, you have two overpowering emotions that you have no idea how you will control and manage when ‘back to school’ is mentioned.  Number 1, my ‘baby’ is leaving for college and 2, how on God’s green earth am I going to pay for it? In a related story, you are middle aged and gross.  BOO!

Age 60: Oh well

The kids are grown up, moved on and no longer your problem; financial or otherwise.  ‘Back to school’?  Who cares?  We are headed for Boca come October anyway.

Age 80: Who’s going back to school?

No really?  I can’t hear very well.

In the immortal words of Billy Madison

“Oh, Back to school, back to school

To prove to Dad I’m not a fool

I’ve got my lunch packed up, my boots tighed tight

I hope I don’t get in a fight

Oh, Back to school, back to school…”

An Open Letter to Steele Johnson’s Dad

As former Blogger Cum Laude @therealdantobin stated eloquently during last night’s Olympic Men’s Synchronized Diving competition…

“You’ll always remember where you were when Steele Johnson entered your life. ‪#‎rio2016‬ ”

Steele Johnson.  What can we say?  The Man Named Steele captured the Olympic Silver Medal along with (“partner?”, “companion?”, “aero-soul mate?”, “splash dancing buddy?”) David Boudia last night in beautiful Rio.

If I know Olympic Synchronized Diving history, and I think I do, Ace and Gary should be famous for at least another 5, 4, 3, 2….yeah..sorry fellas…its over.  Congrats anyway.

The only diver I have EVER respected was Grand Lakes University legend, Thornton Melon.

thorton melon

Case closed.  Call me biased but until I see another Triple Lindy in an active diving competition, you boys are all just playing for second place in my book.

But back to our boy, Steele.  As I watched him weep and proclaim to the world he and Little Davey’s “identities were rooted in Christ“, I knew I loved what this crackerjack was all about.  I understood him.  I get it.

My next flurry of thoughts were what Daddy Johnson must be feeling at this moment?  The easy answer is ‘pride’.  The honest answer ‘shame’.  No Dad names their baby boy ‘Steele’ and envisions a lifetime of water-world-slap-n-tickle and Bible thumping whilst skipping down Copa Cabana beach in a speedo.  Those are the simply the facts.

I pictured that quaint Indiana delivery room in 1996 when Mama Steele gave birth…

Dad: “Oh my goodness!  It’s a son, Jill!”

Mom: “He is just perfect.  We should name him after you, Bill.”

Dad: “Don’t even think about it, woman.  This boy s destined for greatness.  For glory.  He needs to hold a moniker that exemplifies strength, unbendable courage and character.  Defines the unbreakable spirit of man.”

Mom: “What are you saying, Bill?”

Dad: “We shall call him….”Steele”.

And history was made.

My guess is for the next 5 years (until Bill realized Little Steeley was destined to be a Grape Smuggling Water Whacker) good ol’ Bill had grandiose visions of…

Steele, the Middle Linebacker

Steele, the Alligator Wrestler

Steele, the Bull Fighter

and the most obvious, “Steele Johnson: PORN STAR”

‘What’s that Steele?  You wanna be a Synchro Whatsie Who?’

And they say that Bill  Johnson’s heart shrank 3 sizes that day.

Take it from me…it’s no easy road for a competitive diver.  And an even harder road for your Dad.

Sincerely,

Chaz Osborn

Former National High School Champion

chaz osborn

P.S. USA USA USA!!!

 

 

For the love of the game…

salute

As we embark upon one of the great sports weekends of the year (especially when it involves our beloved P-A-T-S) I wanted to pay some homage to some fellow Boston blogger homies.  I have done this “blog” thing for close to a decade.  I’ve made no $ from it, yet I compiled enough stuff to throw together a wildly unsuccessful book (I literally threw it together – didn’t even use spell check or punctuation) a few years back.  My wife is baffled by why I continue to do “this” and my answer is always the same; ‘I love it’.  I love to type out my thoughts, opinions and convictions.  Moreso, I love to (hopefully) get  laugh out of people from time to time.

I was first intrigued by the art of the blog by my fellow Holy Cross alum and ‘Sports Guy’, Bill Simmons.   I thought I wanted to be like Bill, but …nah.  Bill sold out (hell, maybe I would too, but).  Bill became Hollywood and (shaking my head) decided that professional basketball was his niche, as if NBA fans actually give a fiddler’s fuck about his white-ass opinions on hoops. Good call, chief.  Guys like me and #3 on the list below looked up to him and even reached out at various points for council; only to be snubbed and ignored.  I know you are crushing it, Mr. Black-like-me, but piss off.

I digress.

Listen, I have no false expectations of becoming a writer on SNL or Jimmy Fallon but I can’t let that stop me from doing it; so I do.  Running my yap about sports, life, TV, work, whatever is a great release.  41 years old with a wife and 3 kids throws a lot of responsibility on a dude; and this outlet lets me be that wiseass kid I once was, so GFY. Which leads me to the tribute of some others that have done the same’ only monetarily successful.

This is about the ‘little’ guys that are making it, in a BIG way.

Nick ‘Fitzy’ Stevens

Fitzy, as most know him, is THE Masshole (or his alter ego leads you to believe).  Via his Townie News and other outlets, Fitzy captures all things Boston sports; the Patriots in pah-ticu-lah.  This guy sneaky nails it – all the time.  Did you know he freakin roasted Dennis Rodman?  He made the Dean Martin Roasts look like sleep tapes (yeah, I said ‘tapes’).  Stellar.  His “press conferences”, “Shit that Pats Fans Say” and the rest of the videos are water cooler staples for us Bean Townahs.  They’re awesome.  He now has a gig on Comcast under his (supposedly) real identity Nick Stevens and does a great job.  But, like the spectators in the Coliseum in Gladiator, they cry for Fitzy.  Keep on keepin on, my good man. And GFY. @FitzyGFY

Jerry Thornton

As a fellow pasty white Irishman, I just like to root for Jerry at all costs.  I started following his fodder when he was contributing to Barstool Sports (stand by, El Pres, you’re next) with his ‘Knee Jerk Reactions’ (now Thornography on WEEI) and articles about how Irish you are on a green color wheel.  No flies on Jerry, he has the had the balls to do stand up comedy for 20 plus years; no small feat.  He is smart, insightful, knowledgeable and one-step-ahead-of-the-average shithead New Englandah with his bantah.  His self-admitted obsession with the Patriots and ‘Fan Boy’ crest he proudly wears makes him rock solid and validates his growing brand.  Jerry got his dream job with the WEEI afternoon boys a year ago and got to witness his beloved Pats win Super Bowl 49 as a part of the “media” and not just a spectatah.  Call him Fan Boy all you like; Jerry made it.  Good for you my super honkey brother from another honkey ass mother. @jerrythornton1

Dave ‘El Pres’ Portnoy

Tipping my cap as I type this, sir.  You are the Jedi Master of the sports/man/sicko blog.  I would argue you are the Jewish Rosa Parks of typing what we are all thinking; without caring about repercussions or public backlash.  El Presidente has always put his balls on the line and has never sold out.  And while he DID sell majority interest (yeah, only $10-15M, bitch) of his “baby”, Barstool Sports, last week he still calls the shots on content  and will undoubtedly keep us cringing with each post,  ‘Wake Up’, Guess That Ass and the rest.  El Pres doesn’t give a fuck; and that’s the secret sauce.  He is true to the craft and, moreso, his fans – and there are a shitload of them. @stoolpresidente

Salute, gents!

LETS GO PATS!!!

CIBF&C POWER RANKINGS: WORST MONDAYS OF THE YEAR

Come Monday

It’ll be alright…”

     -Jimmy Buffet

I’m calling huge bullshit here Jimmy.  Get back to San Francisco and sober up yourself and those Hush Puppies, chief.

Monday.  Just saying the word elicits an emotional reaction; mostly a negative or depressing one.  Monday is that that sadistic teacher that gives a pop quiz on a, well, Monday.  Monday is the overbearing, micro-managing boss looking for your TPS reports before you sit down at your desk.  Monday is the traffic jam.  Monday is the rain.  Monday is that coffee spill on your shirt.

Monday.  Sucks.

But as bad as almost each and every Monday is, there are some especially terrible ones we need to endure throughout the year (today being one of them).

Here are you rankings of THE WORST MONDAYS OF THE YEAR:

10.  Monday after a Screw-off-Friday

You ditched work/school for no good reason.  You may have played the fake sick card.  You may have just played hooky.  It feels so damn good when you are doing it, but you know there is going to be a price to pay.  Start thinking of excuses STAT.

9.  Monday after Thanksgiving

Coming off, what I consider, the best non-vacation week of the year, this one is hard to swallow.  You ate and drank way too much over the previous 5 days.  You need to start thinking about the anxiety of Christmas.  Oh, now you need to wear a jacket everyday.  Shit.

8.  The other 43 Mondays of the year not on this list

Yeah, all of them

7.  Monday with a hangover

While we can not assign an official calendar date these Mondays, we have all had them.  Perhaps you took it too deep at that cookout.  Went a little bat shit at the tailgate.  Perhaps an out of control Bar Mitzvah?  Doesn’t matter, staring down the barrel of a long week, you do not want to be staring down the barrel in your office trying to hold off the pukes.

6.  Monday starting a new job or school

Another date that may not occur on an annual basis, this is one of the worst.  Going into a new routine, new people, new boss/teacher/AA Sponsor….its all a giant ball of stress and now your anxiety has finally arrived.  This hallmark Monday deserves the middle finger and a Stone Cold Stunner.

 

5.  Monday with Guilt

Also known as ‘Apology  Monday’ another, unspecified date on calendar but we have all had these.  Most common in the college era of life, you wake up and know you need to face some demons.  You have a class with ‘that girl’ you made out with like the plane was going down in front of 63 people.  You have to see those dudes from the hockey house whose sink you pissed in.  You have to encounter the co-worker you drunkenly outed at the company outing Saturday afternoon.  It’s a Monday full of embarrassing “I’m sorry(ies)”.  Only remedy is bail on all commitments and just hide in bed. Time heals all.

5.  Monday (AKA Tuesday) after Labor Day

Obviously, this is not a real Monday, but you get the same feeling only worse.  Why?  Summer is officially over.  School is back in session.  All those ambitious projects you have been putting off in the name of ‘it’s summer, everyone relax’ are punching you dead in the face.  Thank God for football; the only thing that takes this sting out (See #1)

4.  Monday after Christmas*

This specific Monday ain’t all that bad.  You still have a few more ‘carefree’ days before the new year begins.  Everyone is faking it today and the rest of the week, but hey, its still freaking Monday and I would rather be in my Jam Jams watching cartoons and drinking hot chocolate/vodka.

3.  Monday after vacation

All vacations come to an end.  As refueled, re-energized and rested as you think you are, walking back in to the office, the classroom and any other obligatory location is the worst.  Insert pit in stomach.

2.  Monday after New Year’s *

This is a really bad (oh and look, it’s today!).  Excuses are gone.  Holiday cheer is dead.  Vacation is over.  Its time to get your shit together, Skippy, and it just plain sizzucks.

And our #1 Worst Monday of the Year is…..

1.  Monday after SuperBowl

Yes, this Monday get the #1 slot in our rankings.  Whether your team is in the Big Game or not, this Monday sucks the worst on a number of levels.  Football season is over. Its is freaking cold and snowy and no relief in sight.  It’s still dark out at 5PM.  There is nothing to do but sit inside and dwell on your misery (insert more of that hot vodka here).  No other sports to really give a shit about at this juncture.  But wait, look its Valentine’s Day!  Double Farts!

6 weeks until St. Patrick’s Day and March Madness.  8 weeks until The Masters.  12 weeks until you can even think about a golf club.  This really is the Grand Daddy of All Suck Ass Mondays.  You, Madam, are a giant bitch.  (NOTE: Add a SuperBowl loss by YOUR team – call the suicide hotline)

*Denotes this “Monday” can be alternate day of week depending on work/school schedule

So, yeah. Happy New Year.  Pffffftttttt.