(Scene: corner booth at Denny’s in Otsego, MN, 9:30 am, Saturday October 9^{th .}  Randy Moss is sitting in booth with Brett Favre to his left and Fred Smoot to his right.  All are eating breakfast.) 

Favre: Thanks again for meeting me, fellas.  I figured that if anyone could relate to what I’m goin through, it’d be you guys. 

Moss: Hey man, no problem.  I knows all about this kinda thing.  The folks here in Minny still love me after all the crap I pulled.  They’ll forget about this stuff too.

Favre: Yeah, I hope so. And thanks to you too Freddie. Man, I sure had a hard time tracking you down. Lucky you were in town. 

Smoot: Yeah man, no problem… you gots the check, right?

Favre: Jeez Fred, I think we can all afford to pay for our own food.

(I approach the table)

Me: Hey guys, sorry I’m late.  Sophie threw a fit when I told her she couldn’t come with.  ( I sit to Favre’s left).

Moss: Man, you shoulda brought her.  She must be getting big, huh?

Me: Well, I wanted to bring her, but… (head nod in direction to Smoot).

Moss: Oh, right. (to Smoot) Still not allowed around kids, huh?

Smoot: (mumbles unintelligibly while chewing on a waffle).

Me: So, what did I miss?

Favre: Well I was hoping for some advice on how to handle the New York media when they start askin about those texts and phone messages. I figure you guys gotta have some experience with this.

Me: I’m gonna have to defer on this one.  I can get out of pretty much any jam at my work by blaming Customer Service.  Once I say those magic words, whoever I’m talking to just nods and starts complaining about our Customer Service people.  Within a day, the problem just goes away.

Favre: I don’t think that’s gonna work for me.  I mean, it’s not like I can blame the cell phone company’s Customer Service people for this.  The picture clearly isn’t of an Indian guy’s unit.

(All laugh at mildly racist joke.)

Moss: Have you considered chalking it all up to “consensual horseplay?”  I mean, people always talk about how you are like a kid on the field.  Maybe you can just convince people you’re like a kid in real life.  A big, dumb, hillbilly kid who just doesn’t know any better.

Favre: I’m sorry, what was that?  (looking down at back side of placemat) I think this is one of those trick mazes where there is no exit.  Why do I always get stuck with those?

Me: (to Moss) You know, Consensual Horseplay was the name of my fantasy team last year.

Moss: Really, howdya do?

Me: (taking a long sip of coffee) Not great. So is it true that that whole thing was about you asking that lady to…

Moss: Well, sometimes a man’s got a itch that he just can’t reach, know what I’m sayin?  It ain’t like that makes me Jeff Garcia or nuthin.

Smoot: Man, you all crazy. You think “consensual horseplay” is gonna get you outta a drug rap, or runnin over a cop, or transporting ho’s across state lines to put on a toy show?  Hells no! (to Favre) Cracker, it’s time for you to man up and ask yo’self some important questions.  Biggest of all, those ladies hot? Cause if so I jus don’t see what all the fuss ‘bout.

Me: Hey, I’ve got it.  Why not go Tea Party on the bit and just start railing against the left-wing media timing all this to coincide with your return to New York, and about how the media villainizes white men and southerners and all that stuff.   Next thing you know, you’ll have Fox demanding that football players be able to do whatever they want to whoever they want whenever they want.  And the lefties and womens’ groups won’t be heard over all the shouting.

Favre: You really think that could work?

Me: Sure. Look at the Republican nominee for New York governor. That guy has a love child, sends beastiality pics to co-workers, picks fights with reporters after he misunderstands simple questions, and he’s gaining in the polls.  I mean, look around. You’re in Bachmann country. She’s just flat out nuts and is way ahead!

Smoot: You think some o’ that would work for a brotha like me?

(All laugh at mildly racist joke)

Favre: You know, I like that. I’ll just have to run it by the folks at Wrangler.  Wouldn’t want to tick off my sponsor.

Me: I don’t think a company like Wrangler would have a problem with a turn to the right.

Favre: Great. Man I’m feelin more relaxed already.  Freddie, those vitamins you gave me are really doin the trick.

Smoot: Vitamin. Hehehehehehehe.

(Waitress approaches the table)

Waitress: So can I get you anything else?

Moss: (to Waitress) You’s got some nice long fingers, has anyone ever told you that?

Favre: (to Waitress) Can I get your cell phone number?

Me: (to Waitress) I think we’ll just take the check.  Thanks.

(Waitress leaves, a family with two young female children sits at adjacent table.)

Smoot: Well, that’s my cue. (Smoot slides under table, crawls out and stands).  Smoot out.

Song: Jimmy Olsen’s Blues
Line: “drive me up the wall and through the roof”
On-Screen: Tico drives across the screen in his car.

Song: Jimmy Olsen’s Blues
Line: “he’s faster than a bullet, stronger than a train”
On-Screen: Roberto the Robot makes his first appearance. 

Song: What Time Is It?
Line: “it’s not late, no, no… it’s early”
On-Screen: Dora and Boots express concern that they’ll be late to her birthday party. 

Song: Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong
Line: “Been a whole lot easier since the b**ch left town”
On-Screen: A tornado transports Dora and Boots to the magical land of Wizzles. 

Song: Forty or Fifty
Line: “Forty or fifty horses lying in a lot;”
On-Screen; A friendly unicorn helps Dora and Boots.

Song: More Than She Knows
Line: “I know she’s got everything she wants, I know she’s got everything she needs”
On-Screen: Backpack finishes his intro song and provides sticky tape to Dora. 

Song: Two Princes
Line: “One, two princes here before you”
On-Screen: The mean witch spies on Dora and Boots from behind the trees.  (Perhaps an allusion to "princess" rather than "princes"?)

Song: Two Princes
Line: “I ain’t got no future or family tree”
On screen: Dora and Boots are taken captive by the dancing trees. 

Song: Off My Line
Line: “Somewhere in between the blue and the red”
On-Screen: Dora and Boots slide down a rainbow bridge. 

(Scene: Mid-day in early November, I'm driving in car, stopped at a stoplight in Minneapolis. A seemingly homeless man approaches the car. I scoop a few dollars worth of  change out of the center consol and lower window.)

Me: Here you go (reaching hand through window)

Smoot: Man quit foolin. Open the back door, we needs ta talk.

Me: Fred? What the…

(Smoot gets into the back seat of the car as the light changes. I resume driving. Fred is sweating profusely and seems panicked)

Smoot: I needs your help man! I am freakin out!

Me: Jeez, calm down. What are you doing here – don’t you have practice or something? Do you even play football any more?

Smoot: Man, there are things more important than football! Ain’t you ever heard of 2012?

Me: You mean the year?

Smoot: I mean the last year! I saw that new movie about 2012 and the freakin world is gonna end! What, you think that Jon Cusak is gonna save your pasty hide?

Me: I’m pretty sure that’s just a movie – it’s just fiction, made-up. I don’t think…

Smoot: Man I know what I saw. And then I checked this stuff out on wikipedia and it’s true! Turns out the Mayans knew about this way back, but the Europeans stole it from them and kept it a secret from us folk. 

Me: Assuming for a minute that the world was gonna end in a little more than three years and that anything else you said was true, how does coming here and pretending to be homeless help you out?

Smoot: Naw man, this disguise is to help you. You’z gotta sneak me onto that rocket.

Me: What rocket?

Smoot: You know, the rocket youz white folks got ta take yall to your moon base before the planet falls apart.

Me: (Sarcastic) Oh, that rocket. How’d you find out about that?

Smoot: Never you mind how I found out – why didn you tell me? Man, I thought we was cool.

Me: Fred, there’s no rocket and no moon base and no end of the world. You’re just going into another one of your paranoid delusions about the Man keeping you down…

Smoot: Man, the Man is keeping me down! You think the President cares about my black ass?

Me: But the President is black. Come on Fred, you live in Washington, how do you not know that?

Smoot: Black President? Man, now who’s talking fiction? You know what, just let me out up at the corner.

Me: Ok… hey wait. There’s a strip club on that corner! Did you just need a ride?!?

Smoot: (exiting the car) Thanks for the lift baby, hehehe. Smoot out!

Me: (yelling out of the window after him) Can I at least have my change back?

An article from Slate earlier this week compares Barack Obama to Neo – Keanu Reeves’ character from the Matrix films. Sure, both are commonly referred to as the chosen one, but I think that there’s a better comparison from another movie character from the same year.

During his six months in office, Obama has ok’d the payouts of billions or trillions of tax dollars to banks, brokerages, insurance companies, auto companies, and is now looking to spend between $2.3 trillion over 10 years or 72 cents over ten years (depending on who you’re listening to) on health care reform. But none of this addresses the issue of how to keep people from losing their houses.

(On a side note, somebody still needs to explain why Goldman Sachs got government money to cover their investments that went belly-up, even though those investments were insured by AIG, which paid the claim using government money.)

That’s where the Project Mayhem comes in. (I know, I know… second rule, don’t talk about Project Mayhem.)

Remember Tyler Durden’s effort to blow up a few buildings and instantly erase the credit card debt of everyone in America? (If only it were that simple – I’m sure some of that info has gotta be backed-up.) Why couldn’t the president just do that instead? Would the total cumulative credit card debt of every American even come close to what the government has already spent? I mean, all wealth is fake anyway, just numbers on a screen somewhere. So it’s not like anyone would be any worse off than they are now. And erasing that debt for all individual consumers would definitely increase spending in every other area of daily life (new homes, new cars, etc.)

So if the president does decide to do this, I only ask that he give a few months notice – I want to run up my balance first.

(Incidentally, Fight Club was on tv at the same time as Obama’s speech on Wednesday, so we can be reasonably sure he and Durden aren’t the same person.)