Conspiracy of One: Brady Quinn Slips to 22

I watched the NFL Draft this morning after a long, long week. It seems like next week will be just as tedious as well. The ceremony was rather boring this year, but I’ve never known it to be interesting, so I can’t complain too much. However, the Miami Dolphins are no longer a premier organization. I thought the signs were there, beginning with Nick Saban’s departure. I gave the owner a free pass, even with the Daunte Culpepper situation. But drafting Ted Ginn, Jr. over Brady Quinn? That is the dumbest reach in recent history. I’ll admit…Quinn’s demeanor is rather unsettling to me, as I don’t feel anyone can be that nice. However, he’s more prepared than JaMarcus Russell, whose career will be over within five years due to the mismanagement of Al Davis. Some teams really need to study the tape a little harder.

Work has been tedious. I’d try to rationalize it as the norm, but honestly, I’m fucking lost at this point. I must stop being a somewhat nice guy around there, or at least, firmly implement the definition of “no.” The situations I’m being placed in are barbaric…the Eighth Amendment allegedly protects me from this torture. Meh.

I’m done with my weeklong experiment. No more wig, but the bucket hat may be optioned to stay. The reactions I drew have been astounding to say the least. It takes a lot of balls to pull off that look, and I’ve got balls galore. It was inspiring, but I’m done with that trial. Time to age another year older, and restart the routine for next year.

My only gripe was that I barely glimpsed happiness this biological year. I had Christine for just one night. Saw her a couple of days ago, and she didn’t acknowledge me. I barely knew Katharine. Hell, I saw Katharine tonight…still as beautiful as the last time we went out for fresh air. I miss those days. It eats a hole in me each time I think about where I should be, or should’ve been. Hell, I never wanted to be this way, but too many close calls forced me to…well, didn’t force me, but granted me a choice. For better or worse, I’ve stuck with the results, and as usual, it’s time to capitalize on opportunity by creating my own chance. Christine, Katharine, someone…I’ll bring the smile back to Gotham. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Sheryl Crow “The Few That Remain”

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