Bud Bowl III: Great Taste or Less Filling?

Seems I can think back to a simpler time; a time when Super Bowl Sunday wasn’t the selfish, end of season hype generator it is today; a time when our nation’s most widely televised game could share the spotlight with another omnipotent, if ever-juvenile, contest; a time when the stop-break mayhem of a beer bottle football game played ring master to America’s most coveted day of commercial programming.

Of course, I can only be talking about Bud Bowl, the Anheuser-Busch company’s slick marketing ploy which began in 1989 and featured what was billed to be an annual gridiron slugfest between animated teams of Bud and Bud Light bottles.

But I’m not just speaking in general terms here, people. I’m dedicating this article to the genuine article: The greatest Bud Bowl of them all, Bud Bowl III.

To me, this piece of stop-break goodness outshined all other beer-related sporting contests before and after its time. Part of the charm of Bud Bowl III was dependent on the fact that it consisted of a whopping seven ads placed strategically throughout the course of the actual Super Bowl game. That meant you were bound to be treated to an all-important Bud Bowl update nearly twice a quarter on average, instead of the pitiful two or three ad performances of more recent contests.

Also, it was a matchup that set the stage for a possible King of Beers three-peat. A win by Bud would have given them an unprecedented third Bud Bowl championship and an automatic seat in history next to the other dynastic legends of the adult-beverage sporting contest world. Ok, maybe there’s not much competition in this arena. So what?

At any rate, Bud Light wasn’t about to simply crack under the pressure. They had themselves a scrappy team, and past defeats had helped them develop quite a sizable chip on their, eh, shoulders. The addition of top draft pick and star quarterback, “Bud Dry,” also didn’t hurt in the way of boosting Light’s often watered-down confidence.

Aside from all the background hoopla that built Bud Bowl III up in terms of fan excitement, the game itself did not disappoint.

From the opening kickoff, which actually tallied at least 20 seconds on the hang-time meter before ascending out of the stadium, to a big opening drive that featured Bud Light linemen busting open a huge running lane with the aid of a giant-sized can opener, to the introduction of “helmet cam” strapped to the caps of Billy and Bobby Bud (the brothers from Cerveza, TX of course) on a nifty play-action catch and run to open up the King of Beer’s scoring, to the intoxicating play-by-play of ESPN legend Chris Berman, this installment of Bud Bowl had it all.

There was even an encore touchdown plunge by larger-than-life Bud bottle “The Freezer” and a sweet Hail Mary pass to a certain “long necked” Bud receiver to give the defending champs a 21-17 lead with just seconds to go.

But the final play of Bud Bowl III is what cemented it as a commercial masterpiece.

In a play eerily reminiscent of Tennessee’s homerun throwback play (which didn’t happen for another eight years. I think Jeff Fisher may have done a little advance scouting at the Anheuser-Busch facility), surprise kick returner, Bud Dry, collected the kickoff, made a nifty move, and pitched the ball across the field to one of his teammates.

This unidentified Bud Light bottle rumbled down the sidelines, dotted with gasping Budweiser players and coaches, and directly through an over zealous Budweiser team band prepared to celebrate what seemed like a sure Budweiser victory. Then he plowed into the end zone, even with a Tuba uncomfortably clinging to his thermos-chilled body, and gave Bud Light its first ever Bud Bowl championship by a score of 23-21.

By setting up a key TD play earlier in the contest, and through his heroics on the game winning kickoff return, Bud Dry was the clear MVP. True, he may have deserved it. But tell me, folks: Where is Mr. Fancy Pants Bud Dry today?

Discontinued, that’s where.

Regardless, we still have to give Bud Bowl III some today for being the greatest string of stop-break folly to ever grace all those wasted minutes between Super Bowl drives. Have a look for yourself:

The Sporting Scribe's Super Bowl Spread: Chicago Style Dogs

If the Jamaican Jerk Chicken recipe I gave you earlier wasn’t enough, don’t worry. I’m on your side. All week, while you’re busy surfing the internet behind your supervisor’s back and pretending to look busy whenever he walks by your cube, I’m dreaming up a deliciously artery-shattering meal for the big game.

Nothing is easier, more delicious, and less healthy than the classic Chicago-style hot dog. Just ask Jay Cutler. Dude probably eats scores of these things on his romantic strolls through the Windy City. In fact, now that I think about it, that mysterious leg injury shouldn’t be much of a mystery at all. Can you say, “I got gout?” At any rate, enjoy.

Chicago’s Hottest Dogs

Ingredients

1 tbs. grainy mustard

2 tsp. white-wine vinegar

Coarse salt and ground pepper to taste

½ of a Vidalia onion, thinly sliced into spears

½ of a hot house cucumber

1 large tomato, sliced

1/2 cup celery leaves

2 tablespoons hot banana peppers, chopped

4 hot dogs (I’ve used all-beef and turkey dogs; both have been delicious)

4 hot dog buns, grilled or toasted

1-2 pickle spears

Dill relish to taste

Directions

1. Combine the mustard and white-wine vinegar in a medium bowl and whisk until smooth.

2. Add salt and pepper to the mixture, to your taste.

3. Add the Vidalia onion, cucumber, tomato, celery leaves, and hot peppers to the mixture. Toss.

4. Throw the dogs on the grill over medium-high heat until browned and heated through, about six minutes.

5. Serve your Chicago-style dogs on grilled buns. Top each with a sliced pickle spear and some dill relish.

The Sporting Scribe's Super Bowl Spread: Jamaican Jerk Chicken

It’s that time of year again, folks. Time to throw caution to the wind. Time to stuff ourselves full of preservatives, processed meats, cholesterols, and fats. Time to drink beer after glorious beer until our livers scream out for mercy.

 It’s time to watch some football, people.

And while our favorite athletes are out on the field of battle abusing their bodies in the name of the game, shouldn’t we also put ourselves through an equal amount of abuse? I think so. That’s why I put a lot of thought into my Super Bowl spread this year. Who cares if I’ll be the only one around to eat it? I didn’t want to share anyway.

Today, I give you the main course…Jamaican Jerk Chicken. If you don’t mind putting in a little work ahead of the big game, you’ll be picking the bones on this spicy, sweet treat come half time. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.

Jamaica’s Best Jerk Chicken

INGREDIENTS:

1 tbs. ground allspice

1 tbs. dried thyme

1 1/2 tsp. cayenne pepper

1 1/2 tsp. freshly ground black pepper

1 1/2 tsp. ground sage

3/4 tsp. ground nutmeg

3/4 tsp. ground cinnamon

1 tbs. salt

2 tbs. garlic powder

1 tbs. sugar

1/4 cup olive oil

1/4 cup soy sauce

3/4 cup white vinegar

1/2 cup orange juice

Juice of 1 lime

2 Habanero peppers, finely chopped

1 cup chopped white onion

3 green onions, finely chopped

1 whole chicken cut in pieces trimmed of fat

DIRECTIONS:

1. Combine the allspice, thyme, cayenne pepper, black pepper, sage, nutmeg, cinnamon, salt, garlic powder and sugar in a large bowl.

2. Slowly add the olive oil, soy sauce, vinegar, orange juice, and lime juice. Stir it together with a wire whisk.

3. Add the Habanero peppers, onion, green onions, and mix well.

4. Put the chicken pieces in the mixture, cover with plastic wrap, and marinate for six to 24 hours (the longer the better).

5. Preheat an outdoor grill to medium high heat. Remove the chicken from the marinade and grill for 8 minutes on each side, or until fully cooked. Baste the chicken with the marinade every two or three minutes to keep it moist. Enjoy.

Bud Bowl III: Great Taste or Less Filling?

By: C.G. Morelli

Seems I can think back to a simpler time; a time when Super Bowl Sunday wasn’t the selfish, end of season hype generator it is today; a time when our nation’s most widely televised game could share the spotlight with another omnipotent, if ever-juvenile, contest; a time when the stop-break mayhem of a beer bottle football game played ring master to America’s most coveted day of commercial programming.

Of course, I can only be talking about Bud Bowl, the Anheuser-Busch company’s slick marketing ploy which began in 1989 and featured what was billed to be an annual gridiron slugfest between animated teams of Bud and Bud Light bottles.

But I’m not just speaking in general terms here, people. I’m dedicating this article to the genuine article: The greatest Bud Bowl of them all, Bud Bowl III.

To me, this piece of stop-break goodness outshined all other beer-related sporting contests before and after its time. Part of the charm of Bud Bowl III was dependent on the fact that it consisted of a whopping seven ads placed strategically throughout the course of the actual Super Bowl game. That meant you were bound to be treated to an all-important Bud Bowl update nearly twice a quarter on average, instead of the pitiful two or three ad performances of more recent contests.

Also, it was a matchup that set the stage for a possible King of Beers three-peat. A win by Bud would have given them an unprecedented third Bud Bowl championship and an automatic seat in history next to the other dynastic legends of the adult-beverage sporting contest world. Ok, maybe there’s not much competition in this arena. So what?

At any rate, Bud Light wasn’t about to simply crack under the pressure. They had themselves a scrappy team, and past defeats had helped them develop quite a sizable chip on their, eh, shoulders. The addition of top draft pick and star quarterback, “Bud Dry,” also didn’t hurt in the way of boosting Light’s often watered-down confidence.

Aside from all the background hoopla that built Bud Bowl III up in terms of fan excitement, the game itself did not disappoint.

From the opening kickoff, which actually tallied at least 20 seconds on the hang-time meter before ascending out of the stadium, to a big opening drive that featured Bud Light linemen busting open a huge running lane with the aid of a giant-sized can opener, to the introduction of “helmet cam” strapped to the caps of Billy and Bobby Bud (the brothers from Cerveza, TX of course) on a nifty play-action catch and run to open up the King of Beer’s scoring, to the intoxicating play-by-play of ESPN legend Chris Berman, this installment of Bud Bowl had it all.

There was even an encore touchdown plunge by larger-than-life Bud bottle “The Freezer” and a sweet Hail Mary pass to a certain “long necked” Bud receiver to give the defending champs a 21-17 lead with just seconds to go.

But the final play of Bud Bowl III is what cemented it as a commercial masterpiece.

In a play eerily reminiscent of Tennessee’s homerun throwback play (which didn’t happen for another eight years. I think Jeff Fisher may have done a little advance scouting at the Anheuser-Busch facility), surprise kick returner, Bud Dry, collected the kickoff, made a nifty move, and pitched the ball across the field to one of his teammates.

This unidentified Bud Light bottle rumbled down the sidelines, dotted with gasping Budweiser players and coaches, and directly through an over zealous Budweiser team band prepared to celebrate what seemed like a sure Budweiser victory. Then he plowed into the end zone, even with a Tuba uncomfortably clinging to his thermos-chilled body, and gave Bud Light its first ever Bud Bowl championship by a score of 23-21.

By setting up a key TD play earlier in the contest, and through his heroics on the game winning kickoff return, Bud Dry was the clear MVP. True, he may have deserved it. But tell me, folks: Where is Mr. Fancy Pants Bud Dry today?

Discontinued, that’s where.

Regardless, we still have to give Bud Bowl III some today for being the greatest string of stop-break folly to ever grace all those wasted minutes between Super Bowl drives. Have a look for yourself:

The Scribe’s Super Bowl Spread: Chicago-Style Hot Dogs

By: C.G. Morelli

If the Jamaican Jerk Chicken recipe I gave you on Wednesday wasn’t enough, don’t worry. I’m on your side. All week, while you’re busy surfing the internet behind your supervisor’s back and pretending to look busy whenever he walks by your cube, I’m dreaming up a deliciously artery-shattering meal for the big game.

Nothing is easier, more delicious, and less healthy than the classic Chicago-style hot dog. Just ask Jay Cutler. Dude probably eats scores of these things on his romantic strolls through the Windy City. In fact, now that I think about it, that mysterious leg injury shouldn’t be much of a mystery at all. Can you say, “I got gout?” At any rate, enjoy.

Chicago’s Hottest Dogs

Ingredients

1 tbs. grainy mustard

2 tsp. white-wine vinegar

Coarse salt and ground pepper to taste

½ of a Vidalia onion, thinly sliced into spears

½ of a hot house cucumber

1 large tomato, sliced

1/2 cup celery leaves

2 tablespoons hot banana peppers, chopped

4 hot dogs (I’ve used all-beef and turkey dogs; both have been delicious)

4 hot dog buns, grilled or toasted

1-2 pickle spears

Dill relish to taste

Directions

1. Combine the mustard and white-wine vinegar in a medium bowl and whisk until smooth.

2. Add salt and pepper to the mixture, to your taste.

3. Add the Vidalia onion, cucumber, tomato, celery leaves, and hot peppers to the mixture. Toss.

4. Throw the dogs on the grill over medium-high heat until browned and heated through, about six minutes.

5. Serve your Chicago-style dogs on grilled buns. Top each with a sliced pickle spear and some dill relish.

Super Bowl Monday: Post Game Work Excuses

By: C.G. Morelli

Super Bowl Sunday is a glorious day. It’s filled with parties and people, keg stands and corn chips. It’s a celebration of 20 weekends spent huddled in front of our sets waiting for the teams to be whittled down to two. And when it finally happens, there are at least four perfect hours of pure football freedom.

But then the game ends, and with it the weekend. The last thing you want to do is toss back a few Alka-Seltzers and prepare yourself for another grueling work week. Can’t you have just one more day?

Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.  I’m here to guide you through some of the good, the bad, and the just plain ugly ways to make that inevitable Monday morning call out.

THE GOOD

Stall-ing Out

When it comes to guaranteed success, no other excuse in the book is more reliable than the old stomach bug routine. Think about it. There’s not a boss in the business that doesn’t have sympathy for an employee who ate a bad batch of hot wings during the Super Bowl and spent the rest of the night dropping shots of Kaopectate on the throne.

Plus, there’s no chance even the stingiest of managers would have use for someone whose main contribution to the work day will be peppering the toilets in the employee john. It’s a can’t miss.

Some Say a Good Phony Fever…

When it comes to the working world, Ferris Bueller’s sage advice that a phony fever will get you nabbed is pure hogwash. Sure, a very small percentage of offices ask for a doctor’s note. But chances are yours is not one of them, and that leaves you with a great excuse. The beauty of the Super Bowl is that it’s played in the dead of winter; also the height of flu season. Coincidence? I think not.

The chances of catching the flu at a crowded Super Bowl party are actually pretty darn good, so your boss will have trouble questioning the absence. A bonus is you can probably stretch this one out for a few days as the “flu” works its way out of your system. Go for some sympathy points by telling the folks at your office you got sick before the Bowl and had to miss the game. Then spend your Monday finishing off the left over pizza crusts and hanging around in your boxers until dinner.

An Offer They Can’t Refuse

You don’t have to be a stand-up comic to impersonate the voice of some idiot with laryngitis. You probably have the idiot part down already. Now, call your boss at the crack of dawn, do your best impression of Marlon Brando in The Godfather as you tell him you screamed yourself hoarse during the game, and proceed to enjoy your day off. It’s time to pull the covers back over your head for a few more hours of quality snooze time.

This excuse works really well for people who need to predominantly use their voices during the course of a work day. You know, teachers, receptionists, telephone operators, political candidates (that’s right Barack, I know you’re thinking about logging in that sick day), and the like.

THE BAD

To the Funny Farm…

Nothing screams, “I’m a psychotic nutcase!” more than a bad excuse that conjures up an image of you as a lunatic super fan. So, before you call your boss in the morning and tell him you’re covered from head to toe in gold face paint and that your now-hairless chest bears the logo of the Green Bay Packers, please think again.

A tactic like this may get you the day off, but don’t be surprised if a bunch of guys in white suits are sent to your home with a tailor-made straight jacket, compliments of the company. Trust me, not only is this a poor excuse, it’s altogether a very poor idea.

Care to Place a Little Wager?

I once knew a guy who tried to tell the boss he lost a bet which prevented him from coming to work. Being that he was such an “honest” gentleman and, therefore, bound to his debt, he couldn’t possibly break the deal. He had this elaborate story all boiled up and everything.

The boss actually stood there and listened to that crap for a full 15 minutes. You know where that guy is today? Neither do I. He got canned about five minutes later. The fact is, not many employers appreciate the Pete Rose type. Go figure.

Sossifer, I’m Ober

If you take nothing at all from this article, remember one thing: DO NOT USE BEER AS AN EXCUSE! Regardless of the fact that the Super Bowl is one of the biggest days of the year for alcohol sales, we are all supposed to suddenly turn back into sweet, innocent, little pixies once the clock strikes midnight.

Bottom line, unless you’re a member of the Kennedy family, do not under any circumstance call your boss and slur something to him about not being able to legally drive this early in the morning.

THE UGLY

Boss a Steelers Fan?

If you just want to be brutally truthful and you happen to be a Packers fan, give the old boss an excuse that’s both believable and amusing. Tell him a large gentleman dressed in black and gold smacked you in the chops, heisted your foam-rubber cheesehead, and made you Lambeau leap.

Brighten his morning with this little nugget of information and you might be finishing off stale pork rinds and watching re-runs of Good Times all week.

Enjoy your Superbowl Monday, folks. You’ve earned it.

The Scribe's Super Bowl Spread: Jamaican Jerk Chicken

By: C.G. Morelli

It’s that time of year again, folks. Time to throw caution to the wind. Time to stuff ourselves full of preservatives, processed meats, cholesterols, and fats. Time to drink beer after glorious beer until our livers scream out for mercy.

 It’s time to watch some football, people.

And while our favorite athletes are out on the field of battle abusing their bodies in the name of the game, shouldn’t we also put ourselves through an equal amount of abuse? I think so. That’s why I put a lot of thought into my Super Bowl spread this year. Who cares if I’ll be the only one around to eat it? I didn’t want to share anyway.

Today, I give you the main course…Jamaican Jerk Chicken. If you don’t mind putting in a little work ahead of the big game, you’ll be picking the bones on this spicy, sweet treat come half time. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.

Jamaica’s Best Jerk Chicken

INGREDIENTS:

1 tbs. ground allspice

1 tbs. dried thyme

1 1/2 tsp. cayenne pepper

1 1/2 tsp. freshly ground black pepper

1 1/2 tsp. ground sage

3/4 tsp. ground nutmeg

3/4 tsp. ground cinnamon

1 tbs. salt

2 tbs. garlic powder

1 tbs. sugar

1/4 cup olive oil

1/4 cup soy sauce

3/4 cup white vinegar

1/2 cup orange juice

Juice of 1 lime

2 Habanero peppers, finely chopped

1 cup chopped white onion

3 green onions, finely chopped

1 whole chicken cut in pieces trimmed of fat

DIRECTIONS:

1. Combine the allspice, thyme, cayenne pepper, black pepper, sage, nutmeg, cinnamon, salt, garlic powder and sugar in a large bowl.

2. Slowly add the olive oil, soy sauce, vinegar, orange juice, and lime juice. Stir it together with a wire whisk.

3. Add the Habanero peppers, onion, green onions, and mix well.

4. Put the chicken pieces in the mixture, cover with plastic wrap, and marinate for six to 24 hours (the longer the better).

5. Preheat an outdoor grill to medium high heat. Remove the chicken from the marinade and grill for 8 minutes on each side, or until fully cooked. Baste the chicken with the marinade every two or three minutes to keep it moist. Enjoy.

Bud Bowl III: Great Taste or Less Filling?

By: C.G. Morelli

Seems I can think back to a simpler time; a time when Super Bowl Sunday wasn’t the selfish, end of season hype generator it is today; a time when our nation’s most widely televised game could share the spotlight with another omnipotent, if ever-juvenile, contest; a time when the stop-break mayhem of a beer bottle football game played ring master to America’s most coveted day of commercial programming.

Of course, I can only be talking about Bud Bowl, the Anheuser-Busch company’s slick marketing ploy which began in 1989 and featured what was billed to be an annual gridiron slugfest between animated teams of Bud and Bud Light bottles.

But I’m not just speaking in general terms here, people. I’m dedicating this article to the genuine article: The greatest Bud Bowl of them all, Bud Bowl III.

To me, this piece of stop-break goodness outshined all other beer-related sporting contests before and after its time. Part of the charm of Bud Bowl III was dependent on the fact that it consisted of a whopping seven ads placed strategically throughout the course of the actual Super Bowl game. That meant you were bound to be treated to an all-important Bud Bowl update nearly twice a quarter on average, instead of the pitiful two or three ad performances of more recent contests.

Also, it was a matchup that set the stage for a possible King of Beers three-peat. A win by Bud would have given them an unprecedented third Bud Bowl championship and an automatic seat in history next to the other dynastic legends of the adult-beverage sporting contest world. Ok, maybe there’s not much competition in this arena. So what?

At any rate, Bud Light wasn’t about to simply crack under the pressure. They had themselves a scrappy team, and past defeats had helped them develop quite a sizable chip on their, eh, shoulders. The addition of top draft pick and star quarterback, “Bud Dry,” also didn’t hurt in the way of boosting Light’s often watered-down confidence.

Aside from all the background hoopla that built Bud Bowl III up in terms of fan excitement, the game itself did not disappoint.

From the opening kickoff, which actually tallied at least 20 seconds on the hang-time meter before ascending out of the stadium, to a big opening drive that featured Bud Light linemen busting open a huge running lane with the aid of a giant-sized can opener, to the introduction of “helmet cam” strapped to the caps of Billy and Bobby Bud (the brothers from Cerveza, TX of course) on a nifty play-action catch and run to open up the King of Beer’s scoring, to the intoxicating play-by-play of ESPN legend Chris Berman, this installment of Bud Bowl had it all.

There was even an encore touchdown plunge by larger-than-life Bud bottle “The Freezer” and a sweet Hail Mary pass to a certain “long necked” Bud receiver to give the defending champs a 21-17 lead with just seconds to go.

But the final play of Bud Bowl III is what cemented it as a commercial masterpiece.

In a play eerily reminiscent of Tennessee’s homerun throwback play (which didn’t happen for another eight years. I think Jeff Fisher may have done a little advance scouting at the Anheuser-Busch facility), surprise kick returner, Bud Dry, collected the kickoff, made a nifty move, and pitched the ball across the field to one of his teammates.

This unidentified Bud Light bottle rumbled down the sidelines, dotted with gasping Budweiser players and coaches, and directly through an over zealous Budweiser team band prepared to celebrate what seemed like a sure Budweiser victory. Then he plowed into the end zone, even with a Tuba uncomfortably clinging to his thermos-chilled body, and gave Bud Light its first ever Bud Bowl championship by a score of 23-21.

By setting up a key TD play earlier in the contest, and through his heroics on the game winning kickoff return, Bud Dry was the clear MVP. True, he may have deserved it. But tell me, folks: Where is Mr. Fancy Pants Bud Dry today?

Discontinued, that’s where.

Regardless, we still have to give Bud Bowl III some love today for being the greatest string of stop-break folly to ever grace all those wasted minutes between Super Bowl drives. Have a look for yourself:

It's a Wing Bowl, Folks

By: C.G. Morelli

The Philadelphia Eagles have come a long way in the past decade. Over these last ten years, the Birds have made seven playoff appearances including four NFC Championship berths, four division titles, and a Super Bowl. They’ve finished under .500 only two times in that span.

But that hasn’t always been the case. In fact, before the Andy Reid era the Eagles were perennial doormats in the NFC East and any shot at the Super Bowl seemed nothing more than a pipe dream to Philadelphia fans. I must say that growing up in the City of Brotherly Love was more than a bit depressing on Super Bowl weekend because there was never anything to play for.

That is until 1993, when a few enterprising individuals gave birth to their brainchild. The idea: Wing Bowl, a buffalo wing eating competition pitting the city’s flabbiest, yet most talented, eaters against each other. The Bowl, which started as a simple promotional event for a local radio station, has gradually become a national draw over the years.

Taking place the Friday before the Super Bowl, grown men with freshly hatched pseudonyms like Bill “El Wingador” Simmons, Kevin “Heavy Kevvy” O’Donell, Carmen “The Beast from the East” Cordero, and Glen “Fluffmaster” Garrison climb into outrageous outfits oftentimes consisting of tights and a cape, and proceed to gorge themselves with more wings than you and I could eat in the course of an entire year.

It has become a bit of a tradition for each contestant to come fully loaded with their own posse of outcasts to spur on their feeding frenzies. The motley groups at times consist of bikini clad cheerleaders affectionately dubbed “Wingettes,” or other oddball, comic book-like characters created in the warped, but entertaining, minds of the contestants.

For much of the life of the contest, Wing Bowl has been dominated by one man, the illustrious soul known to all Philadelphians as El Wingador. Mr. Wingador has won the event five times and recorded a personal best by eating 205 wings. He actually used to train for the event by chewing frozen tootsie rolls in the “offseason” to strengthen his jaw muscles. That’s dedication, folks. It’s exactly what got him inducted into the Wing Bowl Hall of Fame in 2006. Really, I’m not kidding about this.

But the tides have changed in recent years and a new wing-eating legend has emerged. He is known simply as Joey Chestnut, and he’s hoisted the championship trophy at the last three competitions. Last year, Chestnut devoured a Wing Bowl record 241 wings, besting his next closest competition by 14 wings.

Sounds slightly insane, doesn’t it? But don’t be so quick to judge. The obvious damage inflicted on Chestnut’s insides actually brought him some pretty sweet prizes. In the last competition, he tallied up nearly $40,000 in booty, including a brand new Harley Davidson, a new Toyota Tundra, and a diamond-encrusted gold ring. Not bad for a guy who’s claim to fame is 90 minutes worth of speed-chewing followed by two hours of agony in the john.

At any rate, Philadelphia’s Wing Bowl has become a perfect backdrop against the media hoopla of Super Bowl weekend, and it has given Birds fans something to cheer about even in those years when our team has been nothing more than an afterthought.

Stock Boys Need Charity Too

By: C.G. Morelli

There’s nothing I hate more in life than cheesy forwarded messages designed to make you think about how lucky you are to be alive, or on God’s great Earth, or a member of the NRA. I simply can’t stand it when my inbox is flooded with crap that claims I’ve somehow inherited ten million bucks from a deceased medicine man who made a fortune curing yellow fever along the Congo. And, trust me, there’s no bigger panty-buncher than a freaking chain letter that’s plastered from top to bottom with pink, little hearts and flashing stars and claims your life will effectively come to an end if you don’t forward it to at least six trillion people in the next four seconds.

Bottom line, my cursor is planted directly over the delete button in cases such as this.

But today, one of these nasty, disgusting, despicable little letters somehow broke through my normally impenetrable defense. I don’t know how it happened. Maybe I’m getting a little slow in my old age. I couldn’t tell you. The point is, I was faced with a difficult decision: Should I delete it without another thought? Or should I read it?  Was there some kind of divine intervention here that brought me together with this letter? Or was it a meaningless pile of dung like all the others?

I decided to take a chance. I read it and was quite surprised by what was revealed. I took the liberty of reprinting the letter here in its entirety. Like most chain letters, I obviously have no clue where this one originated. If I did, I’d have to give its creator a surprising bit of love.  See for yourself:

(Oh, and a bonus for you. Forwarding this message to less than 20 people will not result in death by firing squad.)

The Parable of Kurtis the Stock Boy and Brenda the Checkout Girl:
In a supermarket, Kurtis the stock boy was busily working when a new voice came over the loud speaker asking for a carry out at Register Four.  Kurtis was almost finished stocking mouthwash, and wanted to get some fresh air, so he decided to answer the call.

As he approached the checkout stand, a distant smile caught his eye. The new checkout girl was beautiful! Kurtis was immediately in love.

Later that day, (after his shift was over) he waited by the punch clock to find out her name. She came into the break room, smiled softly at him, took her card, punched out, and then left.  He looked at her card: BRENDA. He peeked outside only to see her walking up the road.  

The next day he waited outside as she left the supermarket and offered her a ride home. He looked harmless enough, and she accepted. When he dropped her off, he asked if maybe he could see her again outside of work.  She simply said it wasn't possible.

He pressed and she explained she had two children and she couldn't afford a babysitter, so he offered to foot the bill.  Reluctantly she accepted his offer for the following Saturday.  When he arrived at her door the following week, however, she again told him she couldn’t go on the date. The babysitter had called and canceled.

"Well, let's just take the kids with us," Kurtis said with a smile.

She tried to explain that taking the children was not an option, but again Kurtis pressed on. He would not be denied. Finally, Brenda brought him inside to meet her children. She introduced Kurtis to her daughter, who he thought was cuter than a bug. Then Brenda brought out her son. He was in a wheelchair, born a paraplegic with Down ’s syndrome.

"I still don't understand why the kids can't come with us," Kurtis said unfazed.

Brenda was amazed. Most men she’d met would run away from a woman with two kids - especially if one had disabilities. Her first husband and the father of her children had done it, so why not Kurtis? 

You see, Kurtis was not your ordinary guy. He’d been born with a slightly different mindset.
That evening Kurtis and Brenda loaded up the kids, and went to dinner and a movie. Whenever her son needed anything at all, Kurtis was there to take care of him. When he needed to use the restroom, Kurtis didn’t hesitate to lift him from the wheelchair and help him along. It became clear on that first night that Brenda’s kids loved Kurtis.  At the end of the evening, she knew this was the man she’d marry and spend the rest of her life with. A year later they were married, and Kurtis adopted both of Brenda’s children. Since then they’ve added two more kids.

So what happened to Kurtis the stock boy and Brenda the check out girl?

Mr. and Mrs. Kurt Warner now live in Arizona , where he’s currently employed as the next great quarterback to come out of retirement...at least that’s how Arizona Cardinals fans put it.  

Even now, when Kurt, Brenda and their children go out to eat dinner, he has one of the kids pick out a random family eating at the restaurant. Kurt then tells the wait staff he’s picking up the tab for that family's dinner anonymously. He remembers the days he was working nights in the grocery store and feeding his family on food stamps.

A Few Thoughts:

After reading this letter my first reaction was: “Damn it, Kurt! You knocked my team out in the NFC Championship twice already. But how can I hate you now?”

When this initial (and somewhat misdirected) frustration subsided, however, I found myself feeling pretty good for Mr. Warner.

Why?

Because he’s nothing but a regular Joe. He understands what it’s like to be at the bottom and fight his way to the top. He values the people around him regardless of their position in life. He exudes sympathy and empathy for others. He possesses a strong core of values and puts them to use even beyond the football field. He is, first and foremost, a giver. And he was one long before he had anything to give.

There’s little doubt, my friends, the stock boy deserved everything that came his way.