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.

BOOM! Roasted.

By: C.G. Morelli

A few nights ago I saw a rerun of my favorite episode of The Office.  In it, Michael Scott asks his employees to roast him. In typical Michael fashion, he’s completely blindsided when the jokes start to get personal. The following clip is his classic rebuttal:

 

So I thought: wouldn’t the world of sports be that much better if Michael Scott were at the helm? And the answer is most definitely NO…but I thought I’d give you a little glimpse anyway. Feel free to insert your own. That's what she said.

NFL - BOOM! Roasted.

Jay Cutler: Great game against the Packers. You looked cute on the sidelines in your Chicago Bears Snuggie. Boom! Roasted.

Tom Brady: You’re a bigger fruitcake than Cutler. I didn’t know Uggs were official team gear. Boom! Roasted.

Rex Ryan: Send your wife over. I’ve got a bunion. Roasted.

Ben Roethlisberger: Is that a comb in your pocket or are you trying to sexually assault me. Boom! Roasted.

Jeff Fisher: Fired. Roasted.

MLB – BOOM! Roasted.

 

Bud Selig: Great job keeping steroids out of baseball. Now my six year old nephew has chest hair. Boom! Roasted.

New York Mets: The Yankees called: You’re grounded this weekend. Boom! Roasted.

Milton Bradley: Parker Bros. called: Stop being such a DOUCHE! Boom. Roasted.

NBA – BOOM! Roasted.

 

Lebron James: You know how they say “you can never go home?” Roasted.

Ron Artest: Jeffrey Dahmer has more fans than you. Boom! Roasted.

New York Knicks: You haven’t done s%@& since Ewing left town. Boom! Roasted.

NHL – BOOM! Roasted.

Sidney Crosby: Jay Cutler called: He looks forward to watching the All Star game with you. Roasted.

Alex Ovechkin: You could score an “Ovech-trick” in every game this season and you’d still have a problem—you’re name’s not Crosby. Boom! Roasted.

Carolina Hurricanes: Great marketing team. The All Star game’s twenty minutes from my house and I just found out. Boom! Roasted.