Who knew Terrell Owens was a Browns fan?
Obviously dismayed and dejected by Cleveland’s winless streak, the uber-talented,
ultra-narcissistic wide receiver/ego maniac is alleged to have attempted to meet
his maker earlier this week by gobbling pain pills. Haven’t we all been there
after watching the Browns stumbling to yet another mind-numbing defeat?
Oh, my God, did I just make a lame joke about depression and suicide?
Before you hit “send” on your e-mails chiding me for callous, immature
insensitivity, accept now that I simply don’t care. We shouldn’t make fun of
anything because someone, somewhere, will be offended, right? “It’s a serious
matter! What if he were your son?”
If T.O. were my son, I’d do several things:
1. Cash in on it.
2. Try to remember if I was married to a black woman 30-some years ago.
3. Super-Glue his mouth shut.
4. Hide the pain killers and supplements.
There I go again, riffing on this poor man’s situation. Excuse me, “alleged”
situation, now spun by everyone involved into just a simple ol’ pill mix-up that
the Evil Media hijacked into a paper-sellin’ drama (never mind the police report
and 9-1-1 call). The egomaniacal, team-destroying cancer that is T.O. lost any
shred of sympathy from me when he and his enablers tried to spin this into
something innocent. It was a moment he could have used to highlight the dangers
of depression and urge people to seek help. Instead, that circus down in Dallas
– run by a pair of egomaniacal clowns that surpass even Owens – chose to spin
this. Pathetic. Meanwhile, Owens continues to sell “exotic popcorns” on his Web
site. Really.
Some people out there will say I shouldn’t make fun of a depressed man.
Others will say I can’t make fun of him, and therein lies a mountain of
difference. There’s little humor among the dogmatic, self-righteous zealots out
there. Unless you’re watching Hugo Chavez rant and rave like a cartoon madman at
the United Nations. That was funny stuff. The You Tube of it still smells like
Sulfur.
And we’re talking about T.O. here. It’s always open season on him. So chill.
At least I didn’t say he prefers the team to use the shotgun to get into
sudden-death.
Speaking of a lingering rotten-eggs reek, the Illegitimate Entity™ departed
Cleveland last Sunday with a victory that it had to work a whole lot harder then
it expected, to earn. Charlie Frye took a frightful pounding at the hands of
those immoral, depraved and criminal thugs, but he showed enough moxie to carve
them up, too.
“Moxie” is a term applied by journalists to quarterbacks who play well on bad
teams, and to Hollywood starlets who act well in bad movies. Either situation
fits Frye. He acted well in a bad movie. His gutsy performance made my four-hour
drive from Michigan worth it. So did seeing the guy selling beer that looked
like Lou Reed’s doppelganger and the drunken father next to me teaching his fat
young son how to swear at Brian Billick.
The question now is, will this movie get better? Or are we watching “Ishtar”
on the 17-week installment plan?
If there’s one tonic for the Cleveland’s woes, it’s the Oakland Raiders, a
team in absolute shambles. But realize, dear fans, that the Silver-and-Black
faithful are saying the exact same thing about their franchise. What better way
to claw out of the grave they’ve dug than beating the Browns this afternoon?
This game is going to tell us a lot. If the Browns are a good team on the
rise, they’ll dismantle the Raiders and make it look easy. If Cleveland remains
mired in the mediocrity coma that we’ve been bedside witnesses to since 1999,
then they will play down to Oakland and very likely lose.
The cruel reality is we’re the team that struggle teams breathe a sigh of
relief when we come to town. We’re just not very good. Our optimism always gets
tempered but the absurd, nonsensical reality of this team, and we spend much of
the season pounding ourselves over the head.
Oh, well. There are worse things that 0-4. For example, “Saved By The Bell”
alum Dustin “Screech” Diamond could release a sex tape.
What? He did? Oh, God. Hide the pain pills and supplements. A Screech sex
tape.
I imagine that took a lot of moxie on somebody’s part.
And I bet it smells like Sulfur, too.
Former Ohio newspaper editor and reporter Bill Shea has written the Doc
Gonzo column each week for The Orange and Brown Report for six years. He now
writes for a business magazine in Detroit and was recently named vice-president
of communications for the Port Huron Pirates of the Great Lakes Indoor Football
League. You can learn more about his, frankly, disturbing life at
www.myspace.com/neocongonzo or e-mail him at docgonzo19@aol.com.