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Somehow football proceeded without me the last few weeks. I didn't even get a phone call from the commissioner's office wondering where I was. I certainly wasn't consulted by Jim Delaney on Legends and Leaders.

First order of business. While I find other peoples' fantasy teams boring. Hell, I find my own fantasy teams boring. It seems at least topical to mention that I made it to the league championship in one of my two leagues despite leaving Ray Rice on the bench (doh!) and Heath Miller in the lineup (doh! doh!). Even worse, I picked up Brent Celek as a hedge against Miller's broken head, and then forgot completely.

What a great year for football punditry. There hasn't been a single story line that has captivated the league, but rather story trumping story trumping story. Am I the only one who barely remembers Ben Roethlisberger's suspension and the cascade of stop-gap quarterbacks the Steelers used to plug the dike (pun intended, but probably only funny to me).

We've already had three coaches fired and at least a couple more on the way out. As much as Mike Singletary proclaims his undying love for Alex Smith, does anyone really question what a terrible decision it was for him to hitch his wagon to Smith's tiny hand? Is Jeff Fischer going to survive another winter in Tennessee? I don't know that the record matters as much as his chick fight with Vince Young. Putting yourself in a position to start Rusty Smith can't be good for the 'ol resume. Even so, Bud Adams would be stupid to fire Fischer, but he's done much stupider things.

It can't be much of a suprise that Bradford and McCoy became regular starters in '10. Nor can it be too shocking that Clausen and Tebow have gotten starts. But Rusty Smith? John Skelton? Max Freakin Hall? And considering that Brett Favre is a serious threat to explode into dust on every dropback, it is only a matter of time before we see Joe Webb


Moving along to all things Brett Favre's penis. While we celebrate Favre sending pictures of his





to









I think that scandal might have been trumped up to err .. overtrump this scandal.









Matt Taibbi sums up the whole 'why are reporters in the locker room in the first place question much better than I ever could.

It’s not like sportswriters need details such as, “Stevensen, his flaccid but impressive seven-and-five-eighths-inch dong slowly unwrinkling in the locker-room heat, expressed concern that the Lions’s offense had failed to execute down the stretch for the third week in a row. ‘Somebody has to step up and make a play,’ he said, as the eyes of the assembled press repeatedly glanced downward involuntarily.…”

Okay, picture time is over. With a rare free window in my life I have to get to important issues like gift purchases and drinking and ... well, that's about it but that's plenty to fill my schedule.