Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Not what fantasies are made of
On Saturday, my BFF LL Cool Jew took a quick break from her in-laws to have dumplings and drinks with me. While we were sitting at P.D. O'Hurley's slugging down Irish coffees, we heard some of the local fellas at the bar talking about how Plaxico Burress "shot himself in the foot."
"Did Plaxico Burress fucking shoot himself?" LL Cool Jew asked, alarmed, as much of her domestic peace hinges upon the Giants' fortunes.
"That can't be!" I said, myself alarmed not because of concerns about disrupting my marital bliss, but because Plaxico Burress has been stinking up my Fantasy roster all season. I immediately scanned the many televisions tuned into College Game Day on ESPN and assumed there would be something on the ticker about it. I did not see anything about Plaxico shooting himself, so I said, "Nah, dude, it would be all over ESPN if he had. They must mean figuratively, because of his attitude problems all year."
"I hope so," said LL Cool Jew, looking nervous about the prospect of attending the circus later that day with her husband BigBagel, brother-in-law, and father-in-law, all of whom are rabid Giants fans.
"Me too. That motherfucker is on my Fantasy team and I was hoping to trade him for a draft pick next year to someone who actually made the playoffs," I said. Unfortunately, despite my Fantasy team being the defending league champions and looking super hot on paper at the beginning of the season, most of my marquis players failed to do jack shit all season. The only silver lining is that, though Tha Razzies paralleled the exceptionally disappointing Seattle Seahawks, at least we won more than two fucking games all season. Therefore, I planned to trade Plax and all these underperforming douchebags for draft picks or better keepers and hope Tha Razzies have a bright season next year.
LL Cool Jew and I didn't see or hear anything further about Plax at the bar, so I forgot about it until I got home and noticed that she had texted me: "dewd, he DID shoot himself!" I immediately went to the trusty internets and realized that the moron was at some shitty club carrying the gun in his waistband with the fucking safety off, and, while his foot escaped unscathed, he shot himself through the thigh. I should add that Plax was not hanging out at some thugged-out shithole in Bed-Stuy or the South Bronx. He was at the Latin Quarter, located in the utterly non-dangerous Radisson Lexington Hotel in East Midtown, where the salsa band that played LL Cool Jew's wedding performs on Wednesday nights and guests enjoy Chef Ralph Mercado's tasty "LatAsian" creations with their bottle service. This is the kind of establishment where you are more likely to dodge spray-tanned bridge-and-tunnel types in pastel Kangol hats taking kamikaze shots than bullets. There is absolutely NO REASON WHATSOEVER, except for validating what an idiotic asshole you actually are, to pack heat at a place like this.
Furthermore, Plaxico told the lamest lie in the history of prevarication when he said he was actually shot at an Applebee's where he ate before he hit the club. I guess that sounds slightly better than "I accidentally shot myself because my gun WITH THE FUCKING SAFETY OFF started to fall out of my pants while I was holding a drink," but not by much.
LL Cool Jew and BigBagel's crew are not the only ones as outraged as myself at Plaxico's idiotic firearm skills. Thanks to the greatest newspaper in the history of print journalism, the New York Post, and its fellow tabloid the New York Daily News, I have spent the last three days being reminded of Tha Razzies' grim Fantasy reality every time I walk past a bodega or get on the subway (my favorite is the "GIANT IDIOT!" Post cover):
Now the Giants have suspended and banned Burress for the rest of the season, and are rumored to be getting out of the remainder of his $35 million dollar contract. It's bad enough that Plaxico might wind up booted from the New York Football Giants, since he'll probably go to the one team that, if Adam "Pac Man" Jones is any indication, welcomes violent criminals with open arms: the hateful Dallas Cowboys. At least if he goes to the Cowboys, I can probably trade him and watch media hilarity ensue as he tries to coexist with Terrell Owens's ego. A much worse scenario involves Plaxico's fate at 100 Centre Street, AKA the Manhattan Criminal Courthouse. New York City has some of the strictest gun control laws in the nation, and possession of an illegal, loaded firearm carries a 3 1/2 year mandatory minimum sentence. Which means that if Plaxico is convicted in spite of hiring celebrity gun charge lawyer extraordinaire Benjamin Brafman, my Fantasy team goes from disappointing to totally fucked. Thanks a lot, Plax.
Labels: BigBagel, crime and punishment, Fantasia, guns, LL Cool Jew, NFL football, NYC, retard rage
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