can you smell what the bird is cookin'?

so, no kidding, earlier this week after Terrell Owens got kicked out of Eagles training camp, i was going to sit down and write him an open letter, along the lines of "you asshole, you had the world and the city in your palm, and you went and screwed it up in favor of some lame-ass grandstanding". but then someone else went and did it so much better than i could. and he's only 4 years old.

so, with the preseason only a week old, i can already feel the world of hurt coming on, the hurt that only the Philadelphia Eagles can bring, with endless losses, bad seasons and "so close i could've breathed on it" misses. i am so sore i am not in Philadelphia, pissed that i can't go to the Drake and waste hours and hours with my friends watching the game. it's not going to even be on tv much here in Houston, so i am forced to find some sort of sports bar to watch the game, a sports bar probably full of morons or, god forbid, Dallas Cowboys fans.

i never did comment much on the heartbreak of February last. to come that close, and especially that close to a team as smug and self-satisfied as the Patriots, was just heartbreak. the city was in mourning, and i'm surprised there weren't some sort of riots on Frankford Avenue or in South Philadelphia. like all the people in the bar sitting next to me, we were just numb. the silence after the loss was deafening, and everyone slowly and quietly filed out, leaving bar carnage behind them. i sat with my head in my arms for the longest time. women were crying. men were crying. it was a sad day.

but it seems that TO has his head dislodged from his ass, at least temporarily. we'll see if it all works out.

Donovan McNabb, i love you. you are the bomb, you are a real, honorable guy, and a consummate professional. you kick ass. i hope you kick everyone's this season. god. i'm tearing up.

i guess i didn't mention i love football?