Why Do Like the Chicago Bears This Week?
I always like the Chicago Bears.
And, well, just skip to the next section.
The Justin Fields Game Poem: “Less Than Broken”
Broken,
tired like an old joke, told by a retired cop on an early morning barstool.
A phrase, maybe, then a cough.
The promise of a punchline, then a sip, or two, and a drag from the cigarette that shouldn’t be smoked.
You sit through it because you’re there and that’s what you do.
You might even smile,
that distanced, third person smile.
The absurdity of it all.
__________
Then the delivery changes,
and suddenly the joke seems less than broken,
dispatched with a zeal uncommon to those smoke-filled mornings.
There is conviction in the telling,
connection with the words,
timing in the delivery.
There is hope in the joke now.
Hope.
Vegas, in Movies.
I have never been to Las Vegas. And I will – in all likelihood – never go to Las Vegas. Nothing about it appeals to me. If I want gambling and loud slot machines, I’ll drive to Atlantic City. (And I’ll be celebrating my 40th birthday there in January.) If I want a debauched weekend with “the boys”, I’ll go to New Orleans. (And there’s a casino there too if you need it.) Even tee times at the best golf course in town, Shadow Creek, come with the caveat that you can be bumped any point if a whale wants your time. I mean, seriously, fuck you.
If Rickles and Sinatra were performing there, sure, I’d take the trip. But to go hang out on a cruise ship in the desert with Jay Leno and hookers? Pass.
Here are six scenes from six great Vegas movies. (Well, five are Vegas movies.)
