By now, you’ve read a great many of these bye week updates. All with an unique style and approach. Bravo and much praise to my colleagues for creating such mirth and merriment. I had intended to have some kind of off-kilter oddball opus of my own to contribute to the stack. But as is often the case, life encroached. In a good way! It just cut my writing time to bare minimum. This is going to be fairly straightforward. My addled views will have to wait for another time and tale. Here goes.

I like Indybananas. Really I do! Lady Shogun’s bestie lives there, and I am NOT ashamed to admit her husband is easily one of the Top 3 Men I will EVER claim to acknowledge full-on Love for. Wanna debate? Oops, you already are WRONG. That includes two (of two) of my brothers, and they’re not always on the list. So…

Just prior to agreeing to this assignment, my team’s personal jebus done broke his collarbone. Which I HAVE DONE! Except I was 5. Lemme explain.

In case you’re new here, I grew up with Deaf parents. As such, I did in fact get away with many things. One was, in 1983-4(?), my brother (DeafMidShogun) and I were doing our best WWF impressions. Jimmy SuperFly Snuka was literally the Bomb. So I climbed up on top of the dresser, next to the TV. I leapt…he (being tv savvy without being able to tell me he was gonna) rolled out.

Pain arriving in 3…2…

BOOM. There went my clavicle. That woulda been fine. Except NO ONE caught it. No one saw it happen, certainly no one HEARD it (har har), and it didn’t really hurt. I just dragged my arm along for two WEEKS. Grandma had no clue, Grandpa just figured to rub dirt in it. Finally Mom had a day off (oh did I mention she was a NURSE?! Worked graveyard so that’s excused). That don’t look right! Off to Hospital! Where, at the mature age of 5, I heard AND had to interpret to the folks “its gonna have to be re-broke in order to heal right.” I knew what every one of those words meant. Until I knew what Mama Shogun went through in life, I thought I knew pain. It. Sucked.

I say all of this to say that Andrew Luck has been horribly abused. NO ONE DENIES THIS. My team’s messiah is heading that way. The similarities between these two teams are kind of eerie. I can’t honestly watch how they allow such inhumanity to continue. There’s only one ring (to bind them, blah blah bleh) to separate them. Their O-lines allow enough damage to make the Challenger take pause. Their defenses are a fever dream. I’d make a Weinstein joke, but really? Sometimes there’s just too many holes. Even Ms. Houston says No More.

Their GMs are both questionable, except Indy DID have enough sense to rearrange their deck chairs. Both coaches are on borrowed time, though Pagano is certain to go. Captain Bluebunny will probably get a stay of execution, even though it seems clear his “QB Whisperer” cred has been exhausted, if it ever existed. The owner of one team is a pill-addled drunk whackjob who spouts off insane rantings constantly. The other is Jim Irsay. Need I say more? Ok, well now both teams are racking up arrests. Losing seasons make idle hands. Idle hands may be the devil’s work, but idle minds it seems are so much worse.

There are glimmers of hope and signs of future excitement. When Luck returns from his super-secret European vacation it’s quite possible he’ll go all Steve Austin bionic and destroy all the villages (No not Stone Cold, the Six-Million Dollar Man. Sheesh.). Maybe he’ll have receivers. They seem destined for a Top 10 pick, which if it isn’t spent on the O-Line I say the citizenry go full public execution at Lucas Oil. It’s of little comfort now of course, but the future always shows promise. Otherwise why would we bother?

When I’m in Indibibimbapolis, it never fails that at some point I will get myself fancy doughnuts, and will order biscuits and gravy.

…that’s a small portion for a 1st course, but whatever.

There IS a reason biscuits and gravy exist. It is comfort. It is a salve. It spackles the sad crevices we ALL have in our souls. You may joke, but you know…deep down…THIS is what satisfies. What are you ordering at 4 am, many hours after you should’ve went to sleep? What’s gonna get you down for good? What’s gonna make you semi-coherent at 10 am? Mhm. Smother and cover bitches. If you dislike winter in the Midwest, sprots aren’t likely to provide comfort this year. Except for maybe Minnesota, and I suppose KC if they can avoid their yearly collapse. Winter is gonna hurt. Let’s at least enjoy each others company and get some decent food (look up yeah right’s Sunday Gravy on this very site. Others have cooked and baked as well. Even me.)

We, the Midwest, bid you all adieu as we go into our annual lockdown/hibernation. Me? Oh I’m looking for ALL the doughnuts! Think I’m kidding? Come with me, but I’m not responsible for whatever your cardiologist says. Statins are FOAR QUITTERS!

Mwah.