Your Sunday Night Football Open Thread

The last two sunsets this week have been almost blood red and that’s got me to brooding. Brooding about a lot of things but most times those other thoughts are pushed aside and my appetite takes over. It’s more of a longing, a yearning to cleanse myself and society in one quick action. One rush of action, a decisive blow and the course of history shifts just a bit. In my favor, of course.

There’s a small community about forty minutes from mine that piqued my interest recently and I’ve taken to puttering around there, seeing the sights, looking for opportunities, the usual. It was once a busy little burg that depended on farming and logging. Now it’s pretty much a welfare town. I’ve seen listless old folks and drunken 30-something men sharing benches in what passes for downtown these days. The streets are on a grid pattern that extends off the highway and I discovered that there was a fair sized river at the back end of the place. I crossed the bridge and followed the road that ran parallel to the meandering body of water. To my left were houses that were well spread out. Always a good sign Ten minutes along this graveled route on the right hand side were farms, many with crumbling barns but there were some that were actually a going concern. A strawberry/pumpkin one here a dairy farm there, some beef cattle grazing placidly a little further on. There were a few folks out for a walk, some cyclists, a stand selling squashes. The germ of an idea presented itself.

I drove into the city on a Friday and rented a car, and upon arriving home I left it in an assisted living parking lot. Earlier in the week I’d unscrewed some plates from a vehicle I saw in a neighbor’s yard-it had been sitting in the back of his driveway for some time, three of the tires now flat. I’m guessing he wouldn’t notice for a bit. At 6am Sunday I switched out the plates and left to go hunting. I had a screwdriver, a plastic kitchen catcher bag and of course, a blade, nestled close to my chest in the breast pocket of my coat. I’d figured that a fair number of these simple folk would be church-going types and suspicions were confirmed as the backroad was almost empty of people.

Not good. I couldn’t stay around here for very long and realized that my chances of finding game were rapidly evaporating. A car making several passes up and down a dirt road in a small knit community is not a good look. I was thinking church would let out quite soon. One more pass…

And there he was, a mid-forties guy, dressed in overalls. He was limping a bit. The odds were good that I could get him into the car. I pulled up to him and lowered the passenger window. “Hey there, you look like you could use a lift?”, I said, all smiles. He said, “Nah, I’m just up the road a bit, maybe two more kilometers”, he said. Easy now, take it easy. “You went for a walk? Must have bit off more than you could chew.” He smiled, good, good “Yeah, I guess so, damn bursitis in my knee acting up again. It’s hell getting old. Well, older.” He looked me up and down, then up again. “You sure? Not a problem for me.” He looked in the backseat. Almost there, keep smiling. “Aww, what the hell. It’s only gonna get worse. Might not be any good for work tomorrow.”

We drove not five minutes before he motioned me to turn into a very long driveway. The house was set far back from the road. “This your farm?” He shook his head, “Naw, just work here-only been here for three weeks or so. Grew up on a farm so there wasn’t much training to do. Mr. Albertson liked that part of it anyway. I’ve got a shed in the back, tv, shower, small stove…a bit worried about how cold it’ll get come February.” You might not have to worry about that much longer. We pulled up to the house. “No one here?” “Nope, Mr. Albertson’s the devout kind. I ain’t got time for that crap.” Think man, think! “Hey, how about giving me the 5 cent tour? I’ve never seen a milking operation before.” He said, “Well sure, I guess that’s the least I owe you.”

We walked towards the barn. Time was running short, real short. I’m sure church had been let out by now. He opened up the large double doors and the stench of the cows hit me hard. Focus As we walked in I looked around. A rake, a small shovel… a large wrench. He was walking ahead of me and trying to talk over the milking machines and the noises of the cows. I quickly shuffled three steps to the right and grabbed the wrench. As he was turning back towards me his eyes opened wide. He didn’t even have time to put up an arm to protect himself. The wrench crashed into his jaw and his head spun away from me. He was out before he hit the ground. I grabbed the bag out of my pocket, wrapped over his head and secured it tightly around his neck with a large zip tie. I grabbed him under the armpits and dragged him to the far end of the barn, out of sight from the doorway. I made my way back, obscuring the drag marks his body made along the way. Closing the door to the barn, I made a mad dash to my car and sped down the driveway and headed home. In my rearview mirror I could see a beat up old van turning into the driveway. It was that goddamn close.

I must have stayed in the shower at least 45 minutes just trying to wash the stink of the cows and the whole place off me. I hoped that Mr. Albertson and his family went in for lunch first before checking on my guy. I hoped that the Mr. Albertson was a creature of habit, a man that liked his rituals. I hoped he was a man like me.

TO THE GAME!

Ravens/Pats:

Oof! Qb Jackson’s air game is suffering mightily. His pass completion percentage the last four weeks is sitting at a woeful 55. Last year the Ravens had the league’s most efficient O as far as expected points added per play and this year they’re sitting at 25th. Caught in these downward trends is Mark Andrews-the last three weeks he’s been invisible. Cb Gilmore is listed as questionable and that should be worrying because he seems to be the lynchpin back there.

Go do your thing.