Friday, May 20, 2011

Judgment Day 2011; Athletes Who Will Be Left Behind

The End is Near.  No, it's not a proclamation by either the NFL regarding the lockout or the GM of the Phoenix Coyotes on the hockey team's future.   It's the Day of Reckoning for Mankind, so say the lunatic members of a doomsday group who predict the world will cease to exist after the earth is rattled by series of earthquakes and tidal waves tomorrow between 5 and 6 p.m. 

New York City has been plastered with ads warning if the upcoming Apocalypse on Saturday July 21 and how God will only spare those who are pure of heart.

So people, you don't have to fret over overdue library books or the vig to your loan shark.  Go ahead, make that nasty, drunken text to your ex because, after tomorrow, it won't matter.   It'll all be over soon.

This presumed "Rapture" will spare the souls of the pure by whisking them into heaven while the rest of mankind will be left to face their doom on the crumbling earth.  Professional athletes--however adored on earth--are not an exception and some won't be making that trip up to eternal happiness.

I believe the world must be coming to an end because how can you explain Jason Giambi jacking three home-runs the other night.  Who even knew he was still around?

And what about the Cleveland Indians?  Best team in the majors?  Come on. We're talking about Cleveland here.  That's enough evidence for me.

Tomorrow's Doomsday is just more bad luck for Cleveland all around.  The Cavaliers finally get two top-four draft picks to make up for the left-at-the alter move by LeBron James and BOOM!   No more Rock and Roll Hall of Fame or Dawg Pound.  It's over.  If it makes Cavs fans feel any better, James will be one of the fateful ones slated to be left behind--with no championships.

The Apocalypse will bring some good things.  We won't have to wring our hands about the NFL owners and the NFLPA hugging it out.  They're all on God's naughty list anyway.

And no one will have to care which team ends up on HBO's "Hard Knocks" this summer.  It's a moot point now.  Sorry Detroit Lions, you almost had your day in the sun and games on Monday nights.

Jim Tressel, I wouldn't worry about that whole deal about stipends for college players anymore.  You have bigger sweaters to fill.  Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you God is a Michigan fan.  Know what's worse than an NCAA investigation?  A Grim Reaper named Bo.

There are too many celebrities who won't be spared by the Almighty.  Arnold Schwarzenegger's ticket to heaven has already expired and don't count on any Kardashians taking the V.I.P. elevator up--or members of any reality series for that matter.  If Ahhnold had only waited a few more days before blabbing about his love child.

Tim Tebow won't have to worry.  He's a lock to be Raptured by God.

Lawrence Taylor, now that's another story.  Sorry LT, you'll be joining Jay Cutler, Ben Roethlisberger and Brett Favre.  There's no room in heaven for wusses or horn dogs.  Did I mention that O.J. will be dodging rocks and waves after hitting the prison chow hall tomorrow night?

Tiger Woods didn't only drop from one big list this week.  The almighty doesn't look down too kindly on bratty golfers or philanderers.  I'm not sure in what order.

Also deserving to be left behind are the "Green Men," team mascots and any prima-donna wide receivers.  Just lump them in one annoying group and let them fend for themselves.

This just in--Lance Armstrong, things aren't looking too good for you right at this moment.  I would get out my mountain bike, it's going to be rough riding tomorrow night.  Wait.  No world Saturday means no "60 Minutes" Sunday.  You're in the clear.  Lucky you.

Jorge Posada will be spared, but the inside dirt from upstairs is that he will be batting ninth.  The Almighty is one manager you don't want to bail on and he (Yup, he's a he) makes George Steinbrenner look like a kitten or a Mets GM.

There is hope for the fallen to be sucked up into the heavenly skies tomorrow.  Michael Vick and Plaxico Burress have paid their debt to society and are deserving of second chances.  And pigeon-loving Mike Tyson will be spared--if only for his cameos in "The Hangover" franchises.  God likes raunchy buddy-movies.

I am taking all this so-called End-of-the-World talk seriously because I have proof that, on Saturday, the earth will crumble and burn.  I know, because I got a sure thing on a horse for tomorrow's 6:20 p.m. start of The Preakness.  Too bad the world ends twenty minutes earlier.  Just my luck.

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