Mayne Finds The Funny Again With Pey-Pey

Every game day, Sunday NFL Countdown is a can't-miss program, showcasing the best that ESPN has to offer. By that I mean Tom Jackson. Everybody else gets on my nerves, like a pebble in my Crocs during a long walk to the local Wal-Mart.

Kenny Mayne, the silver-haired ESPN alum who somehow managed to avoid off-air breakdowns or embarrasing sex scandals, was always one of my favorites: with wit as dry as Betty White's dusty snatch with exceptional timing. Back in the day, I often skipped Olberman and Patrick's "Big Show" so I could stay up to watch the highlights anew, with Mayne at the reigns.


For a few years now, he's been doing light-hearted humor pieces right before kickoff, entitled "The Mayne Event." It features NFL athletes and their local celebrity counterparts awkwardly reading lines and blindly following some hokey script. They obviously cater to the Disney-esque family crowd because they positively drip with Mickey Mouse puns and gags. I fully expect to one day see Kurt Warner clean a locker room with a magic broom, ala Fanatasia. Needless to say, they fucking suck. Most times, they fail to get more than a snicker from Countdown's hosts before they go to break. I'd rather watch another metro caveman sketch than endear another one of those turds.

But Sunday, I caught one by accident. Mayne brought in the NFL's version of Charlie Chaplain: Peyton Manning. No other modern athlete has brought more chuckles than the down-home comical stylings of the future Hall of Famer, except maybe Joe Namath. Ha! It's funny 'cuz he's shit-faced!

This video has it all; including several of my favorite things:

1) Traditional Irish music

2) Ass humor

3) Gay jokes

4) Taco! Taco! Taco!

5) Flimsy pracitice structures



Cheers to you Mayne, even though you probably didn't do jack shit during the production of this video. Peyton probably just strolled in, spread his team of writers out in a wide formation, and let the funny roll in.

Kenny Mayne recently wrote a book. In it, he no doubt chronicles how he used to work as a sanitation worker. That's right, kids: a garbage man. I always dreamed about being a garbage man; if only for a day. I'd love to find out if those grimey bastards actually enjoy shuttling warm, wet trash from smelly streetcorners to even smellier landfills, or if they just can't get any other job. But since I rarely read print media, (except the occaisional Cat Fancy or JUGS magazine) I thought I would pick out some of my favorite KM quotes from the good old internets.

"Their whole thing was that every state was going to be as unique as possible. I'm from Seattle and for Washington they did ultimate frisbee.”

“I'm not trying to make fun of everyone, and not everyone is supposed to get that kind of humor. But the people here seemed to like it. The guy really wanted to tell me what kind of tree he would be.”

"He was traded for a player to be named later. Right now no one knows his name, they just say 'What's up big guy?'"

"We show you this to see how women 18-34 feel about the play."

"Portions of this game were taped for training purposes..."

"But we all know that games aren't played on paper...they're played by little men inside our TV sets."

"We're gonna show it again, 'cause we have editing equipment."

I Reckon So

If you've ever had the misfortune to watch television with me at the controls, then you'd know it can be difficult. With my miniscule attention span and general distaste for most things broadcast, I have been known to change the channel quite often. Some have likened it to staring at a strobelight.

But last night, I was glued to the screen as the Falcons scraped out a victory against Jay Cutler and the Bears: until I noticed that The Outlaw Josie Wales was on. Clint Eastwood's 1976 opus is probably my favorite Western, and no game, especially not one starring Cutlerfucker will keep me from savoring the good parts.

If you missed the game, allow my journalistic talents to enlighten you. But being the lazy blogger that I am, I present to you some copies and pastes from NFL.com, cleverly juxtaposed to quotes from TOJW. That's how lazy I am: I just abbrieviated it.

Now remember, things look bad and it looks like you're not gonna make it, then you gotta get mean. I mean plumb, mad-dog mean. 'Cause if you lose your head and you give up then you neither live nor win. That's just the way it is.

Falcons DT Jonathan Babineaux forced a crucial fumble at the goal line that was recovered by teammate Coy Wire to keep the Bears scoreless in the third quarter. The fifth-year veteran also had three tackles and half a sack.

I think we as a society don't use the word 'plumb' enough. How is it that people use fairy words like very or extremely but don't use the word plumb? If we all talked a little more like Josey Wales, we would all be badass. Also, we might chew tobacky.

Are you gonna pull those pistols or whistle Dixie?

The Bears entered the red zone four times, but scored just once. Besides the final drive, which ended on downs, the other possessions ended with a fumble and an interception.

Josey Wales uttered that line right before he swiss cheesed up four mouth-breathing Union soldiers. Seriously: how dumb are these shitheads? And what good is a reputation for badassery if no one realizes that you're badass? I guess it helps if you travel with a crusty old Indian with a loaded revolver:

To hell with them fellas. Buzzards gotta eat, same as worms.

Bears QB Jay Cutler's pass on fourth-and-6 at Atlanta's 10-yard line fell incomplete with 29 seconds left.

On NFL.com, this was posted under the heading, "It was over when..." I love how they reduce a primetime game with innumerable twists and turns down to water cooler talk. It affords me more time to devote to cruising around in my sweet Neverending Story van.

Dyin' aint much of a livin', boy.

Johnny Knox had a touchdown for the fourth straight game and joins Walter Payton as the only Bears rookies to have a TD in four straight contests. The Falcons are off to a 4-1 start for the first time since 2004. Atlanta is 15-1 under coach Mike Smith when leading at halftime.

Who the crap is Mike Smith, anyway? I wouldn't know him if he had a Mike Smith Collection shirt on, with a big ass sandwich board that said "I'm Mike Smith. Head Coach of the Atlanta Falcons."

Where were the shots of Urlacher itching his arm under his cast with a coat hanger? Oh yeah: I was watching a movie.

Everybody Dance Now

Ever wondered what C&C Music Factory's "Everybody Dance Now" would sound like on a 8-bit video game? Neither have I.

I'm kind of a B-52's kinda guy.

Enjoy the games, everybody: I've already moved on from last year's drama.

Hello Japan > Hi Mom!

This is a fight video brought to you by the fine people at FailBlog. It features a Japanese fighter in Stryper-inspired spandex pants defeating some stupid Westerner.

Matt "The Terrah" Sera does not approve. In fact, he thinks you're a clamhead! This is an example of what not to do when you make your MMA debut in a foreign country. Sure, it may be an exotic, life-changing event accompanied by curious, fully grown women dressed like Pokemon characters, but you might just get choked the fuck out by a tiny man in terribly tight pantaloons.

Girl (?) Fight Tonight!

This is a training video featuring Cris Cyborg, an indestructable mutant from Brazil. She is scheduled to fight the more popular and slightly less manly Gina Carano, known as a technician with a lot of heart. In these days of economic hardship, it's not difficult to see where the smart money is at.

This woman frightens me more than Kathy Griffin ever did, even after her plastic surgery. Do you remember when you were a baby and your junk was inside your body? Neither do I, but this is what Cris Cyborg makes me feel like. I think she crawled out of the same slimy vat as Crystl Bustos, the softball slugger and part-time 400lb. gorilla. Yes, she is available for bar mitzvas and used car sales.

The other day, it was announced that women's (ahem - womyn's) boxing will be added to the Olympics. Michael Wilbon predictably harumphed at the idea, calling it 'brutal,' and adding "what is this junk?" just for good measure. Typical snooty Wilbon. If you saw as many shitty sports in the Olympics as I did, I think you would have a similiar opinion. Trampoline? REALLY?!?!

Anywhoo, back to the video. Worth watching for the soundtrack alone. Near the end, when she shoots in and picks up her husband/catcher, I peed in my pants a little. Coupla gay moments, though:

* What's with the fan/bike (or is it bike/fan?)

* Throwing around big ropes confuses and angers me. So she can play double dutch with the fat kids ... but can she play chopsticks on the piano?

* Rolling credits at the end really isn't necessary. This ain't Cannes and you ain't Micheal Bay.