I have three reasons why I must have died a few weeks ago and am really in heaven and just don't realize it yet:

-The Colts are in the Superbowl
-The Hoosiers beat Wisconsin
-I just found a music video (http://www.sweeptheleg.com/) that has most of the actors from Karate Kid and includes the line "Get him a body bag."

Heaven is way more awesome than I expected.

-Adam Endwright

First of all, you're exactly right: best week ever.  (And don't forget Eric Gordon's national television debut, where he came across as one part John Paxson, two parts Teen Wolf, and 28 parts Dwyane-Wade-on-HGH).  But more notably than all that is your
majestic Johnny Lawrence video.  Even without the Richard Belding cameo, it's
still Oscar worthy.  With it?  Well, it's a significant step toward getting this country back on the right track.  That video just might be our generation's FDR. 

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As a fellow Indy man who spent three LONG years living in Valparaiso, IN,  I can honestly say that Mr. Durant's article, "Chicagoinsanity" is the greatest piece of print journalism that I have ever read.  Just hand the man the Pulitzer Prize right now.

The only way the Colts lose this game is if Tank Johnson 'busts a cap' in Manning a la "The Last Boy Scout." 

Chicago, be afraid, be very afraid. 

Rex Grossman will literally soil his drawers right there on the field once Dwight Freeney gets a hold of him.

GO COLTS!

M. Byron

You lived in "The Region?"  And you survived to tell about it?  Jesus.  Remember when Gandalph fought that fire demon for 3,000 lifetimes of men, but emerged from the ordeal stronger?  Same principal here.  You're no longer Byron the Grey.  You're much more powerful than that.  You're Byron the Blinding White.  And your story must be told.

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Lil Ronnie is back.  See for yourself:

http://www.myspace.com/lilronnieakarond

Of all the times for a comeback, he picks Super Bowl week?!?!  This kid is like herpes...he won't go away.

Steven H.

There was exactly ONE thought had by all horrified non-Southside residents upon seeing this: Holy f--- we're going to lose to the Bears now.  Get me a barf bag and my sniper rifle, stat.   We tempted Fate, for sure.  But most likely, Fate felt sorry for us.  So She let it slide.  Let us never tempt Her again, Li'l Bastard.        

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Did you see Tom Moore being interviewed on the NFL network on media day?

I'm watching him talk and suddenly I'm getting really nervous wondering how we have one of the 3rd best offenses in the league and how we have ever won a single game.

Then my wife chimes in and says, "He sounds like one of my stroke patients."

Of course this might be similar to when Don Corleone was still brilliant but sounded like there was a tobacco plantation in his lungs. 

Who knows, I've lived in Muncie.

Matt

Tom Moore proved to be a poet, frankly.  We loved him.  He was like a cross between a groggy Shel Silverstein and Raymond Babbit.  An affable Capt. Kangaroo, if you will.

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Gentlemen,

The time is drawing near. Just a couple of notes for this game.

1. Don't do anything out of the ordinary. Dressing up like a horse, wearing a tuxedo, and bringing a bull horn would all fall into this category. Let's just keep doing what we've done all year. Bring the intensity and just be ourselves. This is the big time...let's act like we've been here before.

2. If you plan on focusing on commercials throughout the game, you're coming to the wrong place. You all have Tivo's or DVR's; use them wisely. Timeouts will be reserved for shit-talking, swearing, taking shits, drinking heavily, and possible bong rips on the deck. That's it.

3. Finally, I fully expect my TV to be broken. Either in celebratory bliss or one of you bodyslamming it in disgust. Either way, I'm adopting the "China Shop Rules" You break. You pay.

Here's a list of the food so far on the docket:

[name withheld] - polish sausage and sauerkrat
[name withheld] - bbq brisket
[name withheld] - pizza thing (i guess this is an appetizer) and bourbon
[name withheld] - ?
Team Souers- ?
[name withheld] - ?
[name withheld] - bbq green bean casserole and something else

As you can see, we are in need of a starchy item.  Mac and cheese, some kind of potato, etc... And some sort of dessert thing.

I'm getting a pony keg of quality beer as well.  Any other ideas, let's get it out there.

This is our time. The city burns Sunday at midnight.

Larry Phelps (in an inner-office evite to attend his Super Bowl gathering)

Not many evites make it into Canton, Ohio.  This one has a legitimate shot.  It's the Adam Vinatieri of football-related electronic transmissions.

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There was a little bit of a rumor swirling around Miami earlier about the possibility of uber-backer Brian Urlacher getting some snaps on the offensive side of the ball.  Can you imagine the carnage and fallout from a play in which Urlacher had the ball in his hands and was one-on-one with Bob Sanders?  I think it would be something like this: 'Lac lines up as a TE, chips an LB and comes open across the middle.  He catches a poorly-thrown pass, having to stretch to haul it in, but regains his balance and turns upfield.  Bob is the only thing in sight and, rather than juke, Urlacher shifts up a gear or two and the collision is on.  Bob lowers his head and gains speed, his feet looking like the Roadrunner in the WB cartoons.  Suddenly, not through modern TV tricks, time slows and all but the two gladiators become blurry.  It'd be like in The Matrix when Neo can see the bullets coming at him.  The two come together in an epic collision and shock waves radiate forth at close to the speed of light.  Hats would be blown off of spectators heads in the stadium from the force.  Like a tsunami, though, the shock would gain force as it spread.  Cars would be flipped over on South Beach, houses from Orlando to Indy leveled and dozens of people throughout the Southeast and Midwest drop dead of brain hemorrhages.  Wildfires would spring up throughout the Great Plains and California, where reports of the spontaneous combustion of wild animals run rampant.  By the time this all reached Europe and Asia, it would be near Extinction Level Event status; no one would be safe.  It would be like the scenarios put forth in Deep Impact, except not incredibly gay.  Oh, and there would be no time to prepare a vast shelter in the soft limestone of Arkansas.  I'm also reasonably sure that the collision would break at least 2 laws of physics and would create a new, indestructible element: badassium.  This new substance would be able to beat up all the other elements and would grant limitless power to whoever possessed it, much like the Autobot Matrix of power or Spiderman's symbiotic black suit.  If Ray Lewis, AJ Pierzinski, or George Steinbrenner ever got ahold of badassium, God help those who would stand in their path.

E.A.

What day is it?  Where -- where am I?  Is it over yet?  What chapter are we on?  

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I beg of you -- please explain the pregame festivities!  Please.  I'm watching this in a mix of awe and confusion.  Is this just a Miami thing that we Indiana folk can't understand?  If that is the case...I will take my fried twinkies and heart disease any day, thank you very much.

C. Winden

Rather opening-ceremonies-of-the-Gay-Olympics-ish, certainly.  (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)  The bigger concern is that they led off with Gloria Estefan.  Really, Miami?  Gloria Estefan?  What the hell?  Because if Indianapolis ever hosted a Super Bowl and we rocked it with Henry Lee Summer, we'd be crucified.  No questions asked.  We'd instantly get bumped down to the fourth tier of American cities...down there with Akron and Pensacola.  But for whatever reasons, Miami gets a free pass.  They unleash the female Latino Henry Lee, and nobody really notices.  But God did, obviously.  Greatly unpleased, He was.  His tears flooded the stadium.  Good for Him.  

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I can see why Chicago people don't especially like Rex Grossman.  He throws like a todler trying to heave a big boy ball over one of those tall tennis court fences.  And he is awfully whiny looking.  Not a good combo.

The Steve

We've been calling him "Sue" (the restored T-Rex at the Chicago Field Museum).  Whether or not this catches on, we don't really care.    

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greenwood + cuba + jalen rose posse + playboy...add a dash of neon and house beats & u have south beach.

Sir Terrance of Stansbury's text message from Miami, describing the scene

Why couldn't the Indy Star have just sent a normal 30-something down to Miami to explain this stuff?  Continuously reading about Philip B. Wilson rubbing elbows with Meredith Baxter at the Overstock.com Party doesn't really get us where we need to go.  But one drunk man's poorly worded text message does.  This isn't rocket science.
 
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about dungy:  "i'd follow that man into the flames of hell!!!"  not a better leader on the planet!

J. Parker

Agreed.  He's like our 94-pound black General Patton.  He's our Buck Swope. 

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Indianapolis just won a f----ing WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP!!!!!!!!  I feel like Vince Vaughn sitting with skinny version John Favreau in that greasy spoon in Swingers: "MY LITTLE BOY IS ALL GROWNS UP!!!" 

JC  

Yep.  We just got Heather Graham's phone number, metaphorically speaking.  And we're no longer sulking in our dank no-bedroom apartment eating summer sausage and looking at photos of Roethlisberger tackling Nick Harper.  Life is good. 

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I’d like to submit a question I have to the editor of flipside...do you have such a section?

Specifically, I believe Roy will have to answer this as he is likely the only one on staff
that speaks binary code. 

Last night in the post game coverage, while Peyton was adjusting his snorkle in order breath under the pile of praise which was being heaped upon him, the microphone caught a conversation Bob was having just to Peyton's left, off-camera.  My binary code, like my Espanol, is pretty rough and I didn't understand a bit of it.  Could Roy please translate for me, and the rest of your loyal readers, the thoughts and emotions that Bob was robotically conveying (fortunately, I jotted the number sequence while he spoke)?

BEGIN MONOLOGUE:

"0010001101101001111000011010100010111011100111010111011111000010101"

END MONOLOGUE

What’s Bob saying??  Thanks for the assistance and keep up your fair and balanced reporting of Indiana Sports.

Regards,

Adam in Boise

If your transcription is accurate, Bob said something to the effect that "the reign of humans is at an end."  He then asked for permission to eat the goalposts.

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I question whether Mayor Peterson should have been in the SB parade.  He had absolutely nothing to do with the Colts win.  So where do we draw the line on this?  Razor Shines is a beloved member of our community too, but was he apart of it?  No.  Should he have been?  After seeing our mayor up there, I'd say yes.  He should have.

Another Angry White Man of Hungarian Descent

It was a savy political move, really.  But you're right.  If Peterson gets a float, so should Sammy Terry, Vern Fleming, and James Whitcomb Riley's great-granddaughter.  (And we'd throw Razor Shines in there as well, simply because we're pretty sure he works for Indianapolis Power & Light right now.  It'd mean the world to him.)  Regardless, it doesn't matter.  Because the parade—flaws and all—gave us the chance to snap the most bad-ass picture in the history of humankind.  (The one permanently embedded in the homepage.)  In 30 years, that photo will serve as the blueprint for the 18-foot statue of Bob that will be erected in front of Lucas Oil Stadium—a statue constructed out of  scrap metal and aggression.  It'll be a beacon of hope to millions.      

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Any thoughts on the Colts' leap to "America's Team" status?

Chad L.

Nope.  The last thing this city needs right now is a pretend journalism site throwing out half-assed analyses and otherwise shattering Enya's high score on the "Taking Yourself Too Seriously Meter."  Plus, to be frank...we have nothing left to give.  From our perspective, Pat Beach sums it up best:




  
You got it.
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Thanks for the Monument Circle shout out Sunday night.  What a ride the last month was.  Good call on a FS hiatus.  I'm going to go into a slumber for the rest of the month.  Wake me up for the Big Ten tournament.