First of all: Hello. How are you doing? Are you safe and sound? Do you have what you need, or know how to get what you need in responsible fashion? Have you acclimated to the sounds of sirens happening all around you, or at least to the dull murmur of people performatively reacting to those and other things that will never affect them personally on television? Cool and good < A phrase you may or may not use when looking at anything happening in the United States of America in response to a literal plague befalling those of us lucky enough to inhabit the land of hope and dreams.
Keeping in mind how much all of that is relentlessly destroying us, particularly how much money people accumulate who don’t particularly seem to have any utility for it beyond “Hey I have more money than you do lol,” and also ahead of a particularly enticing documentary premier on behalf of Mickey and friends Sunday night – The Last Dance, an unprecedentedly in-depth look into the 1997-’98 Chicago Bulls season – let’s talk about Michael Jordan’s house in Chicago.
***This storyline is ever changing. Every day there seems to be a new development and the rollercoaster of emotions is not stopping. Check back in from time to time to see my updates and newest thoughts. Or don’t. But I prefer you do because that way I don’t feel like I’m alone in this***
At last, the greatest combat sporting event is upon us. Yes, you are correct: I did predict this event would get done this year. Please, save your applause and congratulations, though, because I was incorrect about the date. We shoot for 100% accuracy around here, and settle for nothing less (If you feel compelled, please throw me a follow @derekjbeaupre and let me know how brilliant I am there).
“Derek! You were right! It’s happening!”
“Derek! Are you even sleeping with your level of excitement?”
“Derek! Has your girlfriend left you yet because you won’t stop yelling about Conor yet?”
Thanks, I know. No. And not yet, but we’re teetering.
Last week I got to watch the Eagles and Raiders play football at my favorite bar with my favorite people while drinking my favorite drinks. From a life perspective, last Sunday could not have gone better. Read More
Hey. You know what today is? The 15th anniversary of The Strokes entering our lives and making it the world a better place? Yes, true. But also, less importantly, it’s the 25th anniversary of my entrance from the void into reality.
It’s my motherfucking birfday.
Another week, another day of me being late on picks. It’s a tale as old as time. But this week I like to think I come with good reason: Last night was the first night of Meadows fest in NYC and the premiere of the new season of SNL. And tonight (indulge me for a moment) I get to see Chance the Rapper and Kanye West. Read More
Oh hey there! Whoa, been a while. Sorry about that. For anyone who took the Under in “How many weeks until Tyler is inconsistent with his gambling column,” congratulations, strong bet. Collect your winnings at the nearest window.
Football is back. Can you believe it? Last night, sitting in my favorite bar with two of my favorite people, I got to yell “WIDE LEFT” drunkenly at a muted television screen just before Graham Gano made contact with the football and turned my words into reality and an 0-1 start to the season for the Carolina Panthers.
I felt alive.
And now that football is back, so is the Hypothetical SuperContest. It’s our fourth year here! We’ve had our ups, our downs and probably a few to many references to Jon Gruden. For those that have been here from the jump (Hi Rory! Hi Dad!): thanks so much for supporting my degenerate dreams. For those new to this space, welcome to my gambling nightmare.
Well, it’s not necessarily a nightmare. Not every week at least.