Today I am a pencil/Madoff and Jackson, an exercise in connecting unrelated events

For too long I lived without a grill of me own. I had to rely on the generosity of others to roast meats over an open flame, fueled with charcoal or propane or lighter fluid and deodorant.

But no longer.

For yesterday I received a belated Father's Day present - the Char-Broil Commercial Series 500. 48,000 BTUs, 680 square inches of cooking area, and big honking knobs to crank up the juice.

Do I know if that's a lot of BTUs? I do not. Do I know what a BTU is? I'm guessing it has something to do with temperature, since I've only ever seen it on grills and air conditioners. But I don't care. Because now I can grill anything I want, anytime I want.

Grill a steak? You betcha.

Burgers and hot dogs? Natch.

Chicken? Why not.

Salmon? Okay...

Vegetables? I mean, I guess, if I was out of meat...

Tofurkey? Get the fuck off my blog, commie.

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I'm sorry Michael Jackson died. He had a fantastically successful life, and he loved children. LOVED little boys. Adored them. And now he's dead. So...that happened.

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Bernie Madoff was sentenced today. 150 years. Not bad for the guy who wrecked the Jewish philanthropic world, shut down entire foundations, and bankrupted whole families. I feel...nothing, strangely. No elation, no satisfaction. To me, justice isn't really served. Yes, he'll suffer, and probably be violated in interesting ways in prison, but it's just not - I guess I'm looking for more visceral retribution for his victims. So here's what I came up with:

A global manhunt. The complete list of Madoff's victims would have joint access to his fortune, and they would use it to hunt him down. They could participate directly, or hire a proxy to do the actual hunting. And then day by day, hour by hour, they would close in on him.

And after a few weeks, or months, they would corner him in a Taiwanese alley. His clothes shredded, his face scarred from a thousand thorns and brambles, his eyes alight with fear and recognition.

And then they would take turns kicking him in the crotch.

First, what network wouldn't pay millions to broadcast that? Second, raise your hand if you would watch that show. I would Tivo it, and then rewatch it every time some politician lied or I was just feeling down, or slighted in some way. "Well at least Madoff took it in the nuts on live TV," I could say, and feel better about the world, and dead pop star pedophiles.

What's really important: Goodbye, Cedric!

Sure, I could write about Mort Klein delivering this year's principles at the AIPAC conference. And I could talk about Obama choosing Jim Johnson to head his VP search, and then dropping him the day after when everyone else found out about his Countrywide problem.

But instead I'm going to talk about Cedric Benson. If you haven't heard, Cedric has been released by the Bears for getting busted - again - for DUI. At least this time it was on dry land.

I've given CB a hard time over his performance on the field. I've prayed for awful things to happen to him. Gonorrhea, spontaneous combustion, the gout - all of these maladies have been wished on Benson's head by me. And for the most part, he's deserved it. He has no breakaway speed, he can't pound the line, and he doesn't cut back. He also can't block very well, and he's not an effective receiver out of the backfield. And yet the Bears traded away Thomas Jones - who was not only better, but cheaper - to give Benson more carries.

And now what do we have? The Bears running backs (along with some interesting "personal facts") are:

Adrian Peterson the Lesser - never pretends to be AP the Greater, despite strong prodding by his wife, offensive line, coach, and fans.

Matt Lawrence (rookie) - eats a bowl of monkey intestines before every game.

Matt Forte (rookie) -
had a strong Heisman campaign



that I only just heard about this second.

PJ Pope - "PJ" stands for Pants, Jogging. His parents are surrealist fitness nuts.

Garrett Wolfe - played football to get back at his father Tom, who only understands brute force, astronauts, and white suits. Drink that Kool-Aid Acid Test, Pops!

Aside from APtL, I have no idea who these guys are. But I'm guessing we're going to see a lot of them this season. So let me make 2 bold predictions:

The Bears offense will once again rely on the sturdy, safe shoulders of one Rex "Sex Cannon" Grossman; and

I will not once wish we still had CB4 in the backfield. Goodbye, Boozie Fumblestein.

We're undefea- wait, what?

So this happened.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.