Enemies List, Vol. 4

Welcome back, NESWers, to your weekly burst of rancor from your old pal DMtShooter, moonlighting from Five Tool Tool. Every week on Monday, the most hateful day of the week, you can chew on some tasty dislike; we call it the Enemies List. And with that, let?s go straight to the hate.

5) Tiger Woods. I’m not going to get into what did or didn’t happen on Friday morning; there are far more irresponsible bloggers than this one that should be your go-to guy for that. But the real issue is this: I didn’t want to spend my Black Friday doing TMZ-esque blog reading. I also didn’t want to have my supermarket festooned with photos of The Black Nicklaus looking like an extra in “The Wire,” or having to wonder how a guy with the most boring public persona in public sports might have had to get him a little something something on the side… or having to have an opinion on this, because hey, such is the nature of the gig.

All I know is that every part of this — the ridiculous PR spin, the inevitable tearful media interviews, the paid outrage of people who will attack and defend — will be ugly and pointless. I don’t care. You probably don’t care. And instead of watching the games, we’ll be dealing with this. Thanks, Eldrick. Well played. Golf shot.

4) Joe Buck. In today’s prime Fox lovathon for the Minnesota Favres, the ever-regrettable Buck was, well, more than a little fascinated by the appearance of one Prince Rogers Nelson, an acclaimed local musician, in a sky box at the game. Which was intolerable on many levels, really; first, that Buck seems to be genuinely appreciative of a player who I deeply respect, because having anything in common with Buck gives me the heebie jeebies. Second and more telling, that the NFL is going to become like NBA games, where we can’t get through a telecast without a celebrity B roll. Do. Not. Want.

Look, I’m here to watch the game, make fun of the bad ads, stare down my fantasy game aps, hope that my picks don’t cost me money and root like hell for my laundry. My Sundays do not need celebrity endorsement, in-game interviews, meta-comedy musings on whether so-and-so seems to be enjoying the game, or any of the other wankage that Buck seems to want to pollute the game with. Pass. Move on. And STFU. Thanks!

3) Bud Selig. Hey, were you aware that we only have three more years of the Bud Era to enjoy? Yes, the man who brought you the World Baseball Championships, All Star Games with artificial meaning, rampant competitive imbalance from trivial amounts of revenue sharing, postseasons that stretch into November, and enough errors in judgment that generations of right-thinking Americans are going to root against the Brewers as a matter of principle… well, he’s going away one day. But not without enough advance warning that we all have time to get him something nice. I just don’t know where to shop for terminal diseases.

2) Daniel Snyder. Consider this one a public service, because as an Eagles Fan, The Daniel is my favorite Redskins owner *ever*. But I can see how the rest of you aren’t loving him so much, really.

Let’s start with the shortness. I’m a Shetland Human myself. Assertiveness in people of my stature is given the term “Napoleon”, the same way that other groups get “uppity” and “bitch.” But there are some times when you have to call a spade a spade, and The Daniel’s denial of negative signs is worthy of standing on an apple crate with his hand inside his shirt, really.

Moving on, there’s the Scientology. I don’t generally like to insult people’s beliefs, but what the hell, it might get this column a traffic spike, so here goes: it’s a nutbag cult that allows him to hang out with other nutbag celebs.

Finally, there’s the sheer arrogance of being a know-it-all know-nothing, as Snyder’s annual winning of free agent season is the perfect way to deliver misery. It’s one thing to have no hope and an ownership situation that isn’t trying. It’s quite another to convince slow media types and those who are filling a bloghole that this shiny new toy will be the charm, all the while knowing that year after year, it’s the same dreary group of strangers.

Oh, Daniel, it hurts to have to put you on the list, really. But we do need to be fair to the nation, and not just my laundry. That, and the fact that you make decent people spit.

1) Roger Goodell. You want to put a face next to the reason why you spend every Thanksgiving staring at the Detroit Lions? Look no further than this uptight mo’fo, who is able to do nonsense like fine players tens of thousands of dollars for uniform infractions and touchdown celebrations, but costs his league untold millions from this annual decision to eye-rape America. (And don’t give me that he couldn’t get this changed with a snap of his fingers. If you can make teams go to London every damn year for no good reason, you can get them to stop going to Detroit on Thanksgiving.)

Look, I get that traditions are important, and that Detroit may actually be on the road to having a watchable team with QB Matthew Stafford and WR Calvin Johnson. I also get that the country feels bad for Detroit on many levels, just not bad enough to (a) buy a car made in Detroit, or (b) want to watch their short bus efforts every damn year.

If we can flex the prime time schedule so that SNF doesn’t have bad games, then should definitely be able to flex the schedule to give America a decent game on Thanksgiving. Give them a bunny game against some always awful Western team that’s been on the road for a couple of weeks. Put Detroit on at night, and make everyone happy to not have the NFL Network. Or just accept that some traditions, like single-bar facemasks, Stick Um and playing on rock-hard career-shortening Astroturf, need to be retired.

Fellow haters, that?s all I got. See you next week for some more hate?