Monday, July 09, 2007

A Stripped Down Blog

I saw this item posted July 8 on on’s “Truth & Rumors” page. It was culled from an article by Mark J. Konkol of the Chicago Sun-Times:

Tyna Robertson claims Brian Urlacher, the father of her 2-year-old son, has sent her more than 30 nasty text messages since January. In those messages, he allegedly called her a "hooker" and "jealous b----," among other things, and once made this suggestion: "make one of your pimps drive you around," according to court papers filed Friday in their child custody case. Robertson, a former exotic dancer who has been accused of shaking down men for money, has had court trouble with another famous man she once dated -- "Lord of the Dance" star Michael Flatley.

So, aspiring writers in Packer Nation, sometimes no embellishment is required of us. In this case, the news story itself provides all the comedy we need to nourish the spirit and bring a smile to the faces or our readers. Packers Literary Corner can take this beautiful summer morning off and head for the golf course.

Y’all enjoy your day. See you at the 19th hole.

I just can’t do it.

I can’t leave without at least a few comments, or my hands will shake uncontrollably while I’m lining up three-foot putts.

Here’s a text message the Bears celebrated linebacker is alleged to have sent to his ex-stripper ex-sweetie on February 24 at 2:40 PM:

“Beat it no more of my time will be wasted on your skanky ass”

He seems to have reached a state of at least partial enlightenment precisely at 2:40 PM that brisk winter afternoon, though as someone who pens romantic screenplays, I hate to see unpleasantness break out so soon after Valentine’s Day.

Perhaps he just needs some advice on the subtleties of romance. I might suggest Mr. Urlacher read my novel Over Time. In that thrilling tale, the football star falls in love with a very lovely, very sexy—though excessively talkative—cheerleader. This is, as you of course know, the natural order of things in football. And in Over Time, the outcome of the affair is much more felicitous.

Or perhaps it’s just fortunate my novel’s characters from the Green Bay Packers Glory Years of the 1960’s did not have text messaging capability.

Can you imagine the text messages Lombardi would have sent to players who were fumble-prone or missed their blocking assignments?

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