Photo Courtesy of & Nightmares

The NFL continues to exist. Let’s talk about it after the jump. If it gets dull we can gab about how we feel about Deee-Lite’s “Groove Is In The Heart” and compare notes on mini candy bars.

The Booty Lounge is dead. For those of you unfamiliar with the Booty Lounge, it was a mobile strip club that operated out of a bus parked outside of Ford Field during Lions games. It combined the glamour of a bus and the elegance of bargain bin strip club action. And now the Detroit police have impounded the vehicle due to its lack of state safety certification. And probably because it’s gross.

Nothing good in recorded history has ever happened on a bus. (Well, that’s not 100% true. Rosa Parks refusing to give up her seat is the best thing to ever happen on a bus. But number two is the bus season of Rock Of Love. That’s the steepest decline imaginable.) I take the bus everywhere and for the most part buses are traveling rectangles of sadness. I think I’ve only seen three smiles ever in my entire bus riding career. One of those smiles was a Chinese girl pointing and laughing at my face. The other two smiles were from babies that didn’t know they were on the bus.

Combining sex with buses is a bad formula. I take public transit, so I’ve seen firsthand the horrors of sexual activity on buses. It’s disgusting. There’s nothing sexy about the bus. Just look at the picture of the bus, it looks about as charming as Pegasus SIDS. Now combine discount strippers and a Detroit parking lot in your head before you scurry to the shower to wash off the thick coating of depression. I’m sad to see the Booty Lounge go as an oddity, but I’m happy I won’t have to think about it anymore.

Vaguely Related Note: I’ve never been to a strip club in my life. I went to a porno theatre once and that put the fear of God in me. I thought I was cool and dangerous and Vice Magazine for going to check it out, but when I got there it immediately dawned on me that I went to a dark room that sweatpants enthusiasts go to jerk off. It was at that point I didn’t feel cool, dangerous or Vice-y. I felt like a Bluth. I had made a huge mistake.

Commitment To Excellence From Beyond The Grave: Al Davis was a goddamned lunatic. A wildly entertaining lunatic that ran his football team like an outlaw and wore a sunglasses chain that made him look like a black tar heroin dealing grandmother. In a league where personality gets crushed under Roger Goodell’s bootheel, Al Davis was the looney tunes antithesis of the No Fun League culture. Let’s hear it for maniacs.

(The Raiders 30 For 30 was a bit shit though.)

David Gerrard Cannot Get Work: Please refresh my memory. When David Gerrard was the starting quarterback for the Jaguars, did he superkick Desmond Tutu in the head or something? Why isn’t there a team taking a chance on Gerrard?  He was a moderately good quarterback. Having a serviceable quarterback should be a level 6 wet dream come to life for teams like Seattle, Denver and erm, Jacksonville. Would the Jaguars be a worse team if they had Devon Sawa’s character from Little Giants as their starting quarterback? Probably not. I heartily encourage all teams to sign fictional characters.

England’s Youth Are Looking Longingly At Their Brian Urlacher Posters: We’re a little over a week away from the NFL’s return to London. Will England be as captivated by the NFL as they were by Batman Live? I’m assuming they were captivated by Batman Live. I mean, why wouldn’t they be?

Go Jets Go: I skipped out on the afternoon games last week to watch the Winnipeg Jets game. In the first period, Mike Cammalleri suffered a horrible gash on his leg and desperately looked for a stoppage in play to seek medical attention. Cammalleri seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Winnipeg is a city where  people suffering horrible stab wounds are kind of a everyday occurrence. Even though the Jets got completely disemboweled by Habs, I was watery-eyed for the majority of the game I was a toddler taking on all the skinned knees in the world.

The Score Still Has Horse Racing: Anytime I’m in a room where horse racing is being broadcast, I instantly feel like a deadbeat dad. It’s a sport that evokes feelings of misery and a desire for Hard Rock Cafe jackets.

Week 6 Game To Watch With Your Eyeballs And/Or Listen To With Your Earpowers: Niners at Lions. I picked the right time to announce my 49ers fandom divorce. If anyone needs me, I’ll be rage-eating Cheetos in the tub. Also, why does Ford Field look like a modified Costco that only sells broken dreams?

Week 6 Game Not To Watch With Your Eyeballs And/Or Listen To With Your Earpowers: Dolphins at Jets. The Dolphins are on Monday Night Football. Maybe Hank Williams Jr. just said that crazy shit as an excuse to get out of acknowledging this game’s existence. (Just kidding, Bochephus is actually just a dick!)

Feel free to harass Dan on Twitter or in the comments. Also go see Red Hot Riot with Jayden Pfeifer at The Artesian you goofballs.