Jack Kukoda

Even though Italy won the World Cup yesterday, the big story is that French captain Zinedine Zidane, playing in his final game before retirement, was ejected during extra-time for head-butting an Italian player. People are claiming that Zidane, at best, tarnished his legacy, and at worst, cost his team the championship. I don’t know what all the hullabaloo is about. Maybe head-butting is frowned upon where some people come from, but it’s how I solve all of my problems. In fact, I can’t think of a single social situation that cannot be solved by a well-placed, expertly-timed, running-start head-butt.

Situation One: At a Restaurant

ME: I’ll have the roast pork with the apple compote.

WAITER: I’m sorry, sir. Unfortunately, we are out of the roast pork tonight. May I recommend something else?

ME: What did you say to me?

WAITER: I’m sorry, but we just ran out of the roast pork, sir. It’s quite popular. I’d be happy to recommend the-Sir, why are you getting up? Um, where are you going? Sir, please do not run in the-Oh, God! You slammed your head into me! Why? Oh, that hurt! Good Lord, I am in pain. Fine, I’ll find you some pork. Just stop banging your head into me!

Situation Two: At the Office

BOSS: Jack, these reports are not at all what I asked for. Do you even know the first thing about Microsoft Excel?

ME: What did you say about my mother?

BOSS: What? I didn’t say anything about your mother. Hey, don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you. Get back over here. That’s more like it. Wait, slow down. Don’t run in the hallway-Oh, Jesus! Ouch! Oh, sweet Lord. I think you knocked my teeth out! You’ve certainly shown me the error of my ways.

ME: I’m taking the rest of the day off.

BOSS: Fine with me. Take the rest of the week off. When you come back, I’m giving you a raise.

Situation Three: Getting a Home Loan

BANKER: Good afternoon, how may I help you today?

ME: Racist!

BANKER: What? But I’m black. How could I be- Oh, my balls! You jumped off my desk and slammed your head right into my crotch. This is the most pain I have ever been in. Please, take all the money you need.

It’s that simple, people. Follow my lead and you’ll be head butting your way into the corner office before you know it.

Okay, so I saw this last week on Deadspin, and after watching it about a dozen times with my roommate, it still makes me laugh. I’m not exactly sure why. Maybe because it reminds me of going to Sabres games in the late 80’s/early 90’s when the NHL was a lot more colorful. Or maybe it’s because it’s funny to hear a grown man call another grown man a “titfucker” and mean it as an insult. Just watch.

Thanks to Deadspin, The MightyMJD, The Airing Of Grievances, and Broadstreet Bully.

Just ignore the inherent contradictions in all the insults they use. And the homophobia. And turn down the volume if you’re at work.

Go ahead. Guess! Guess who’s got the fever!

What?! No, not these bears! It’s me! I’ve got Stanley Cup Fever. Oooh, how it burns! My head is all congested with Stanley Cup Mucus and my sores are oozing Lord Stanley puss.

Um, sorry. I think I took that metaphor a little too far. The point is, the Sabres are back home tonight for game three of the Eastern Conference Finals against the Carolina Hurricanes and my head is nearly ready to burst with anticipation. I will be watching from my home, sitting atop a giant plate of chicken wings. That’s right, I like to sit in chicken wings. You got a problem with that? Screw you!

Lately, I’ve been reading an average of 20 news articles about the Sabres everyday. If you would like to do the same, you can go to this website. It’s awesome. And between my near-fatal case of Stanley Cup Fever and a bunch of projects I’ve been working on, I’ve been a little behind in my postings on this site. Not to worry! I’ll get back on top of things soon. Real soon. So yeah.

Last Minute Update!! It turns out that the aforementioned bears DO have Stanley Cup Fever. And look who they’re rooting for!!

I love you, bears. And you, too, Laina.

Oooh! I’ve got a raging case of Cup Fever. On a scale of 1 to fever, I’m at FEVER! The Sabres are moving on to the the Eastern Conference Finals against the Carolina Hurricanes and I can barely contain myself. And it seems that Buffalonians are getting a little ahead of themselves. A local architect has suggested that, if the Sabres go on to win the Stanley Cup, which would require 8 more victories, they should turn the top of Buffalo’s City Hall into a giant recreation of the Cup.

Here’s Buffalo City Hall

And here’s the Stanley Cup

Here’s what local architect Paul L. Battaglia would like to do with them.

Makes sense to me. Battaglia created this image using Photoshop. If someone can create a Photoshop image using Buffalo’s City Hall, the Stanley Cup, The City of Buffalo, a buffalo, me, or any combination of them, you will be my best friend.

Off Main Street [Buffalo News]

A screen capture from today’s wrap-up of last night’s NHL playoff action on ESPN.com:

Oh, Ryan Miller had 43 saves all right. But he made them against the Ottawa Senators, not the New Jersey Devils. The Devils are playing the Hurricanes. That is a different series.

Seriously, ESPN, how difficult is it to simply read the AP report of last night’s game? I know your interns and production assistants have their hands full combing through forgotten TV shows and early 90’s rap songs in a never-ending quest for Stuart Scott’s next blood-curdling catchphrase, but for Christ’s sake, at least try to get your fucking geography straight.

Oh, and it looks like Buffalo is coming down with a raging case of Cup Fever! If the Sabres go to the Cup, I’m quitting my job and moving back for the series.

Playoff Notebook [ESPN]

I really do. They’re loud and they take up way too much room on the sidewalk when they’re walking in groups. And sometimes they yell at me and make me feel uncomfortable. But the main reason I currently hate teenagers is because I got absolutely schooled by one in pickup basketball over the weekend. On Friday afternoon, I went to the park across the street from my apartment looking for a game. There were some kids on the middle court and I asked them if anyone had winners from their previous game. They said no.

They said they were playing three on three so I asked if anyone wanted to be on my team. One kid, who looked pretty athletic immediately said yes. I was psyched. Then another kid, who was wearing jeans, said he would like to play. For those of you who don’t play much pickup basketball, here’s a tip: don’t play with the kid wearing jeans. He’s probably not very good. If he doesn’t even own a pair of athletic shorts, chances are he’s not the best athlete.

Anyway, the other team had a chubby kid and a girl on their side, so I figured, jeans-teammate or not, we’d win handily. I was wrong. Their third player was a quick little bastard who kept draining threes over me. When I came out to guard him, he would just break me down off the dribble. I hated him. I kept trying to casually mention how I’m not really in “basketball shape just yet,” which is true, but the teenagers didn’t really buy that as an excuse.

As the game wore on, I started to wonder if these kids regarded me the same way I used to regard old men who would come to the park for pickup basketball. “Doesn’t this guy have friends?” I imagined them saying to each other. “Shouldn’t he be at work? It’s 3 o’clock on a Friday.”

I also found myself wishing that I could play against these kids as my teenage self. “You wouldn’t pull this shit on Teenage Jack,” I wanted to tell them. “Teenage Jack was fast. Real fast. And his back didn’t make creaking sounds whenever he bent down to pick up his keys.”

We only ended up losing by 3 points, but I had had enough. After I had said my “good games,” I gathered up my stuff and my basketball, and went home. Then I went to the store and bought the makings of a Cinco de Mayo feast and a six pack of beer. Those teenage kids might have youth and optimism on their side, but I can buy beer when and wherever I please. Fireworks, too.

P.S. I’m having a beer and fireworks party at my apartment next week. 25 and up. I.D. required. See you there, teens. NOT!

The Sabres start the second round of the Stanley Cup Playoffs tonight against the Ottawa Senators and now it’s official: I’ve got a raging case of Stanley Cup Fever. It’s not quite as acute as it was when the Sabres went to the finals in 1999. That year, my friend Tim and I made homemade jerseys by slapping Sabres’ bumper stickers onto t-shirts, then painting our names on the back. God, sometimes I forget how cool I was back then.

Anyway, I thought this would as good a time as any to point out a slightly disturbing fact about the City of Buffalo’s sports franchises: No matter what the name of the team is, the mascot is always a buffalo. I’ll admit it, we’ve got a bit of a creativity problem.

We’ll start with the Sabres. First off, ’sabre’ is actually the British spelling of the word ’saber.’ Not sure why the Sabres spell their name that way. Perhaps it was to attract Canadian fans. Or maybe it’s because Buffalo is often referred to as “America’s answer to London.” Sorry, that was a lie. I digress. According to an online dictionary, a sabre is “a fencing sword with a v-shaped blade and a slightly curved handle.” Well, that’s pretty tough-sounding. A sabre should make a good mascot, right? Wrong. Because this is the official Sabres’ mascot.

Why, it’s not a sabre at all! It’s a buffalo. Jesus Christ, Buffalo, just because the city’s name is also that of a majestic animal, doesn’t mean you have to go with that as the logo. At least the old logo, which is probably the greatest logo and color scheme in the history of the NHL, had some swords in it:

Of course, it, too had a buffalo in it, positioned between the two swords. I never noticed it before, but it looks like that buffalo is headed straight into the point of one of the sabres. Look out, buffalo!

Oh, and the Sabres’ physical mascot? The one who goes around the arena getting people excited and leading cheers and stuff?

Yeah, he’s a tiger. Let’s move on.

Next up, the Buffalo Bills. For people who weren’t born in Buffalo, I can’t even begin to describe how much the success of the Buffalo Bills is tied to the self-esteem and mental well-being of an entire city. The depression that pervades the people of Western New York after a Bills’ loss is palpable. God help us if they ever move the team to L.A. But that’s a matter for another day.

So what, exactly, is a ‘Bill?’ I have no idea. I’m guessing they just picked the name because it sounded good. As in “Buffalo Bill,” the colorful Old West figure who put on “Buffalo Bill’s Wild West” shows. And yes, I know that Buffalo Bill is also the name of the serial killer in Silence of the Lambs, but if you think I’m going to make a hack “it puts the lotion in the basket” joke, you’re dead wrong. The Bills deserve better than that. Anyway, here’s the Bills’ logo:

Surprise, surprise! It’s a buffalo! A buffalo with a raging case of pink eye, apparently. The Bills used to have an old logo, too. What might it have been?

Oh, right. It was a buffalo. Although, a much more sedentary one. My roommate just said that the buffalo on this helmet looks like it was just told of its impending extinction. That’s a sad buffalo.

All right, finally, we’ll move on to the most egregious example. The City of Buffalo has a AAA Minor League Baseball team. They are the minor league affiliate for the Cleveland Indians. They almost became a major league franchise the year the Marlins and Rockies entered the league. Can you name that team? I can. It’s the Buffalo…wait for it…Bisons! Yes, the Buffalo Bisons. Sweet fucking Christ.

“Wait,” you’re saying. “Aren’t a buffalo and a bison the same thing? Isn’t that like calling them the Buffalo Buffaloes?” Sigh. Yes. Yes, it is. Actually, they’re slightly different, although Wikipedia suggests it’s a matter of semantics.

Anyway, here is the Bisons’ logo:

It’s a bison wearing the Bisons’ uniform, which has a picture of a bison on it, and the team plays in city called Buffalo. My head is spinning. The only thing that approaches the meta-factor of this logo is the obscure Spiderman villain Stegron, who was a half-man half-dinosaur that rode other dinosaurs. As seen below.

Now that’s a team mascot I could be proud of.

Related: Buffalo Bills Nicknames

It’s occurred to me that I’m not the first person from Buffalo to notice this. But I haven’t seen anything written about it before. So feel free to let me know if there is a comprehensive list of these somewhere or if I missed any. Oh, and apparently the site is experiencing some technical difficulties. Namely, the sidebar is all the way at the bottom of the page. I’ll try to get that fixed today or tomorrow.

A little while ago, one of my favorite sites, Deadspin, was running people’s stories about their run-ins with famous athletes. Aside from that time I saw Marv Levy get his hair cut, I’ve never had a run-in with a famous athlete. Oh, and this one that I just remembered.

Last year I was having lunch at Michael Jordan’s Steakhouse at Grand Central. I didn’t want to, but I had friends from out of town visiting and they wanted to go. And guess who was there? That’s right. Michael Jordan himself, eating at his own restaurant! The waitress kept asking him to take his feet off the table, but he just sat there making fart noises with his armpit as if that was some sort of reasonable response. Later, a national guardsmen came up and asked for his autograph. Jordan just said, “Why don’t you inspect this bag, jerk?” Then he pulled his nutsack out and put it on the table. He then spent the rest of his meal throwing shrimp cocktail at me. It was ridiculous.

Well, the NFL Draft concluded yesterday and for the umpteenth straight year, I was not selected by any of the NFL’s 32 teams. Apparently, the various GM’s were not impressed by the fact that I intercepted THREE passes in one game against Cardinal O’Hara High School my Junior year, despite the numerous letters I sent them explaining the game in excruciating detail.

I also had my mother send in a video testimonial describing what a nice young man I am. Uh, I don’t know how tiny your heart has to be not to be moved by a retired high school teacher talking about what a talented young man her son is, and, frankly, I don’t want to know.

So you don’t want me, NFL, is that it? You know what I say to that? Screw you, NFL! I’m starting my own football league. You heard me, the Kukoda Football League(KFL) will begin play this summer and it’s going to be awesome. And unlike the erstwhile XFL, my league will live forever. Forever, I say!

Here’s what will be different about my league:
1. The footballs will be slightly smaller because my hands are kind of dainty and the real ones are hard for me to grip.
2. All the teams will be named after the various girls who have rejected me since high school. And their mascots will be venereal diseases. That’ll teach ‘em.
3. Not only will golden retrievers be allowed to play, they will be actively encouraged to do so.
4. Again, unlike the XFL, I will be the only player allowed to have my nickname, rather than my last name, on the back of my jersey. That nickname will be “Handsome Strongguy.”
5. Everyone will be required to refer to me as “Handsome Strongguy.” Failure to do so will result in their immediate suspension.
6. Also, anyone referring to how the footballs are slightly smaller than regulation ones because of my dainty hands will immediately be suspended.

That’s all the rules I can think of now. Honestly, this was a lot of work just to make that one lame “Air Bud” joke. I hate myself

I’ve seen this clip on a few sites, notably Deadspin, and my friend Gabe from Buffalo just sent it to me. It’s a clip of Sabres Defenseman Brian Campbell levelling the Flyers’ R.J. Umberger in game one of their playoff series from Saturday night. And it’s not for the faint of heart. Mini Update: I tried to embed this video, but it’s taking way too long to load for some reason, so you’ll just have to click on the link.

If someone did that to me I would start crying immediately and refuse to play hockey ever again. Honestly, I would just shake my head as tears streamed down my face and tell my mom that I hate hockey and I never want to play again. At least that’s what I did when I was eight years old and some kid kicked me right in the shins at a soccer game at Delaware Park.

On a related note, if anyone has footage of the time Lindy Ruff attacked New York Islanders’ goalie Billy Smith or when Jim Schoenfeld called Don Koharski a fat pig and told him to “go eat another donut,” I might be willing to pay money for that.

Sorry all you non-Buffalo hockey fans. This probably could not be less interesting to you. Taste it, Camper Guy!

They’re Still Scraping Bits Of Umberger Off The Ice [Deadspin]
BRIAN CAMPBELL DESTROYS RJ UMBERGER OMFG I DIIIIIIIIEEEE!!! [YouTube]

Oh man, I’m so excited for the start of the NCAA Tournament today that I can barely contain myself. One good thing about not having a full-time day job is that I won’t have to pretend I’m doing work today while I feverishly check updates on the games. I guess there are some bad things about not having a full-time job. Lack of health insurance comes to mind. Also, sometimes I have to borrow money to pay for my Axe Body Spray habit. Does anyone know how long one can of Axe is supposed to last? Because I go through about two a day. But who’s complaining? Not the sexy women who literally tackle me when I try to walk down the street because they can’t resist my musk. And not me, for that matter. I love being tackled by sexy women.

Christ, I’m literally shaking with anticipation for these games. I’m in about ten different pools for this thing. You should see my desk. I’ve got all my brackets printed up and spread out like an old lady playing bingo. I also have a bingo marker, but that’s just for huffing. A lot of people like to eat chicken wings or nachos when they’re watching sports. Not me, I’m a huffer. Just give me some spray paint, a paper bag, and get out of my way. Really, get out of my way, because when I get to huffing, I’m not responsible for my actions. During the Super Bowl, I killed a transient with a brick after huffing some glue. They kicked me out of ESPN Zone for that one. But I didn’t care because I just went around the corner to TGI Fridays, and got in a fight with the manager. Then I bought a round of Tequila shooters for the whole bar. Shooters! I guess what I’m trying to say is that I like sports.

I’m doing a show tonight at the Slipper Room. I hope I’ll be able to calm down by then.

Either this guy seriously overestimated the versatility of Cardinals apparel, or he’s so excited for baseball season that he’ll cheer for anything:

“Whooo! Let’s go Cardinals. This is our year! Pujols for MVP! Also, let’s stop abortion!! Now! C’mon everybody! Let them hear you! Here we go Cardinals, here we go! Here we go, Cardinals-IT’S A CHILD, NOT A CHOICE! Yeaaarrgh! St. Louis rules! What do you mean, my attire is completely inappropriate for this hot button political issue protest? Darrell Porter signed this jacket, I’ll have you know! Screw you, baby killer! No, you shut up! No, you! Ah, I wish Kurt Warner still played here. He would get me.”

To be fair to this guy, I have to admit I marched in a lot of anti-war protests back in 2003 wearing my Bills Zubaz.

Here’s the news story, and here’s zubazpants.com. It’s a sports site written by a bunch of people in Buffalo who are obsessed with zubaz. We will soon be friends.

J.P. Losman, QB #7

AKA “Adam Sandler’s Next Movie Character”

Starting at quarterback for the Bills, Happy Waterboy Gilmore Madison.

(I briefly considered putting a stop to this recurring feature since the Bills’ season is over, then I remembered that if I continue it throughout the offseason, I’ll be able to have a nickname for all the Bills by the opening of training camp. Also, it’s good space filler.)

I feel the need to point out that my Mom actually came up with this nickname. That’s right, my mother is ghostwriting my website. Jealous much, J.D. Salinger? Anyway, I was talking to her at the start of the Bills’ season and asked her what she thought of the new quarterback. “I don’t know about him,” she said. “He looks like one of those crazy people Adam Sandler would play.”

And she’s right. JP does look like a Sandler character. I don’t what else I can add to that.

Oh, I was just checking some Bills fans message boards and I saw a couple people refer to Losman as “The Waterboy,” So I’m not claiming to be the first person to notice it. We Buffalonians are a sharp bunch is all I’m saying.

Incidentally, does anyone think the sentence, “I was just checking some Buffalo Bills fans message boards…” would be a good way to start a first date? Because I do.

Previous Bills Nicknames

Brian Moorman, Punter #8

AKA “The Cobra”

I’ll freely admit that this nickname makes no sense. I have no reason for giving Moorman the nickname “The Cobra” other than the fact that punters never have nicknames. There have probably been one or two in history, but I can’t think of any off hand. Anyway, I think Moorman should have one, if only because he was the only player on the Bills to be elected to the Pro Bowl.

Just imagine how cool it would be to hear an announcer say, “And the Bills fail to convert on the third down, so they’ll be forced to punt. Here comes…”The Cobra!” Moorman and the rest of the punt team could maybe even have some cool theme music like relief pitchers get when they come in from the bullpen. Something from Whitesnake perhaps? Anyone know any songs about cobras? That’s not important right now. They’ve got a whole off-season to come up with something.

So, “The Cobra.” I’ll give myself a solid B for this one. Takeo’s nickname is still my finest moment as far as I’m concerned, and I won’t rest until everyone calls him “Volcano.”

Oh, and there will be a video up by lunchtime.

Previous Buffalo Bills Nicknames

Dick Jauron, Head Coach

AKA “Mr. Basement Full of Dead Hookers”

“How much for a one-on-one party at my house?”

I think it’s pretty obvious why Coach Jauron gets this nickname. One look at the guy will tell you that he’s got some pretty dark secrets. Hooker secrets. Whenever the FBI catches a serial killer, he invariably looks like this. 50ish white guy, slightly crazy eyes, even crazier smile. It just gives off that whole “I’m trying to look like a regular guy by maintaing this frozen smile, but, oh boy, if you ever dug around in my basement, you’d quickly realize I’m anything but normal.”

I know this seems like a cheap shot since Jauron, by all accounts, is an intelligent, well-respected man. But if shows like CSI, the X-Files, and Criminal Minds have taught me anything, it’s that that’s exactly how serial killers get away with what they do. The talk politely, volunteer in the community, maybe even help out at the local church. Then they go home, order up a hooker, and get down to business in their sound-proof basements.

That’s all. Sorry, I just noticed the last few posts have contained material that might be miscontrued as misogynist or violent. That’s not usually how things are done around here at kukoda.com. I’ll clean up my act real soon, I promise. No more cheap laughs. In fact, I want to start making it up to you right now. Here’s a picture of Asian children holding puppies that’s guaranteed to melt even the coldest of hearts.

You’re welcome. And for more cute, read this post. Or go to this site. You’ll probably spend a good hour on it.

Previous Buffalo Bills Nicknames