Mister Faded Glory | www.misterfadedglory.com

No, sorry, Mister Faded Glory can’t help but be a Scrooge. Seriously, we curse ourselves for it every year. Even though Christmas is somewhat enjoyable, even though we somewhat enjoy the company, and even though we don’t even hate kids, the whole thing is just such a humongous hassle that we’re practically ecstatic when it’s over. Our outlook will no doubt change a little when Junior Faded Glories are running around (Don’t hold your breath, mom), but for now, Dec. 26 is a holiday in and of itself.

Even Franklin the Cat, official feline of Mr. Faded Glory, enjoyed his two-day run of the house with little destruction. He certainly didn’t go nuts like one of his brethren in San Francisco.

All kidding, aside, uh, what the hell? What in the world causes something like that? Is it the full moon? The animals banding together, planning an overthrow? Though somewhat of a zoo savant, I’ve never been to the San Francisco Zoo, and I certainly can’t imagine a loose tiger running around, scared and deranged, or imagine how the beast got loose. The story fascinates me, as tragic as it is. (Though, yes, if I had to choose a way to go out, a tiger maul would be on the short list. Still, it’s horrible to think of the kid killed just while enjoying a zoo.)

The tiger was kept in a grotto with a moat 20 feet deep and 15 to 18 feet across, surrounded by a 20-foot wall. Officials could not immediately say how the animal escaped, nor do they know precisely how long it was out of its enclosure.

Seriously! Are you kidding me? Did the cat have a freaking extension ladder?

Police then started to search for the tiger, finding it at the zoo’s Terrace Cafe, about 300 yards from the tiger enclosure. They approached with their emergency lights on.

Picture a Siberian tiger, sitting at an outside cafe table, calmly sipping a coffee and reading the Chronicle. Police approach, and the tiger puts down his frosted flakes, staring blankly into the emergency lights. (Who cares about the lights? Why is that a story detail? Not only are these stories absurd, horrible, and morbidly intriguing, they wind up as test cases in newswriting 101.)

So here I am, in the midwest, stupidly worried about my housecat scratching up my TV screen. Perspective, we found it.

Anyway, we returned home from the official in-law ranch of Mr. Faded Glory to find Franklin safe and sound. Promptly after feeding the hungry guy, however, Ms. Faded Glory began putting dishes and gifts and kitchen stuffs away in a cupboard, only to inadvertently knock the refrigerator’s cold water hose from the valve, re-enacting ascene from several Three Stooges movies, water spurting all over the kitchen, a frantic, parched Franklin attempting to drink straight from the pipe. A frantic Ms. Faded Glory rushing back into the room with towels.

Luckily, Mr. Faded Glory received a cordless drill for Christmas, and is now a licensed handyman and resulting badass. Seriously, though, he rushed to shut off the water valve and repair the fridge. This homeownership is trial by fire – had I not had to secure a third-party mover to install the fridge, I would have had zero idea what to do with the bursting pipe. After the ordeal of checking all the fans and motors and cleaning the floor and fridge, drying everything off, we’re now left with a ruptured cold water line hose. Tonight on This Old House, MFG will attempt to reconnect a new water line.

Ironically, (or perhaps just stupidly) the MFGs fretted for two full days that Franklin the Cat went batshit on the drapes, frustrated at Christmas solitude. However, within ten minutes of returning home, we (well, more accurately, MS. Faded Glory) destroyed our kitchen. Merry frigging Christmas.

Anyway, lest you think this is a blog about News of the Weird (sigh), Christmas (shudder), home repair (snore) or my cat (help, I’m emasculated), back to sports.

This morning we flipped on our favorite WWL show, Mike and Mike (tongue firmly in annoyed cheek), treated to a talking head segment worthy only of Sportscenter. (Well, maybe it was SC we watched, actually. I have a tough time telling the two apart, especially with snarky little bastard Greenberg missing from M&M.)

ANYWAY, fat loudmouth Chris Berman, practically spiling turkey gravy, politely interviewed fat loudmouth Bill Parcells, in a segment entitled: “Which of Bill Parcells’ Greatest Teams Could Supposedly Beat the Patriots.” (paraphrase and italics entirely mine.)

Now, these teams weren’t even limited to Parcells’ Giants teams, so it was basically an exercise in lazy showfilling, ratcheting up hype to new levels as pompous Parcells informed viewers how the 1978 Steelers would match up with New England. Verdict: Who the fuck cares.

However, we watched with a chortle as ESPN continues to prop the Patriots up as greatest team ever, even though they have yet to play a playoff game. We’re practically giddy seeing the hype swirl into a white sportswriter’s perfect storm – What easy angles! 15-0! Tom Brady is a white Adonis! Bill Belichick wins at all costs! Presumably Bob Sanders watched SportsCenter this morning repeatedly smacking his fists into a wall. Thinking no network could better serve as the Patriots’ mouthpiece than moronic ESPN, we stood corrected as CBS and NBC rushed to swoop up the Saturday night tilt with the Giants (And the NFL’s public relations blitz exploded). Hopefully karma will take care of all this.

Hopefully karma will allow the douchebag Patriots to finish 16-0 and lose promptly in the playoffs, either against an upstart smashmouth Jacksonville squad or the defending champs (Though, yes, we’re totally freaking out about San Diego, Norv Turner be damned), especially after ESPN, the NFL, and lazy, white sportswriters sucking at the NFL’s proverbial teat have upped the ante during a Pursuit of Perfection Hype Blitz? In four weeks, we’ll have our answer. In just six days, you can thank the writers’ strike for the gaggle of horrific announcers calling a meaningless game, on just about every channel. The NFL! It’s fantastic!

On a side note, doesn’t the NFL’s farming out of the game to networks signify an admission they were wrong to completely undercut their own business model by launching a watered-down mouthpiece network? Doesn’t it at least hint the league might now be aware that America’s thirst for pro football isn’t actually as widespread as it thought? Isn’t it shocking that no one rushed out, pounding on cable company doors when they couldn’t see that Niners-Bengals game? How can I type all these questions while laughing profusely?