To Hell with Skyline Chill.
That was the source of a Dubgate V beef between me and a man we'll call "Brad."
Brad, like most Cincinnatians, thought my Skyline #takes were bulllshit. Unlike most Cincinnatians, he was able to elaborate his argument beyond ape-like internet behavior.
Over the course of a couple beers, Brad and I — with an assist from a chill Tennessean (never underestimate what a chill Tennessean can add to negotiations) — agreed there was only one way to settle this feud: Eating Skyline at a location of his choice.
And that's how this past Sunday I found myself in a Skyline Chili on Ludlow Avenue, right around the corner from the University of Cincinnati's Campus.
I walked into the nondescript location, and I was surprised nobody was barbecuing children's flesh over an open flame. Even more perturbing, Brad seemed unrattled that I brought my girlfriend unannounced. (Tip: Marionaires never fight fair.)
With my insignificant life flashing before my eyes, I went with my gut (that I assumed would soon be ruptured by raw sewage). I went with the Four-Way with onions.
Like all Midwesterners, I'd stab a man over cheese, but I thought only an assassin would serve a meal laced with as much cheese as Skyline served me. Against my better judgment — and along with Brad's guidance to cut/eat and not swirl/eat — I took a bite.
Deep down, I was hoping to die so my loved ones could maybe strike gold with a wrongful death lawsuit. That was my best case scenario. The worst case scenario was that I liked it.
And of course I fucking liked it. You see that picture of that cheese-coated rhinoceros' bowel movement? It's gone. I ate the whole thing, and I cannot lie: I would eat that meal again at that specific Skyline location, assuming I didn't have to do any physical activity in the three hours thereafter.
I expected Brad to hop onto the table and start crotch-chopping like the newest member of Degeneration-X, but he twisted the screws even deeper than that: He picked up the bill for all three of us.
(Death has never felt closer.)
For my "BUT SKYLINE IS TRASH" people: I know you're salty with me. Hell, I'm salty with me.
I went into the bowels of Cincinnati with a heart coated in steel. In my fantasies, it ended with me half-naked, irate, and toppling Skyline Chili pots. In my dreams, they had to tase me to get me out of that Skyline.
But that's not how that went. The only reasoning I can offer is that it seems to be a recipe that can be easily bungled (no surprise, amIrite?). Brad, the Skyline mystic, even conceded there are "bad" Skylines.
Other than that, I have nothing. I liked the dang meal.
Please feel free to kill me for this #DJByrnesFlipFlop. I deserve it.
I COULD SEE A LOT OF THINGS. The older I get, the more I admire the way Bruce Feldman protected himself from some troll tearing him apart nine months from now. (Emphasis mine.)
I could see [Cardale] Jones opening the season as the Buckeyes' starter and Barrett emerging as the No. 1 guy by November.
To me, the wildcard in the race is Braxton Miller, the two-time Big Ten MVP who is trying to recover from shoulder injuries. Miller's the best athlete of the bunch. Does he eventually shift to another position to get on the field in 2015? Does he eventually win back his old job? I'm fascinated to watch this play out.
I could see a lot of things happening, including Cardale Jones starting the season and J.T. Barrett supplanting him. But I don't think it will happen.
Urban Meyer isn't the wishy-washy type. Whoever wins #QBGeddon won't be on shaky ground, unless they break a leg or throw 15 picks in three weeks. I expect the #QBGeddonWinner to start the entire season, barring injury.
But no, I am not looking forward to people hooting, "PUT IN [QB XXX]!!!!!" after an inevitable #QBGeddonWinner miscue. (The ironic tweets spawned by those people will be even worse.)
LONG LIVE JESSE OWENS. Eternal shoutout to the man who shit on Hitler in his own nest.
On May 25, 1935, track and field trailblazer Jesse Owens set three world records and tied another at the Big Ten meet at Ferry Field in Ann Arbor.
That feat is amazing enough — but Owens did all four in the span of 45 minutes.
Owens tied the world record of 9.4 seconds in the 100-yard dash, then had a long jump of 26 feet, 81/4 inches, ran the 220-yard dash in 20.3 seconds and the 220-yard low hurdles in 22.6 seconds for Ohio State.
That happened 80 years ago yesterday, and yes, they enshrined a plaque in honor of Jesse "That Dude" Owens in Ann Arbor, proving that he's one of the most baller humans to ever live.
CAN OHIO STATE GO BACK TO BEING VIEWED AS BAD? I loved watching Ohio State punch its haters' teeth down their throats en route to the school's 8th championship.
I could do, however, without every national media guy gushing about how good Ohio State is.
Asked personnel buddies about a few top names to start studying for next yr...all said to watch Ohio State. Plenty of names to keep me busy— Daniel Jeremiah (@MoveTheSticks) May 26, 2015
I still may turn heel in the fall, just to give Urban Meyer and the team some bulletin board material. They may need it, and I am willing to be the troll this team needs.
*SIGH* In my day, we had real superheroes.
THOSE WMDs. Football player Bob Kalsu was the only U.S. pro athlete to die in Vietnam... USA. Tennessee. Knoxville... Millennials are snake people though... The next step in virtual reality... Some joys are universal... How car headlights are made.