TomT

47 Articles

TomT will be posting under his real name here (at least part of it), in spite of the fact that this site already seems to be crammed-full of Toms. He is a suburban husband and dad doing Union work within public education in the Chicago area. Once in a great while he also posts diaries under the name “Skitters” on Daily Kos, and—during football season—he does his best to chronicle the dark history of a fairly-vicious fantasy league.

TomT
1 Min Read

–Alert Level ORANGE— Displaced Aggression Team Owners, Please be advised: In response to heavy and extreme negativity caused by the results of last week’s matchups, ESPN has placed the entire Displaced Aggression league on Orange Alert status until further notice.  Your Commissioner has been safely…

TomT
2 Min Read

Displaced Aggression League Report — Week 7

This is what the Sovereign Lord says: Take off the turban, remove the crown. It will not be as it was: The lowly will be exalted and the exalted will be brought low.  A ruin! A ruin! I will make it a ruin! — Ezekiel 21:26

Like a slow-orbiting comet or the McRib sandwich, truly epic upsets don’t come around very often; and when they do, it’s an occasion worth noting with appropriate solemnity.

TomT
2 Min Read

I never really thought of myself as bigoted or xenophobic, but it dawned on me recently that I’m prejudiced against Australians.  I’m not going to try to soften this by claiming that some of my best friends are Australian, because they’re not.  In fact, I can’t remember ever actually meeting an Australian, although I did briefly work for a woman with a Boston accent so thick that some Chicagoans thought she was from Australia.  Hate is too strong of a word.   It’s not really even that I dislike Australians as much as I’m scared of them. They’re not like us; something just feels off.

TomT
2 Min Read

League Report — Week 5

A terrible wailing reverberated across Our Beloved League in Week 5 as the Gridiron Goddess wept and screamed for a sacrifice, sending shivers of horror through the seven teams jockeying for dominance at 3-1.   And, although each of us knew that the awful Reaping must eventually begin, no one wanted to be one of the several goats that it took to finally satisfy her.

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