Posts Tagged Tim Tebow
I was wandering out front of my local twenty-four hour CVS a few nights ago when I felt a bottle smash into my head. Shattering glass, shooting unreasonable pain. My hand, simple white adornments to my arms, were now covered in blood. My blood! Another bottle to the head sent me reeling into an incoherent stupor.
I knew I was being lifted by my legs and arms. Why? Had I not paid the correct change for the package of gum I purchased? Confusing, absurd thoughts moshed through my mind. I know I gave them the correct change! “I ave u….now(spitting blood)….rect change.”
They dropped me next to a car. “Will you shut him up!” said a man in a black mask. I could barely make his voice out, but it sounded familiar.
At that moment, I was struck with the full annihilating fury of a boot to the back of the skull. Things went dark quickly. I reached to put my tooth in my pocket but passed out too quickly to make it happen. I liked that tooth. Gone.
It seemed like hours I was in the trunk of this automobile. I smelled of sweat and blood. I was able to mat down much of the blood with some stray socks left in back, but beyond that, I was in pretty bad shape. I was too weak to bang loudly on the trunk, so I rapped consistently until I passed out after what seemed like an eternity.
When I awoke I was out of the car lying in a comfortable hospital bed. The room had no windows. A black hooded medical attendant was there to try to see if I’d be coherent enough to participate in what insanity was about to take place.
I may have a concussion, hell, I might have worse that that, but I have watched enough of the news to know what is going on.
“You are those bastards in ISIS! Aren’t you?! You degenerate murderers. And now you’ve got me. And just what the hell do you think you are going to do to me. This isn’t that post-apocalyptic warzone Syria gave you because it wasn’t worth defending. We are in America, pal. You touch one hair on my head and my kids will be singing the National Anthem at the Super Bowl while you and your crew of “warriors” will be sucking pounds of Deer Park water out of a towel while some lunatic tries to get you to recite the zip code for every city in Bangladesh.”
The hooded man sat next to me. It was oddly comforting. In a computerized voice, used to protect the speaker from giving away any clue as to who they might be, softly said “I’m sorry for how we got you here. The boys get carried away from time to time. It’s a hazard in what we do. My name is T. Let me promise you right now, you will not be harmed for the rest of your time here. Let me also promise you this, if you like what we are doing, you are welcome to stay with us for a while and help the cause.”
“I’m an atheistic, anarchist Jew. The closest I have ever come to jihad was arguing with a Palestinian over the price of shwarma at a restaurant in the West Bank 15 years ago. I think you grabbed the wrong guy. My name is Keith Spillett.”
“The Keith Spillett who writes The Tyranny of Tradition website…kind of like The Onion but for….”
“YES!!!! YES!!!! That’s me! If I hear the Onion comparison one more time….”
“Didn’t mean to offend you. Actually, we are great admirers of your work.”
“I hadn’t realized that the Jihadist community was big on metal satire.”
“Oh…yes, we loved the Rick Santorum one. We even thought about creating some Celine Dion internment camps, for obviously different reasons. Oh…and the one where Cronos is related to Kate Middleton! Killed me! Al-Baghdadi himself said that your story on Van Halen causing Ebola was the hardest he had laughed in years. We spotted your talent right away. You have the rare ability to make a ridiculous lie sound completely truthful.”
“Well, is this a job interview?,” I said laughing uncomfortably.
“Yes….yes…you could say that. Certainly not in a traditional sense, but we would like you to help us better get our ideas across to average Americans. They see us doing these beheadings and are horrified. But, they are missing the deeper meaning. I have chosen you to bring that meaning to them.”
“And if I don’t???”
“I give the briefcase of money to someone else, you take a nap in the trunk and you’ll be there for work Monday morning. We mean you no harm.”
“Can you try to better explain to me what is happening and what you want?”
“Better than that…I’ll show you.”
As I walked out of the makeshift hospital room it finally dawned on me that I was in the back of a trailer. The trailer door opened and a radiant, punishing sun beat down on my head. Men dressed head to toe in black were pacing around filled with frantic, nervous energy. It looked horrifically familiar. I’ve seen this place before. This is ISIS territory! Where they do all the beheadings! My god! They are going to kill me!
My breathing sped up, I began hemorrhaging sweat, my eyes darted around looking for a way out. A calming hand caressed my back. “How did I get here? We can’t possibly be in the Middle East. Not unless I was in the back of a flying car!”
“Relax…we are somewhere in a safe area of Alabama. Type of place you go and people don’t ask questions.”
“So….you do some of these beheadings IN America???”
“Sure! It’s much easier in terms of organizing the supplies you need inconspicuously. We’ve done some shoots overseas as well, but this is usually our favorite setting. It looks very dramatic around nightfall.”
“So…ISIS members are everywhere! Jesus Christ! We’ve been overrun. They are taking control. I should have never voted for Obama!!!!”
“Relax, Keith. Just relax. Let the events unfold. You will understand soon enough.”
I sat alone on a side of a hill unguarded. I could have run off, but they knew they had played deeply enough on my morbid curiosity to keep me around. Things were so bizarre. These anti-modern religious men were putting together what could only be properly described as a scene for a movie. A set was created from the natural elements of the ground, fake trees and a lighting scheme that made the whole place seem like the most dramatic dusk since the one Jesus saw on the cross.
Suddenly, they brought out a woman. She was screaming and trying to escape. Writhing with agony. She had been clearly beaten and tortured. It was apparent that these were going to be the last moments of her life. My God…they were going to behead her!
Was this a trick? Did they want me to make up some story about how some crazy fake ISIS beheading of like, Lita Ford, took place. T quickly found me and grabbed me by the arm. “We must go there now! Now! It’s happening NOW!”
She handed me a video camera and I ran with her. I had lost my identity for a moment in the crazed energy that exploded out of her. I knew only to run and then film. The woman’s head was pushed onto a wood block. “Now….you must film NOW!” and so I did.
The blade of her executioner smashed down on her neck. Blood shot out, but the neck remained intact. Her scream was the worst noise I have ever heard. There is nothing it can be compared to. He hacked again and again. I disappeared into the task at hand. ‘Tell The Story With The Camera’ I kept saying over and over in order to keep from shaking or collapsing.
What happened next was unforgettable. The executioner lifted the head from the ground and held it skyward in unspoken presentation to Mohammad. Blood drained all over his black outfit. Then, he casually tossed the head off screen. T told me “Cut!”
“Jesus Keith….that was great!!! You got the whole thing in one shot. Perfect. You have the guts of a cat burglar. I told you this was the guy! He gets it! This guy really can look past the horror to see the truth.”
In an oddly familiar voice, the executioner mumbled, “yes…yes he can.”
“You look like you need a drink. Sit down in the chair right over by the trailer.”
I slumped into the chair. T followed quickly with two glasses of bourbon. I took a glass and fired it down without speaking a word.
T began, “I’ll never forget my first beheading. It was extremely difficult at first, but once I understood…”
“UNDERSTOOD! We just murdered a woman. I just filmed the murder of a woman.”
T began laughing…”Yeah…yeah you did!”
“What the hell is wrong with you? What kind of Jihadist would give me alcohol? And you are laughing! Don’t you understand what you…what WE just were a part of?”
T’s mask turned towards me, “I certainly do…I just think that YOU don’t. I think when you’ll see the whole picture you’ll understand. It’ll make all the sense in the world, Keith. Then, you can decide what you want to do.”
Then, T shouted something loudly in a language I guessed to be Arabic. Quickly, all of the black robed, black masked ISIS killers surrounded me.
“Alright,” said T, “here goes!”
With that the mask was untied and I was staring directly into HER face. The soothing radical jihadist with the computerized voice was none other than Hillary Rodham Clinton. She smiled ear to ear and winked at me.
Then, the executioner removed his mask. It was President Barack Obama.
The next mask removed belonged to former President George W. Bush. “Fooled ya, huh!?”
Each face more bizarre than the next, former football player Ray Lewis, Metallica “drummer” Lars Ulrich, Tim Tebow, Danzig, Steve Jobs (who I believed had died!), Mrs. Glessman, my former 3rd grade teacher. All of them. Others too. They simply became a blur. What the hell was going on?
“T…or…Hillary…why are you doing this? WHY?”
“Yes! Yes! Freedom! True Freedom!”
I stared incredulously.
“Keith, you know the answer to this question, but I’m going to ask it anyway. Who is more free, a Jihadi who can kill or steal anytime the mood strikes him? This person has the power to act on every horrible whim that passes through his mind at any given moment? Or the fellow who spends his entire life with his head buried in a cubical praying he gets a raise so that he can afford to buy another piece of electronic equipment? The zombie…drifting from cradle to grave trying to create tiny manipulations in order to get the simplest, most basic image of freedom for a fleeting few seconds. Hell, if you cut his head off, you’d be doing the second guy a favor!”
“Why Keith? Because this carnival you see here….THIS IS TRUE FREEDOM. We sprinkle in a bit of the sections of the Koran to show we are capable of restraint and all that but never doubt for a moment that this is about Freedom.”
“But, she was an American?”
“Yes she was. Of course! This is Alabama! Who were you expecting? A Korean?…..Are you following this? You still look a bit confused?”
They all began laughing. “Because you are the audience, dummy! Who do you think this is all for? When you realize you can do whatever you want whenever you want to whomever you want, you have become a true member of the freest society on the planet. We got there first and as your public servants, we plan to bring as many of you as we can with us.”
“Keith, we need you to write stories for us. Crazy terrorist plots that were foiled in the nick of time. The crazier, the better. Make them funny. Have terrorists shoot the Space Needle at New England! Have “ISIS” set up a casino style betting service where people can profit through decapitations and different styles of murders. The government is 100 percent behind this. Blow up Yankee Stadium! You know you want to! We can make whatever you write come to life. Just give us a few days notice, we’ll make it happen.”
“For us to truly realize our birthright as Americans, freedom, we must destroy all the things that stand in our way. Love, compassion, empathy….all impediments to experiencing true freedom. We will teach them freedom through wars and beheadings. Freedom will come to America when we can own every awful thing we’ve done or will do with a smile on our face and without a trace of guilt. Because this is what it means to be free!”
She extended her hand out to shake mine. In that moment, everything flashed before me. All my actions, my thoughts, my beliefs, my fears, my dreams….every element that mentally constructs the thing that calls itself Keith Spillett. No one to answer to, no God to punish me, no law to force me into a prison cell….only the will and what it most wants in every moment.
Every day a celebration of my innermost wants above the needs of all others. A license to will the world into whatever I want it to be. So much suffering will be caused, so much sorrow, so much terror, so much pain…but not for me.
I shook her hand and smiled, “When do we start?”
Greetings everyone, my name is Matthew Bailey. I’m a blogger over at Left Hook from Right Field and a close friend of one Keith Spillett. Like you, I spend upwards of 14 hours a day online, reading Tyranny of Tradition. I’ve come to find this wonderful blog as the most influential online news source of this generation, or any. Thanks to Keith’s fantastic writing and knack for those “special” news stories, I have learned about King Diamond’s political career, Rick Santorum’s war on heavy metal and all sorts of fun facts about Cronos. I have come to see the Tyranny of Tradition as not only a source of entertainment, but my best link to my surrounding world and the most fun way to spend time at the office, when I’m pretending to do work.
But friends, I have to tell you something which is so shocking, so heinous that I may very well be risking my life by doing so…Keith Spillett is a liar! That’s right, it turns out, these so called “news articles” are nothing more than satire. My neighbor, John Fredricksten, told me that Bert Reynolds once said, “Satire is the lowest form of literature, worse than readers digest.” I have to concur here. Any idiot could write satire, hell Thomas Paine wrote satire and he lived in France for a stretch! No, my friends, Keith Spillett isn’t the genius you all thought him to be, he’s really nothing more than a poor man’s Mark Twain, a purveyor of exactly the kind of low brow literature that led to the demise of that great America we all loved in the 1870s.
I first began to become suspicious of Keith when he claimed he interviewed Dave Mustaine at North Dekalb Mall, a popular shopping destination, located outside of Atlanta, Georgia. You see, first of all, Dave Mustaine played a concert that night in Santa Fe and I seriously doubt that he would have had the time to do an interview, fight his way through Atlanta traffic, catch a flight and have the time to make the stage in time to deliver classic thrash metal songs in which he speaks during the verse and sings the chorus. And another thing! Keith specifically said in this blog that he was drinking an Orange Julius, a seemingly innocent fact, but in reality a telling truth. You see, once in 2006, I asked Keith if he liked Orange Juliuses, to which he replied, “they’re ok I guess.” Aha! This little slip got me suspicious, but oh, there’s more.
On January 9th of this year, Keith wrote a blog entitled, “Dickey Eaten by Mountain Lions, Mets Sign Christian Knuckleballer Tebow” Being an ardent sports fan, I found the blog informative and intriguing. In a pure stroke of genius, Mets GM Sandy Alderson somehow pushed aside the grief of losing one of his most reliable starting pitchers in a terrible accident, and signed one of the most popular and pure athletes of our time. Even though I’m a fan of the Atlanta Braves, I couldn’t wait for the approximate 645 annual Braves /Mets games, so that I could watch endless hours of Tebow coverage in my own hometown! I went to subway to celebrate by purchasing a footlong tuna sub for only $5, when I asked my wonderful sandwich maker, Doug, his opinion on the news. I couldn’t believe what he said…
“Tebow, on the Mets? Are you stupid? Tebow isn’t going to be pitching for the Mets. You see, my sister, Elizabeth, who we all call Beth for short, is a fortune teller or witch or something and she told me that Tebow would be traded to the Jets and for some odd reason, the media will actually care.” I generally shy away from confrontation, so I fought the tears as I quietly paid for my sandwich and fled the store to go somewhere and think. After eating my sub, I was still at a crossroads. What did this all mean? Why would Keith lie? What did he have to gain? After many hours of quiet meditation, I decided to just laugh off poor Doug and his delusional sister, I mean honestly, I knew his story was wrong, because why would the people of New York, who made two AFC Championships in the last three years care to trade for or give any media attention to Tim Tebow and potentially sabotage their young quaterback…it just didn’t add up.
But then it happened. Beth’s apocalyptic fantasy came to life. The media did care and poor Tim Tebow was subjected to unnecessary scrutiny and was even booed at a Yankees game. I felt my grip on reality slipping. I knew Keith had lied to me, but I didn’t know how. Then, late one night I read a book in which the word sarcasm was used. Being the recipient of a Georgia public education, I didn’t know what the word meant, so I looked it up. Not in a dictionary, but instead in a thesaurus, as the dictionary was upstairs and I didn’t feel like walking that far. That’s the first time I saw the word satire. From there, I delved into a world of liars, thieves and moral midgets. I subjected myself to things which most well-meaning people could only dream of. I read books by Aristophanes, watched Dr. Strangelove and in an act so masochistic that I have still yet to recover, listened to “Bad Hair Day” by Weird Al Yankovic. It turns out, there’s a whole subculture of sub-human creatures which not only participate in this vile form, but thrive in it. Apparently for all of written history, satir-philes have plagued our good earth with their filth.
But, how to confront Keith? I mean, I am the Godfather of his daughter and one of his closest friends. I couldn’t face him and risk a fight, not to mention risk becoming infected with Satircitis, myself. I had to think of a way to trick this disgusting man. So, I sent him a facebook message and asked if I could write a post on his blog about Andre the Giant coming back from the dead to star in a Bull Durham sequel. Of course, being so blinded by his satircism, he agreed. Instead I posted this.
It’s all a big nothing people. Keith hasn’t been delivering us up to the date news on our favorite irrelevant metal heroes. He’s been lying all along! He tricks you into spending upwards of four minutes, up to three times a week reading his deceitful literature, all so that he can click “like” on your facebook comments, complimenting his work. So, be free people! Read outstanding blogs by Anderson Cooper or Tony Kornheiser, because this Tyranny of Tradition is exposed. Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, I’m free at last.
Matt’s blog “Left Hook From Right Field” is easily one of the best places in the filth-ridden sewer that is the internet. Check it!
(Editors Note: The following was written during Mr. Spillett’s regular Saturday journey to Quarg, a parallel dimension located in the Glyming Galaxy. In this dimension, fortunately, Tebow Time and Tebow Mania do not exist)
Things keep getting worse for the New York Mets. Following a dreadful 2011 campaign, the Mets most reliable starter, R.A. Dickey, was consumed this week by a pack of snarling mountain loins on his quest to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. Dickey, who finished 2011 with a sterling 3.28 ERA, was ripped to shreds only moments before he reached the top of the mountain leaving the Mets 2012 playoff hopes in tatters.
However, things might be starting to look up. The Mets today signed knuckleballer and former NFL quarterback Tim Tebow. Tebow, who was released by the Broncos yesterday after throwing 12 interceptions in the first quarter against a Pittsburgh Steeler defense that was using 11 defensive linemen, was snapped up immediately by the pitching starved Mets.
Tebow, who hasn’t pitched a baseball game since he was an 11-year-old little leaguer, was shocked at first by the offer. He had counted on spending a good portion of his adult life underthrowing open receivers in the NFL. But, a chance to pitch for an organization poised on the brink of greatness, like the Mets, was too much to refuse.
The question is, can Tebow pitch in the majors? Sandy Alderson certainly thinks so. After watching Tebow throw wobbly, erratic passes to no one in particular, the Mets GM began to believe that he is a natural knuckleball pitcher. Scientists have studied the motion of the ball leaving Tebow’s hand and are at a loss to explain it. “It’s as if the ball is being guided by a drunken stumbling vagrant,” said NASA Chief Physicist Aaron Bowles. Alderson, however, believes its trajectory is reminiscent of how the ball used to leave Phil Niekro’s hand.
Alderson believes that if Tebow could make a baseball do what he does with a football, he could be virtually unhittable. Beyond his potential, Alderson was impressed by Tebow’s willingness to pitch for free. The Mets, who project their payroll to be somewhere around 150 dollars next season were looking for a low risk, low reward signing to eat innings for them. Tebow seemed to fit the mold perfectly.
Alderson also admitted he was excited about the idea of Tebow bringing positive attention to a franchise that has spent the better part of the last five years being treated like a leper colony. “Who wouldn’t be moved by the story of a kid from an upper middle class family, who represents the most popular religion in the United States defying the odds and becoming successful? The chances were one in a million. He’s an underdog in every sense of the word,” said a teary-eyed Alderson.
Tired of being hounded by the press about his interest in the Ohio State head football coaching position, Ohio State coach Urban Meyer today unequivocally denied any interest in taking the Ohio State job. Meyer, who only weeks ago signed a contract to coach at Ohio State, denied that he has had contact with AD Gene Smith or that he was even aware that Ohio State existed. Meyer claims that the recent press conference where he was introduced as the Head Coach was “a complete and total fabrication.”
Earlier today outside of his office in the Ohio State football complex, Meyer decried the media’s rampant speculation about his plans and willingness to report rumors instead of solid facts. “They just take a few pieces of information and run wild with them,” said Meyer decked out in his brand new Ohio State coaching jacket. After a Buckeye Booster Club Luncheon and a long day of preparing for next year’s home opener against Miami of Ohio, Meyer declared that he was looking forward to taking the next year to spend time with his family.
Ohio State University, already reeling from NCAA imposed sanctions for 2012, now faces the unenviable task of hiring a new coach even though they have already hired one who is currently coaching the team. In a press release issued by the University, the Athletics Department stated definitively that they are “Looking forward to celebrating several championships in the Urban Meyer Ohio State era even though it will not be taking place.”
Meyer reacted frostily to the claims of some reporters that he has been wavering in his commitment to Buckeye football. “I have been very clear about my intentions of not not not not not not coaching at Ohio State next season. I’m not sure what else I can say.”
ESPN, which is already inundated with several major stories about pre-season NBA basketball and reports of Tim Tebow drinking a glass of water, led their SportsCenter broadcast with 55 minutes of coverage of Meyer’s denial. In an interview with ESPN’s Shelley Smith, Coach Meyer denied ever issuing a denial. “I am obviously currently the Ohio State Head football coach. I am not,” said Meyer in an attempt to clarify the news reports about his interest in the Ohio State job that he took last month.