The study found that the preponderance of Josh Allen-related mental activity was focused on football. However, the MVP quarterback loomed large in people’s minds across a wide range of other circumstances:
— Numerous disappointed fathers cited QB1 in their thoughts while pondering where they went wrong with their Cheeto-eating, Fortnite-playing sons.
—Senior citizens being moved out of their homes mentioned that Josh Allen would never put his Papa or Nana in a nursing facility.
—Teachers, being thrown under the bus by administrators, would never suffer that fate with Josh Allen as their leader—even if their name was Stefon Diggs.
—Budget deputies in the new Sean Ryan administration freely admit that the only person who could possibly save the city from fiscal meltdown is Josh Allen.

Voices from Western New York and their Josh Allen thoughts:
Harmon Hawthorn—I used to think about Jesus and all that salvation bullshit, but now I’m consumed with how Josh can beat a cover three, double shell defense.
Bucky Blatenbutt—I’m in the midst of a breakup. Brandon ran off with a trumpet player named Kenny, who supposedly has this really crisp tongue and a balanced embouchure. When I’m not preoccupied with that, I spend a lot of time imagining myself on the business end of a Josh Allen tush push.  
Heidi Handcrafter—At some point during a recent string of bad dates, I found myself daydreaming about rugged #17 and how he wouldn’t waste my evening rambling about on about a vintage toy soldier collection, axe-throwing leagues, the wheel size on his F-250, or any of the other dumb guy shit meant to compensate for a lack of being funny, interesting or having an acceptable penis.
Black Betty—When I’m not Bam Ba Lamming, I’m thinking about Josh Allen. 
Brandon Beane—I think about how Josh has papered over, and saved my ass from all my shitty picks: Boogie Bashim, Cody Ford, Kaiir Elam, to name a few. The biggest miss might be Keon Coleman. If we don’t make the Super Bowl, a tub of Preparation H won’t keep my seat from being red hot. Please Josh, save my ass again.

Rounding out the top-ten things Western New Yorkers think about: 
—Work Conflicts, such as dealing with assholes like Holly, from accounting, who is always riding everyone’s ass about expense reports.
—Family Drama, where out-of-town siblings pop in at the end and steal your parents’ silverware while you’re at Hospice caring for your mom.
—Aldis: ground beef costs eight fucking dollars per pound?
—Porn.
—Chicken Wings.
—Pot Holes.
—Kids: when the fuck are they going to move out?
—When will the Sabres start their ten-game skid?
—County Executive Mark Poloncarz—what a douche!
—Will the Bills draft Josh Allen and Hailee Steinfeld’s baby in 2048?

The Bills and Josh Allen play in the divisional round of the NFL Playoffs on Saturday, January 17th, at 4:30 in Denver against the Broncos.  

The post Study Finds Western New Yorkers Think About Josh Allen Two Hundred Seventy-One Minutes Per Day appeared first on buffalomud.com.

Though Dave was good to their sister, he somewhat resembled the human form of a Twizzler—thin and twisty with blotchy red skin from long-term psoriasis. Originally from Queens, Dave was the Northeast regional manager for Famous Footwear and made a decent living. The brothers accepted Dave into the family, conditioned on the premise that any progeny, without exception, would be raised as a Bills fan. Offspring could be a Mets, Knicks, and given the continuing futility of the Sabres, even a Rangers fan, but never, ever a goddamn Jets fan.

After a six-hour drive from Western New York along the 390S and 17E, the brothers rumbled into their sister’s living room, where wiffley Dave, Phoebe, and their three-year-old nephew Parker sat in front of the TV being further corrupted by Bluey. After grimicing a hello to Dave and Phoebe, the uncles picked Parker up and tossed him in the air between them like a water balloon at a family picnic while repeating the closing hymn to Josh Allen’s MVP speech, much to his delight:

When that ran its course, Phoebe removed Parker from the room and the brothers closed ranks on Dave. They reminded him of the agreement he had made before marrying their sister. While Dave acknowledged the agreement, he argued it would be better for Parker’s socialization if he were a Jets fan—he would make more friends and fit in better with his peers.

Flanked by his brothers, Uncle Paul stood before Dave,  “That’s what you want for your son—to be a follower? You want him to sit through that ridiculous third-down call by the Jets announcer, only to have Josh Allen rip his heart out over and over? You want his superfan experience provided by that sad sack, Fireman Ed—thank you for your service—or do you want him to feel the hope and joy of Elvis, The Chefs, and Captain Dave’s, Hit The Showers? Do you want him to have the fun of breaking tables, throwing dildos on the field, drinking shots from a bowling ball? Or do you want him to look back sixty years to your one shining moment—that lucky Super Bowl win with George Sauer, Emerson Boozer and Joe Namath? And, if you didn’t know, Namath was a career fifty percent passer with 220 interceptions and only 173 touchdowns. You’ve had six coaches in the last ten years and the most memorable play in that time is a butt fumble.
Dave, the Jets suck. It’s the worst organizations in the NFL. If you love your son, you won’t do this to him.”

Dave stood there weighing his options and, after a moment, started to cry, “I do love my son. I just…I just wanted someone to share my pain.”

Uncle Peter ran out to the Silverado, and a minute later was back with two #17 jerseys—one for Parker, and one for Dave (a boys’ medium). Once Dave had the jersey on, the brothers embraced him and said, “Welcome to the Mafia.”  

Uncle Patrick then went to the nearest Home Depot and bought out all the folding tables they had in stock, and the family spent the rest of the night doing shots, breaking tables, and teaching Parker sacred Mafia words:

Hey-ayyyyyyy-ayyyyyyyy-ayy! (Hey-ayyyyyyy-ayyyyyyyy-ayy!)  Let’s Go Buffalo!!!

Driving home the next day, Uncle Paul gazed out at the horizon and peacefully crooned, “We saved two lost souls last night,” and just as peacefully, the brothers nodded in agreement.

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High-speed computing also has applications to this weekend’s NFL draft, and Santiago Sorrendemo, a mailroom clerk at the plaza location of M&T Bank, is annoying the shit out of his coworkers with his mock drafts. Santiago is a math major at UB and has run hundreds of mocks on the NFL Mock Draft Simulator for this weekend’s event in Green Bay. Usually, he’s friendly and efficient, but in the period between free agency and the draft, he’s become a hairy, rank taco box. Opinionated, argumentative, and totally exasperating.

John Jameriquai, a Commercial Credit Underwriter, secured a paid internship for Santiago this summer, but wishes he could rescind the offer. Jameriquai recounted a recent exchange with Santiago, who asked what he thought the Bills should do with their first pick. 

Jameriquai responded that all the playoff losses to the Chiefs seem to result from the Bills inability to hit or get Patrick Mahomes on the ground. The teams that did, the Eagles this past year and the Bucs in 2021, won the Super Bowl. So I said, “We need to go D-line—either Kenneth Grant from Michigan, or that guy Greg Cosell  called his favorite defensive lineman in the draft, Walter Nolen from Ole Miss.

According to Jameriquai, after rolling his eyes, Santiago pulled out his phone and completed four first-round drafts in two minutes. That’s great, I guess,” he said. “But both are never there when the Bills pick at 30.” He pointed to his phone, “Look, Nolen at 21 to the Steelers, Grant at 26 to the Rams.” He tapped his phone again. “Grant 21 to the Steelers, Nolen 26 to the Rams.” Again, he tapped his phone. “Nolen 15 to the Falcons, Grant 22 to the Chargers.” He tap his phone one final time, and again: “Nolen 14 to the Colts, and Grant 15 to the Falcons. “See,” he said, “the value at 30 is at DB, like Malaiki Starks from Georgia or Trey Amos from Mississippi.”

Jameriquai then suggested the Bills move up a few spots, and Santiago made a guttural sound, slammed his interoffice memos on his desk, and said, “Dumbass.”

Knowing that banking services analyst Lucy Leathertip was a Bills fan, Santiago casually asked her thoughts about the draft as he dropped mail on her desk. She said, “I don’t know, maybe more pass catchers for Josh.”
“Pass catchers for Josh?” Santiago said, raising his voice. “The Bills scored thirty points a game last year. Allen is the reigning MVP, and the everybody-eats philosophy has been enhanced with Josh Palmer. Curtis Sammauel and Keon Coleman are beefed up and healthy, and Khalil Shakir got paid. More pass catchers for Josh? Are you sure you’re a Bills fan? Jeeze.”

As he walked away, Leathertip, sat at her desk, and in a barely audible voice to no one in particular said, “And to think, I was going to fuck that kid.”  

Other coworkers had thoughts on Santiago’s mock behavior as well:

Immediate supervisor Constantine Crummler said, “At first I thought he had like a porn thing going on, because he’s on his phone all the time. I looked into getting him some help, but then I found out he was just mock drafting, and I was like— WHAT? I could respect the porn thing, but mock drafting? What a fucking loser.”

Mailroom coworker Peter Plutternut said, “I don’t really care about the draft. I only watch to see the shitty picks the Jets and Dolphins make. It’s great hearing their fans boo the picks.”

Systems Analyst (and virgin) Frankie “Blue Shoes” Fianisi guffawed, “Santiago is a chump. A rank amateur. You can take this draft to da bank.” He then pulled out the handwritten, detailed two-round draft pictured below.    

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This came to light during a ride home from a visit with Jeroffsky’s mom, who was unaware that Wussman had received a big promotion at the DOT. After seven years working the front-line information desk, which answers general questions and administers eye and learner permit tests, Wussman was promoted to a full-fledged Auditor, with all the accompanying power to approve or deny the general public’s DOT-related business. So thrilled with the promotion, he arrived at the office thirty minutes early on his first day and, on a blank sheet of paper, practiced his technique for rejecting faulty paperwork with his “DENIED” stamp while muttering under his breath: “Not today bitch.” 

Questioning why Jeroffsky’s mother wouldn’t know about his promotion since she communicates with her nearly every day, and his new Auditor position had broad implications for the couple’s future, she said, “I guess we just don’t talk about you that much.” Asked what they talked about, she thought for a moment and spewed a litany of topics from their favorite contestants on The Voice to what they had for lunch to her work friend Renee’s continuing yeast infection problems. 

Frustrated by her response, Wussman said, “Okay, so you don’t talk about me. Do you think about me when I’m not around?”
It was more of a rhetorical than a real question, but Jeroffsky pondered it for a moment and said, “Not really, I guess.”
“Jesus Christ,” Wussman said, pounding the steering wheel. “What do you think about, then?”
“Well, Josh Allen. Like everyone, I think about Josh a lot. I wonder about that farm he grew up on. Isn’t California like a desert? How can you farm in California if it’s a desert?” She paused and thought some more, “Lately, I’ve been thinking about which shows I should binge on Netflix. Renee says I should watch the first two seasons of Squid Game before the next season comes out in March, but I don’t know; it looks dumb.
“This really hurts Jill. You think about Josh Allen and fucking Netflix more than me,” said a despondent Wussman.
Everyone around here thinks about Josh,” she said quietly.
Just then, “Come As You Are” by Nirvana came on the car radio, and Wussman said, “You know how much I love Nirvana. Do you think about me when you hear one of their songs?”
“Yes,” she said brightly. “But not this one.”
“Why not this one?”
“Well, junior year, I locked eyes with this kid named Billy Beener at a dance while this song was playing. One thing led to another, and we ended up in the athletic supply closet where, let’s say, we both got a vigirous work out on the pommel horse. That’s what I think of when I hear this song, but all the other Nirvana songs—you,” she said unconvincingly.

The couple drove the rest of the way home in silence.

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While the excitement is real and the team is a legitimate Super Bowl contender, deep down, in the dark recesses of the Bills fans souls, where defeat and disappointment reign supreme, they can’t wait to get past this silly season of expectation and on to the inevitable heartbreak of another year.

Johnny Jamula of Clarence expressed how he can’t help but buy into the Bills at this time of year and then feels like such a fool when the season ultimately goes sideways. “I’m a grown ass man and have been a fan since the early 70’s when Fergy was hanging his head and tight end Ruben Gant—or as we referred to him Ruben Can’t and Never Could—was dropping passes all over the field. Yet, here I am like a little old lady watching the shopping network in the middle of the night, buying the hype—and all the chiffon jackets when I know I look like a total asshole in sheer chiffon garments. I’m such a sucker. I just hope the Bills put me out of my misery early this year.” 

Abdul Ashalayum of Black Rock said he’s very uncomfortable with all the positive feelings he had about the Bills this offseason—especially about general manager Brandon Beane and head coach Sean McDermott. “Right now, I feel the value pickups Beane made in free agency like Poona Ford and Leonard Floyd were genius. And I’m thrilled with this year’s draft class which includes: Dalton Kincaid, O’Cyrus Torrence and Justin Shorter. I’m also excited to have McDermott calling the defense and ramping up the aggressiveness on that side of the ball.
But truthfully, when the season starts to fall apart and Leonard Floyd only has two sacks and the Giants poach Justin Shorter, I’ll destroy Beane for being a dumb shit. I’ll call WGR and ask if there’s any way to hire back his old protégé, Joe Schoen. Same with McDermott, once he’s too aggressive with the blitz or not aggressive enough, I’ll be on the horn calling for Leslie Frazier to replace his sorry bald-headed ass. And it will feel so good, so right. 

LaMont Leadfoot of South Buffalo is hoping not to face reality of another wasted year with the Bills until the first seven feet of lake effect snow clobbers Buffalo sometime in November. “Last year it was nice to have the delusion that this was our year right up until they barely beat the Lions on Thanksgiving day. The narrow win coupled with the seven feet of lake effect snow the week prior shook me back into place—this is Buffalo, we don’t have nice things like normal weather and Super Bowl parades. We have: heart attacks,  playoff losses and we’re boring . Still, avoiding reality till then was nice—from there it was a short seven-months to those two glorious months of Buffalo summer and more delusions about the Bills.

The Bills start their sixty-third NFL season on September 11th against the New York Jets.   

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The possible split comes as Allen returned to Buffalo for voluntary organized team activities down at One Bills Drive. Looking like the adult version of Tony DeFranco from the DeFanco Family, with his hair grown out and an easy smile on his face, Allen calmly took questions from the media after his team workout stating, “At this point in my life, I’ve never been as focused or locked in on football as I am right now.”

But nobody believes that Allen being unattached will be good for his game despite his “locked in” assertion. Here’s a few examples of what some fans are thinking:

Ronald Ravenclaw, a Crane Operator for the John Danforth Company, thinks this could really hurt the Bills prospects for the coming season. He said, “With a steady woman at your side you always have someone there to point out your flaws and keep you honest. Josh isn’t going to have that anymore. And, he’s not going to have anyone reminding him that, not only does Patrick Mahomes have two rings, but Brittany Mahomes also has two babies. How will Josh ever stay motivated to win without his Brittany constantly clucking at him?” 

Glenn Gasser, an Accounts Executive at Rich Products is worried about the volume of women who are going to throw themselves at Josh. In Gasser’s mind, “An unattached Josh Allen is going to be invited into more “velvet lounges” and get more “mouth hugs” than Joe Namath could ever imagine—even after the ‘68 season.  And, you know there’s going to be famous women like Kim Kardashian looking for him. She’s due another NFL player after a bevy of rappers, singers and comedians. Josh has the fame and the bank to be her fall rental. Bottom line, not only will the Kim Kardashians of the world be coming for him, but he’s going to have unfettered access at every “taco bar” in the country, if you know what I mean. And that ain’t good for the Bills.”  

Felix Flounder, a West Seneca School Bus Driver is concerned about the dog Allen shares with Williams—Sky. Sky is a chocolate lab and in a break up like this the woman normally gets the dog, even though in all likelihood it would rather be with the man—especially when the man is an alpha dog himself, like QB1. “I mean, can Brittany throw a stick seventy yards like Josh?” Flounder asked. “Does she have the agility to play a game of chase like Josh? Can she say “NO,” in a commanding voice like an NFL quarterback? Of course not, but she’ll want and she’ll get Sky even though everyone knows it would be better off with Josh…and it will break his heart and cause him to be distracted. And ultimately that will show up in his game.”  

This will be Allen’s sixth year in the NFL and a pivotal one for the Bills.

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Besides the affordable housing and short commute times that provide independence there are other reasons the women of Buffalo are eschewing marrying their fortunes to the men in the area. 

Elisa Elmrich 39, of North Buffalo said she’s been in several relationships but has no interest in marrying any of these schmoes. “All these dumbasses are a trillion dollars in debt from that first stereo they had to have when they were twenty-one, which they put on a Circuit City credit card at 29.99%—hope those Creed tunes were worth it— to the stupid $650 payment they have on their 2017 Chevy Silverado. I’ll hang for a while with these mutants and extract some bodily pleasures but I ain’t into saving a guy who needs a calculator to figure out a 20% tip. Wolves are smarter than these fuckers.”

Shania Schmaltz 33, of Amherst says, “If I ever get married it’ll be to some desperate for a green card mail order teenage Russian boy who will worship me in a right and proper way. These Buffalo guys are all so damaged from their failed little league careers and live vicariously through Josh Allen and Tage Thompson. They’re so annoying and such babies. Turn the page—you were never more than a second line house league winger and you were a nose-tackle in little loop football because your biggest asset was that you were fat. Time to grow up and be a second rate civil service worker or a manager at Tim Hortons—I might be able to get with one of these freaks if they could at least bring me coffee all the time.”

Tonya Twister 49, of Black Rock said, “It would be great to find a husband, but what all these Buffalo guys want and need is a mother. I mean, I’ve been with a bunch of them and after doing their laundry occasionally, I had to follow some of them into the bathroom to show them the toilet paper and how to use it. Can you imagine instructing a thirty-one year old man how to properly wipe his ass. And don’t get me started about dental care. I was with this one dude who saw me flossing and he was like “Whaddya doin’ with that fishing line?” Too bad, he was cute and nice in a young Judd Hirsh kind of way.”   

Psychologists expect this trend to remain consistent, especially in Buffalo where women are steadily seeing their fortunes rise and the men continue to have the mental and emotional intelligence of eleven-year old boys.       

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While Kane remains the 1.5 millionth most popular Amazon author his life and his accomplishments are considerably more impressive than people generally know. His updated resume revealed a more detailed look at his life. 

First, many people are unaware that Kane is the whitest man on the planet, born as a result of an illicit affair between Marvel superhero Thor and Bond actress Britt Ekland. In his teen years while visiting his mother in Sweden, Kane had a brief dalliance with Agnetha Fältskog, the blond singer in Abba. The young couple parted ways when Kane suggested she adopt a more edgy image rather than the wholesome look that she would become famous for in Abba. Kane’s next girlfriend, Debbie Harry would take his advice and transform herself into punk icon and eventual rock and roll hall of famer with her band, Blondie.

Kane was at the sessions for Nirvana’s groundbreaking record “Nevermind,” in the early 1990’s. He helped Kurt Cobain shape the lyrics of the indestructible, Smells Like Teen Spirit. The song sounded a little off to him and he suggested a couple of minor tweaks, including changing the lines:

Here we are with Dwayne the Lush 
He’s real stupid but courageous…
To:
Here we are now, entertain us
I feel stupid and contagious

While working for Apple in the late 90’s Kane became annoyed with the limitations of his Sony Walkman/Discman and pushed Steve Jobs to invest resources to take advantage of the digitized Mp3 revolution. A couple of years, and a lot of underpaid, abused Chinese workers later, the iPod came on the market. Jobs originally wanted to call it the iBox, but Kane came up with the sleeker and more refined signifier—iPod. A few years removed from the success of the iPod Kane grew tired of the clunkiness of going from his iPod, to his laptop, to his phone and encouraged Jobs to devote even more resources into creating a device that could do all three. In 2007 the iPhone born.   

According to his resume here are some of Kane’s other accomplishments:

• Ate fifty-four Mighty Tacos in one sitting.
• Broke up seventy-nine street hockey fights.
• Made his sister Sheila cry every day between the ages of seven and thirteen.
• Was the first person to declare Kanye West a total asshole.
• Struck out Pete Rose twenty-seven times in a row.
• First person to roll his eyes at the sanctimony of Bono.
• Shorted the market in the credit-default crash and made millions.
• Rowed El-Duque through shark infested waters when he escaped Cuba.
• Explained to J-Lo she would never find true love.
• Piloted the Chinook helicopter that didn’t crash in the Bin Laden raid.
• Instructed Brandon Beane to pick Josh Allen at seven in the 2018 draft.
• Continually pleads with Elon Musk to shut the fuck up.
• Once bench pressed 325 lbs forty-seven times.
• Encouraged Neil deGgrasse Tyson to declassify Pluto as a planet.
• Is a generous and giving lover.

These are just a sampling of the outstanding accomplishments and character traits of P.A.Kane, that, of course, are subject to change as we move forward toward the 2024 election cycle. 

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Ingerfish is of the opinion that if the Bills or Sabres ever win a championship the fabric of Western New York and its people will be irreparably changed for the worse. Thankfully though, Sunday’s loss was a step toward preserving who we are as a community—it was the universe righting itself.

“Let’s face it, ” said Ingerfish, “we are the world’s biggest and most lovable losers. Instead of running away from that, we should embrace it and feel proud. Enough of this trying to rise above our station and be something we’re not. We suck and we should celebrate that. I mean, the Bills are 0-55 in Super Bowls and the Sabres are 0-51 in Stanley Cups. Who sucks like we suck?”

He also noted a few other unique Buffalo attributes: we get nine months of winter, City Hall is a giant phallic symbol and the mom-rock band The Goo Goo Dolls are the biggest act ever to come out of the area, At the other end of Lake Erie in Cleveland: The Raspberries and The Dead Boys, to name just a couple. That kind of futility isn’t just happenstance, it’s who we are, it’s our manifest destiny.

Ingerfish believes with Super Bowl or Stanley Cup wins we’ll lose the collective inferiority complex so central to our being. He fears such victories will make Western New Yorkers prideful and self-respecting and will encourage wellness behaviors like: daily flossing for good oral hygiene, mindful meditation for positive mental health and regular checkups for STD’s to remain yeast and HPV free. 

“If this happens all of the sudden rather than breaking tables, swilling Fireball and downing double orders of wings, the 716 will be overrun with a bunch of posers drinking chardonnay, reciting poetry and really meaning it when they shake hands and wish peace to other parishioners in church. Is that who we really want to be?” Ingerfish asked without a hint of irony.

He went on to say he is optimistic that the status quo will prevail. He cited the fact that after the 6-1 start, which saw the Bills at the top of nearly everyone’s power rankings, there are valid concerns regarding the team’s long term chances for success—Josh Allen’s injury and his recent interception problems, there remains no viable receiver outside of Stephon Diggs, suddenly the run defense is porous and there are continuing injury issues team wide. The universe, according to Ingerfish, is righting itself.

With glee he finished, “Buffalo: sucking today, sucking tomorrow, sucking forever.”

The Bills play the 7-1 Minnesota Vikings Sunday at Highmark Stadium in Orchard Park.    

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Buffalo, N.Y.—This week local author P.A.Kane was taking an early morning hike along a creek bed in Chestnut Ridge Park with a friend and his trusted forty-nine pound canine companion Kaya Francis Bean. As they walked along, taking in the serene scents and sounds of the newly arrived summer, the friend, who was a few steps ahead of the author, snapped a picture of Kane where it appeared as if he was walking on water. Asked by the friend if he got a hot foot back there Kane just looked down at his dry boots and raised his eyebrows.

The friend, who wished not to be identified, was left to conclude that Amazon’s 1.5 millionth ranked author had indeed walked on water.

But his wife of one-million years, 28 years, Donna and others are calling bullshit. “He spends eighty percent of his  time laying on the couch watching clips of Josh Allen on YouTube with his hands down his pants. That guy walked on water?” she asked with a rhetorical bite.

The local author responded with a shrug. My whole life people have been telling me all the things I can’t do: “You can’t finish all that pizza—Boom. Are those wings for anyone? . . . No way you can’t really drink that whole twelve-pack—Not without twelve bourbon chasers . . . But you’re such a dumb fuck, you can’t be a writer—Check the Amazon scoreboard, Karen.
It just goes on and on with these haters. But out in the serenity of nature with my dog I have no limits. I am one with the universe—all the universes.” 

In addition to his wife, others are skeptical of Kane’s liquid ambulation. Here’s reactions from some of those people.

Kevin McNamara—P.A.Kane, walk on water? That fat fuck would sink like a Mississippi democrat going for a House seat in 2022.  

The Dalai Lama—Ah yes, Mr. P.A.Kane. Consider first, a donkey’s ass. Now think of the buttocks of gnat. In the grand scheme of all existence Mr. P.A.Kane is like a single molecule on the buttocks of a gnat which sits on the ass of a donkey. Mr. P.A.Kane not walk on water. 

Josh Allen—Aw man, I love that P.A.Kane guy. He’s a great trash talker and back in the day at South Park High School he did a lot for his 0-8 football team. Like I heard he refused to get high before “all” the games. Not just some of the games, “all” the games. You gotta respect that. As for this walking on water, at this point I don’t see that happening. But if he concentrates in the off-season and maybe works on his mechanics he might get there. 

Jen (Aldi’s cashier)—You know he’s really great about keeping the line moving—exchanges his cart quickly and I never have to wait to process his payment. But, ya know his food choices are such an epic fail. All those breakfast sausages that are like eighty percent sugar and those “baked” chips which I suppose have some nutritional value, but c’mon. On top of all that soda he buys. I don’t see that salad dodger drinking water let alone walking on it . 

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