It’s NFL Combine Week and all of you hard core fellows, or you fellows without a shred of a life, will be glued to the inaction over the next few days. I’ll probably use my own shred to watch all six seasons of Lost via Netflix.
Nobody has a clue whom the 49ers will draft with pick number 30 in the first round, or any of the other seven or so picks we have. If we draft WRs in the first two rounds, however, it will indicate that our Free Agency period has been a flop. It’s all but a lock and a vital necessity that Trent Baalke sign a semi-scary veteran WR in FA. It must happen. If it does, then pick number 30 can simply be BPA, as it should be.
A veteran deep threat WR and a full offseason will pry the doors off Jim Harbaugh’s offense.
But free agency is still three weeks away. That means we all will continue to yak about the various shades of nothing for awhile longer, with occasional excursions into the various shades of lunacy, compliments of our guest loaner from the Eureka Hallucination Society.
One of my brothers has taken note of my blog life and drawn the inevitable conclusion: “If my idiot sibling can do this, so can I.” He wants me to help him get his own blog up and rolling.
His blog will not be about football, though. And he will bring to his blog something I can’t bring to mine. He’s an actual super duper expert in his field. When the brains were divvied out from the family gene pool, his was by far the biggest slice of the pie.
As a result, I’ve had to make my way through life on my character, guile, and wit. Which explains why I’m mostly a good-natured failure.
Football has little room for failures — of any kind, but life is more forgiving. As long as your parents aren’t unreasonably disappointed in you and your fellow siblings aren’t snotty as hell, you can stumble your way to a more or less pleasant existence.
The key to a pleasant existence is extraordinarily simple, yet often hard to find: SOMEBODY WHO LOVES YOU. If you get that one right, you’ve conquered the world.
Brainy people, if they don’t crack up from overloaded neurons, have far more impressive lives and generally make greater contributions to the societal enterprise, but it’s been my experience that brains have difficulty copulating. Not that it’s impossible, but we all know how much trouble this caused Spock, so clearly it’s a tough deal for the brain inclined to find SOMEBODY WHO LOVES THEM.
So I’m going to help my brainiac brother start his blog. It will be a real impressive place to visit if you have a superior intellect, but there’s no way he’ll get anywhere near the traffic of my simpleton little Outsider site. Hahaha. I will kick his nerdy little ass.
Ahem. The 49ers …