Randy's Shoes - Part II

I place down my fork and finish chewing a mouthful of breakfast poutine. Fucking Glenn Healy; why does he keep on calling me? I outta get a damn restraining order for that butt-fuck. I rise from my seat and head over to the answering machine. Normally, I'd get Jeeves to tend to my messages, but ever since I fired that damn Healy, I've told Jeeves to leave any follow up mess to me exclusively. I don't throw my trash onto other people's agendas; incompetent bosses who don't respect their employees do that shit. I'm all about being boss, and being boss means taking responsibility.

Look at 'em eyes. Boss.

New messages: 30. New messages: 30. The answering machine keeps flashing at me. Mocking me, really.

With my poutine index finger, I press play.

"Heyyyy Commissioner Randy; Glenn Healy here. Just wondering once again if you'd consider reversing your decision to relieve me from my duties. I seriously think ---"

Click. Next new message.

"Heyyy Morpheus Randy! Glenn Healy here. Listen, I know you're mad about my speed gun ---"

Click. Next new message.

"Heyyy Mr. Fucking Randy; Glenn - again! - Healy. Please, please give me another chance! I don't like being between the benches with CBC! The players spit on me! They don't respect ---"

Click.

"RANDY! It's Glenn. Pick up the fucking phone!"

Click.

"I need you Randy! Please give me another chance! Oh, it's Glenn by the way."

FUCK. This is what I hate about being Commissioner. It's not the managing of select-GM's; it's the divergence of washed up ex-NHLers trying to make a career out of broadcasting! You know that old saying "those who can't do, teach, and those who can't teach, do"? I swear Glenn's a living example of that. I hardly make errors in my job, but hiring Glenn for colour commentary was the biggest mistake I've ever made in the Randy Leagues. Fuck I hate Glenn Healy!

"Pleaaaaassee Randy!" says Glenn.

I've had enough. I put the answering machine on pause and get back to breakfast. With each mouthful of potato goodness and green onion zest I feel more and more energized, ready to tend to the challenges that lay ahead today.

I get up and head towards my master cave before realizing that Ms. Greyleith is probably still recovering from a night of passionate romp. She's probably never been so exhausted in her life, I figure. Hopefully Jeeves has found her something to wear at this point. I instead trot my way to my secondary room, which is a room I use specifically when a woman is still occupying my cave. It was a brilliant idea, a secondary room, alas I must admit it was Jeeves' concoction. I guess he had had enough of me requesting him to sneak into my man cave and quietly assemble all the things I need to get ready in the morning. That cheeky man...

It's a bit of a walk to my secondary room, but that's just what happens when you ask your contractor to add a component to your mansion when the foundation has already been set. The secondary room sits on the second floor like my master bedroom (aka. master cave), but it's a bit further. Nonetheless, I make it in good time and freshen up. I pick out my attire and give myself a quick look before I head out.

"Yup, this'll work."

I'm feeling well. Really well. Time to run the best damn fantasy league in the world. "Jeeves!" I shout into the home intercom system. "Assemble my briefcase and get the heli warmed up!"

WK19 - Boning Bodaciously

Burgs tops Sitch for weekly gain; Tree Bone closes in.

Burgundy proudly salutes crowd; Sitch in tears (not pictured).

Ebbs and flows, my friends. Ebbs and flows.

I knew Sitch's streak could not last; he had been the V's top fantasy point producer for five consecutive weeks, which is quite a feat in itself. But this week his team toppled down and produced at a rate comparable to Burgundy circa October 2013, which set an opportunity for others to take advantage.

"Damn straight," said Tree Bone via teleconference call. "I may be in second, but that gap is closing in and it's not too late for a push. I'm always good for a pushin'."

Adds McGuire: By golly!

Easy there, Pierre. Anyways, let's look at this week's visuals before we get into the details.

"That chart looks different," chimed in Safari.

Why, yes it is. Good eye, Safari. I was getting bored of the old Total Points by Week chart; it added little value in my opinion. It was too linear and did not graphically depict the relationship between weekly performance vs. select-GMs. So, I changed it a bit. This new chart (above) shows the cumulative total points earned from each select-GM by week. Each week's total points earned is stacked on top of each other to show the total points earned. Each coloured box represents the points earned for that given week. This way we get to see who is leading the pack, but also who collected the most points by week. As we can see, Sitch still leads overall, but his most recent week (the furthest right coloured box) was slim.

"And mine was the most bodacious!" roared Burgundy.

Yes, it was. Burgundy was this week's top performer, amassing 156.85 fantasy points, ahead of Tree Bone who finished second with 136.45 fantasy points. Sitch had a terrible week, bringing home only 78.90 fantasy points (good for last in the V).

Adds McGuire: And we can see the effect his low production has done to his (Sitch's) PPGP. Look at the chart (above); Sitch is nose-diving a bit and is now below 3.60 PPGP for the first time in five weeks! Tree Bone, on the other hand, has now climbed up to par with the League average (3.33 PPGP), hoping to catch Sitch heading into the Olympic break! What a fine-young-woman!

"All I see is that I'm still leading," said Sitch, trying to brush off his sub-par week. "That's four weeks in a row. And, that's without Stamkos. I think I'm doing alright."

For the time being I'll agree, Sitch. But don't even think for a second that you're a lock to win two years in a row. Dick and Tree Bone are within striking distance, and Safari only needs one good night to close in on a top three position.

"My top three positions are: missionary (with pillow assistance), (flat-back) doggie-style and the lynx," said Dick Burns.

"What the hell is the lynx?!" asked Tree Bone, notepad in hand.

"Sorry, that's reserved for ladies of St. John's," grinned Dick Burns.

Wise words, Dick.

Randy's Shoes - Part I

"You got a friend in me. You got a, friend in me. When the road looks rough ahead ---"

Click.

Another day, another victory, I say to myself. It's 8:30AM, at least according to my Woody & Buzz alarm clock. Woody's looking mighty fine this morning. With my left hand that turned off the alarm, I stroke Woody's hat.

"Reach for the skiiieeesss!" says Woody.

I, Morpheus Randy, chuckle. What a fun cowboy. Hanging over Woody's shoulder is Buzz; he's also looking out of this world this morning. I reach for my patented Newman glasses next to the alarm clock. Filthy rich as I am, I just can't get on board with laser eye surgery. I don't know why, but for some reason I feel like lasers are the fucking devil, and it will somehow affect my vocal chords or my composition skills. Funny, I know, but hey, I've made it this far in life without laser eye surgery; why change a good thing? I'm an Oscar award winner, and two-time Pulitzer prize winner, and I run the best god damn fantasy league in the world. I'd be stupid to change my ways, right?

With my sight now at a perfect 20/20, I rise out of my linens (thread count 1,800+) and place my feet softly into my slippers. Something feels funny - what the hell? What's that? I rise and look back onto my king-size mattress; there's a mop of brunette hair on the opposite side to where I slept. What else is new? I chuckle again. I look down at Buzz, who looks right back. He saw the whole thing last night, I presume.

Buzz, you fucking dirty space-man. Can't you give me some privacy? Morpheus Randy chuckles once more. Oh, how I constantly please myself, and my bitches too, apparently.

Being the gentleman that I am, I slipper my way quietly out of my enchanting bedroom (aka. House of Girls-Gone-Randy) without awakening Ms. Mystery, down a flight of Frank Lloyd Wright inspired stairs, around a slight bend and into my kitchen. I look out the window; it's snowing like a Christmas card. Now, where the hell is ---

"Good morning, Morpheus Randy."

Ah, Jeeves. The best man-servant money can buy. And holy hell, did I dish out the bacon to acquire his services. That's not to say that he's breaking my bank (very few people could bring me to that capacity), but his compensation is nothing short of admirable. "As you were, Jeeves," I say.

"Thank you sir," says Jeeves. "I've prepared you a little breakfast. Home-style poutine with some bacon, eggs and beans, finished with a little oriental green onion. You've been such a fanatic for those onions ever since your return from Asia."

150 calories, tops.

"Just lovely," I say, nodding with satisfaction.

"And," Jeeves cuts in before I get a word in, "I've prepared a light waffle and fruit bowl for..." Jeeves hesitates, "... Ms. Greyleith."

Greyleith... What?! That's Brenda up in my room? Shit, shit shit shit!

"And don't worry," says Jeeves before I speak. "I had her records checked while you... checked her out last night," Jeeves says, grinning. Fucking Jeeves; man-servant extraordinaire, but cheeky like you would not believe. "She's clean. Twenty-two actually; looks like you gave yourself a few years of breathing room. No need to panic."

A relief. I am a man of integrity, power and principle. But fuck young hot tail is something I take much to literally. "Thank you, Jeeves."

Jeeves nods. "Anything else I can do for you this morning before I attend to your shoes?"

I sit down, breathing in the breakfast ensemble. Brenda Greyleith. Seriously Randy, seriously? You just can't get enough of office assistants, and they can't get enough of you. I look up at Jeeves, tapping the mahogany table with my bass hand (that's left hand for you non-piano players).

"Yes, there's something you can do, Jeeves. Please go to guest house 'A' and assemble some attire for Ms. Greyleith. Since she's made it to House of Randy, she must be a size zero. Bring her something green; it'll complement her rich brunette hair. Pull a few bath towels and a hair dryer. I believe she is working the afternoon shift at the office; give her the keys to the Lexus if she wishes to drive herself, otherwise you may escort her in the Bentley."

Jeeves nods and begins to walk away. I stick a fork into my breakfast and have a bite. Simply delicious. What a perfect morning, I say to myself.

"Pardon me, I almost forgot," says Jeeves, returning to the kitchen. "You have messages. And, you're not going to like them." Jeeves motions to the answering machine on the counter, which is flashing with 30 new messages.

Oh fuck. I bet it's Glenn.

Next Question with Commissioner Randy

Sorry, I lied.

I previously said that we were done with NQs. But due to popular demand and significant interest, I've decided to open my doors and allow a self-featured NQ. There are readers out there who simply want to know more about me, Commissioner Randy (aka. the Fucking Randy, Morpheus Randy), and I'd be an ass if I did not give them what they wanted. Generally speaking, I hate the media, which is precisely why I became a top-notch journalist; I wanted to change all the hoopla that surrounded pop culture and deliver nothing but the truth. I will try to do that again with this very personal NQ.

Photo credit: TIME Magazine, 1996

Oh, and what do you know? Mr. Pierre McGuire has volunteered to interview me. How great does that sound?

"I'll be right there!" yelled Pierre.

Commissioner Randy, it's a pleasure to interview you today. How are you?

I'm fine, McGuire. Just try not to fuck this up, eh?

I promise not to. So Commissioner Randy, how do you feel about this years crop of select-GMs?

I feel it'd be ironic to say "same shit, different day", as there haven't been many changes to the select-GMs. I will say this though; Tree Bone has been a great addition. I think with five select-GMs vying for top spot, the Randy Leagues will be even more entertaining.

Any surprises, in your opinion thus far?

I have to say that I got Dick Burns' team completely wrong during the Combine. I really, really dropped the ball on that. He's been sublime; his goalies are unreal. I really thought that he would start to backpedal in the standings if he didn't get another goalie, but he's still in the mix and the season is half over. I commend that team specifically for giving Sir Fucking Randy the middle finger. Kudos.

Wow; not everyday I hear that from you, Commissioner. So, everyone gets asked how they got their name. Where did you get yours, Commissioner?

Next question.

You're famous for your commentary. I mean that figuratively and literally. Your voice is quite unique, and you certainly have a style of speaking your mind. Where do you get your inspiration?

Not sure what you mean, Pierre, but I'll give it a shot. For my voice, I have no idea; I'm just a man who does his best with his chords. I sing loud, I sing proud, and I eat poutine. Maybe all that thick gravy has given my chords a unique, muffled quality. Your guess is as good as mine.

Fine eats.

As for my inspiration, that comes from many different avenues. With my music, I just think about what the children would want. I can be a playful guy (just ask my receptionists), so I think I relate to children very well. As for my commentary in the Randy Leagues, well, that's not for children. I think more about truth; truth in the numbers and truth in what people are thinking. And yes, I'm vulgar.

What do you do in your spare time?

I spend a lot of time searching for the next great poutine meal, though I am often disappointed with sub-par dishes. There's only one place that serves great poutine, and I think we all know where to go to get it.

Anything else you do?

Uh... to be honest, not much. I'm a fan of order, so I spend a lot of time making my living and working space as orderly as possible. This includes lining up every aspect of my home to my liking, ensuring that my contractors do their jobs, checking up with my assistants at the office... you know, normal stuff. Oh, and I listen to/play lots of music.

What are you listening to currently?

Lots of Katy Perry. Lots. That fucking girl can sing. Others include: Foo Fighters, Mother Mother, Said the Whale, John Mayer, Bruno Mars, Foster the People and Michael Jackson.

Back to business. Is it hard being Commissioner?

Uh, that's a tough question. For the most part, I would say no; this group of select-GMs are fucking hilarious and pretty tame (if you can believe it), so managing this League isn't a tough job. I would say that the toughest part is this blog; I want to please everyone with every post, and there's a lot of pressure to produce. I know this blog is read when people are feeling down and looking for a chuckle, so I try to be as entertaining as possible. It's hard, but it's a challenge I accept.

Ever have to make a hard decision?

Oh, of course. The overturned trade was a big issue this year, and a first for me. I hate intervening in League transactions because there are pretty set rules in place for trades etc. But in this case, I was in the wrong as I had given false information to a select-GM so I had to exercise my rights as Commissioner. I did not like doing it, but it had to be done.

"Hard decisions!"

How well do you know the other select-GMs? What are your thoughts on them?

Sitch - He's a hot-head, but he isn't a meat-head, per se. He's got a lot of brain power for someone who has so much muscle, and he takes his drafting very seriously. I must commend him on making some significant pick-ups this year; you can call him sloppy-second-Sitch all you want, but the guy made trash into treasure.

Safari - A strong student of the game. Every year I oversee the draft and can understand his approach behind his drafting. He also makes my job way more interesting because he's one of the most dynamic, active and entertaining select-GMs out there. He always gives me something to report on, and that's always appreciated.

Dick Burns - I don't get the chance to talk to him often as he's busy bumpin' honies, but he's simply all class. Very level-headed (even when he's on cloud nine). I sign off with "Wise words" all the time, and he inspired that sign off. He seriously has some deep thoughts.

Burgundy - Talk about a man with charisma. Dick might have class, but Burgundy's got charisma. And he's quite a smooth talker. If he's at a party, you'll know he's there. He has swagger, AND timing. I really wish he'd turn off his PromptApp more often; he'd be much better without it.

Tree Bone - To borrow from you, Pierre, I'd say she's a fine-young-woman. She can tango with the other four gents like it's nothing and often trumps them. Like Dick, I don't get to talk to her much either; she's got her hands full with a brotha. She's also free-spirited; not many people can relax and go with the flow, but she can.

Wise words, Commissioner.

Watch it, Pierre. Nobody likes a copy-cat. But, thank you.

WK18 - More of the Same

Sitch has closed out this week on top again. That makes it three weeks in a row he's been holding first position.

"Jeah, look at that ffform baby!" thunder-thrusted Sitch.

Here are the week's visuals, courtesy of the stats machine:

I was running my eyes through some of this week's activities. Here are some notable facts:

• Sitch has raked in 814.50 points since the New Year. The next best is Safari, who has earned 635.45 points.
• Other than Sitch, Dick Burns is the only select-GM to have a PPGP over League averages.
• Tree Bone and Dick Burns have held first place seven and eight times, respectively. That's tops in the League.
• Safari had two of the three top weekly producers this week in Zach Parise (27.75 points) and Phil Kessel (24.90 points).
• Ron Burgundy is stuck in a glass case of emotion.
• The highest-producing goaltenders this season have been Ben Bishop (owned by Burgs) and Semyon Varlamov (owned by Sitch). Both went undrafted.
• Dick Burns is destroying plus/minus (+107 for the season, 33 better than the next best select-GM).

"Shit, didn't I vote for plus/minus to be reduced to 0.5 fantasy points?"

"Yup," said Burgs.

More later, gentlemen and lady. In the meantime, please, please, please would someone do something kamikaze?

Cordially,

Morpheus Randy