Buffa's Buffet: 5 things on my mind

Including Jose Quintana, bad food choices, and close injury calls.

It’s been a minute--at least for me.

Maybe you’re not realizing this, but writing is an addiction for me. A healthy one. If I don’t compose a batch of recycled words (pick them up at the Thesaurus Club, bitchin’) once every couple days at the most, I go a little nuts.

Call it a need to impose my will, or the passed-down gift of word persuasion from Lawrence Bulus. My late grandfather scored a point for his soul by doing what he loved for a living, salary be damned. He was a hunting and fishing addict himself, writing about it for a small newspaper. It didn’t move mountains, but he was a happy man.

The imposing will part is real, though. I like to give my opinion. It feeds my Skittle-loving soul to impart my half-baked knowledge onto the masses, as in 200 people. You got that right, folks. The Ramble On with Buffa newsletter hit 200 subscribers over the weekend, and only lost a couple boat-jumpers at renewal date.

Add it up, and I like to write commentary, so if you don’t hear from here over four days, alert the authorities--or my wife. She’s listening, so just speak out loud, and she will soon find your presence. I don’t know if it’s just the wicked sharpness of women in general, or especially short ones.

Life’s mysteries are our eternal (meaning they don’t stop) virtue. That was the opening plate of this latest buffet. Think of it as a salad with extra blue cheese dressing, because everyone knows I am full of shit anyway.

That was a literal feeling on Monday morning. When you polish off a case of graham crackers and wash it down with Stella Artois, the letter from the belly in the morning reads, “go fuck yourself.” What won’t be said is “up yours,” because your ass will be receiving deposits after that kind of food takedown.

Blame it on the cannabis after dark. When the lights go down in the city, the sun shines anyway in Princeton Heights via the lit torch of sweet Mary Jane. Now, hold on for a minute. I could be wanted by the authorities for mentioning that I smoke and enjoy this lovely (recreationally legal) drug. No, it’s not legal at every job.

That premature Twitter pipe dream was a unicorn in my sullied brain. Sorry about that. My momma always said I’d be good at something; the problem is she never said what that would be. Indeed doesn’t have a match for that. After I publish this, the goal will be resisting the urge to get Taco Bell later.

Say what you want about the 72/28 meat they use, or the lack of coveted menu items, such as the DOUBLE DECKER TACO and the NACHO CHEESE DOUBLE-STACKED TACO. The latter deletion was a big hit for the first few months of COVID-19’s reign, before TB kidnapped it permanently. Think of a dollar double-decker (my young brother’s words), and you have a good idea.

Still, that $1 Cheesy Rice n’ Bean burrito hits the spot, like dropping a semi-apparent nuclear warhead down the stomach. That’s why I work out: so I can enjoy my trashed food.

The Cardinals made a big mistake in not re-signing Jose Quintana. If I wrote it before, apologize to your eyes for me after having to take it in twice. Acquired via trade during the 2022 season, Quintana was great down the stretch and silenced the mighty Philadelphia Phillies’ bats in Game 1 of the Wildcard Series. He could have gone longer, in my opinion.

That way, the bullpen gets used differently. Maybe the Cards pull off Game 1, and go further in the postseason. Maybe they retain Quintana right away, instead of letting him sign with the Mets. In 12 starts with St. Louis during the regular season, Quintana compiled a 2.01 ERA and 1.12 WHIP. Don’t bother looking those terms up; they are both brilliant marks.

Yet, St. Louis didn’t re-sign him a day after they could have. He went to New York to pitch with snake eyes Mad Max. Too bad. Acquiring him and Willson Contreras would have been a potent offseason. Now, fans wait to see which five contenders out of 46 possible Cardinals starters make the cut. Pack the whiskey, and DO NOT go off-brand.

Since baseball isn’t back just yet, give “Brockmire” a binge. Hank Azaria cemented his legacy with this role, which he co-wrote. Jim Brockmire is a baseball play-by-play legend. But the legend is of the hybrid variety: he is very good at his job, but he also has epic on-air breakdowns/flameouts.

The IFC series opens with Azaria’s lion telling the listening audience how he found his wife plowing the next door neighbor, Bill. It only gets nastier and more well-written after that. Brockmire ditches the sabermetrics, going into full detail about walking into a middle-aged orgy. The show’s writing is stellar, and Amanda Peet gets a role built for her versatile array of talent.

IFC

Episodes are around 20-25 minutes long, and there’s only four seasons. Each containa eight brisk episodes, packed with organic zingers that sound like gold coming out of Azaria’s mouth, whose well-spoken buffoon guzzles Sazerac and hates Joe Buck. The real-life Monday Night Football announcer plays himself hilariously in a reoccurring cameo.

Get a free one-month trial to Hulu. Binge “Brockmire” and “The Bear,” and then watch “Pig” and “Palm Springs.” Decide if you want to keep then, but binge all of that first. These are doses, and I am not a doctor, but you should listen to me because I am a professional. (Holy Elle said it.)

What else?

~St. Louis will be a beautiful city when they’re done building it. You can’t drive two miles without hitting a “road closed” sign. Come to think of it, I have an idea. Just make that the official logo of our city: “Road Closed. Sorry.”

~Support a local restaurant. Biscuits and Bloody Marys at Russell’s on Macklind. Pasta on The Hill. Anything at Southwest Diner. A Toklahoma from Hi-Pointe Drive-In. Support those small shops you adore, because they are still hurting. Buy a shirt too.

~Be nice to each other. Take 10-15 seconds, and think something through. Don’t be like me, and shoot from the hip at things so often. I am working on it. Being nice shouldn’t be too hard. It comes naturally to us, but can get lost on occasion.

Image Credit: Jeff Curry/USA Today Sports