Buffa's Buffet, Vol. 104: 'Reacher' showing 'Banshee' grooves, thoughts on Jo Koy and the Globes, and John Mozeliak self-reflection

The high temperature today is Stan Musial's jersey number.

Is there anything more powerful than a dog’s eyes?

When St. Louis gets cold, it gets TUNDRA-like chilly. Streets turn white, dog walkers and runners stay inside on their treadmills, and the cars become icy sculptures. Since the dogs can’t get outside and bark at everything in sight with reckless, naked abandon, they stalk their parents inside with long stares and pesky walks. As I type this, a chihuahua’ faint cries are filtering through each word I type.

As the little taquito dog rages on atop the gate that prohibits said animals from entering daddy’s office, the beagle’s stare curves around the corner like one of those cool bullets in Wanted. He knows I’m in here working, but all the bacon and steak could be harbored around the computer in his mind. All the while, the pit bull sulks in the living room on a dog bed made for a beagle.

Suffice to say, writing around the Buffa Estate here in Princeton Heights can be challenging, but not as challenging as two football teams playing in severely frigid weather. When you think about Kansas City Chiefs football, Arrowhead leads the conversation instead of Patrick Mahomes, the prodigal son of KC. It’s that famous palace they play football in that holds the true power, as league executives did not move the game from negative temps to a dome or warmer area.

COLD FOOTBALL MAKES FOR GREAT FOOTBALL

That was a good move, because brutally cold, blizzard-type football is the best kind of football. It makes me think bittersweetly about the past, like when the New England Patriots snuck up on the Oakland Raiders in a snow-covered stadium before shocking the then-St. Louis Rams. Then again, the path of righteous, hard-hitting men has been forged through the chilly confines of snowy football for a very long time.

Watching Mahomes, who has brass balls with a backup set just in case, go crashing into a Miami Dolphins player with a part of his helmet flying off from the g-force collision of two ambitious athletes brings out a unique sports arousal from this casual football purveyor. Cold temps make the game better, because it makes an extremely hard sport even harder. The Chiefs won, thankfully, and will carry on while Miami continues to wonder when their next parade will be. Maybe they should beg Tom Brady to come back out of retirement and adorn him with a fresh set of knees.

THE GOLDEN GLOBES STILL SUCK, BUT MR. KOY DIDN’T HELP

Here’s the thing about the overly talked about awards show that the Hollywood Foreign Press mangle each year: It’s an awful program, and the awards are a joke. Placing movies that aren’t comedies or musicals in that category is one thing, but the collective list is always a laughable set of “huh” and “uhh” reactions.

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