The Morning According to Us

How heavy metal could do wonders for the NFL.

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Metallica, now with more Polamalu hair!

Life gets a little simpler when you break it down categorically. You realize that the difference between orange juice and cran is less a berry issue than one of atomic alignment. In the end, we're not so different, us berries. The basic parts, the elements of creation—they remain the same.

Take a look at heavy metal band names, for example. My, how the NFL could learn.

The whole genre can be broken down into a handful of different naming rubrics. There are the badass misspellings, death, deadly things, religion and animals. In this way you can seamlessly traverse a whole genre and have it all make sense. Misspellings? Look at these guys without umlauts: Motley Crue, Motorhead and Blue Oyster Cult look naked! And try to imagine death metal without the death. No Megedeth? No Suicidal Tendencies? Makes you want to off yourself. Then there's deadly things, inspiring staples like Anthrax, Poison or even Drowning Pool. Delightful! And what about religion? Well, hello Testament! How ya' doing, Judas Priest?

And lastly, and importantly, don't forget animals. Here comes Wolfmother, The Scorpions, Ratt or even that party animal himself, Ozzy Osbourne.

This, of course, is where football could take a cue from heavy metal, and diversify the portfolio. This league is positively lame in terms of its nomenclature. But they start with so little.

How else can you explain that the NFL has given us three bird mascots in its final four teams? The Cardinals and Eagles square off next week—in nature, you don't see this as a good matchup, until you read that eagles are also big time scavengers (see: bums) and often drown while fishing.

Then of course the Ravens fly west to meet the outcast Steelers. But wait. Steelers?

It sounds downright metallic.

Elsewhere…

Please watch the latest full-court buzzer beater. Lovely.

Ferrari are getting into the Formula I business.

Rubik's Cube finally solved after 26 years by avid fan. We like the scene in UHF of the blind guy trying to do one, verifying his latest attempt with the local bum. ("Is this it?" … "Nope.")

Barbaro's brother is about to start racing. This could be happy, or depressing. But that's us.

Australians pull no punches when it comes to sharks. That means they beat sharks. Quaint.

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