Category: Buffa’s Bullets

The salt, pepper, and oregano of my mind. The Emilio lunch bag from Breakfast Club version of a blog.

South City Confessions: Guns, baseball, coffee, and booze

Shut up and read this. Thanks.

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Good fucking afternoon, everyone. Let’s rise up, let it shine, and get something done today-but first, a message from your bald South City representative of Princeton Heights.

What am I drinking? I’m on cup of coffee #3, delivered straight from the Keurig machine to my right. I buy the cheap Walmart Great Value brand. Breakfast Blend that goes for less than 50 cents per cup of dirty water. If you consume as much as I do on a daily basis, you have to be practical with how you consume it. There’s a time and place for the fancy shit, but home is not one of them.

So, I have some things to say and you may or may not like them. This is my unfiltered zone, a place where I can be myself and take the “diet” off my content label. As a friend named John would say, it’s time to get lazy with my words. In other words, say “fuck” a lot. As a man who goes by Bruno says, “oh, look at me, I’m saying fuck a lot”. It’s true. I can’t haul off and say “these fucking Cardinals are about as delightful as a crotch rash discovered on the first day of a seventeen day camping trip”. It wouldn’t fly with my bosses at the KSDK offices, so I come here.

Let’s get going before you click on some bullshit clickbait article detailing Blake Shelton’s preferred plaid shirts for concert tours.

  • 14,000 kids have been murdered with a gun since the Sandy Hook Elementary Massacre. That’s fucking insane. Think about all the hope, dreams, and love lost in those moments. And for what? A senseless goon pulled a trigger and took a life. Whenever I post something on Facebook about gun violence, people immediately attach a left or right leaning angle to it. Those people don’t know me. I am NOT a political honk. I don’t care about politics, because I don’t trust our government to know its ass from its elbow. This is about right and wrong, and our kids are dying. I am up for discussion on how to prevent it–or at least lessen the frequency. If this means Billy Joe Bob Frank can’t have an AR-15 anymore, so be it. We all make sacrifices. Parents have made sacrifices with their kids being murdered. It’s time the NRA and the US Government made a sacrifice and stopped lining their pockets with cash. For the person who just said, “well, he’s clearly a democrat,” go fuck yourself.
  • No, this isn’t the only problem, so quiet down while I finish.
  • There’s a movement going around schools where you find 17 strangers and say hello to them in order to reach out to people you don’t know and be kind. That’s lovely for public relations reps, but let’s try this instead: be nice to your fellow man and woman all the time. Is it so damn hard to smile more and speak up instead of slamming someone or being rude? Let’s all slow our lives down, take a minute, and be kind to others. Do whatever your mother would want you to do. If your mother is an asshat who ran out on you or doesn’t care, be better than her and be nice.

Continue reading “South City Confessions: Guns, baseball, coffee, and booze”

Here’s What I Know, Vol. 15: Eastwood, Mayweather Jr., Ted Drewes, and Peaky Blinders

A potpourri of semi-important topics for your consideration.

Good evening, folks. Let’s talk about a few things you may or may not deem important. Tip the whiskey and let’s get started on the latest edition of Here’s what I know, in bullet formation.

  • Clint Eastwood makes very good movies, but occasionally, he can fire a dud out of his filmmaking pistol. His latest, 15:17 to Paris, recounts the heroic tale of three Americans who saved lives on a train in Paris taken over by terrorists. It arrives in theaters this Friday, and WAS NOT screened for critics. I’ve been reviewing films for seven years, and this is never a good sign. It’s like sneaking your girlfriend into a party through the kitchen. The studio didn’t like the cuts of the film they saw, so there were no word-of-mouth generating screenings. We all know the end to the film, so why withhold it? This is not good, but I hope Clint proves me wrong.
  • Ted Drewes and Imos Pizza are institutions for St. Louis residents, and the former reopens this week for people seeking something sweet. Let’s say you hit up the Hill for an Italian dish, but the old fashioned tiramisu doesn’t interest you for dessert. You head over to Ted Drewes for a delicious hot fudge sundae or lemon crumb concrete that will make you believe in world peace for a matter of minutes. People who speak out against it simply don’t know what good custard tastes like. Get over there and have some.

Continue reading “Here’s What I Know, Vol. 15: Eastwood, Mayweather Jr., Ted Drewes, and Peaky Blinders”

Here’s What I Know, Volume 14: A series of thank you notes

A stream of consciousness from Princeton Heights

Here’s all the news that is fit to NOT print on KSDK News. A stream of holiday consciousness:

Thank you, Rian Johnson for turning Luke Skywalker back into a whiny bitch for the latest installment, Last Jedi. Remember 1978 when he really complained about everything and almost fucked his sister? Let’s not bring him back there. So what if he almost killed his protege because he thought the kid was going to be dark and stuff. Get over yourself. The movie was just okay and rather forgettable. Watch porn with surround sound instead.

Thank you, Joe Wright, for delivering a fantastic Winston Churchill flick. Here is a film that throttles your history senses and informs without boring the shit out of you. Gary Oldman is unreal as the aggressive Brit who told Hitler to fuck himself and launched 300 boats to Dunkirk. I left this film feeling entertained and a bit wiser.

What would Churchill say to Luke? Grow the fuck up, your weasel.

Thank you, John Mozeliak, for trading for Marcell Ozuna. He isn’t Giancarlo (or Yelich), but he looks like an explosive player who made some adjustments and will be an upgrade over Randal Grichuk/Stephen Piscotty. I wasn’t hot about acquiring Ozuna, but after talking to Marlins reporter Craig Mish, I think he will be a great fit. And only two years, and not TEN!

Thank you, Cardinals, for sending Piscotty home to care for his mother. Sure, there may have been another landing spot that brought you greater reward, but this was a classy move. Continue reading “Here’s What I Know, Volume 14: A series of thank you notes”

Here’s What I Know, Volume #13: Stanton arousal, “lit” issues, Mel Gibson comeback, and the need for cold weather

All the fucks that are fit to print.

Hello there, folks. While the regular writing gigs allow me to distribute opinions far and wide, I do feel the slight urge of restriction when I type. The trigger finger denial. As in, being unable to say certain things in a certain manner. So I come here, and release some hot air.

Shall we dance? Hit the fucking button. Let this bullet round of H.W.I.K. Volume #13 commence! 1,000 words or less, here we go.

  • People say “lit” too much. Like way too much. I know Tony X, the late to the party Blues fan, started this a couple years ago, but can we please kill it? During a conversation that took place in my backseat, a couple women said it ten times in an eight minute ride. TEN! It’s lazy. Get a better word. I’ll file this in the “bruh” category of nonsense.
  • What isn’t lazy? The well-timed usage of the word “fuck”. It can’t be printed on certain news websites or said on AM radio air, but damn it, the word isn’t useless or indicative of a lesser mind. Some of the wisest minds I’ve been around slung this word like it was released from the jaws of Poe, Hemingway, and Franklin. You can’t overuse it, but please feel free to unleash it when needed. Anybody who thinks it’s lazy or inappropriate needs to lighten the fuck up.
  • Uber Driver update: Four months in and I like my job, but there’s one sad confession. St. Louis city is dead as a fucking (see what I mean) door nail when there’s no sporting event downtown. I mean nothing. When the Cardinals were playing, I averaged up to 500 dollars a week. Now, it dips down to 300 dollars. Maybe it is due to the fact that our city is the second most dangerous city in the country. A few of my riders have taken four dollar Uber rides right across downtown because of a fear of getting mugged. I can’t blame them.
  • In case you didn’t notice or couldn’t care less, I’m back on the air. Every Friday WGNU from 6-8 in the evening and every Tuesday at four in the afternoon on 590 The Fan. Slowly, but surely, I am doing what I want to do and getting paid for it. I don’t crack the bank in half with my earnings, but I’m pecking away. It feels good. I worked in hot ass warehouses for close to eight years. Have you worked in a warehouse? It’s far from glamorous and a rough way to make a living. I don’t miss it at all, and every time work without dirt covering my face and soreness in my knees, I smile.
  • This is the first year that the NFL is losing relevance. I don’t hear as much about it as usual and fans are walking away. The recklessness of the league, danger of the game, or the straight outta assholeville workings of Roger Goodell are all fine reasons, but I think it’s just losing excitement. How about those Rams? You can’t tell me Stan Kroenke told Jeff Fisher to tank those games. That team didn’t change that much from last year or the years before. They went from average to pretty good in a short period. Crooked bullshit. No thanks. I haven’t watched a single quarter this year, and I used to watch from noon to sundown.

  • Giancarlo Stanton is a once in a lifetime talent. Marketable superstar and mayor of studville. Do what you have to do in order to get him. If it costs Alex Reyes, so be it. I’ve crossed that bridge. You are giving yourself at least 5-8 extra wins for one player over the next three years. Reward comes with risk. The Cardinals and John Mozeliak must be bold this winter. 

  • The Blues are playing good hockey, but there are some cracks in their facade. Back to back losses have made them a less than white hot shit 13-5-1. However, they are still first in the Western Conference and set up well to finish the month. Their special teams are shit and Jake Allen isn’t an elite goaltender. If they don’t fix these areas, you can kiss the second round of playoffs goodbye.
  • It’s Hot Stove season in the MLB, folks. Remember, don’t believe a fucking thing you hear before it’s a reality. Rumors, sources, and reported statements are like itchy assholes in dry cold weather. If you scratch it, the area will only inflame and get worse.
  • Frank Grillo and Mel Gibson are making a movie together next year, and I have no problem with it. Is Gibson a good person? Probably not. Did he say some demonic shit once upon a time (or back in 2013)? Yes. But he didn’t molest or sexually abuse a 14 year old kid, so let’s keep him out of Spacey-ville. He’s said a lot in his life, paid for it with years of his career lost, but he’s making a comeback. I am all for it. He’s a valuable player in Hollywood, proven by his Hacksaw Ridge Oscar showing. He’s not perfect, but compared to the new shit in Hollywood, he’s far from the worst.
  • How far and fast can one person fall? Look at Louis C.K. A week ago, he had a film set for distribution, HBO deal, FX deal, and a publicist. Today, he has none of those. All for beating off in front of five women, which I am not condoning at all. He had a cup of coffee with the heat and paid the price. BUT…he will work again. He took the hit, fell down, but unlike Spacey and Weinstein, will be back.
  • I interviewed Wheelman director Jeremy Rush today, and among the juicy things discussed over the 30 minute chat, was about the need for original films in today’s cinema landscape. No superheroes, reboots, or remakes. Just proudly made original stories like Wheelman and Martin McDonagh’s Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. Writer/director jobs that feel personal, different, and say something. We need more of those. Stop going for the easy cash, make-believe bastards. Be better.
  • For fucks sake, can we please get COLD weather in the Midwest? The temperatures go down, sneak back up, and then trickle down. This makes the human body feel like absolute dogshit. Make up your mind, mother nature. Give me the cold weather. I like it. I love it. I want some more of it…now. Thanks.

1,100 words. Close enough.

I appreciate the time. Be good.

-DLB

Here’s What I Know, Volume #12: Soccer, NFL-less, and Harvey filth

Live from Courtesy Diner on Kingshighway after a seven hour Uber shift, let’s talk.

~How about that USA soccer team? 

Disclaimer: I care as much about soccer as I do the safe passage of decaf coffee towards my table. Fine sport and all, but there’s only so much time in the world to play with, and soccer just doesn’t do it for me. Perhaps a few garbage fires on the field would help. However, the most casual fan in the world can’t avoid the heartbreak and letdown that occurred Tuesday night when the soccer team failed to qualify for the World Cup. In losing to a team nobody has heard of, the country was embarrassed on a large stage. I drove someone home from a bar that simply couldn’t understand how the country couldn’t find 11 worthy players to win a single game. So much for that.

I woke up today feeling the same way about the team as I did yesterday. Is Landon Donovan still playing?

~What’s happening in the NFL?

I am asking because I clearly have no idea, nor do I want to. I hear the New York Giants are in trouble and the Dallas Cowboys are losing. The Green Bay Packers are winning, but the Patriots aren’t perfect. I really don’t care. 2017 marks the first time I haven’t watched at least a full quarter of football. And I have no regrets about missing the action. It’s an absolutely selfish sport, where the Commissioner clearly has no regard for the players or the fans. Without fantasy football, the sport would be half as relevant. Players are leaving the sport every month. Parents aren’t letting their kids play.

Why? Check out this scenario. “Hey son, you can grow up playing a sport for your entire life, possibly make a little money but probably not, and end up with a deadly brain disease from it for which the NFL will do nothing about.” Think about it.

It is true that Roger Goodell and Jerry Jones gave Stan Kroenke the leash to jam a fleshy tubesnake up the ass of my city and take the Rams from St. Louis-and in a horrible way. But that’s not the real reason I don’t watch the NFL. I just feel nothing for the sport. It gives nothing back and is the biggest hypocrite of all sporting events. Fuck it. Continue reading “Here’s What I Know, Volume #12: Soccer, NFL-less, and Harvey filth”

Here’s What I Know, Volume #11: Night King mood swings; Trump doom settling in; Suit and Jacket greatness

Live from The Princeton Heights Night Watch, I ramble on. In no established order and without fancy flow, let’s talk.

  • We may disagree about who bats fourth in the Cardinals lineup or how greedy the NFL is, but there is no place in life for racism. Bigotry is a fucking disease and we need Marion Cobretti to kill it. The events in Charlottesville and our President’s (mouth vomit) response to those shitty occurrences confirms how fucked we are for the next four years in the White House. Our POTUS has to use twitter to properly connect and instead of shooting down racism, he talked about a winery. Where are you, Michael Douglas?
  • Too bad Al Gore is busy making sequels to An Inconvenient Truth. Trump may get us all killed before global warming does.
  • PSA: If you constantly talk about people attacking your beliefs on social media, you are an ATTENTION whore. A soapbox can only hold the weight of someone’s hurt feelings for so long. Again, you know who you are.
  • Coffee is a true mood boost. I felt like gathered and grounded shit a few minutes ago. A few sips of Great Value (yep, cheap Walmart k-cups) coffee and I feel like I can at least rake some leaves or fold some laundry.

Continue reading “Here’s What I Know, Volume #11: Night King mood swings; Trump doom settling in; Suit and Jacket greatness”

Here’s What I Know, Volume 10: Moving, Lynn, Spidey, beer off tap

A stream of consciousness of all the non important shit in my head

Live from the waiting room at the Princeton Heights, it’s time for another edition of HWIK: everything fit to print inside the head at the moment. No holds barred takes from the Douche Canoe(new name I saw on Twitter).

As I sip cup of coffee #3, let’s get moving.

  • Moving sucks. If I could take a cold nap from the day before to a month after, that would be swell. You find out just how much extra shit you have when you move. Lots of tag along nik nak bullshit. How many books and decorations do you need in life? The answer for me is seven totes. The wife is planning on gutting everything in the house except for breathing entities, so stay tuned for more shrink patient type confessions.
  • Lance Lynn didn’t throw his last pitch on Busch Stadium’s mound Sunday, but let me say this about him: he did a good job. In about 5.5 years of service, he has produced nearly a 14.5 WAR(wins above replacement) for the Cardinals for just under 16 million dollars. That’s a great bargain if the sabs wore you out. He throws old school cheddar, never got the appreciation from the fans, and his post game interviews should open in Friday nights and come with popcorn. While I wanted value for him this week due to his eventual departure, I’ll enjoy watching him pitch a few more times.

Continue reading “Here’s What I Know, Volume 10: Moving, Lynn, Spidey, beer off tap”