Stanley Lombardi

"Red Tulsa Tango on Blue Winnebago 2" Works every time.

Stink, stank, stunk.

I am grateful to the OP for this sad but beautifully thought-provoking subject. Like so many others, my Dad introduced me to the Bills (when I was ten.) That was 1963 and I have watched every Bills game since. He died in 1984, so the golden-era Bills (for him) had names like Kemp and Cookie and Golden Wheels and Sestak and Shaw. When the Bills win this thing -- and they will -- and the game clock expires, I will instantly revisit a kitchen table holding a portable black and white TV, a white and red can of Genny beer and a green and gold can of Vernor's ginger ale.

Is there a way to sync the radio and tv? A method or a trick I can use?

^ This.

To be fair-er, In the wider world (yes, there is such a thing), above and beyond the self-acclaimed hipsters of TBD, Murph and Tasker are liked/loved, respected/revered.

I listened to that show regularly when John Murphy was the host. He was professional, informative, and often compelling. Then Steve Tasker came along, a primary source with an authentic voice. As much as I now appreciate the efforts of all the podcasters out there, One Bills Live with Murphy was light years ahead of the rest. Then Chris Brown came along and I just can't listen. I've got nothing against Chris Brown, so I chalk it up to chemistry. 'Tain't my cup o' tea.

Isn't that what Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake served up at the Super Bowl XXXVIII Halftime Sh!tshow?

Not to be scatological, but I love the Super Bowl halftime show. It affords me extra time for my yearly Super Toilet Bowl bowel movement. What I leave behind has usually proven to be superior in quality to the sh!tshow on my tv screen.

In the autobiography of my daring, dashing, and fascinating life, I will devote a chapter to this sacrificial civil disobedience -- adding to the mystique and the insouciant panache of my story.

How about a committee of Beane, McDermott, and the Pegulas approach him to cut his fat, shirking ass.

The sky is falling!

Except that there is but one God, however you spell or misspell. One means one, capitalized or not.

Just for the record, 1. I both love and fear God. I do not fear Josh Allen. 2. This poll is tantamount to taking God's Name in vain. 3. If you think I've got my panties in a bunch, over this particular topic I damn well do.

If the Bills were not in Buffalo, I'm not sure I would know what 'NFL' stands for.

Au contraire. He stood tall and strong on this.

🏆 🎖️

"No" was all he said.

Josh "Fireball" Allen will throw 117 mph.

A longshot from deep in the pack...Quinton Morris, rookie TE from Bowling Green.

Joe Ferguson.

It was at St. John Fisher, the second or third training camp practice under this new coach. It got hot and things got lackluster out there. The players were going through the motions. McDermott blew his whistle and ran from position group to position group, directing everyone to the center of the field. We couldn't hear what was said, but you could tell by McDermott's gesticulations that he was reading them the riot act. The players then hustled back to their position groups with palpably improved purpose and focus. Some of us in the crowd, who had regularly attended training camp during the relaxed Rex Ryan years, sensed that we had just witnessed the changing of the guard.

Cut his skinny ass.

Yes. The losers from the Buffalo Bills latched on to some leadership elsewhere and rode their coattails all the way to a ring. Meanwhile, McDermott/Beane were drafting, recruiting, and developing leaders here.

You must mean winners instead of the losers we endured for 17 years.