Does Andre Smith know that it's impossible to genetically determine the sex of a platypus?

Over the weekend, I was conducting field research on my latest preoccupation, the mating habits of hot celebrit…err, monotremes, when I had an epiphany about Andre Smith.

What, you don’t know monotremes? Well, you haven’t been spending enough time at Oddbounces then, have you? Long-time ‘bouncers come here all the time for just these sort of zoological ice breakers at their tailgate parties.

Anyway, I was brushing up on the platypus, one of only two known monotremes (the other the echidna, if you must know). This bizarre creature has baffled naturalists for over 200 years. Why? It’s a venomous, duck-billed, beaver-tailed, otter-footed mammal that lays eggs. It needs to eat 20 percent of its own weight each day…meaning it spends 12 hours a day looking for food. Most scientists of the day thought it to be an absurd, ridiculous fraud.

Two hundred years later…

My epiphany hit me like a ball peen hammer. Before me was the vision of a ravenous Andre “Big Tub of Goo” Smith — with a duck bill, beaver tail, and huge otter feet. Not more than 10 feet in front of me, a hungry, drooling, lactating Smith lay on its back, effortlessly crapping out a pile of big, fat eggs.

The blob-like underbelly of Platypus Man in the wild.

And I do mean crapping them out. Platypi pee, fart, crap and have sex all from the same orifice. Kind of like the players union. Can you picture a 360-pound man-platypus squeezing out fresh eggs with a constipated grin on his face? Well, I couldn’t, until I saw it myself. And if Smith ever gets on the field, you’ll see this rarified oddity too. But you’ll wish you hadn’t.

It now seems clear that Smith, a modern monotreme, is the last survivor of an early branching of the mammal tree. He is, in fact, the missing man-platypus link that exists only to eat, lay eggs, and be ridiculed by the football community as a fraud.

And brilliant thinkers that they are, the Bengals drafted it.

Platypus Man, I Hate You!

Freakin' Palmer. Jeez.

You’re not going to like what I have to say.

Palmer is not an elite NFL quarterback. Never has been, never will be. And after Sunday night’s pathetic preseason performance against Dallas, that fact should be as clear as the reason why I need extra large pleats sown into my pants.

Sadly, the Palmer investment has failed to bring the Bengals a single playoff win since his arrival. Let’s face it. This team will only move forward if it dumps Palmer…and with it the irrational myth among fans that “as long as we have Palmer, we have a chance.”

What? You think I meant Carson Palmer? Yeah, right. I’m talking about the other white meat…his brother Jordan!  Duh.

Really, what the hell good can Jordan bring to this team? Or J.T. O’Sullivan. They’re glorified water boys. Instead – and here’s a radical idea – let’s go with just one QB this year. No really, I’m friggin’ serious. It’ll free up enough money to sign at least two more pass-protecting free agent offensive lineman (we need as many as we can get).

See what I mean?

I say you can win in the NFL with just one quarterback. As long as your guy doesn’t get hurt. Which is why pass protection – let me say that again – pass protection is critical.

So dump the wasted salary on back-up quarterbacks and spend it on a blockbuster trade for a lineman that’s built like the Berlin Wall with feet like a jack rabbit. We’re deep enough to offer some serious bait.

The myth is true. With Carson Palmer on the field (in a standing position we hope), the Bengals have a competitive chance to win (unless he goes NY Jets on us again). Without him, it’ll be like playing bingo in a tent-full of dyslexics. No one’s gonna win.

So let’s use those precious, over-paid roster spots on players that make Carson better or keep him upright…not on guys that will never take this team anywhere worth watching.

But, you say, what happens if Carson does go down? Haven’t I made this clear already? We lose. Jordan and J.T. won’t make a lick of difference. We lose. Period. End of story. And you’ll find me making that weird laughing/crying sound that ends with me huddled under a blanket in the shower.

Trust me, there’s no downside to my plan. Besides, doesn’t losing with Chad Stupid Name trying his hand at QB sound a helluva lot more fun than pretending we have a chance with Jordan or J.T.?

Hell is coming to the Bengals in the shape, scowl, and fury of T.O. enforcer Chef Gordon Ramsay.

Look who’s cooking a man-sized bowl of whoop ass a la mode? None other than feared celebrity Chef Gordon Ramsay. News that Ramsay just signed a one year-contract with the Cincinnati Bengals is spreading across the Internet today faster than a pack of dogs on a three-legged cat.

It appears the Bengals are mitigating the risky signing of Terrell Owens by hiring kitchen drill sergeant Chef Ramsay as their locker room counter-weight to the unpredictable receiver.

Here’s what the notoriously straight-forward Ramsay told us via phone in an exclusive interview earlier this morning as he prepared for his flight from London to meet with the team in time for the Hall of Fame game.

“Everyone thinks T.O.’s an arsehole. But I have a very assertive way. It’s shut up, move your arse, or piss off home. I maintain f***ing standards. When I ask T.O. a f***ing question, he better start with, ‘Yes, Chef!’

Asked what he knows about the antics of Chad Stupid Name and T.O., Ramsay replied, “I’ve been reading media reports on the two. I’m absolutely gobsmacked. They’re so carried away with the glamor side of football, and there’s nothing f***ing glamorous when you’re busting your nuts off. Not in my kitchen.”

Ramsay was also asked what he knows about American football. “Who the f*** are you to ask me what I know about it, you french pig! What I know about football is enough to shove up your f***ing arse. Would you like it whole or diced? Now get your breasts off the counter you bloody cow! Donkey!”

The conference call ended there (and yes, my breasts are a bit large for a man, but how the hell did he know that?”).

In a follow-up interview with Bengals equipment intern Benny Feinschwacker, Oddbounces learned that the Bengals have already ordered full-length cooking frocks for the entire coaching staff. All indications are that Lewis’ motivational theme this year – “Now Piss Off!” – was scripted by Ramsay as a not-so-subtle warning to T.O.

Editor’s Note: Throughout our exclusive interview with Ramsay, Oddbounces’ staff came away with some exciting cooking advice from the Michelin-starred chef, such as, “You know, ‘Zilla, if you saute’ scallops in a non-stick pan, they won’t stick. That’s why it’s called f***ing non-stiiiiiick!! I don’t know what they call it in Cincinnati, sweetheart, but f**k me!”

Bengals road-grinder Cedric Benson will not be suspended by NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell for his role in an off-season bar fight.

With a slew of wide receivers armed and ready to fire up the offense, the last thing the Bengals needed was a stalled running game out of the gate, especially due to another suspended cog in the machine. Ced wasn’t guilty, this time. If he were, Goodell would have disposed of him faster than a bag of Cheetos at a Britney Spears dinner party.

But c’mon man! Cogs like Benson, Roethlisberger and Vick – no matter how hard they try – can’t seem to get far or fast enough away from trouble. These guys are guilty of being in the wrong place all the time. They’re attracted to bar fights, shoot-outs, and strippers like flies to a Britney Spears family reunion.

Hell, the houses they buy (yeah, I watch Cribs too) have enough built-in entertainment to make Caligula weep. Feel the need to go to a bar? You already have one on the first floor and one at the pool. Need an erotic dancer to lift your spirits? Ask a few over and let ‘em practice on the stripper’s pole installed your bedroom. And why, for Baby Jesus’ sake, carry a gun outside your home when you’ve got two bodyguards and an Olympic-size shooting range out back?

Never thought these words would come out of my mouth. But I wish Brit Brit was still sweet and innocent. Is that so wrong?

An NFL cog’s life is champagne wishes and caviar dreams. To keep it that way, here’s my tip, free of charge and all meat substitutes. Buy your own private Neverland (where children never grow up) and fill it with all of the bars, strippers, friends, and guns you want. Then, JUST STAY HOME. It’s not like you’re stuck in MY house (now that would be a miserable, lonely existence). Yours is a frakkin’ compound.

C’mon cogs, this is easy stuff. A helluva lot easier that your playbook. Go to practice, work hard, go home, and do it all over again. Like the rest of us. Except for the disappointing fact that our homes are made of canned tuna wishes and cottage cheese dreams.

For a cog to risk blowing his multimillion-dollar privileges – and our chances of winning – so needlessly is about as focused as a Britney Spears haiku.

Plastic Tupperware
Containing bags of Cheetos
Ewwww, pretty flower!

By Houdino

Having Snap, Crackle, and Pop go off in my head was surprisingly comforting.

Something in my head finally snapped. I’m not kidding. I heard a snap. The sound startled a local sports reporter (who, by the way, begged to remain anonymous) standing right next to me.

Not sure how it happened, but when it did I saw the Bengals in a whole new light. I also saw a humongous lump of head cheese swallow whole a naked mole rat, but let’s stick to the Bengals for now.

It struck me suddenly – Snap! – as the Adam Pacman Jones news conference unfolded.

At that moment, the essence of the Bengals brand – the gist of who they are and what they stand for – appeared before me like a glistening field of butterflies. Crackle! No, make that a bedazzled Michael Flatley dancing deliriously in a glistening field of butterflies. Pop!

I wept a gallon of unicorn tears. And then rehydrated with a jug of orange Kool-Aid. After years of fighting the man, I became a convert in seconds. And now, I’m urging you to save yourselves much future misery by having tall, cold one with me. Let me explain.

For years, we’ve bitched and moaned to Bengals executives that they were creating a public relations nightmare by taking on the likes of Odell Thurman, Cedric Benson, Tank Johnson, Matt Jones, Chris Henry, and now Pacman. We actually believed our outcry would force the team to change their wayward ways.

"Kool-Aid, anyone?"

But what I failed to realize until that last pop was… They. Don’t. Care what we think.

Admirably, the Bengals have painstakingly carved out their own unique brand position in the world of professional football. They know exactly who they want to be. And they be it. They are the “low risk, high reward” brand. The “buy low, sell high” brand. The “three strikes and you’re in” brand.

Every once-great or -promising talent in the NFL now knows he can be reborn in Cincinnati. We may not get the best players first, but we get them last…on clearance.

Signing the likes of Pacman is what we do. And no amount of bitching will change it. Why would it? Have the years of constant nagging from your wife changed who you are? I didn’t think so.

The strangest realization? It just might work. If even half of our former cons pan out, the Bengals win. If they don’t, what have we really lost? Our reputation? You can’t lose what you don’t care about. Nope, all we lose is a league-minimum player. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s who we are.

So what the hell. Care for some orange Kool-Aid?

By Houdino

In a stunning announcement made today by the Cincinnati Bengals, former NFL running back O.J. Simpson has been signed to a one-year contract.

Simpson is currently serving a 33-year sentence, for robbery and kidnapping, at the Lovelock Correctional Center, Nevada. However, a return to professional football is possible as he will only be 60 if paroled in 2017, his first year of eligibility.

Asked why he would sign a washed up running back who may not see the light of day until the year 2041, Coach Marvin Lewis said, “Well, duh! Because Mike wanted me to. How long have you been covering this team?”

Simpson's charisma convinced even Aryan Nation prison gang members to participate in a Black Panther rally.

Lewis continued, “Like all of our free-criminal signings, he’s at the league minimum. It’s low risk, high reward. If O.J. doesn’t toe the line, we simply cut him. Umm, that was probably a poor choice of words.

“Be honest with me now, don’t you think he looks good in stripes?”

From the guard tower, Owner Mike Brown himself secretly observed Simpson’s workouts in ‘the yard’ from 2-3 pm every day for a week. Although the once-speedy Simpson’s 40 time was sub-par (9.25 secs), he became convinced he had something special as he watched Simpson use his leadership skills to consolidate power with at least three prison gangs.

Purportedly, Brown believes Simpson has the unique leadership skills that are required in the future to run his locker room.

When asked why he didn’t just go ahead and sign Satan to a contract, Brown said, “It works the other way around. Why do you think we’re winning? Besides, it would be a conflict of interest. O.J. has secured Mr. Beelzebub as his representation.”

Houdino, Reporting Live

Local authorities have released this surveillance photo of Pacman Jones and his crew breaking into the Bengals Training Facility.

This just in. According to unsubstantiated reports, NFL Public Enemy No. 1, Adam “Pacman” Jones, has broken into the Cincinnati Bengals training camp facility, demanding – at gunpoint – a place on the team’s 53-man roster.

Sources inside the facility say that while even crime-capital-of-the-world Detroit won’t tolerate Pacman, Bengals Owner Mike Brown has quickly capitulated to all demands, including an unusual ultimatum that Brown build a Camp for Wayward Boys.

Apparently, this request was a huge bone of contention between the two men, with Brown arguing that he had already created such a camp and called it the Cincinnati Bengals. He then politely asked Pacman to leave. Pacman became enraged, screaming, “You take me fo’ a fool, muthaf#cka? You don’t know me, pig. No muthaf*cka tells me when I can split! Now move over and let me pass ‘fore you be pullin’ muthaf%ckin caps outa yo ass!”

Terrified kitten saved by rescuers. Feline owner cried, "My poor Hans. He's no good to me now! Who will pay for this?"

Although no bloodshed has been reported, crime in and around Ohio skyrocketed 50 percent immediately following reports of Pacman’s arrival two days ago.

And in the same way animals can sense a tsunami before it reaches shore, cute kittens and puppies in the thousands have been reported missing or found cowering under beds and porches, refusing to come out even to eat.Overwhelmed animal rescue personnel are not convinced this is a coincidence.

An official statement just arriving from the Bengals states, “The Cincinnati Bengals are proud to welcome Adam Jones to our team.

Pacman unselfishly demonstrates his never-say-die fighting spirit to local police officers.

A proven fighter in strip clubs around the country, we believe Adam has all of the qualities we continue to seek in our organization.”

More to come as events unfold. This is Houdino reporting live from Mike Brown’s Camp for Wayw…err, Bengals Training Camp. Back to you, Timzilla.

By Houdino

As NFL fans know, the title “Mr. Irrelevant” is bestowed each year upon the final pick of the annual draft. What they don’t know is that this year’s pick wasn’t who it appeared to be.

Although it seemed to millions of viewers that the Detroit Lions chose WR Tim Toone with the final pick of the draft, a stunning announcement this morning by NFL and ESPN executives reveals the shocking truth.

Just moments before the draft’s final pick, a highly unusual malfunction occurred within ESPN studios. On-site broadcast engineers instantly recognized the anomaly and immediately called nearby MIT physicists to the scene. The problem was identified immediately as a breach in the time-space continuum and Toone was selected in front of millions.

So why is this quark in time a problem? Well, because Toone wasn’t selected by the Lions at pick 255. Say what?!?

Nancy "Crazy Eyes" Pelosi, the 255th pick of the 2010 NFL Draft is now officially known as Ms. Irrelevant.

Here’s what happened. Steve Young’s inability for three days to concisely sum up even a single draft pick took a severe toll on ESPN’s satellite feed. As lead Theoretical Physicist Ching Chang Won put it, “Young, he rike six-year-ord kid in Chinese shoe factory. Too srow. Too srow.” Added Quantum Mechanics Engineer Ching Chang Tu, “What wrong wit him, he retarded?”

Unfortunately, the temporary breach allowed an alternate draft broadcast from a parallel universe to sneak into ESPN’s broadcast. Thus, this dimension’s broadcast was momentarily “hijacked” by a broadcast of the alternate draft.

So who is the real Mr. Irrelevant?

We can now say with authority that “he’s not a  man, baby!” With the 255th pick of the final round, it was in fact the Bengals who selected All-American Tight Ass out of Washington, Nancy “Crazy Eyes” Pelosi. Now otherwise known as Ms. Irrelevant.

With this pick, the Bengals sent a message to the rest of the league that they participated in the draft this year. This wasn’t a sexy pick (like, say, nose tackle Rosie O’Donnell landing in Buffalo in the fourth) but it does make sense. Adding another tight ass on the team will take the pressure off of owner Mike Brown, who for years has been the team’s only high-performing tight ass.

Also, QB Carson Palmer’s never had the luxury of a bona-fide tight ass on the field, which should really open up the offense. But to get that tight ass production, Brown will have to open up his wallet. Expect a long hold-out, because signing this tight ass is going to be tough. It’s widely known that Pelosi believes owners should give away a higher percentage of their money to players who haven’t yet earned it.

A Clash of the Titans battle is expected in training camp as Nancy "The Gorgon Bitch" Pelosi tries to win a spot on the team.

But there is hope within the organization. Pelosi is a supreme route runner. Although she breaks left on every route, she is mysteriously unreadable by defensive backs. One college defender said, “I read a fade route to the sideline, but I looked into the face of that Gorgon bitch and froze. God help me it was cold. She left me standing in a puddle of my own pee.”

So, while fans are excited about their team’s previous six-rounds of drafting, this pick should really calm them down. Because whether in this world or some fantastical alternate reality, it’s now official. Crazy Eyes Pelosi is indeed irrelevant.

By Houdino

"Hey, I'm no rapist. Just ask these three drunk girls. Oh wait, where's the fourth...in the bathroom? Hold on, I'll be right back."

NFL judge, jury and executioner Roger Goodell has dropped his gavel on the head of Ben Roethlisberger. And make no mistake, even though a local DA refused to press charges, the 4- to 6-game suspension (and loss of up to $2.8 million in salary) conveys how guilty the NFL believes Pig Ben is. Though Cincinnati fans have known for years that Pig Ben is a loser, are there others? And is anyone a winner?

Who Lost?

The Victim. No one lost more than the young lady who was “coerced” into sex with Pig Ben. It’s bad enough that Georgia detectives botched their investigation. But as if to rub salt in her emotional wounds, there will now be too many Neanderthals (many of which are NFL fanatics) across the country who’ll regard the dropped charges as justification for saying she deserved whatever she got in that bathroom. Being underage and inebriated, what she deserved from Pig Ben was a cab ride home…what she got were free drinks and unwanted sex in a dirty bathroom.

The NFL’s Reputation. Tarnished by yet another coach or player who lost (if he ever had it) his moral compass. Tom Cable, Pacman Jones, Chris Henry, Ray Lewis (hey, Ray, we haven’t swept your past under the rug like the rest of the NFL) and more. I mean, is it that hard to know right from wrong? Get a new compass, guys…one that doesn’t point to N for Naughty.

Don't worry, Pig Ben, when all this is behind you, your last remaining fan will still love you.

The Fans. This one’s tough. Are they really losers? I mean, we talk a good game. But as soon as Sunday comes around, we’re openly cheering any player who helps our team win. Perhaps that’s why we’re the losers…we’ve become moral and ethical hypocrites.

Who Won?

No one. It was a trick question.

But if anyone comes close, it’s the Rooney family, especially Art Rooney II. The Rooneys have backed up their ire with character and resolve by getting rid of the star receiver (Santonio Holmes) who caught a Super Bowl-winning touchdown and (now) shopping the guy who threw it. The only misstep they’ve made of late is tolerating Kicker Jeff Reed’s off-field stupidity.

Although the Brown family has consistently shown similar character, they could learn a thing or two about resolve from the Rooneys and stop using the Bengals as their personal social experiment for rehabilitation.

Class, say it with me one more time. “The NFL…it’s not a right, it’s a privilege.”

By Houdino

With a week to shed the emotional disappointment of a playoff loss, it’s time to objectively grade the Bengals’s season position by position. Today, we’ll review the offense. You might want to hide this report card from your dad.

Uncle Joe's "Obama" pork rind - the scandal of the Jewish circumcision.

Quarterback. Thank God we’re not grading QB Carson Palmer on a Pass/Fail. Because the pass failed. Although a steadying force in the locker room and on the field, statistically, Palmer was average.

His accuracy was the lowest of his career. And his decision-making at times was more perplexing than my Uncle Joe serving pork rinds at a Bris. So it’s right to say Palmer wasn’t elite. But it’s wrong to say he was the problem.

Simply put, he never had the weapons or the scheme needed to compete. That’s why Palmer gets an: Grade: Incomplete

Running Backs. Much like the M1A2 Abrams battle tank, RB Cedric Benson‘s mission was to engage and destroy the enemy’s front line using power, maneuverability, and shock.

And though OC Bob Bratkowski failed to use them creatively, back-ups RB Bernard Scott, RB Brian Leonard, and RB Larry Johnson performed beyond expectation when called. Scott in particular is a gem. Even Jolly Jeremi Johnson contributed. This group is solid, young, and talented. Grade: A-

This second-hand Abe Lincoln animatronic was refurbished into a Daniel Coats.

Wide Receivers. Yikes. The best thing about this unit was WR Chad Ochocinco‘s mea culpa and restraint. Otherwise, it was a severe fall from grace for a once-proud air corps.

Even before WR Chris Henry‘s death, Brat was turning him into a one-dimensional wingman for Ocho. A horrible waste of talent in the red zone, and another six-shooter removed from Palmer’s holster.

Other than Ocho and a few flashes from the others, nothing about the receivers was electric. WR Quan Cosby merits a closer look in the slot. Grade: C-

Tight Ends. Injuries prevented TE Reggie Kelly and TE Ben Utecht from getting on the field. And rookie TE Chase Coffman was an overwhelmed schoolgirl. Talk about Hard Knocks.

The solution was to purchase two animatronic players from Disney’s imagineers. Results were mixed. Complex human emotions like fear and shock worked to perfection. But hand-eye coordination was a bust. Grade: D

Even babies are bored with Brat's game plans.

Offensive Line. Who believed this patchwork quilt would turn into a synchronized band of hungry road graders?

Although pass protection was shaky early on, these over-achievers improved steadily. Don’t worry about the penalties. They’ll decrease as the unit’s chemistry increases. Oh, and Andre Smith is going to be very good. Grade: B

Field Goal Unit. PK Shayne Graham was once again Mr. Reliable… he made all the field goals that didn’t matter. And the well-liked Brad St. Louis snapped… mentally. The team’s most consistent player this decade came unglued in a way that would make Steve Sax wet his pants. Grade: C-

Offensive Coordinator. One word: Uninspired. One grade: Grade: C

Next up? Defense. Should be a more pleasant conversation.