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Fly hears they yokels down Tennessee way're a bit nervous about that shoulder "bruise" that's been keeping Where McNair in civvies. Only a trip to the local surgeon's office (free lollies with every visit!) is going to fix McNair's bum wing, and he's hoping that'll happen later. But the Spies're sayin' it'll happen sooner--like the next time McNair takes a good, stiff pop to the upper bod.
* Turns out Candy Moss' fellow Vike-odins (take two a day to ease the pain, Minnesotans) know exactly where he goes on the plays he decides to disappear. "Counting his money," one grunt whispers. But hey, Mike Bennett's unable to carry Robert Smith's sock (let alone his jock), Daunte Culpeper's throwin' cement blocks, and Cris Carter's pointin' every finger he's got, so Fly can't blame Moss for giving more attention to his paper green than Denny Green.
* Color Fly shocked, Part I: NASCAR prez Mike Helton is being--gasp!--stubborn 'n' pigheaded. None of his drivers want to spend Thanksgiving at New Hampshire Speedway because 1) it's Thanksgiving and 2) it's November in freakin' New Hampshire, and stock cars don't go so fast on snow chains. But Big Mike ain't budging because ... well, that's just the way Big Mike is.
* Color Fly shocked, Part II: The Bruins ...