Croppaganda

How can you tell if a witch is a witch? Toss one in the water. If it floats, it's a witch. If it drowns, it's not a witch.

How can you tell if a Buffalo Bills quarterback is worthy of a starting position? Play him in a few regular season games. If he stinks, then you know he stinks. So goes the ill-fated history of Trent Edwards' tenure with the Bills.

The Buffalo Bills don't seem to understand that there are other ways of evaluating quarterbacks. They also don't seem to understand basic economic principles like supply and demand. When there was a demand for quarterbacks in the offseason, they didn't want to sell. And once they found out they were stuck with some bad inventory, they just threw it out on the curb for anyone to grab. Another write off in the endless "bad quarterback debts" account.

If Floyd Mayweather, Jr. wants a real fight, he ought to hop in the verbal ring with Jan Brewer.

Mayweather's recent rant against Manny Pacquiao, laden with racist, homophobic and xenophobic rhetoric, was about as malicious as Republican gubernatorial candidate Jan Brewer's debate performance was dreadful.

For two individuals as confident as they are in their abilities, they really need to beef up on their communications skills. Or common sense.

OK, let me put on my Don King hat for a moment and propose the next big pay-per-view event:

The Fighting Philomathean Extravaganza: Pacquiao vs. Mayweather and Brewer.

Much like the quirky Chess-Boxing that was once as popular in Russia as speciality cupcakes are in the U.S., the Boxing-Debate will soon take the world by storm. After Pacquiao puts on his political stripes against the heavy-hitting Brewer, he can throw on the trunks and hop into the ring against the hate-spewing Mayweather. And, as a bonus, we'll get to see Pacquiao go head-to-head against Floyd Landis in a drug test.

When several media outlets recently reported that Brett Favre might have called it quits, there wasn’t the usual groundswell of hagiographic retirement stories that are reserved for those who heal lepers, cure cancer and balance our budget.

A grey-bearded boy can only cry wolf so often.

So, after the Vikings sent out their Favre headhunters to plead with him to come back, he’s back. Your five-dollar street-corner tarot reader could have told you that Farve would be wearing a Vikings jersey come fall.

As this saga plays out year after year, I can’t help but think that Favre is becoming addicted to the process.

But there must be a time when the clock runs out on his epical Favrian career, right?

It’s become such a farce that at this point, I can see him shuffling off this mortal coil, only to come back the next year, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, taking snaps to cabana music under the moniker of “Bernie Favre.”

He shall cast himself in “Weekend at Bernie’s 3: Favre throws more interceptions.”

How could you give it anything less than two thumbs up?

In February 2007, the Associated Press dared to buck the 24-hour news feed trend and put a one-week embargo on Paris Hilton stories.

I think we need to put a similar kibosh on our non-stop Tiger Woods coverage.

That Tiger isn’t shooting under par may be news to some. But do we really need to analyze every waking (and sleeping) hour of this man’s life?

OK, he’s not perfect, in both his personal and professional life. His game has suffered. There, it took all of two sentences to state what the news media has regurgitate in every imaginable way for the past few months.

I would rather hear about Phil Mickelson’s arthritis. Heck, I’d rather hear about Wilford Brimley’s bowel movements or my grandmother’s mah jong games than Tiger’s double-bogey.

So until he makes real news, I’m tuning out Tiger. And I urge you to, too.

Unless, of course, he starts dating Paris.

A history of lackluster on-ice performance in the playoffs has moved me from a die-hard Buffalo Sabres fan into the realm of a knowledgable follower.

But recent management and ownership decisions that make New York State look fiscally innovative have left me baffled and disaffected.

Yesterday, shortly after Sabres forward Tim Kennedy was awarded $1 million in arbitration, the team waived him. All things told, the difference between what they were looking to offer him and what was awarded in arbitration was about $200,000. A native Buffalonian, Kennedy had local appeal likely to bring in that much money in ticket and jersey sales each year.

I understand that it's a business and all about money, but is it worth pinching pennies on a popular product when you waste millions on less popular (and productive) products such as say, another Tim on the team?

Granted, Kennedy’s numbers were middle-of-the-pack, but the guy has a huge heart and plays every shift. Good luck dangling that $200,000 in front of some of the other multi-million dollar half-hearted “marquee” players.

Oh, and that $200,000? Well if nobody claims Kennedy off waivers, the Sabres can buy out his contract, which can be done at a bargain rate of $333,333. Add in the lost revenue from fans who stop caring, sprinkle in some Enronesque bookkeeping, and you’ve got some real savings.

Remember when the U.S. hockey team tied (which is tantamount to losing to) Latvia in the 2006 Torino Games? That was about as cool as the time Chris Chelios led the hotel hissy fit in 1998.

Well, the red, white and blue, coming off one of its greater performances of the last decade with the Olympic silver medal, suffered a bit of a setback Friday in a loss to hockey powerhouse Germany at the world championships. Granted, the Germans were on home ice in front of a record crowd of 77,803 (they must have advertised that a soccer match was slated for that day), but the U.S. shouldn't lose to Germany even with a b-rate squad.

Fortunately, there is still time for the U.S. to get its game back together. In the meantime, the hockey-mad populace of the United States can concentrate on more pressing matters, like finding a place in their hearts for who should be this year's Stanley Cup Champs: Los San Jose Sharks.