Deadspin's own A.J. Daulerio is in Detroit, trying to find things to do. He files this report; check out all his reports right here.
Here's JoJo. He's the salami football from Ilowski's Sausage that I picked up this morning; he will be accompanying me on the rest of my not-so-exciting adventures. JoJo is a strapping 1 1/4 pound salami made of the Midwest's finest dead farm animals. He's a local, so he'll be very beneficial in helping me navigate through downtown Detroit at night and also in perfecting the dialect. Plus — and you'll be happy to hear this — he's a former videographer, well-versed in appropriate lighting and how to hold the JVC camera steady.
JoJo is basically doing this work for free; like everyone else in this part of town, he's most excited at being on the list for the Maxim Rock City party on Saturday night.
Read about what else JoJo and I have planned, after the jiggity jump.
In addition to the rest of the parties, JoJo is slated to be photographed being tossed around, handled, kissed, caressed, fondled by as many people as possible. I've e-mailed Mitch Albom about setting up a salami football toss between us, but he has yet to get back to me. I'm not surprised, considering that he basically ripped off my story idea about visiting Detroit homeless shelters this morning. Even though he only stands approximately four-feet-tall, it's obvious that Mr. Albom is not easily intimidated and will do anything to get a leg-up on competing journalists, especially during Super Bowl week.
And, just in case JoJo has an unfortunate accident, like being squished, eaten or apprehended by unamused bouncers or bodyguards, I have secured reinforcements.
Just like Gremlins, if you dump water on the football salami, it multiplies. But all of these extra salamis will still be referred to as JoJo. It keeps things simple that way. Just ask George Foreman.
JoJo and I will soon be heading to the AOL Sports Bloggers radio program with Tom Arnold at the NFL Experience. Hopefully, somebody will let me toss JoJo through a moving tire or, at the very least, let me punt him. I just hope that Tom Arnold doesn't eat him before then.