I Gotta Lotta Problems with You People!

In celebration of Festivus, the crew at The Airing of Grievances are bringing out the aluminum pole for their annual Festivus Extravaganza. Cozmo Cramer asked if I'd be interested in submitting my own, so I was more than happy to oblige with a few thoughts on sports and pop culture happenings... you all know how I love to bitch. If you're asking why I left out grievances on politics, terrorism, and the economy, we'd be into the new year and I'd still be typing, so gather round the pole, people... here we go:

• To Joe Morgan, Joe Buck, Tim McCarver, Paul Maguire, Dan Fouts, Brent Musburger, Joe Theismann, Steve Lyons, Holly Rowe, John Madden, Larry Merchant, Bill Walton, and Chris Berman: Whoa, Nellie! The 13 of you are the worst sports announcers on the planet and you're putting a real dent in my enjoyment of televised sports.
  
• To the Contestants on "Deal or No Deal": You're idiots and if I stroke out while watching, I'm suing you for intentional infliction of emotional distress and taking your winnings. Here's the thing - this game relies on luck and your ability to understand probability. Picking cases because your idiot husband thinks "8 is great" and "11 is heaven" is no way to win money. I'm rooting against every single one of you.
  
• To Michael Irvin: You tricked me into liking you.. lured me in with your ability to drive tools like Steve Young to distraction with a unique coupling of inane, nonsensical shouting and rhythmic grunts and groans. I liked you, I defended you, and you played me for a fool. You are nothing but Pookie from New Jack City with a better suit, faster legs, and a nicer car (my evidence). [Actually, Pookie didn't have a car but he could've used your Mercedes SL55 when Ice-T was running him down after that busted crack deal in the park.] Shame on you for trying to convince the masses that Anonymous Cracky came to your house for a little turkey and an intervention and inadvertently got you in a jam. You're a lying wanker, Michael Irvin. Here's some advice for the future: find a dustbuster and vac out the gram of coke that's scattered all over your fur coats before you get pulled over while wearing one. This way, you won't have to tell the police that Anonymous Cracky sprinkled it on you in your sleep.
  
• To Anna Benson: You're not that hot, your husband is marginally talented, and you're a fame-seeking slutbag. The gig is up - we've figured you out. Good luck in Kansas City. Get tips from Larry Johnson on how to deal with the locals.
• To the Fools that voted Mack Brown Coach of the Year: You should have your votes taken away. He beat Ohio State. That's it. And can you really give him props for that when Jim Tressel went out of his way to yank defeat out of the jaws of victory? I don't think so. Blowing out the rest of the teams on that weak sauce schedule was no accomplishment either. With Vince Young under center, Texas could have been coached by a sack of beans and whipped Oklahoma en route to an undefeated season.
  
• To the Heisman voters that left Reggie Bush off the ballot: You're probably the same tossers that voted for Mack Brown. Sod off.
  
• To Those That Drive the Hype Machines of Michael & Marcus Vick: They're incredible athletes, not incredible quarterbacks. Some of you rationalized voting older brother to the Pro Bowl even though his QB rating is only better than Aaron Brooks' and Kyle Orton's in the NFC. Nice work, voters. Why don't you drive back Michael Irvin's house; it's time for the intervention.
  
• Steven A. Smith: I love that your show is bollocks and you're less popular than Cold Pizza. I saw you on Jimmy Kimmel last month; hitting on Kathy Griffin and then bragging about playing basketball for the Fashion Institute of Technology wasn't just wrong, it was criminal. Shame on you, Screamin'.
  
• To Johnny Damon's Dad: "Mark it down: It's going to be another Babe Ruth," Jimmy Damon told The News from his Florida home. "They sent Johnny off just like they sent off Babe Ruth. It's going to be another big, big mistake. They made the biggest mistake of their lives." It's awesome when you trace a person's penchant for extreme stupidity directly to a parent.
  
• To Randal from the Apprentice: "Randal, do you think I should hire Rebecca, too?" "No, Mr Trump, there should be only one winner. It's the Apprentice, not the Apprentii." I was with you, Randal! Right until the end, it was you and me! Don't get me wrong, a big part of me understands where you were coming from but when given the opportunity to show some class, you turned into a throbbing penis. Bad form.
  
• To The WNBA: I watch professional sports to see athletes mystify me with their abilities and talents, as they do things with their bodies that most people can only dream. I don't watch most women's sports and say, "Hell, even I can do that." I can't hit a 110 mph softball pitch or return a 120 mph serve. But the WNBA? Please. Your organization is the last refuge for women who want to be professional athletes but aren't agile, flexible, or fast enough to hack it anywhere else. Sure, you have Diana Taurasi but she's an anamoly. Here are the rest of your players: the great shooter with an ugly stroke that wouldn't know agility if it goosed her; the tall, semi-mobile forward that uses her elbows to free up space for her 4-foot banked shots; and the girl that's slow as molasses but has a great body for collecting ticky tack fouls and turning the ball over. I'd rather watch Leif Magnusson bench press a tree at the Strong Man competition. Please, WNBA, no more tv deals. Free up airtime for sports that showcase talent greater than what one finds at the local YMCA.
  
• To Boss: I gave you that stripper's pole as a joke. Regifting it to your wife was uncool.
• To Norv Turner: Seppuku.

Feel free to comment with your own. Happy Festivus, one and all!