There's your karma, ripe as peaches.

Hey, I Moved!

2006-02-20T19:09:00.000-05:00

Please update your bookmarks to http://flashwarner.com

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Moving Locations

2006-02-17T12:17:00.000-05:00

Hey all, I'm in the process of leaving blogger for a webhost all my own. I'll provide the new details when my move is complete but in the meantime (the next 2-3 days), I imagine there'll be glitches and hitches and such, so many apologies in advance.

Cheers!

Poncho & Lefty: The Uncensored DVD

2006-02-16T16:19:00.000-05:00

So I was contacted by a marketing firm that is promoting Comedy Central's Roast of Pamela Anderson. They saw my recap of the original airing floating around the internets and asked if I'd post a press release and a review for the Uncensored DVD. Tune in next week for my super-quality review of the Uncensored DVD (I won't watch it until this weekend) but for now, have a look at the release:

NEW YORK, January 30, 2006 -- It's comedians instead of Cupid shooting arrows at sexy vixen Pamela Anderson in the most-talked about and craziest "COMEDY CENTRAL Roast" ever. The event kicked-off with Anderson floating down from the rafters in an O-shaped chair while bubbles flowed through the air, followed by rapid fire quips, all at Anderson's expense. Ex-lover Tommy Lee proved once again that he is truly "larger than life" and the Roasters made sure to give it to him when it came to his manhood. And who could forget all those Courtney Love moments? Jimmy Kimmel, host of ABC's "Jimmy Kimmel Live," served as Roast Master. Released via COMEDY CENTRAL Home Entertainment and Paramount Home Entertainment, "COMEDY CENTRAL Roast of Pamela Anderson: Uncensored!" DVD arrives in stores nationwide on Tuesday, February 14? and will also be available at http://shop.comedycentral.com.
"COMEDY CENTRAL Roast of Pamela Anderson: Uncensored!" DVD features the entire unbleeped, unblurred, and extended version and bonus material such as exclusive rehearsal footage with Andy Dick and Courtney Love, red carpet interviews and more.
(more)

Highlights from the evening include: Bea Arthur reading sexually explicit excerpts from Anderson's new "novel"; Tommy Lee giving an arousing musical performance with Anderson dancing her heart out; Courtney Love acting like Tom Cruise on acid; Andy Dick fondling Anderson's assets; and Lisa Lampanelli, the Queen of Mean, unleashing a verbal assault that fired-up the crowd to a standing ovation.

Mike Davis, What Took You So Long?

2006-02-16T07:48:00.000-05:00

Thanks to the need for higher education and advanced levels of sport, I reside primarily in Big10 country and have done so for the duration of Mike Davis' run at IU. In this time, I've learned three things:

Mike Davis is a reactionary nutjob
Mike Davis is an awful coach
Mike Davis is only person in the State of Indiana that thinks Mike Davis is exceptional

Even though the Hoosiers went to the Final Four in Davis' first year, I was suspicious of his actual skills but didn't really think he could mess up a good thing. I mean, I knew he was a career assistant coach but all he needed to do was recruit well and not allow his own ineptitude to stand in the way. In hindsight, that was way too much to ask, so it's probably for the best that the most sensitive coach in the Big10 has thrown in the towel and resigned. Further, the haters amongst you will be pleased to hear that Davis plans to lame duck it until the Hoosiers are bounced from the NIT. He wants the team to play free of the pressures to preserve his job and fend off criticism from the media.

In the seasons that have followed the Final Four, every press conference and interview has been peppered with his incessant whine, as he's somehow managed to rationalize every possible influence into blame for the failure of the Hoosiers. It's the media, the alumni, the fans, the players. He's a career assistant that has no business running a sideline and he thinks he has room to bitch?? Mike Davis ought to be sending Bobby Knight a Christmas card, Christ, a birthday card, each and every year thanking him from the bottom of his heart for the only head coaching job he's ever gonna have! "Thanks for the opportunity, Coach! Thanks for going over the edge and forcing these fools to give me this job!" If a Division I program hires this nut, they'll assuredly go down in flames. I'm eager to see what hilljack athletic director thinks he's a good idea.

Four (Brief) Monday Complaints

2006-02-13T15:09:00.000-05:00

So I was watching the Pro Bowl yesterday when I became intensely agitated at the following:

Not only was Trent Green suiting up for the AFC but so was Steve McNair! At first I thought maybe he flew down and put on a uniform just to reminisce about old times but no! He was an actual participant! It goes without saying that not only is McNair old balls, he's fecking awful. Please tell me that if you go to the Pro Bowl after every talented quarterback in your conference bows out due to injury, you are not credited for it! I can see it already -- 20 years from now I'll be on my arse with a bag of Cheetos (or a futuristic Cheeto-quivalent) watching ESPN Classic and a special will come on about past NFL MVPs or the emergence of the black quarterback or one of the few other categories in which McNair fits. 10 minutes into the program, a guy with a Jim Lampley-type voice will say, "McNair closed his career with a Pro Bowl selection in 2006," thus tricking the 1800 people (minus myself) actually watching the show into believing McNair was of any use past the 2003 season. It's total madness... madness, I say! I don't know who's in charge with crediting people with Pro Bowl appearances but this is something that must be stopped or prevented.
Michael Vick threw a 65-yard bomb up for grabs and in the middle of something like 7 defenders, Larry Fitzgerald made a ridiculous catch. Not only did Michael Vick proceed to preen and prance as if his dumb ass was actually effective, while saying, "Money money money!!!," we were then treated to the musings of the rere patrol.
Joe Theismann: "Thats exactly the kind of throw Vick has learned to make." But Maguire has a flash of brilliance, laughs, and says, "Are you kidding? He was falling down and just threw it way up in the air! He's learned to make that throw?" Good on ya Maguire for that random flash of smart. So soon after, Vick throws a missile into triple coverage and, as you can guess, it was nearly picked off. Maguire continues the genius and says, "Hey Joe, was that another pass he's learned to make?" Theismann says, "It was a great throw... just poor decision." In a third bout of retardation, Theismann had said that Vick "Does just one thing. All his critics say he only does one thing but he DOES only do one thing... and that one thing is WIN!
I simply can't find a way around my irrational hatred of Michelle Kwan. I don't apologize for it.. there's just something about her that's always bothered me. So I feel no shame in hoping that even with all her world championships, she still considers herself the Buffalo Bills of the Winter Olympics. [This is, of course, contingent on Michelle knowing who the Bills are and why she should feel bad...] Go Sasha Cohen!!
I don't really care about the Winter Olympics and I'm disappointed by that. I'm always amped for the Olympics - winter or summer. What's been the difference this year? Is it a lack of hype? Less people for whom to cheer? Whatever it is, thumbs down. I watched an A&E bio on Hitler rather than watch the luge.

:(

Art Shell Ends the Raiders Coaching Search

2006-02-11T23:59:00.000-05:00

And here's how the process (not to mention the last 4 years) made me feel:

Is It Really So Much To Ask for Al Davis to Die?

2006-02-10T11:05:00.000-05:00

Marinelli - out; Saunders - out; Lofton - out; Petrino - out (thanks to his 16 year old son); Martz - out; Whisenhunt - out. It's about time for Gary Barnett to remove his name for consideration, isn't it?

Oakland is the only team currently with a head-coach opening and the worst option in the NFL. First time head coaches are avoiding it like the plague, unwilling to end their careers before things ever begin, and everyone hanging out on fired row is running for the hills. The only option left is Art Shell, a retread so old he's become new again.

For the above-mentioned reasons, I resubmit my request to those on the ethereal plain to shuffle Al Davis loose the mortal coil and take him to the 9th circle of Hell... preferably in Judecca. I know some would say, "Well Al Davis is evil but 9th Circle evil?" OH YES! Al Davis isn't just evil on purpose, he has knowingly and deliberately betrayed Raider Nation by a number of offenses previously listed in my post Why Is Norv Turner Still Employed? He should take his place in Cocytus with Satan, Brutus, Cassius, and Judas Iscariot for leading us down the primrose path. For too long I believed the right coach would turn around this madness but not only is there NOT a right coach, there is NO COACH. Only Al Davis is so contemptible, so evil, so impossibly loathsome that people would rather take a job as a rodeo clown than be a head coach in his organization. I want him to die. Right now. Painless or peaceful, I couldn't care less. He simply must go. Maybe that flesh-eating monster that's slowly eroding his face can kick its shit into overdrive and take him down. Traitorous bastard.

I Need a Roethlisberger Break

2006-02-09T12:29:00.000-05:00

I don't have a problem with Ben Roethlisberger- right now. He's a likeable guy and unless you're a Seahawks fan or some crazy from the MAC Conference, I can't think of a reason to wish him ill will. But back in 2002 (tuck rule and University of Michigan issues aside), I couldn't think of valid reasons to hate Tom Brady either. He was the new golden boy and it seemed only fitting that he'd judge a Miss USA pageant, hit the Playboy Mansion, and be one of People's 50 Most Beautiful People, but after the hype died down, well, I guess that was the problem - it never died down and now Tom Brady has infected every aspect of our lives. There is no magazine to be read or channel that can be watched without seeing Tom Brady at least once in a sitting. He could be pimping Cadillac or NFL Network or the President or Visa and that goddamn fraud monitoring. It could be gossip about he and girlfriend Bridget Moynihan or him expressing his belief that he's just a regular every day guy that surfs internet porn or an appearance as official coin flipper of Super Bowl XL. When Charlie Weis left for Notre Dame, it was months of Tom Brady Quinn... ooh spooky. Let's talk about it! And when the draft comes up in a couple months, it'll be time for the only question Chris Berman finds worthy of asking Mel Kiper - "who will be the next Tom Brady?" because, if you're not yet aware, Tom, the poster child for the late round picks done good, was a 6th round selection and has a BIG chip on his shoulder about it. It's nothing personal... I simply can't handle any more Tom and his overexposed, scruff-covered butt chin. But that doesn't mean I'm ready for a new golden boy to invade my life! In the four days since the Super Bowl, Roethlisberger has been on Letterman and QVC and presented Kelly Clarkson at the Grammy Awards. There are only a few things that could save us from Roethlislove reaching Brady-like proportions:
1) Big Ben looks like Sasquatch with a beard and a guy that tries to set his farts on fire when clean-shaven;
2) The Steelers won't win 2 of the next 3 Super Bowls;
3) Dan Marino, angry that Roethlisberger won it all in the second year like he was supposed to, will go Ray Finkle on the Steelers QB and whine at him until he passes out and dies.
I'm thinking that 1 and 2 will save us but a sick, dark side of me secretly hopes it's possibility number 3.

J.J. Redick Has Two in the Pink And...

2006-02-08T12:42:00.000-05:00

Does Dick Vitale ever get dehydrated when tonguing JJ Redick's balls for extended periods of time? Don't get me wrong, Redick deserved the treatment -- he had a monster 2nd half against UNC and even threw out The Shocker for good measure but.. well, someone still has to look out for Dick.

In any case, ESPN finally announced the Monday Night Football crew for 2006 -- Joe Theismann, Tony Kornheiser, and Mike Tirico will be joined by sideline breasts, Michelle Tafoya and Suzy Kolber. Listening to the Sunday Night trio of Theismann, Maguire, and Patrick often led me to self-abuse but I don't know if I can handle this move either. I don't like Mike Tirico and it's not because he looks like a balding, nerdy pumpkin. His play-by-play leaves something to be desired and his party-line, bandwagon "opinions" are delivered with the type of sit-at-my-knee-and-be-enlightened, smarmy condescension that can't be tolerated for more than two hours. But as long as John Saunders doesn't join the crew, I suppose I'll get on all right. As for Kornheiser, he's a curmudgeonly douchebag that knows nothing about sports and rips on people just to piss more off. The latter is somewhat amusing to me, so I like him well enough when Mike Wilbon isn't taking up the same airspace but wait a few games until the honeymoon of this new union comes to an end.. when Kornheiser and Theismann start to grate on each other's nerves. It'll come to a head in yet another trivial game with teams like the hapless Jets and Miami where, on a momentum-shifting drive in a 6-3 game, Chris Chambers makes a spectacular catch on his way out of bounds. But wait, Eric Mangini is challenging the catch! Did Chambers drag his 2nd foot? Did he have control? "That looked like a juggle to me, Tony. He didn't have control." "Let's just wait for it Joe. It looks like he had it. Two hands. Yep." "I'm telling you he didn't have control..... there was no control.... look, he's bobbling the ball...... no control....... indisputable evidence... Notre Dame... no contr--" and at that moment, worlds will collide. Tony Kornheiser will snap back into PTI-mode with his shrill, staccato shrieking and it'll all come tumbling down as he and Joe Theismann two bicker like a couple of wet cats in a potato sack. Hopefully Mike Tirico will make himself useful during these moments and throw in a timely "Immatellyawhat!"

This union will be a disaster and I can't wait for the madness to unfold while I'm happily watching on a muted, closed caption television.

Ron Artest: The Kings Need a Nicotine Victory Patch!

2006-02-07T08:08:00.000-05:00

In lieu of intelligent, written thought, which I guess is something you can't get here anyway, I have an update at SportsbyBrooks today... check it out for my smart ass remarks on:

The Pot & Kettle Diaries: Tim Brown on John Madden's mediocrity
Antwaan Randle El doesn't realize his previous glory days occurred on the "gridiron" at Indiana University
From Hooters to a swimsuit calendar: Eastern Tennessee State's lessons on staying classy really impact Kimberly Sams
David Beckham will so go all Marky Mark with Calvin Klein
Ron Artest: "The Kings need a nicotine winning patch"
and much, much more

On a somewhat related, irritating note, I received some complaints from a few nermals who caught heat at their work situation because SportsbyBrooks isn't "safe for work." Well what do you fuckin know?! There are boobs there! Lots and lots of boobs! Whoda thunk it? Certainly not me! Get the net, wankers - I don't owe you a day's pay if I tell you to go read my update and your dumb ass gets suspended.

Congratulations, Jerome

2006-02-05T23:27:00.000-05:00

But always remember, if you'd lost to this guy...

... we mighta disowned you :)

The 25 Most Annoying Super Bowl Party Guests

2006-02-03T13:55:00.000-05:00

I came across this list of the 25 most annoying Super Bowl party guests while looking about on CBS Sportsline and it couldn't have been more accurate.

Basically, the Super Bowl forces the legitimate football fan to be tortured for about four hours with people he or she wouldn't even think of spending time with on any other sporting occasion. Essentially, a true football fan has three options when confronted with a Super Bowl gathering of football imbeciles: 1. Actually answer idiotic and rhetorical questions 2. Make everyone at the party uncomfortable by calling out the idiots and telling them to shut-up and 3. Doing your best to ignore the outrageous commentary and the idiots you're with. Super Bowl gatherings require small-talk, ginger ale, finger foods, awkward banter, excessive praise of sugar-free sugar cookies that someone made, insufficient supplies of beer and overly abundant Mike’s Hard Lemonade, poor seating options and requiring you to listen to some guy explain what a first down is to his girlfriend with an IQ that would barely be sufficient to allow her to be executed were she to commit a murder.

Out of the 25 on the list, here are the ones that are at every Super Bowl party I've ever attended.

1. The aforementioned fan who does not understand why teams don’t score more touchdowns.
This clown can be either male or female, and will begin speaking at any point when the score is not approaching 81-79. Which means always. Worse, there is always someone who seconds this opinion with a brilliant and nonsensical endorsement. "Yeah, why don’t they score more?" One appropriate response would be, "Because the football team is missing out on your offensive genius."

2. Girl with an exposed thong.
Inevitably she will sit right in front of you and you’ll think you’re clubbing in South Beach. The thong will be something ridiculous, like leopard print or have a saying like, "Sex kitten ... make me purr," which will be true but distracting. Of course this girl will lean forward on a pillow or something and you’ll miss several important third down plays because you are trying to keep your wife or girlfriend from noticing your obsession with the exposed thong.

5. Guy who feels compelled to say three minutes into the game, "(Insert team’s name here) just didn’t come ready to play."
Really? I’m pretty sure the Super Bowl didn’t sneak up on either team. It’s not like Matt Hasselbeck was out shopping at Home Depot earlier that morning and then he suddenly realized, "Oh man, it’s the Super Bowl today, I better get to the stadium."

6. The fan who works at Denny’s and complains about how much the players get paid ... then suggests he or she could do their job.
Right, of course you could. Despite misconceptions that most players arrive in the NFL after proving themselves somewhere in college football, they actually get discovered as short-order cooks making Grand Slam breakfasts in Hoboken, NJ. Good point, run a post route and don’t come back.

7. Guy who draws sweeping conclusions from any and every play, particularly those that occur early in the first quarter and when the teams are separated by a single score.
"I’m telling you Seattle just can’t handle Pittsburgh today," he will say. Easy there Nostradamus. I’m pretty sure that four-yard off tackle play for a first down midway through the first quarter hasn’t defined the game.

8. Guy in the Dan Marino jersey.
There is always a guy in a Dan Marino jersey... (or Brett Favre).

9. Boyfriend of girl with exposed thong.
He will be constantly eyeballing every other guy in the place in a kind of territorial way. He also will attempt to cuddle with his girlfriend so that her mid-riff bearing sweater can attempt to reconnect with her low-riding jeans. The cuddling will be unsuccessful.

11. Guy who says, "He’s gonna score," every time a five-yard gain occurs.
Easy there hombre. There are players who aren’t on the screen. If this starts to get really annoying (and it will) start picturing this guy out drinking at the bar. For him, foreplay begins the moment any girl accidentally bumps into him standing in line at the bathroom.

12. Guy who calls for the quarterback to be replaced midway through the second quarter with the score something like 10-3.
"I’m just telling you (insert quarterback’s name here) is just not getting it done." You always have to love this guy. It doesn’t matter how many regular season games the starting quarterback has won or that no healthy starting quarterback has been replaced in the Super Bowl in either of your life times. Guaranteed, this guy has a message board name like Pantyraidingqbstuffer48. Feel free to ignore everything he says ... if you can. If not, log on to his favorite message board and choose as your own name Pantyraidingqbstuffr48. Gleefully destroy his message board "credibility" post by post.

14. Guy who compares this game to his high-school game in New Mexico circa 1984.
Yeah, sure. The approximately three base defenses and three pass plays (screen right, slant, screen left) your team ran in those days really offer an outstanding template for the Super Bowl. I’m surprised Bill Cowher didn’t request the game film.

17. Guy who keeps saying, "I can’t tell if the Seahawks are in the dime or the nickel," while the Seahawks are on offense.
They’re in the quarter ... please shut up.

19. Woman who parades her fat kid around the room and says, "When Tommy grows up he’s going to play football."
Just because your kid is fat doesn’t mean he is going to play football. In fact, chances are, he’s just going to be fat. Please move him from in front of the television screen and tell him to put down the bowl of cheese-puffs.

20. Person who announces they only watch the Super Bowl for the commercials, talks throughout the game broadcast and then shushes everyone during the commercial breaks.
Does this even require any analysis? Shun them ... or stone them during half-time.

21. The insider.
This person will have the most ludicrous connection imaginable to one of the teams. He/she will say they share a refrigerator repairman with Jerome Bettis yet will insist all night with some tidbit of knowledge like, "Jerome Bettis’ sub-zero had cornmeal inside," will determine the outcome of the game ... according to the refrigerator repairman.

23. Woman who says something like, "I don’t understand why the Steelers have such ugly colors ... black and yellow, yuck."
Because their primary market isn’t prissy broads drinking martinis at Super Bowl parties. Please be quiet.

24. Couple that gets into an argument over how many beers the guy is drinking.
This means the guy is going to drink twice as many more beers as he otherwise would have. Whatever you do, don’t offer to make this guy a Lemon Drop.

25. Guy who makes everyone who doesn’t care about football uncomfortable by telling someone else’s kid to shut up when they are running around the house screaming.
This will probably be your friend ... and it might be you. Take a tip from ClayNation and during a commercial break flash a $100 bill at the kids. Then go outside and hide a $5 bill in the most difficult place imaginable. Then tell the kids it was a hundred and whomever finds it gets to keep it. An hour later when someone finds the five, say, "Someone else must have hid that. My hundred is still out there."

... I was the child in #25 - always. I would have preferred ClayNation's tip to being yelled at by a mean man with a glass eye. Good luck to all of you attending Super Bowl parties this weekend. Cheers!

Is Mike Golic On Curb Your Enthusiasm?

2006-01-31T21:49:00.000-05:00

I hate sports radio... well, not all of it. I really like The Tony Bruno Show and try to listen to at least a bit of it each day. And there's a show featuring a manic loonie from LA that's growing on me as well. I'm not really sure if Petros Papadakis always knows what he's talking about but I'm fairly certain that if I keep listening in, at any moment, there'll be dead air and someone will reveal that the guy just went down after a 2-hour PCP freakout. But for the rest of the shows on the radio, I do my best to stay away. I also fail miserably... because I'm a mindless boob.

What irritates me about sports radio is if you catch the 6 AM run of SportsCenter or Headline News, you'll know the topics on the queue of any major radio program. Why do I really need to listen in? Is it for the opinions? If you can hang in an extra 2 hours for Cold Pizza, you get a heads up on the two schools of thought for the day. I understand that these hosts are catering to an audience but they act as if there are only two ways to think.. and for those ways of thinking, there are specific shows for you: if you like your host to harp on the agreed upon "sportsnation take" until listeners start driving off bridges, maybe Dan Patrick is your show. If you dig ratings-driven contrarianism, Colin Cowherd could be your man (you types probably read a Skip Bayless article at the same time). If you're down with dead air, hoover-like fellatio on coaches and athletes, and listeners whose rants sound like Randall from Clerks, then Rome is for you. Beyond those basics, it's style over substance nonsense where the host - whose crankhead delivery is topped with banal Stu-Scottisms - spends the majority of his airtime pandering to the chimp-like listeners who believe the main problem with the Lakers is that Kobe shoots too much. So it came as a surprise to me that I recently started seeking out Mike and Mike in the Morning. Whenever I see advertisements for their show or hear them on the radio, I can't do anything but think about Curb Your Enthusiasm. I don't even know if the two men look alike but I can't shake the image that Mike Golic is actually Jeff Green - Larry David's manager - in disguise. Whenever he speaks, all I can hear is Curb's theme music and Jeff's wife Suzie screaming crazy profanities at everyone. "Fuck you, Larry! Get the fuck out of my house, Larry! Fuck you and fuck your tea! You four-eyed fuck! You fuck! You fat fuck! And you bald piece of shit! Where's the fucking head?" I even see Oscar, the Greene's corpse-sniffing dog chasing down intruders and watching Jeff and Larry get involved in situations. I can't get through 10 goddamn minutes of that crapjack radio show before I'm tracking down Curb episode recaps on the internet. I remember when Notre Dame fired Tyrone Willingham and Mike Golic through his alma mater under the bus. "What a Fredo," I thought. "What a shame." I haven't really cared for him since but now that I'm plagued by Jeff Greene images, I don't find the guy so offensive! Christ, I'm even starting to like him, as all I can see when Golic comes to mind is braindead, long-suffering Jeff having a sandwich while awaiting his wife's next attack.

It just doesn't make sense :(

Chicks Wrestle for Maxim to Decide Super Bowl XL

2006-01-30T09:11:00.000-05:00

So I have another update today at SportsbyBrooks, which means I have, yet again, neglected to make a real post. I'll get my shit together, I promise. Tuesday is looking pretty promising :)

First up is a video where Maxim decides the winner of Super Bowl XL with a wrestling match between half-naked greasy women. For those of you remaining that haven't yet left to check out that video, here's what else I have going on at SbB today:

Why does Phil "FIGJAM" Mickelson ranks #8 on GQ's Ten Most Hated Athletes List?
Physically, developmentally or mentally disabled people aren't just Steelers fans, they make the Super Bowl Edition Terrible Towels.
Meet Seven Barber, nemesis of Seven Costanza
Pats fan tries to hold Doug Flutie's dropkicked ball for ransom
Lawrence Taylor embarrasses Michael Jordan
and much more.. well.. 5 more.

Cane Me. I Read Jay Mohr Again.

2006-01-27T00:47:00.000-05:00

I've got another update at SportsbyBrooks this morning where I hit on such things as:

Peter Frampton gave Denny Neagle head
Brent Petway: Michigan Wolverines baller and worst rapper known to man
Who's "the rich white guy" in the Pennsylvania gubernatorial campaign?
Princeton tries to disassociate itself from Bill Cowher
The USA Rock Paper Scissors League
and more safe for work goodness.

One thing I didn't include and should've was this article by Jay Mohr, which is, quite possibly, the most mentally defective thing he's ever written... if you've read any of Mohr's "pieces," you'll quickly realize that this newest installment of suck takes things to a whole new level, as Mohr laughs at black people and a few random Euros for having names that aren't quite up to the Anglo Saxon status quo. And while I'm sure the gist of these comments have crossed the minds of many people, the least Mohr can do is make it funny. Here are his jokes:

The two Earls (Boykins) play with a kid named Carmelo. Carmelo? Like the candy bar? I can see family day at the Pepsi Center now, "Hi, I'm Carmelo. This is my little brother, Nutrageous."

Some NBA parents seem to like French pronouns. Take, for example, LeBron James. Translated from French, this would be "The Bron," which would make his name Bron, which is what everyone calls him anyway. I have a question, though: If LeBron's mom had a baby girl, would the world have welcomed a LaBron?

Bonzi Wells may or may not have been named after a tree. Does he have a brother named "Birch"? Is he related to Charles Oakley? These are mysteries we may never know the answers to.

No Jay, what we don't have answers to is how you continue to be published and profiled week after week. Christ, I could've come up with these goddamn jokes but at least I'd have an excuse: I'm not a fucking comedian and no one pays me to be funny! Even though reading his tripe is like throwing my mind into a meat grinder, I keep doing it. Week after week I fall prey to the colorful blurb. "What will Jay suck about today, I ask" and off I go a-readin, only to be pissed off 4.2 seconds later. I ought to be bent over and caned. I'm ashamed of myself. Don't waste your life clicking that link... My deepest apologies for providing it.

Even Jeff Garcia Thinks Matt Hasselbeck Looks Gay

2006-01-25T05:07:00.000-05:00

You can check out my Hump Day thoughts at SportsbyBrooks where I provide updates on:

Anna Benson's plan to "christen"Camden Yards
Jerome Bettis' possible post-NFL career as long snapper coach for Notre Dame (yeah, I know - wtf?)
The petition to turn Super Bowl Monday, or Day After Big Game Day, into a national holiday
Troy Polamalu and Norah Jones, separated at birth?
and more..

I have another update scheduled for Thursday night, so if anyone spots any fun, crazy, interesting, amusing, silly, sex-related, or (fill in any adjective here) sporting links/news/pictures, please send it my way.

Cheers!

Damn You In Advance, Mark Shapiro

2006-01-23T01:47:00.000-05:00

So it's been a week.. well 2 weeks really since I only made one post in all that time, but I'm back with no explanation about my absence and I'm sure you all understand. So with that, I'm ready to press on with regularity once again.

I remember last month or so when idiot Yankee fans laughed uproariously at the Red Sox series of misfortunes. Manny wanted to be Manny in a new town, Edgar Renteria's busted ass was sent to Atlanta, boy-genius Theo Epstein departed the organization in a gorilla suit, and the Yankees became the new employer of ~~Way Back Machine Bernie~~ the Messiah after Boston failed to scrounge up an extra 12 million quid. It's all unraveling down in Beantown and those chumps will never be able to compete!...Right? I'm not so sure. Manny doesn't appear to be going anywhere, Epstein has returned, and the Sox have responded to the Damon loss with a multiplayer deal, the crux of which appears to be Andy Marte for Coco Crisp. Assuming the deal goes through, the Red Sox win the centerfield war. Crisp is a gritty player that has steadily improved during his 3 years in major league baseball and I think it's fair to wager that his years aged 26-29 are going to be better than Damon's aged 32-35. Crisp won't ever be some masterful leadoff man or a world-beating MVP but he's a solid hitter only now entering his prime. His CF skills left something to be desired in Cleveland, but I fail to see how he isn't an upgrade to the blackhole that was the Boston outfield.

In any case, lost in this news is the magic being worked by Mark Shapiro in Cleveland, who acquired the best prospect in baseball and only gave up his 3rd best outfielder to do it. The simple idea of Andy Marte was worth more than Edgar Renteria and now he's being shipped off to a team that is racking up a silly amount of young talent just starting to hit its stride. Marte is the type of player that you gamble on and build your franchise around, and if the hype surrounding him is spot on, he'll only further solidify the Indians' position as a perennial contender in years to come. This is the Indians lineup in 2007: CF - Grady Sizemore, SS - Jhonny Peralta, DH - Travis Hafner, C - Victor Martinez, 2B - Ronnie Belliard, 1B - Ben Broussard, 3B - Andy Marte. Broussard aside, that's a helluva core.. with the acquisition of a couple solid corner outfielders, Cleveland will be the newest team to contribute to my post-season nausea... At least I'll be able to prepare myself and say I saw it comin.... fuck.

SportsbyBrooks Update

2006-01-13T11:21:00.000-05:00

Hey hey, I'm plugging back into the world, so I'll be around regularly again. There is no old business, so in new business, Friday's fun can be found at SportsbyBrooks, where I have fun bits on:

Phil Simms, Ed Hochuli, and the gun show
EDSBS's "Are You Michael Vick" quiz? It could be you
Tobey Bryan's Backcourt Violation - Kobe's truth is good for porn fiction
SPiN's Hottest Significant Other Tournament features 31 Playmates, Penthouse Pets, models, athletes, and... Steffi Graf
Chelsea's Joe Cole gets a right beating over a hairdresser with 34DD's
and many more...

No Cheese on my Sausage McMuffin, Mr. Vick

2006-01-07T10:51:00.000-05:00

In response to being permanently kicked off the Virginia Tech football team, Vick said, "It's not a big deal. I'll just move on to the next level, baby." No apologies, no regrets, no accountability. While I hope the next level is my local McDonalds, the Golden Arches don't have pictures on their cash register buttons and that could be a huge challenge for Eddie El Salvador.

The obvious thing to do in this situation is lament the bonehead GM that will inevitably draft Vick, holding the belief that with some tough love, Vick will realize his potential, not only as a football player but as a man of character, as well. But I would like to know what Michael Vick is going to do about this. It was his success that most heavily contributed to El Salvador's warped sense of entitlement and as the big brother, as the most influential person in this kid's life, where has the guidance been and where is it now? When little brother does wrong, you teach him to have good habits because those habits become your character and that character becomes your destiny. You don't provide him with more money, Escalades, and boxes of Valtrex but sadly, I think that is exactly what Michael Vick will do.

Thanks, Vince

2006-01-05T00:41:00.000-05:00

In the post-game hysteria a few minutes ago, ESPN's Holly Rowe tracked down a disgruntled Matt Leinart and found him trapped in the midst of a throng of lights, cameras, and sports reporters. After an exchange of inanities, the conversation ended like this:

Matt Leinart: "I still think we're a better football team - they just made more plays."
Holly Rowe: "Thanks, Vince."

A fitting end.

Edit: I don't have a lot to say about this game. For those of you leaving comments about how USC should have won because of this or Texas lucked out because of that, save it. The Rose Bowl was rife with missed opportunities, costly mistakes, questionable coaching calls, and shoddy refereeing but what game isn't? ~~Texas~~ Vince Young made the right things happen when it mattered and the deserving team won an incredible game.

I cheered for USC, as my hatred for all things Texas trumped any negative feelings I have for the Trojans, but I have to admit a bit of satisfaction watching USC get USC'ed in the final minutes. You can think back to the few games in the last 2-3 years where USC was outcoached and outplayed only to pull a miraculous victory out of the jaws of defeat because Reggie Bush is Superman... or a superpusher. But not this time. Mack Brown didn't try to outwit Pete Carroll or pull some razzle-dazzle gimmick out of his arse and Vince Young didn't lead clock-draining Patriot-esque drives to keep the Trojan offense off the field. The Longhorns lined up, said, "That's fine, we'll do it your way," and Vince Young Bushed USC to win the National Championship. As much as I hate the Texas Longhorns, that was a beautiful thing to watch.

Please Die, Al Davis

2006-01-03T23:30:00.000-05:00

I saw an article on Yahoo! Sports whose headline read "Raiders' 'Just Win' Mantra Dooms Turner." As if it was ever that dramatic. Any mantra short of "Just Don't Suck" left Turner in the depths and now that non-coaching bastard is gone, so huzzah. Having said that, I remain unsatisfied. The Oakland Raiders Restoration Project is a two-part process and firing our rag of a coach was only the first step; the second and most important is death.

Al Davis, you're up, buddy.

Ya see Al, with you at the helm, the Oakland Raiders will suffer another 10 years of coaching retreads, "scheme" guys, and softball personalities. There will be no leadership and there will be no progress. God forbid you put some leaders on the roster or pay top dollar for a great coach that you can leave alone and support. Oh no. Not you. You need a puppet that's as useful as my boyfriend after a blowjob and that, Al, is why you must be shuffled loose the mortal coil. Continuing to tolerate your existence is in direct violation of the "Commitment to Excellence," a way of life that I, as a Raider fan, hold near and true to my heart. As a result, it's over. Pack it up, bring a couple coins for the boatman, and we'll be on our way. Just to make sure you go out in style, I'm gonna get Death to pick you up in a pimped out '76 El Dorado... we'll take that bad boy across the River Styx instead. How ya like that?

**Somehow, the death of Al Davis will not save the Raiders from Mike Martz, the NFL's smarmy doer of great evil... I weep for the future.

Absolutely Laughable

2005-12-30T07:55:00.000-05:00

verrated

And so it goes with the high-flying Oregon Ducks; the second best that the Pac-10 had to offer. Oregon was snubbed, ya know. Sure, they were blown away by USC and one of those wins came against a 1-AA team, but they were more deserving of a BCS bid than the 2-loss chumps set to play in the Fiesta Bowl. What, you didn't see their gimmicky offense running all over that fierce west coast competition? Well if you had, you'd understand that Notre Dame and Ohio State are playing in Tempe for two reasons: money and the great conspiracy to leave the only true 1-loss contender in the cold. Rather than do what was right, the BCS sentenced Oregon to a wintery purgatory otherwise known as the Holiday Bowl and true to Pac-10 form, the Ducks had their asses handed to them by some jokers from the Big 12..

What a bunch of fucking poseurs.

For nearly 60 minutes, Oregon played football at a level of suck that is hard to fathom and did so against an Oklahoma squad that, though improving, had no business beating a Top 10 team. Oregon's receivers were lightning quick but had hands made of stone, their linemen were soft as cotton and couldn't dominate a blowup doll tied to a bed let alone the lines of scrimmage, and their quarterbacks? Remember that episode of Seinfeld (I think it was "The Summer of George") where Jerry and George work together to date one woman?

George: Listen to me. We're always sitting here. I'm always helping you with your girl problems, you're always helping me with my girl problems. Where do we end up?
Jerry: Here.
George: Exactly. Because neither one of us can handle a woman all by ourselves.
Jerry: I'm trying.
George: I've tried. We don't have it. But maybe the two of us, working together, at full capacity, could do the job of one normal man.

THAT is the Oregon quarterback situation where the role of Jerry is being played by Brady Leaf, brother of the biggest bust in NFL history... how's that for a pedigree? The kid has a $10M arm and a 10 cent head but that's neither here nor there. Oklahoma should have won this game by at least two touchdowns but lucky for the Ducks, Bob Stoops sphincter started to pucker in a way familiar only to Lloyd Carr and Adrian Peterson's football IQ is about 20 points lower than his regular IQ.

Here's a tip, not only to Oregon, but also to Tom Hansen of the Pac-10 and whatever school finishes 2nd in the conference next year: if you spend a month whining about how deserving you are and how much you've been disrespected, you'd best show up and shock the world when game time comes round. For the second straight year, Pac-10 teams have not only failed to show up, they've been exposed for the overhyped frauds everyone not living on the west coast knew them to be. We're through with you Pac-10. You've officially forfeited your right to bitch. Your conference is comprised of USC and various sacks of beans that take turns being the sham of the year. Get used to that.

It's 3 am

2005-12-29T03:01:00.000-05:00

Given the time of year, my posting will be pretty sporadic for the next few days... then again, you probably figured that out already.

I won't give you a regurgitated bit of sports-radio wisdom regarding the celebration of mediocrity that is 3/4 of the bowl game schedule but I'd like to present a new bowl idea dreamt up primarily by Coz .. the Polar Bear Bowl. We'll replace the Capital One or Outback Bowl with this gem and play it at Lambeau under classic Green Bay conditions. Players, most of which won't go to the NFL, will have a chance to play on this legendary field, Green Bay can have an extra boost to its little economy, and SEC fans can have another thing to bitch about... I doubt they'll travel well to a game like this but Notre Dame or a Big Integer team is involved, filling the seats should be no problem.
While the death of James Dungy was tragic and all, will someone ever question why his girlfriend went for a walk at 1 am only to return 10 minutes later t0 find that he'd hung himself and wasn't breathing? I don't buy it. Her story reeks.
I just pulled for Nebraska and let go a "whooo!" when that last ditch Cal-Stanford Band effort by Michigan ended in failure while Mike Tirico unobjectively emoted in the background. I feel dirty but what the hell kind of finish was that? If anyone knows how to fashion a cock up like this, it's Lloyd Carr. I hope Michigan holds on to this guy for another 20 years.

Season after season of collapses and coaching miscues will not prevent voters from placing Michigan in next year's pre-season top 5 or 10. Inevitably, the same voters will be surprised that the Wolverines were so grossly overrated when week 7 rolls around and UM already boasts 2 losses.

Watching Bill Callahan taste victory, even at the expense of Michigan, made me nauseous.
I forgot the NFL was playing on Saturday and didn't have my fantasy teams adequately prepared, but I managed to squeak out a championship win, besting Boss in the finals of the playoffs by 5 points. Steve Harvey finished 3rd, Beano came in 4th, and I'm not sure how the rest of the office fared. When I congratulated Boss on a job almost well-done, he threatened to fire me if I spoke of it again. This seems to be an abuse of power.
Lord help you if you are one of these girls: The Girls I Have Dated.
During Secret Santa activities at the office, one of the secretaries gave another a gag scratch-off lottery ticket. The ticket was a $100,000 winner and the woman started freaking out - it was the crying and the thanking God and the whole new lease on life deal. See, she's a single mother with a son in high school and a daughter in college and making $40,000 per year leaves money pretty tight. I don't know if she was planning to quit or what but after she told off a load of people she didn't like, I don't think she left herself many options. In any case, the gift-giver finally revealed the truth - naturally, tears followed and the woman went home for the day. I don't think she came back either. I found out tonight that the gift-giver has been suspended from work after the completion of the Christmas holiday and I have to agree with the move. You can't play with people's emotions like that, especially when they're in dire straits. In a similar and more amusing vein, check out this video: The Winning Ticket.
I need to surf and I need it bad... so much so that it's giving me the tinglies inside. My boyfriend misinterpreted my needs and believes that I'm in heat. If I can't ride the waves, I'll ride him instead with equal voracity but he can't rock me like the ocean can. Hopefully he won't read this and have an episode. If he does, I love you baby.. I'm dreadfully tired and this is all lies.

Merry Chrismukah

2005-12-25T00:57:00.000-05:00

If you're looking for a Happy Holidays greeting, I'm sorry, but this is the best I can do. I don't celebrate holidays created after I was born (I'm lookin at you Kwanzaa) and I don't give a damn if Merry Christmas and Happy Chanukah offend your PC sensibilites. I know it's rough hearing Merry Christmas when you're not down with Christ but get over it. It lasts a month and it's over. Around 10 months out of the year I hate people telling me "Good morning." They're too perky and I'm too tired but you know what? I fake a smile and move on. You all should do the same. Oops, that wasn't a very festive attitude. My apologies, all. I lost control.

To my Gentile friends: I wish you and your loved ones a safe, warm, Merry Christmas.
To my fellow Jews: Happy Chanukah ... try to avoid MSG poisoning on Christmas Day.

I Gotta Lotta Problems with You People!

2005-12-23T11:40:00.000-05:00

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!

SportsbyBrooks Update

2005-12-21T09:38:00.000-05:00

Check out my Wednesday update for SportsbyBrooks, which includes:

The bloggers of Hey Jenny Slater present The Simpsons Cavalcade of College Football, which compares college football teams with members of The Simpsons cast.
An ESPN SportsNation poll shows 34% (nearly 19,000) of voters would prefer to have Reggie Bush over LaDainian Tomlinson for the next five years.
Terry Bradshaw, Brad Johnson, & Hitler
Felisha Terrell Owens gets nekkid... well, almost.
LSU girls like it "Dawggy" style
When Tyrone Willingham dismisses the ineffective, it's called "business"
and many more...

The Lord of the Idiots Is Off to the Bronx

2005-12-21T00:24:00.000-05:00

"There's no way I can go play for the Yankees, but I know they are going to come after me hard. It's definitely not the most important thing to go out there for the top dollar, which the Yankees are going to offer me. It's not what I need."
~ Johnny Damon

So I had this long complaint written up about Johnny Damon's agreement to sign with the Yankees. You all know I hate him and his noodle arm, but after sleeping on it (the issue, not the arm), I've decided to shut up on this particular matter. Damon's fast but his arm is the worst, so it feels like the Yankees did nothing but put Bernie Williams in the way back machine and re-signed him for too much money and too many years.. but all things considered, this was a solid move that filled a dire need. All I hope is that when Damon inevitably shaves his beard and cuts his hair, he doesn't end up like Samson and lose all his powers.

As for the move on Dotel, I like the gamble. He'll be ready to go after the All-Star break and having a rotation of Dotel, Farnsworth, and Rivera finishing games as we head into the playoffs makes me all tingly inside ... which is a stark contrast from the feelings I had when Paul Quantrill and Mike Stanton were heading out to the mound. Nice moves, Cashman.

And no -- I will not retract anti-Johnny Damon comments made in the following posts: Lord of the Idiots; Schillings, Damons, and Scarves; Down with Chris Berman.

2005-12-16T20:21:00.000-05:00

Hey kind citizens. I'm scheduled for an update on SportsbyBrooks next week, so if you spot any crazy, funny, entertaining, (or any other adjective) sports links, pictures, or news out there, please email them to me at flash12@gmail.com. Further, if boobs are involved, that makes it even better.

Cheers!

Trouble With Your Man? Use Dickie V!

2005-12-15T20:56:00.000-05:00

Ladies! Do you need a painless way to get one-night stand errors out of your house before anyone notices? Are you eager to kick your boyfriend's sorry ass to the curb by the end of this Chrismukzaa season? Look no further than the Dick Vitale Alarm Clock. Set the alarm and wait by the door with his clothes in hand. At go-time, one of fourteen vivacious Vitalisms will harshly rouse his snoring 'til noon ass out your bed and send him running out the door. Just toss the clothes at him on his way out; he won't be back.

I asked the man in my life what he'd think if I gave him one of these. "I would think "Oh please God let me die in my sleep.'" ... He'd better not act up.

Message to Paul Hornung

2005-12-13T21:04:00.000-05:00

STOP! Please, just stop commenting on issues!

As most of you recall, Paul Hornung created a heap of controversy and outrage around these parts while making an appearance on Detroit's AM-1270 sometime last year. He was asked why it seemed as though there were no dynasties left in college football; did limited scholarships have something to do with it? "Notre Dame is playing eight bowl teams next year [Michigan, Michigan State, & Purdue to start the season]... and it's always year in and year out one of the toughest schedules. You can't play a schedule like that unless you have the black athlete today. You just can't do it, and it's very, very tough, still, to get into Notre Dame. They [he means Notre Dame and its alumni] just don't understand it, yet they want to win."

Nowadays, the 1956 Heisman Trophy winner is pleased with the success Notre Dame has had under new head coach Charlie Weis. Though he thinks the Irish's recruiting problems have been solved by Weis, Hornung continues to stand by his remarks — to a degree.

While speaking at the Hilton recently, the Golden Boy said, "We do need to lower our standards to get the best black athletes. But we need to do that to get the best white athletes, too."

White athletes. Black athletes. Well... I guess that's okay. But what about the athletes of the Pacific Rim, Paul? I wanna see more Samoans, goddammit! Give me 4 Junior Seau's and 7 Troy Polamalu's (and a way to recruit their fast, strong, mean kin) and you'll be looking at the newest dynasty! Defense wins championships, ya know. And while we're at it, let's throw in The Rock. He's half black, half Samoan. We can put him on the sidelines and call him Coach Tony Rocky Horror, Defensive Coordinator.

Confused President Bush Nabs Reggie Bush's Heisman

2005-12-10T23:38:00.000-05:00

Like I said way back in September, with this type of ability, he certainly deserves it.

In other news: Confused President Bush Nabs Reggie Bush's Heisman Trophy
By Ion Zwitter, Avant News Editor
New York, December 10, 2005

An apparently confused and disoriented President George W. Bush appeared unexpectedly at Manhattan's Nokia Theatre in Times Square today to accept the Downtown Athletic Club's prestigious Heisman Trophy, the highest honor awarded annually in college football. The president's crashing of the ceremony severely disrupted proceedings and cast some doubt as to whether the award will in fact be awarded to its actual intended recipient, USC running back Reggie Bush, who has long been considered a favorite to clinch the trophy.

"It was really bizarre," said Larry Huberto, a spectator at the event. "Reggie Bush's name had just been announced as the Heisman Trophy winner, and he was heading up to the stage to accept the trophy, when all of a sudden about a dozen secret service guys come charging in shouting and everybody freezes. About thirty seconds later, President Bush comes in and goes up to the stage, smiling and waving at everybody like we were happy to see him or something. The whole audience was just standing there with their jaws dropped."

According to several witnesses, President Bush strode purposefully to the podium, using the newly revised extra-purposeful walk he has been perfecting with his choreographer Vladla Sylvianne during his recent Asia junket, grasped the presenter warmly by the hand, and accepted the Heisman Trophy intended for Reggie Bush.

The president, apparently mistaking Heisman nominee Reggie Bush for a waiter, also asked the college football superstar to "get me a bowl of pretzels, and pronto", according to eyewitnesses.

"Then he gave like a kind of speech, only it was different from his regular speeches. More natural, kind of, and also stupider," said Bobby Derrick, another spectator at the event.

"He said 'I'm real happy to be getting this nice award, this Houseman trophy' – he didn't even know it was called a Heisman – 'and want to thank y'all for y'all's support. I didn't know cheerleading was even qualified for the award, but I'm real appreciative to be getting all your appreciation after all these years.' Then he just kind of grabbed the trophy and took off."

President Bush then had some difficulty extricating himself from the proceedings, fumbling several times with three different locked doors before a secret service agent showed him the one though which he had entered ninety seconds earlier.

"He kind of tried to pretend he was just being funny," said Mr. Derrick, "but he obviously was just too stupid to find his way out on his own. Must be the exit strategy thing."

Vince Young + Gangsters + Trash talk = National Championship.

2005-12-09T18:58:00.000-05:00

I hate the University of Texas - the fans, the players, and even that wasted medium-well opportunity, Bevo. For them, there is no love to be found here. But for quite a while, I've had a soft spot for Vince Young. Every year the collegiate football world sees quarterbacks in the same mold as Vince but I can't think of any more dangerous. His ability to win games seemingly on his own (2005 Rose Bowl vs. Michigan, 2005 vs. Ohio State, & 2004/5 vs. Oklahoma State) and destroy teams rather effortlessly is what sets him apart. Now, I don't think he's the best pure quarterback in college football and he's certainly not the best all-around player, but Young is a spectacular athlete and I respect what he's accomplished both on and off the field. From all reports, Young is a good kid - humble, generous, responsible, and all of that other crap we pretend to value over athletic prowess. A small part of me always rooted for him, so when I was directed to an article where Young details why the won't be intimidated by USC and what he hopes voters look at when picking the Heisman, I expected the typical cliches and fluff.

"They have great speed. We have great speed. They have a great quarterback. We have a great quarterback. Both have great running backs. We can go on down the line. They have a funny coach. We have a funny coach. I'm looking forward to it." Harmless, right? But as it develops, Young slowly becomes your typical buffoon.

On what Heisman voters should look at when making their selection:
"I hope they'll [Heisman voters] see the numbers I've put up are basically from the first half. The second half I'm basically on the bench. If I played a full game, I'd have some more stats. But Coach [Mack] Brown doesn't like to blow out people, so he puts our starters on the bench." He followed this genius up with, "If they look at that and how much I love my teammates and how well we play together and how big of a leader I am to them, I'm pretty sure I should win it."
Translation: "Vote for me because I'm so inVINCEible in the first half, by the second, Coach sits me just to have mercy on the innocent. It's a shame for my stats but I'm so hot, I'll set my uniform on fire and that's not safe for anybody." Way to make a case for yourself, Vince. Jesus.

Why Young may not win
"If they're just looking for the big, big highlights, Bush is going to win. I had a couple highlights, but not as much as he does."
Translation: Reggie Bush is an electrifying, human highlight reel. I guess you'd vote for him if you're into that best college player ever kinda thing. But for those of you interested in Michael Vick but slower and with a more accurate arm, I'm your man.

Are the Horns intimidated?
"Intimidated by what? I don't know why people think they're going to scare us. We've been to the Granddaddy of Them All. We've been in the big game as well." I side with him here. In addition, the 2005 USC team isn't 34-0 with back-to-back national championships -- the program is. This particular team is 11-0 and could easily be 9-2; they're not as scary as the media makes them out to be.

Has USC seen an offense or a team like the Longhorns?
"They haven't seen the different guys on our team who are gangster," Young said. "We've got some guys who will talk some trash... If they say something to us, we're going to talk back and we're going to talk trash the whole game."

Ooooh, look out USC - not only are the Horns gangster, they also have plans to talk trash. I bet that'll get you off your game. A well-timed "how ya like that, bitch?" here and a "fuck you muthafuckas" there and the Texas Longhorns may pull off an upset in the 8th installment of Game of the Millenium.

IU Hoosiers Lose to Indiana State.

2005-12-06T23:58:00.000-05:00

Bad move, Coach Davis! You should've sent out the goon! Mike Davis, the lame duck coach who's carried the Midwest's Torch of Mediocrity since Tyrone Willingham split for the coast, lost yet another battle of wits earlier this evening to the Indiana State Sycamores. Though the final margin was only 5 points, Larry Bird's alma mater outscored the no. 18 Hoosiers 42-32 in the second half. For those who fail to understand the magnitude of this loss, imagine North Carolina getting outcoached and outplayed by Eastern Carolina and tack on two consecutive seasons of failing to make the NCAA tournament because they're coached by the Norv Turner of college basketball.

I'm not a fan of Hoosier basketball and never have been. When I was 9, I cheered for them during the '92 (I think) NCAA tournament. They were playing Duke and I wanted to piss off my dad. After 10 minutes of my claps and cheers, he sent me to my room and I spent the rest of the night playing Tecmo Bowl and Ninja Gaiden. A couple of years ago, I made a second effort when my ex transferred there. In the beginning, I put forth ~~a valiant~~ an admirable 'Go Hoosiers' effort.. I wore a couple shirts, the requisite girlfriend jersey, and even bought a visor. Ex advised that cheering for his team wasn't enough; I had to root on IU Hoops as well. I tried - I really did - but my dislike was too great and I couldn't hack it; 5 weeks of fanship went down the tubes. X bitched but why should I change allegiance just because he did? I started hating IU out of spite, but in the last year or so, that hate has changed to pity. A program so meaningful to college basketball doesn't deserve to crumble at the feet of ineptitude. Mike Davis should have been fired a year ago but I imagine the thought of ESPN descending on Bloomington with calls of racism faster than a crackwhore drops to her knees was too much strain for the administration to bear. Hopefully, they'll be ready this time around.

SportsNation: Mike Hampton Reliable #3 in 2006?

2005-12-05T23:11:00.000-05:00

Matt sent me this link where SportsNation asks if - due to the departures of Mazzone, Farnsworth, and Furcal - we're seeing the end of the Atlanta Braves dynasty --

I don't know what's more ridiculous - the leading authority in sports being unaware that Mike Hampton is unavailable until the 2007 season due to Tommy John surgery in September or 45% of the fobs who voted in this poll seeing these results and thinking the other 55% were crazy know-nothings.

Virginia Tech: Perennial Pretenders

2005-12-04T19:00:00.000-05:00

You put your right foot in,
You put your right foot out;
You put your right foot in,
And you shake it all about.
You do the Hokie Chokie,
And you turn yourself around.
That's what it's all about!

Before the ACC Championship game, the "analysts" were predicting Va Tech to win by two touchdowns and that they'd have an easy go of things because Florida State is lacking in talent. The Noles haven't had a first round draft pick since Javon Walker went to the Packers in 2002. Since then, they've only managed the 6th, 12th, 4th, and 3rd ranked recruiting classes (per Scout) and are working on the number 6 class this year. 6, 12, 4, 3, and another 6. Oh yeah. The talent is down, all right. God forbid coaches develop the talent they're given and then be held accountable by the media after failing to do so. It matters not the school - Notre Dame, Penn State, Florida, Florida State - there's some unwritten code that prevents analysts from slaying the sacred cow and blaming a coach; instead, they go the sackless route and throw the players under the bus. But moving on.

Thanks to BCS implications, I had no choice but to pull for Bowden's boys last night. I never thought they'd win but I tossed some shout-outs to Yahweh to see if he could force the Noles to play like a cohesive unit for a change. Well wouldn't ya know it - the Great I Am answered and then some. For three and a half quarters, the Criminoles remembered how to tackle, block, and even run the football. True to form, they tried to give the game away in the fourth quarter but Frank Beamer saved the day with rancid playcalling and abysmal clock management. Virginia Tech's propensity to thump teams in the middle of the pack only to have their dicks recede into their ball sacks once its time to prove that they're true contenders (see: VT vs. Miami) is truly fascinating. As a result, a four-loss Florida State just laughed its way into the AARP Bowl with Joe Paterno. I'm thoroughly amused. At the completion of this epic game, I predict that both coaches will die on the sidelines.

Larry Johnson Whines About Kansas City Citizens

2005-12-02T14:40:00.000-05:00

It's always been my understanding that UFO's go after green teeth while they're tying down their trailer in preparation for the next F5 but it seems that the aliens have found a new target.

In other news, Chiefs running back Larry Johnson, who's run like a man possessed since Priest Holmes departure, is complaining yet again. Though he's thrilled with his workload, he's not so pleased with Kansas City as a town. "Everybody's old. It's like the Bush Republican crowd." Johnson says he doesn't feel comfortable with the Kansas City citizenry because they don't accept his personality, his tattoos, or the way he dresses.

"I'm just very uncomfortable with the people here and the way they see me and the way they sometimes treat me. It has nothing to do with football. It has to do with when I'm out on the town."

Yah huh. Newsflash Larry! It's not your tattoos or your Roc-a-Wear or your personality. It's your crapass attitude and your inability to behave like you didn't just get off the corner. When you go out on the town acting a fool, beating your girlfriends, and engaging in random acts of thuggery, old white people tend to frown at you! I know it's crazy and traumatic but even if your claims are true, it can't be worse than anything you experienced in 4 years at Happy Valley - a place that makes Kansas City look like Compton. Shutup and run the football.

Nick Lachey & Sports? Blame Jessica Simpson

2005-11-30T22:33:00.000-05:00

Am I the only person that has noticed Nick Lachey's big face at every marquee sporting event in the last year? From NFL halftimes and MLB All-Star games to presenting at the ESPYs and engaging in laughable sycophancy on the USC sidelines, Lachey has been there. He's the Law and Order of the sports world. It matters not the date, time, or channel, Mr. Jessica is on the air, offering up his unique brand of Average Joe "analysis," which is usually followed by a soul-lifting tune and shameless rooting for the popular contender. When the frequency of his appearances first became noticeable, I said, "Ya know, he must be getting his name out there in preparation for the day they divorce. He'll need a job when Nick & Jessica's Family Christmas is off the table."

So here we are. The divorce is on and it's gonna be a nasty bugger. As one would expect, Jessica's the breadwinner - at least, I assume so, as I don't see how her raking in a cool $35 mil last year compares to Nick's compensation for ESPN's College Gameday and 6 episodes of Charmed. But in a surprise twist, there isn't a pre-nup and California is a community property state! How do you let something like that happen?! I've narrowed the reasoning down to the following possibilities: 1) The couple was so blinded by love that they thought their marriage would last; 2) Naive Jessica didn't realize that while losing your virginity to your husband is super, eventually, a girl's just gotta have more dick; 3) Naive Jessica thought it'd last forever and Nick was smart enough not to dissuade her; and 4) Neither knew they'd ever rake in so many dollars, so it didn't matter. I have a feeling that it's #2 but I'm hoping it's #3. Whatever the reason, this poor girl is gonna pay through the nose until Lachey remarries or Britney Spears loses the weight and takes back her starshine.

One thing is certain though - now Nick Lachey will have the money to move out of Matt Leinart's apartment. Good on ya, Nick! I hope you get millions from that filthy tart. It's not that I think you deserve to get half; I simply blame her for YOUR overexposure on sports television. The fact that she made you so insecure in the stability of your relationship (and in turn, your career) that you had to ruin the viewing experiences of millions with your on-air presence is nothing short of criminal. Luckily, you've yet to invade the English Premier League or any other facet of soccer, but since I'm a realist, I've already braced myself for the announcement that you'll be performing during World Cup 2006 intermissions. Get all the money you can and get away from sports! Good luck, buddy.

Michael Irvin & Pookie: Kindred Spirits

2005-11-28T23:59:00.000-05:00

Ya know, I feel bad for Michael Irvin. It's not that he's a tortured soul or a loveable nitwit whose childish, irresponsible behavior is ruining his Hall of Fame chances or even a guy that is so wrapped up in drug abuse that he went on Dan Patrick's show and lied about having a crackpipe when it was really a "multi-colored pipe w/ marijuana residue inside a Versace sunglass case (that also contained a lighter and dimebags) that was tucked under" the driver's seat. The problem is that after more than a decade of Irvin's nonsense, I realized that, in many ways, the Playmaker is little more than an athletically gifted, wealthy version of Pookie from New Jack City and, well, that's simply not good for business. For the unfamiliar:

Wesley Snipes is Nino Brown, a Harlem hustler and drug dealer who seizes upon the crack boom of the mid-'80s that overran the country and New York City in particular. Along with Gee Money (Allen Payne), the stuttering muscle, Duh Duh Duh Man (Bill Nunn), the homicidal Keisha (Vanessa Williams), and the rest of his gang (CMB - Cash Money Brothers), Nino fashions a crime empire a la Scarface and revolutionizes the way crack is bought and sold. Charged with stopping Nino and his crew is Detective Stone (Mario Van Peebles), who recruits maverick cop, Scotty Appleton (Ice-T) and the equally crazy Det. Nick Peretti (Judd Nelson). Appleton enlists Pookie (a young Chris Rock), a crackhead he formerly busted in a drug sting. Pookie goes undercover in Nino’s organization and gets the cops further inside Nino’s world than they had managed to get before. But it’s not long before the pressure gets to Pookie and he’s back to suckin on his glass dick. This eventually proves to be his downfall. More occurs but it's not relevant.

Okay, so that really wasn't a great comparison but I never miss an opportunity to talk about the greatest movie crackhead of all time. Sure, there was the one in Menace II Society that offered O-Dog a blowjob and a bag of cheeseburgers in exchange for some rock but he didn't have Pook's winning personality. In any case, let's assume Irvin is telling the truth and Anonymous Cracky really came to his house for a little Turkey and an intervention. How did the friend get to the house with pipe in tow? You can't just pop one in your back pocket [or can you? My crack-cocaine experience is minimal] in hopes that it a) doesn't fall out or b) doesn't smash into tiny pieces when your crackass forgets it back there, so is it fair to assume that there's a carrying case? If so, I'll bet you it has a catchy name... Apple Jack Travel Pack, perhaps, or even Geek & Go. It'll include a padded space for your lighter, another one for your vial of crumbs, and a condom space for the inevitable Menace II Society moment. What a moneymaker that could be!

You shake your head at me now but there'll come a time when ESPN can no longer stand the heat for protecting one of its own from scandal and they'll have to let The Playmaker go. When that happens, Mike is gonna need a new way to bring in the dollars and I think Michael Irvin's Geek & Go could be just the ticket.

2005-11-26T15:23:00.000-05:00

Ya know, it's just not a proper college football Saturday when you can't watch Lloyd Carr snag defeat from the jaws of victory and choke a game away for the Michigan Wolverines.

[Hattip: Matt Geiger]

George Best, 1946-2005

2005-11-25T13:21:00.000-05:00

George Best was a genius, a magician, a legend and arguably the most talented footballer of any generation. No one was faster, braver, more clever or destructive. And while Pele, Cruyff, and Maradona were stunning, Best was sublime, possessing a bit of each in his game and more. His engine rivaled that of Manchester City legend Colin Bell and Frank Lampard of Chelsea, he shot the ball from both feet with equal brilliance, and was unstoppable in the air. It's often said that the best judges of a footballer are the players themselves and if you speak to anyone who trained or played alongside Bestie, they'll tell you the same thing - he took your breath away.

I awoke this morning to find that the man named by Pele as the greatest footballer of all time had passed just hours before at the age of 59. Born 10 years too late, I never had the pleasure of witnessing his genius on the pitches of Europe, but I'll be forever grateful for the impact he had on my life and that of others, as well as the beautiful game. Whatever your views on Bestie.. that he was an icon, a wasted talent, a tabloid alcoholic, or simply the soft-spoken bloke on Sky Soccer Saturday, take solace that his demons are finally behind him.

This takes a moment to load after pushing play.

Times Online Obituary: George Best was the most talented British football player of his and arguably of any generation. He appeared to play and read the game at a different pace from those around him. He possessed dribbling skills which, in the words of his team mate Pat Crerand, could leave opposing defenders with “twisted blood”, and a balance which enabled him to ride or avert the most ruthless tackles, which his reputation and ability to humiliate the hard men of the game inevitably attracted. His goal-scoring record was phenomenal for a winger. Best was quick, brave, and a sublime passer of the ball when he could curb his natural inclination to hold onto it for as long as possible. At his best, he gave the impression that thought and execution were a seamless whole, and at all times he approached the game with the passion and excitement of a young boy. Even the incomparable Pelé once called him “the greatest footballer in the world”.

George Best Tributes - Premier League
Football Mourns George Best Death - BBC Sport
Best Man - BBC Sport
Football Legend George Best Dies - Financial Times

All Premier League matches this weekend will conduct a one minute's silence prior to the kick off to honor Best for his sublime footballing skills and the special contribution he made to the game.

George Best, footballer, was born on May 22, 1946. He died on November 25, 2005, aged 59. Rest in peace, Bestie.

Danica Patrick Marries Oldster

2005-11-23T14:48:00.000-05:00

Danica Patrick, age 23, married physical therapist and resident oldster, Paul Hospenthal (pictured on the left) on Saturday in Scottsdale, Arizona. Patrick met the 40-year old Hospenthal while seeking treatment for a hip injury from a yoga session. What kind of pod injures a hip while harnessing her chi? And apart from that, I didn't even know it was okay to pick up a man while he's getting personal with your hips and thighs each day on an orthopedic table. I've been through tons of physical therapy for ACL injuries and the like and I've yet to pick up a man in this process. I wish I'd known there were new rules. Sure, most the PT guys in our training room lack a certain salt n' pepper charm but there must be a couple Social Security recipients in the athletic department who think I'm a right catch. I'm still waiting to be treated to a Long John Silver's dinner courtesy of an AARP card discount but since I've never thrown out a hip, my potential suitors may not think we have anything in common.

All that said, good luck to Danica. I hope she's found forever happiness with her wise, mature man. When she has kids, I bet his Medicare will cover the expenses; her millions will be protected.

Why Is Norv Turner Still Employed?

2005-11-21T19:07:00.000-05:00

The Oakland Raiders are taking years off my life. I'll be honest - I never thought this would happen. I remember just three years ago when I was full of hope for the future. I skipped class and practice to watch the Raiders get blown away at Super Bowl XXXVIII. I returned to campus to find my coach waiting outside my dorm: "Team captains dont skip practice for the NFL." The penalty was a 21 mile run (21 for the number of players in my stead) in the snow at 0500; I had to finish by 0715. This was the first time my Raider devotion was a negative force in my life and since that cold, snowy morning, I've been through three boyfriends, broken 3 ribs, 2 ankles, and an arm, suffered 2 concussions, and now spend September to January on the verge of stroking out. I blame my life's sad state of affairs on Al Davis and his braindead decision-making process.

Aside from: going for big-name hype over fundamental quality in order to perennially field a collection of parts that don't fit; hiring 20 defensive coordinators in 25 years; holding on to a 30-year defensive philosophy of a non-blitzing, 4-man rush attack with 7 in coverage; not signing or drafting an impact linebacker or pass rushing DE since Ted Hendricks and Howie Long; wasting draft picks on athletes who run fast but can't play; being satisfied with the worst linebacking corps in the NFL, as it sits behind an underachieving, overweight defensive line; failing to develop Billie Joe Hobert, Todd Marinovich, Major Harris, Steve Beuerlein; not needing the draft because of the addictive need to pick up expensive mediocrity like Jay Schroeder, Jeff Hostetler, Trace Armstrong, Warren Sapp, and Ted Washington; drafting 4th round talent in the first round thanks to piss-poor scouting; fielding a weak sauce rush attack; lying about the commitment to excellence; hiring retread puppets that can't coach their way out of a wet paper bag; watching quietly as the Raiders become the laughing stock of the NFL; letting Jon Gruden walk; not hiring Romeo Crennel; and allowing the slogan to remain "Just Win Baby" when it should be "We Used to Win, Baby," Al Davis' worst moves were were hiring Norv Turner and signing Kerry Collins.

Collins is an underachieving trainwreck that handles pressure about as well as Barney Fife. Outside of fantasy football (where he's the equivalent of the Stay-Puft Marshmallow man), his existence only offers value to the opposing team's defense. You'd think that if Randy Moss could get Chad Pennington into the NFL, he'd be able to turn Kerry Collins into a demigod but oh no. Collins' inability to turn big stats and huge plays into wins makes me wonder if we should be checking his bank account. Sadly, he's capable of three things: prancing to the sideline after pussing out in the pocket, tossing interceptions, and overthrowing everyone on the field by 15 yards. I'd ask for him to be replaced but we have no options. Maybe Phillip Rivers will be available soon. I'd rather take a flyer on a rookie with potential than waste another year with an inept pod who looks like he seeks out glory hole action in the restrooms of parks and truck stops. Okay.. maybe that wasn't fair. As for Norv, forget the fact that we're 1-9 in the AFC West in his tenure and are two games away from the first winless season in the division since 1962. He has about as much passion for the job as a piece of stale crust and he can neither control nor communicate with his players. As much as I want Kerry Collins to hit the road, I believe Norv is at least partly responsible for his incredible suckitude. Offensive genius or not, Turner has no business being a head coach. Maybe he can head east and hook up with Dave Wannstadt. They can relive their Jimmy Johnson glory days and craft up new ways to run Pitt into the ground.

There was an article in the Denver Post that speculated on the possibility of UCLA's Karl Dorrell replacing Turner at the end of the season. "The former Colorado and Broncos assistant is said to be garnering interest in the NFL after turning around the Bruins. Dorrell, the Broncos' receivers coach from 2000-02, would fit the profile sought by Davis. He's young, with an offensive background, has coached in the NFL in the AFC West and has California ties." If Davis hires this guy, it'll be more of the same. Dorrell was 12-13 against weak Pac10 competition coming into this season and this year, UCLA is nothing more than an overrated paper tiger. The Bruins had their manhood impugned by a 3-7 Arizona team, squeaked by Stanford and Washington State in OT, and needed late 4th quarter drives to beat Washington and Cal. I'd say that Dorrell, at the very least, needs more time to prove himself but knowing Al Davis, he drew up the paperwork after UCLA thumped Oklahoma in September.

Edit: And yes, I know the Raiders won yesterday. It's simply not good enough.

Stay Classy, Florida Keys

2005-11-20T17:41:00.000-05:00

[Hattip: Matt Geiger]

Chelsea and the Big Red Sports Machine

2005-11-17T17:27:00.000-05:00

Two bits of wisdom are thought to apply across all sports: Defense wins championships and meddling owners lose them. And though many owners are hands-on types that like to fiddle and tinker, there is another group that takes interference to a new level - The Meddling Owners Brigade. To be a member of the M.O.B., one must be a wildly wealthy, brazenly corrupt megalomaniac who fails to understand that his/her job is to stay out of the way, sign the checks, and let the football/baseball/basketball/soccer people in the front office do their jobs. It seems the crew, which includes Dan Snyder, Jerry Jones, George Steinbrenner, Marge Schott, Al Davis, Eddie DeBartolo Jr., and Jerry Reinsdorf, have invited a new owner to their sandbox of unwanted intrusion: Roman Abramovich.

According to the Daily Mirror (translation: take this with a mound of salt), the owner of the Chelsea Football Club (also known around here as Chelski, slags, tarts, whores, wankers, c^nts, and any other derogatory adjective that comes to mind) launched an official investigation to get to the bottom of the side's recent dip in form. After surviving 40 games without a loss under the guidance of Jose Mourinho, the Blues have suffered three draws and two successive defeats - one to Real Betis in the Champions League and then to Manchester United in the Premiership. It's being reported that Abramovich sent his key advisers to the club's training ground last week to interview manager Jose Mourinho's staff about the losses. The reported purpose of the investigation is to "ensure the dip in form was temporary and that problems with some players... would not become a major issue." But come on, this guy is an oligarch. It's only natural for him to believe that when things go awry, a conspiracy is afoot. As such, he likely believes that it's time to engage in old school Soviet sports machine terror tactics. Though I doubt this method will be useful in the English Premier League, at least he's being proactive. I'm a bit jealous.

*Update - "Tomorrow's press conference (Friday 18th November) with Jose Mourinho has been cancelled due to a number of untrue reports in some of today's newspapers." Yah huh, sure. Jose's in the hospital courtesy of a case of the broken legs delivered by The Red Mafia.

An Ode to a Gangbang

2005-11-16T23:59:00.000-05:00

"A group calling itself the 7th Floor Crew -- the name reportedly comes from the seventh floor of the Mahoney Residential College, campus housing at Miami -- made a recording referencing multiple acts of group sex, derogatory terms for women and minorities and dozens of curse words that lasts approximately 9 minutes. School officials say the song was recorded two years ago, but that seems to offer little solace." - Pat Forde, ESPN

Some gems:

If your ho the one gettin' fucked on the 7th flo'
Then you would know, cuz the bitch don't want you no mo'
She'd tell you she met a guy who was nice and candid
I think they call him T-Good, or the "big dick bandit"
Say he had a big dick, but I thought it was random
Then he pull out the fuckin' Magnum trojan condom
And he said, "Baby, that's not how it begin,"
Then he brought in all of his 7th flo' friends
She found out there was more to Miami than just a football team
There's also the 7th floor King Ding-a-Ling
She thought 5-2 was just my number, then she realized
You multiply the bitch up, then you get my dick size
First I put it in the pussy, then in the butt
That's all full, dog, the condom is filled up
---------------------------------
We the boys from that Penthouse suite, slangin' that dick
If you ain't 'bout the train, then fuck you, bitch
Cuz my boys gotta hit, too
Bend over and get tattooed by the boys from the 7th floor crew
You came a good girl, but you leavin' a ho
You wonder why they call me Thundercat, but now you know
If the pussy's nice and wet, you can believe I'mma fuck it
Oh, that's it, baby... suck it, suck it.
---------------------------------
Chillin' on the 7th flo', I gotta let these chickens know
Big Greg is in the house, and I'm fittin' to make these hoes choke
On my balls, on my dick, then I bust a nut, quick
On her face, on her chest, stick my dick between her breasts
Come on, fellas, let's get weird, stick ya dick up in her ear
While I'm laughin' at these guys, a second nut all in her eyes

A nut in the eyes burns. That's just not cricket, Greg Olsen! But my favorite line was this one: "She thought Five Two was just my number then she realized/you multiply the bitch up then you get my dick size." Yah sure. Go take a look at Tavares Gooden. If I was ever approached by a dude with that face coupled with that dick size, I'd run for the goddamn hills. No woman deserves to be visually and physically assaulted to that degree at the same time.

Listening to these fools take themselves so seriously elicits nothing from me but laughter. At 2 or 3 am on a random Wednesday night in 2003, I was: playing video games, drinking, getting involved in random shenanigans with boys, or all of the above. At the same time, these strokers were crafting almost-rhymes to lay on this lame ass beat while BET's Uncut Booty Videos played on a flat screen in the background. There were drafts, re-writes, and tireless practices; arguments over whether they should say "trick" instead of "bitch" in the line "If you ain't 'bout the train, then fuck you, bitch." The only reasons I can think of that explain why they never said bukkake is that they couldn't find a way to make it rhyme or they simply don't know how to pronounce it. This must've been a tireless undertaking. In any case, I now feel a sense of peace where college football is concerned. The down cycles of the traditional college football powers are officially over, a true 1 & 2 are going to battle for the National Championship, and the Miami Hurricanes have gone back to the roots that were carefully cultivated by the likes of Jimmy Johnson, Dennis Erickson, Ray Lewis, and Michael Irvin. The U is alive and well... The Convicts are back.

Collegiate Football Rivalries Enter NASCAR

2005-11-15T14:29:00.000-05:00

Do you think "Chris Rix" is the equivalent of a four-letter word? Do you wear jean shorts? If you answered yes to either question, then the NEXTEL Cup has something for you. In a first for NASCAR racing, college rivalries from the gridiron will settle the score on the track. Scott Riggs' No. 10 Florida State Seminoles car and Kyle Petty's No. 45 Florida Gators car will face off at the Ford 400 this Saturday at Homestead-Miami Speedway. The sponsorship is designed to give sports fans one more opportunity to gear up for the intra-Florida rivalry on the football field set for the following week.

The Company expects to create excitement due to the tremendous fan cross-over among the two sports. Exciting, isn't it? Just like the universities they'll represent, these drivers are right in the thick of title hunt... or not. This would be a great idea if the drivers were Tony Stewart, Carl Edwards, Greg Biffle, Jimmie Johnson (or anyone that actually matters) going after the final title of The Chase in, say, USC Texas, Miami, and LSU cars. But they're not! It's a nobody and a has-been racing cars sponsored by this season's also-rans. Good choice, NEXTEL. If they're going to stick with the Florida-Florida State theme, the least they can do is slap those sponsorships on the top cars and then pay Jeff Gordon to drive the South Carolina Cocks car... he can knock Tony Stewart out of the Chase at the last minute just for laughs.

Pardon the Quite Frankly

2005-11-14T10:43:00.000-05:00

[*Intro Side Note -- in a moment of extreme retardation, I manually deleted my entire AIM buddy list. I woke up around 5 am to a message saying, "Oh no! You're sending a virus to everyone!" Assuming that I was kicking out one of those "click here to see my vacation pics!" messages to everyone, I freaked out with the delete button. Turns out, there was no virus and I feel foolish. In any case, I got a lot of people back on [if you see me on your list, I got you] but I'm missing quite a bit of you, so please email me your SN and I'll re-add you, well, if you want.]

So my ESPN boycott continues. Though it took a few days to break the habit of tuning in whenever my mind goes blank (and it hurts my heart to know I'm done with "Jacked Up" on Monday nights), I'm adjusting quite well to only watching when they're actually playing sports. As a substitute for 8 daily airings of Sports Center, I refresh Fox Sports, CBS Sportsline, and TSN about 100 times a day, listen to more radio, and read various columns. But the thing I've noticed in my time away from ESPNing is that sports writing has become no different than the Aroundthepardonfrankly that I'm desperately trying to escape. According to Pardon the Quite Frankly (an article that somehow slipped below the radar), sportswriters have become a horde of "know-nothing, self-aggrandizing, laughing stocks." [Around the Horn, anyone?] While this may seem obvious, I guess I never gave the issue much thought.

I always wondered how chumps like Stephen A. and Jay Mariotti got on the air, but I never imagined being a blowhard that squanders precious inches of newsprint on trash talk and sound bites would actually better one's career. I made the mistake of assuming that most columnists crafted coherent essays and a chosen few were called up to the big time, only for evil producers to turn them into vaudevillian acts that are willing to eat dog food on air to make a buck. But according to a study done by the Missouri School of Journalism, columnists and editors "believe jargon, entertainment-based writing and ESPN's SportsCenter is altering the tone of sports writing," and that "creativity is being substituted for fact-based reporting, and sports reporters' aspirations of being on radio or TV has impacted their sports writing and reporting." So not only has ESPN ruined sports reporting for tv, it's slowly killing the printed word as well. Absolutely brilliant. Though a change at ESPN would help to reverse this trend in journalism, I'm afraid the damage has been done. Enjoy columns while you still can. Schtick is the wave of the future.

2005-11-12T10:52:00.000-05:00

Hmmm... maybe a picture like this should have tipped us off. It could have saved some Bucknuts a heap of frustration. That said, any frustration Bucknuts feel is always deserved. [click to enlarge]

Government Drops Palmeiro In Favor of 2Pac

2005-11-10T20:49:00.000-05:00

So Congress decided not to waste our hard-earned tax dollars pursuing Rafael Palmeiro on a perjury charge because there wasn't enough evidence. Whether this is true or not is of little difference to me, as I see no real purpose in continuing to go after him. His career is in shambles, Viagra banned him from schwinging for the fences on their behalf, and he's still sporting a Ron Jeremy-esque pornstache that's been serving as a homegrown cock block since 1983. The guy's life is down the tubes. In light of that, I'm pleased to report that Congress will opt instead to waste the nation's dollars on other matters of great sociopolitical import. One issue in particular presents us with the the question for the ages:

Who killed Tupac?

Rep. Cynthia McKinney, the Georgian Congresswoman known more for her paranoia and delusions of fancy than actual skills on the Beltway, has introduced a bill calling for an investigation of the murder of Tupac Shakur. The rapper was shot and killed after watching a Mike Tyson fight with Death Row Records president Marion "Suge" Knight in September 1996. Though conspiracy theories abound, the murder has never been pinned on anyone. Most believe it was the result of the heated feud between Shakur and Bad Boy's Notorious BIG, while others maintain that Suge Knight, the most despicable character in the hip hop world, conspired to kill his breadwinner because he was planning to leave the record label. But I'm here to tell you that these theories are all rubbish. It was the government - at least, that's what Representative McKinney will have us believe. Shakur was under government investigation when he was killed, and McKinney's proposal wants all government records on him released. In a laughable addition, she'd also like the government to create a Tupac Amaru Shakur Records Collection at the National Archives, as well as a second repository at the Tupac Amaru Shakur Center for the Arts in Stone Mountain, Georgia.

Wait a second. Doesn't she know that Tupac's not really dead; that he staged his own death to escape the spotlight and make a Machiavellian transformation to power? Come on, Cynthia - you fucking square.

The new legislation will be based on McKinney's Martin Luther King legislation that was, in turn, based on the legislation that will lead to the public release of all files pertaining to JFK's assassination. Apparently, Rep. McKinney missed Chris Rock's views on this matter. "We know that in 1999 a jury determined that there was a conspiracy to kill Dr. King that included our own government. To the extent that there are files available on the life and murder of Tupac, they, too should be released for public inspection. Maybe then, like the Tennessee jury, we'll get closer to the truth about the forces swirling around this young man that ended up taking his life."

HR 4210 (the Pac Bill) has been referred to the Committee on Government Reform, where it will likely languish for a very, very long time before it dies. But one day, Mr. X will kick a little nugget Fox Mulder's way... a tip about assassination video footage. With the help of Scully, Fox will learn the truth -- it was Cigarette Smoking Man all along.

It's Over. I'm Boycotting ESPN.

2005-11-09T03:51:00.000-05:00

Paul Maguire-Joe Theismann-Mike Patrick, Cold Pizza, Around the Horn, Mike Wilbon, Skip Bayless, Stephen A. Smith, Quite Frankly, 1st & 10, Chris Berman ruining baseball and highlight films, Joe Morgan, "I just wanna race, daddy," the NFL highlight montage featuring the song from the 4-year-old Coors "Twins" commercial, ESPN Hollywood, Stuart Scott, and now simulated press conferences for 3 Major League Baseball clubs in the heart of the NFL season.

I was attempting to watch the 6 pm SportsCenter when one of those "breaking news" graphics flew onto the tv. The next thing I knew, we were being whisked away to Boston for a simulated press conference. Five minutes of my life [that could have been used eating wings and contemplating time travel] went down the tubes while some guy pretended to be the guy that has yet to replace Theo Epstein. Sal Paolantonio and other ESPN reporters (forced to participate because they knew that resistance, in Bristol, is futile) brought on the inane, faux questions with a frenzy worthy of any afternoon with Scott McClellan. What's going to happen to Manny Ramirez? Is Paul Konerko coming in? Can you handle following in the footsteps of baseball's boy genius? Pressing questions. I wish they'd let me pretend to be the GM. My answers would have been gold and I would have worn a Bond Girl type business suit for good measure. ESPN has no more clue about these issues than I do, as they're probably consulting Joe Morgan to make the final call on the script. As a result, I can only assume that if I'd thought of all this first.. if I'd gathered all my housemates, friends, and anyone else that could be lured with wings and pints before ESPN put on its production, I could have turned the world upside down with MY simulated Q&A. I'd wax all GM-like about the future of my organization and the happenings with player personnel, wowing the masses with what COULD be. But alas.

I've reached my breaking point. Given the litany of offenses foisted upon the average sports fan, this should have happened long ago. But when a network struggles (if not flat out refuses) to report real news, it forfeits its right to push fake news on the public. As a result, I'm through. No more ESPN; no more espn.com. I'll get my Mark May updates from friendly people that submit his madness via email or AIM. I simply can't watch another minute and I can't read another headline (that is inevitably hidden behind a dropdown Nike ad). It's over. Commence boycott.

Yes, I Did Fall Off the Earth. It Was Nice.

2005-11-07T11:04:00.000-05:00

It's been nearly a week and for that I apologise. Truth is, I couldn't think of a thing to say that was of any bloody interest and then I got smacked around by a serious case of apathy. Saturday aside, the only happening of note was Boss finally noticing (after his near 11 months at the workplace) that my tongue is pierced. "Why in the hell ... Is this more of your crazy adrenaline junky stuff?" I had a brief flashback to the day I asked to attend Bridge Day and felt a twinge of sadness. Then, like a fool, I explained that I got the piercing for the hell of it during my freshman year and only wear the barbell for decorative purposes, as it tends to hinder the possibility for total control in other "areas" of life. Puzzled, he stared at me for a moment and right around the time I wished my jaw was wired shut, Boss realized what I meant. Awkwardness ensued. I hope he forgets about that exchange. The way I explained things made it sound like I'm suffering from a real case of the sluts.

In other news... Meet Angela Keathley and Renee Thomas -- Carolina Panther cheerleaders (er, TopCats) by day and brawling lesbians by night. Sometime on Sunday morning the two were bumping fuzzies in a bathroom stall at a Tampa bar but instead of walking calmly out of the bathroom in post-coital bliss, they were met by a disgruntled woman waiting to use the loo. The trio argued before Thomas popped the woman in the face. Both cheerleaders were arrested. While lesbian sex situations that end in fights are fantasies for a lot of you, I'm a little confused. How do two women have sex in a stall? I fully understand the physics of bathroom sex with men but with women, well, is someone on the floor? Is another on a toilet? Are there travel-sized strap-ons that allows them to handle things in a more traditional way? Ya know.. I shouldn't even be talking about this. Nevermind.

Tedy Bruschi's Best Moments from Sunday Night Football

2005-11-02T01:10:00.000-05:00

For those of you that missed the Bills-Patriots game on Sunday night, here's a priceless re-creation of what it was like to listen to Paul Maguire, Joe Theismann, and the third douchebag (I can never remember his name!) tonguing Bruschi's stones from start to finish.

Hattip: Justin Crowe

Nutt Sits Johnson; Will Use Untested Dick Against Cocks

2005-11-01T07:33:00.000-05:00

Penis euphemisms threaten to overshadow the upcoming SEC tilt between Arkansas and South Carolina.

Until today, Casey Dick was your typical redshirt freshman QB but due to Robert Johnson's impotence this season, Dick will be thrust into action against Steve Spurrier's Cocks this Saturday. Johnson has struggled mightily in the pocket, leading the Razorbacks to a sorry 0-4 record in the SEC and a 2-5 mark overall. As a result, Nutt is stripping Dick's redshirt under the belief that the young man deserves a chance to show if he can spark the big O.

"He has a strong arm and good instincts," Nutt said. "It's hard to explain. He just has 'it.' He just seems to have a knack for making some plays and we're going to give him an opportunity."

Ya know.. I've met other dicks claiming to have "it." They wow me with strong arms and knacks for making plays in practice and then I insert them into the big show, only to be left disappointed and annoyed by Saturday night's end. Hopefully this Dick will prove himself to be a sturdy, reliable option. I can't imagine how hard it could actually be, as one of his targets will be Penix, a freshman flanker that registered 800 receiving yards, 12 touchdowns, 30 tackles and 350 punting yards in his senior year of high school. Reasonable success this season should prevent backup quarterbacks from other SEC schools from transferring down to Arkansas but given how much cooters always love playing with nuts and penixes, it may be just a matter of time before Jim Bob Cooter leaves the Vols scout team to seek opportunity down in Fayetteville.

No More Bruschianity!

2005-10-31T16:06:00.000-05:00

Other than the fact that the Florida Gators are lucky John Tereshinski III couldn't hold DJ Shockley's jock, the only thing I remember about the weekend is that we rented Saw and I've been supremely frightened out of my gord ever since. My boyfriend started bumping his gums about Saw 2 but after reminding him that I love him greatly, I advised him to catch that one on his own time because I'm not down for more of that craziness. It scared me so badly that I was on the horn to Jesus for the rest of the night, and that's really something given that I'm a big ole Jew.

I do not practice Bruschianity and if the remaining 8 weeks of NFL broadcasts will be about fellating this guy, I'll be watching the remainder of the season on mute. I'm not trying to diminish his accomplishment - it is a rare man who has the strength and fortitude to return to one of the world's most brutal games after a stroke - but you know what? He's back and that's awesome, so let's play. I don't care if he was in 80% of the defensive plays because if he's good enough to be out there, then that is what I expect! No one said, "Tedy will be able to play a little." They said that save game conditioning, he was ready to go full tilt and if that's the case, anything less from him is the actual surprise. Hey Paul Maguire, lemme tell ya what, you old bastard -- I freaking get it. Tedy Bruschi is a god among mere mortals but I don't care how well he jammed up Eric Moulds when Mike Vrabel made the drive-stopping tackle on Willis McGahee. If he isn't directly involved with the play's success, I don't want to hear about him! "Uh.. McGinest on the sack. But that was Bruschi! Tedy Buhhh-Roooskiii falling to the ground with Mark Campbell in yet another epic battle of good against evil between the 40s!" I don't care!! When the drive is over and the offense is on the field, talk about the offense. I don't want to see more cameras going to the sidelines so we can watch Bruschi adjust his balls and shoot snot rockets. He's been medically cleared and for all intents and purposes, he's fine, so let's move on.

Ron Artest will appear on the newest cover of Penthouse with three bikini-clad models. Much to his chagrin, he was fully-clothed in the photo shoot, but rather than be discouraged, Artest chose to bare his soul in an interview. The embattled Pacer hopes that the next time he throws down, it'll be for money. Artest expressed his desire to square off with Pistons center Ben Wallace on pay-per-view for $10 million. Big Ben didn't respond to the invite, but his teammate, Dale Davis, who played with Artest predicted a Wallace victory in two rounds. I would put my money on Wallace but I have a feeling that Artest is actually David Banner in his most clever disguise yet. Jack McGee is likely having a helluva time tracking him down this time.

In other news, if you're a guitar player interested in expressing your love of the ganja, check out the goodness at Craigslist Vancouver.

Are Celebrity Lesbians Less Superficial Than the Rest of Us?

2005-10-27T13:40:00.000-05:00

Basketball star Sheryl Swoopes, a three-time Olympic gold medalist and WNBA MVP, came out publicly as a lesbian, making her the highest-profile team sport athlete to do so while playing. Good for her. My initial reaction to this news was, "Oh really? I thought she was married and had a son." My next thought was, "I wonder what her girlfriend looks like. I bet she's hot." Yeah, I know - I'm an ignorant tart. I based my flawed logic on the belief that successful, millionaire lesbians are as big a hit with the ladies as their straight male counterparts. I mean, look at Ellen Degeneres. She's a real ladies' girl. Anne Heche, Alexandra Hedison, and now Portia deRossi (the blonde from "Arrested Development" and "Ally McBeal"). That's not a bad run at all. Were I a lesbian looking for celeb lovin, I'd put Ellen on my list of people to date - she's funny, reasonably attractive, and has millions of dollars. But I guess one person does not a sample size create, as in my reserach, I've found that life partners of celebrity lesbians all seem to look like Rosie O'Donnell. Though you might say, "Well, all the outed celebrity lesbians look like Rosie O'Donnell," I present to you Cynthia Nixon - the (arguably) hot redhead from Sex & the City. What? Are redheads your game? Thought you had a chance with the smart, down to earth S&C girl? Sorry- that chance is saved for sweater vest-wearing education activist, Christine Marinoni. Much like Clay Aiken, she's getting hotter ass than you.

So when I googled Sheryl Swoopes' better half, I wasn't sure what type of woman I'd find. ... Meet Alisa Scott. I'll be honest, if you told me this was the girlfriend of a three-time gold medalist/millionaire who Nike named a shoe after, I would have laughed in your face and then asked for a hit of your herbal delights. But I suppose I should've seen this coming. The phenomenon of celebrity lesbians finding love with fat chicks is incredibly intriguing. I've never seen this occur to any significant degree with celebrity gay men, nor have I spotted it heavily in the hetero dating world. How often do you find athletes, movie stars, and corporate sharks (be they male or female) running around with members of the opposite sex that are more revered for their, uh, personality? It's probably 1 in every 500 cases, occuring most often with guys who married their high school sweethearts before they made it to the bigtime. And once these guys "make it," the original woman is frequently kicked to the curb, replaced by a younger, hotter model. So what's the deal here? Are the rest of us simply more superficial and shallow than celebrity lesbians? Is there something I'm missing?

ChiSox Success Kills Old Woman

2005-10-25T19:56:00.000-05:00

Unless you're brand new around here, you're well aware that I'm a lifelong fan of the New York Yankees. Though I'd like nothing more than to walk into the Yankee offices and have a Falling Down moment with an uzi, I love my team, absolutely and without equivocation. So it goes without saying that I won't be rooting on the Chicago White Sox, nor will I cheer for the Houston Astros. I'm hoping for a great series - no more, no less. If Houston wins, I'll be happy because Andy Pettitte was my favorite Yankee and Brad Lidge is a Domer. If the Sox pull it off, I'll smile, still beaming with pride for scooping Jon Garland out of fantasy free agency when he had 3 wins under his belt. I just want to see seven games of great baseball. But I'd like to know why more people can't do the same. Why must we be forced to deal with bandwagon wankers? It's one thing to watch a final series and like one side well enough to hope they win or to have a player you like and pull for his team. That's perfectly understandable. But what about the poseurs that didn't know the team existed until the post-season hype began and try to convince others that they've loved the team all along? I hate those people. They're simply unacceptable and they've got to go.

The worst bandwaggoners, of late, are the new Pale Hose supporters. These strokers are working on a gold medal performance in douchebaggery. Their nauseating existence almost forces me to actively cheer on the Astros, a likeable but bland team that irritates me largely because its fans are Texans. 80% of these Sox poseurs live within 200 miles of Chicago but when visiting the Second City, how many opted to hit Wrigley for a Chicago Scrubs game rather than venture to Comiskular to watch the best team in the American League? That ballpark was more than half empty from April to September and now there are millions having World Series parties and "living for this" in their brand new Joe Crede jerseys. They're the same millions that were all over Dusty Baker's Cubs in 2003. The only difference is that instead of fellating Kerry Wood, they're foaming at the mouth for Scott Podsednik, blissfully unaware that until 10 days ago, he was nothing more than a weak-hitting base stealer with no regular season homeruns.

But those things aside, the thing that's most pathetic about the ChiSox bandwagon is the inclusion of ship-jumping Cubs fans. Could you imagine the A's faithful pulling for the Giants to bring one home to the Bay? Even for a city so accustomed to losing as Chicago, I fail to make heads or tails of this phenomenon. At least there's one Cubs fan who chose to die rather than disgrace herself: 68-year-old Irene Egan. She went to her grave despising the South Siders.

Two weeks ago, Egan conceded to her son that she knew the Sox were doing well. "She's like, 'If them damn Sox go to the World Series, it will be the death of me,'" Allen Grove said. One week later, the Sox did, indeed, seal their first trip to baseball's Fall classic in 46 years. Two days after that, 68-year-old lifelong Cub fan Egan died. "The White Sox gave her a heart attack," her granddaughter said with a chuckle. "The White Sox killed my grandma. She was everything Irish, red, white and blue for patriotic and 'Go Cubs.'" Apparently, Ms. Egan was a hard-living, outspoken woman, and while she may be gone, her family says she may not be done with the Sox yet.

"She's probably having bar fights" in heaven, her grandaughter said. "She would want me to tell the Sox fans, 'Don't underestimate the power of the Irish lady in heaven.'"

Ms. Egan passed away on October 16, 2005, one day too late to swoop into Notre Dame Stadium and keep Matt Leinart's fumble in bounds.

Yao Ming Fans Want it That Way

2005-10-24T18:18:00.000-05:00

A couple Chinese students, also known as the "Back Dormitory Boys," intentionally filmed themselves lip synching "I Want it That Way" by the Backstreet Boys. At first I thought, "Why would they do this? It sure won't get them laid." But then I remembered that I don't understand people. If these jacknuts took this act to the streets, it would be 3 minutes before a group of idiot broads with lipstick on their teeth and tattoos on their tits rolled out of a Hong Kong McDonalds, looking for the opportunity to give it to them .. that way. Sad. The only person you can admire in this situation is the kid playing Quake in the background, who likely keeps his sanity by remaining completely oblivious to the jaw-dropping scenes that develop behind him on a daily basis.

Hat tip: Ezugo

Steven Seagal's Lightning Bolt Energy Drink

2005-10-21T02:01:00.000-05:00

Are you drifting through your life of ass-kicking in a state of existential confusion, wandering aimlessly through the alleys and narrows of the underworld without that edge; without that charge that makes flipping out so much more enjoyable? I know I do.

While out last night dispensing justice on gangsters, ninjas, and various ne'er-do-wells, I started losing my edge. No longer was I able to take out my adversaries when punching them through plate glass windows. Hell, I could hardly break through the glass without bleeding my own blood. It was madness. I thought all was lost until I went to a 24-hour joint and spotted a familiar face on the side of a can. It was a face that had guided me through many adventures on aircraft carriers, jumbo jets, and random entanglements in nightspots with rapper sidekicks. It was none other than the fat master of divine harmony - Steven Seagal. And it was he that was the mastermind of Steven Seagal's Lightning Bolt Energy Drink. Then I wondered, "what can Steven Seagal give me that a fierce blend of Gatorade, Mountain Dew, and Red Bull can't?" My initial thought was that I would spontaneously grow a fat gut and DMX would appear at my side so we could get out to the streets and right a wrong. But then I took a look at the can .. Each component of Lightning Bolt was carefully chosen by Steven Seagal to incorporate the greatest treasures of Asian medicine into an all natural energy boost. It's also the first energy drink made of 100% juice and it contains Tibetan Goji Berries and Asian Cordyceps. I didn't know what any of that was but it sure sounded impressive. At the very least, it could enlighten me Dalai Lama style. After downing a can, I was back to the streets for intense mortal kombat and other extreme situations involving max energy. By the time I reached my bed at sunrise, divine harmony in the universe had been achieved once again.

Whether you prefer the sweet goodness of Cherry Charge, the All-American fulfillment of Root Beer Rush, or the kung-fu punch of the Asian Experience, Steven Seagal provides a precisely blended, 100% all-natural elixer for lasting maximum performance when you are flipping out on evil or are simply in need of a quick hit of untold natural power. Get charged!

David Copperfield Finds Penis Unnecessary

2005-10-19T21:29:00.000-05:00

Bad gay joke and acclaimed illusionist, David Copperfield, plans to up the ante in the magic world by impregnating a woman on stage. Luckily for the woman, Copperfield's penis will not be involved. In German mag Galore, the magician rejected the theory that there were only seven different kinds of magic tricks, saying "there is a great deal of new territory to conquer. In my next show I'm going to make a girl pregnant on stage. Naturally it will be without sex. Everyone will be happy about it, but I'm not telling you any more."

I assure you, no one will be happy about it if he stays the course with these lame-o plans. Here are the only ways to ensure customer satisfaction:
1) A guest spot from The Almighty. If he comes down from the Heavens to give us the lowdown on how he magicked up Jesus, I'm game. Besides, I'd like to see his skills at work when he has to calm down all of the freaked out Jews when we realize we were WAY off about the Messiah.
2) There's a live sex show resulting in a pregnancy that comes to full term and requires Copperfield to deliver idential twins as the grand finale. Frankly, I'm not all that interested in seeing a live birth what with all the goo and fluids but I'd be more than happy to fork out $29.99 to see everything that happens before delivery.

If Copperfield can't provide either 1 or 2 (or both), I call fraud. I liked this trick better when it was called Prince Michael Jackson, Jr.

A Photo Essay of Stupidity: Mark May

2005-10-18T01:55:00.000-05:00

The frequency of updates to this post will be based on the level of Mark May's retardation each Saturday. Due to the amount of times that this page is loaded, it's very possible that the slideshow will fail to work from time to time. If this occurs, give it 10-15 minutes and check again.

Tim McCarver Must Die

2005-10-16T19:49:00.000-05:00

Around midnight last night, I figured that Saturday was the longest, most emotionally draining day that I've had in about 3 months. But somehow it paled in comparison to today, as I got to the office around 6:30 this morning for a brief meeting, after which the breaking down of film, weekly planning, and Boss taking accountability (read: brutal bitch outs) began. The morning reminded me of the scene in JFK where Kevin Costner replays the segment in the Zapruder film of Kennedy's brain being blown into the street again and again.. "back.. and to the left... back.. and to the left... back.. and to the left." But now that we're done having our hearts crapped on, it's time to move on. A new Saturday approaches. For those of you that tried to talk to me after I got home yesterday (and since), I apologize. I was a raging bitch and there's no excuse for it. Hopefully, all I did was blow you off but if I said something about how you can't understand what this is like because you go to a shitty, directional school and have no understanding of the magnitude of this happening, I'm an asshole and I'm sorry. Aside from an update to my Mark May installments (probably in the next day or so), this is the last you'll see me speak of Saturday.

In any case, [side note: did I just see Eminem pimping himself on an iPod/iTunes commercial with his song "Lose Yourself"? Shame on you Eminem. Then again, maybe the opportunity to whore yourself U2-style only comes once in a lifetime.] since the baseball playoffs are rolling, it'd be a shame not to share this gem with those of you who suffer through the inane blathering of Fox's chief baboon, Tim McCarver. I present to you, Tim McCarver Must Die.

If you're not interested in the song, I suggest playing the Tim McCarver Drinking Game during Fox broadcasts:
Get a bottle of your favorite booze and a shot glass and...
1: Drink every time Tim uses a multi-syllable word incorrectly.
2: Drink every time Tim states the obvious like it is a profound insight.
3: Drink every time Tim calls the play wrong.
4: Drink every time Tim gets a player's name wrong.
5: Drink every time one of Tim's inane comments is met with stoney silence by the other broadcasters in the booth.
If you're not bloody rat-arsed by the end of the 1st inning, you're watching the wrong game.

2005-10-15T11:06:00.000-05:00

GO IRISH!

Jay-Z and the Mighty Arsenal? Say It Aint So

2005-10-13T00:45:00.000-05:00

I took great joy in the pain of the Red Devil Nation when an American wanker that knows nothing about footy bought the club's majority shares, saddled it with debt, and increased the suicide rates among its fans. But now, this joy is biting me in the arse. Shawn Carter, known to the masses as Jay-Z, is rumoured to have met with Arsenal brass to negotiate a deal which would make him a major shareholder within the club. He already tried to strike a deal with Chel$ea's Roman Abramovich but was turned away.

"Jay-Z loves football - he thinks the whole scene is very bling. He has also met Henry and thinks he is really cool. Jay-Z is a man who gets what he wants - and he wants a portion of a premiership club." - A source from the Sunday Mirror

I know as well as anyone that everything Jay-Z touches turns to gold, so his millions would be more than welcome at our club. But I don't want some guy that's ignorant to the game owning The Arsenal simply because he thinks the bloody scene is "very bling." Who's he gonna hire to run it? Damon Dash? Beyonce's dad? Should this rumor turn out to be truth, I hope there's an explanation as to why he wants to own an English club [that is viewed sparingly in America on Fox Sports World, by the way] upon which he can only affect the bottom line when he can pour millions into the MLS and revolutionize the beautiful game in the United States. From a business perspective, I understand the rationale - don't get me wrong. But imagine the possibilities if Jigga bought, say, DC United - the home of Freddy Adu. You can't tell me that a shift in marketing from the minivan moms to the playgrounds of the inner cities wouldn't create a booming multi-million dollar business for years and years to come.

Taking ownership of an established, high-flying, foreign club that can do just as well, if not better, without his services is no accomplishment. Jay-Z is a cultural icon that has the power and influence to change the landscape of American soccer. If he wants to turn something to gold, I suggest he start here in his native land. To accomplish that would be the mark of a true master businessman... it'd also make me feel a lot more secure about the future of The Arsenal Gunners.

Gargamel Gets Fed Up; Uses WMD on Smurf Village

2005-10-12T00:30:00.000-05:00

When I first saw this, I thought Smurfette was passed out with her arse in the air after yet another right gang-smurfing. Sometimes you don't have the energy to roll over. We've all been there. But this is actually a scene from a bizarre UNICEF commercial and what you're seeing is Smurfette's dead body, a traumatized Baby Smurf at the edge of a bomb crater, and other smurfs running for the hills while their village is blown to bits and burned. Apparently, the commercial's purpose is to show the horrors of war, particularly the plight of ex-child soldiers in Africa. UNICEF decided to stray from its more conventional ads using real life images of children playing and laughing in order to shock people by destroying images from their childhood in horrific ways. UNICEF did such a good job of traumatizing the masses that the commercial can only be shown after 9 p.m. to avoid scaring children and hypersensitive adults. Maybe in the next ad, we can watch Bugs Bunny and the crew giving the Tiny Toons a right proper rogering in a Thai village to show the horrors of the child sex trade. I bet Yosemite Sam is a real tomcat.

The clip finishes with the written message: "Don't let war destroy the children of the world," followed by a call for donations.

Jamaican Man Turned his Hair into a Hat

2005-10-11T07:30:00.000-05:00

This is amazing. Are any of you addicted to wearing baseball caps, skull caps, whatever - anything to cover your heads? Well I assure you that no one is as dedicated as Darain Housen, a native Jamaican that has been eating, sleeping, bathing, and all-around living in his hat for the last twenty years. The beauty (or maybe the scary) part of it is that this hat isn't made out of cloth... it's actually a "natural hat" haircut.

Mr. Housen came up with the idea after he and some friends decided to wear hats to a party and he couldn't find one to wear. "Mi an dem fi go a di party but di three of them had caps an' mi had none so mi get two mirror one behind mi and di other in front of mi an' mi trim mi hair like a cap an' go a di dance," said Housen. Translation: Instead of finding a reasonable replacements like a bandana, do-rag, towel, or Chiquita banana head-dress, Housen cut his fro into a hat and went out to shake his ass with the ladies.

Housen said his hairstyle created such a stir that he got a crate of Guinness to share between he and his friends: "Dem did love it," he said smiling. "Mi friends an' some of the girls said I win di hairstyle contest and buy mi a box a Guinness," he said. After a night of Guinness and lovin, Housen decided to keep the style and he's had it ever since.

Predictably, Housen's not always had good luck with the hat. He was once stopped by a policeman while coming from a dance [this guy really likes to shake it!] early one morning who insisted that he removed it. "Him shine di light pon mi an' look. When him see it seh a mi real hair him frighten an' seh mi mus come check him a di station di following morning. When mi go him shake mi han' an' seh mi have talent an' mi fi keep it up," he said. On another occasion Housen said he was ordered by a judge to take off his 'hat' while on jury duty. "A di policeman have to tell him seh is mi hair. Him congratulate mi an' tell mi seh mi have talent," he said smiling.

If at some stage he loses his hat Housen says he would be quite uncomfortable. "I would a feel light without it because a long time mi have it so mi would a feel a way without it," he said. But would he really be missing? It's just a baseball cap... cut down some of that flat top and he can have a visor. What I'd really like to see is a before picture. Housen's afro must have been ridiculously serious to be able to fashion a visor out of it... or maybe it didn't always look like this. Maybe he was sporting a fedora or one of those rasta hats or even the Urban Sombrero.

Who Coaches Penn State?

2005-10-10T15:48:00.000-05:00

Ohio State's offense looks like Jim Tressel draws it up in the dirt, so I wasn't all that surprised to see Penn State win. That said, who actually coaches Penn State? I'm not being facetious or hateful. I think this is a legitimate question. To believe that the game passed Joe Paterno by for nearly a decade only to have him take the college world by force with a 30-years delayed view of playing freshmen and a modernized offense is pure folly. So is it coaching by committee? Is there an assistant head coach that's really running the game.? Does JoePa gameplan? I can't imagine Joe Paterno burning the midnight oil at the office trying to scheme against Lloyd Carr when he could be at home eating a Werther's Original and cleaning the gnats off his lenses. If anyone has the answer to this question, I'd really like to know. As far as I'm concerned, he's nothing more than a figurehead.
Aside from being the "greatest story in the world" (Phil Fulmer's words, not mine), we all need to congratulate Tennessee quarterback, Rick Clausen, on being named "Vols Scholar Athlete of the Week." It's been a long, arduous road for Clausen who, after graduating last December, now masters the daunting challenge of "Recreation & Leisure Studies," which is likely Vol for "watching NASCAR while getting blown."
While watching the Houston-Atlanta series over the weekend, I realized that Astros' Outfielder, Lance Berkman, looks like Kelly Clarkson of American Idol fame.
You'd think someone would issue a red card just for the hazard.

Day Off

2005-10-08T14:04:00.000-05:00

Thanks to bye weekends, I have the day off. And thanks to Frank Lampard and the Three Lions succeeding in spite of Sven-Goran Eriksson being a supreme wanker, England has picked up a much-needed 3 points.

Cheers and a Happy Saturday to all.

Survivor: America's Worst Sports Announcers

2005-10-07T14:11:00.000-05:00

All my complaining about Joe Morgan got me thinking - if he was in a room with other dimbulb announcers like Bill Walton and John Madden, who would come out alive? Would they bond over their non-abilities? Would the clash of egos lead to violence? I've never watched an episode of Survivor but it wasn't long before I thought of a great, new concept for them. Why not put the worst announcers in American sports on a faraway Island of Dr. Moreau-type location, give them announcing-related tasks to do at the tops of live volcanos, waterfalls, alligator pits, and mangled suspension bridges, and see who survives? For twelve weeks, these zany tasks will result in a different announcer being shuffled loose the mortal coil. But how to get them to participate in such death games? We'll lure them to the island under the presumption that we're looking for the best sportscaster. They'll jump at the opportunity under the belief that there's a $5M prize, daily exposure on ESPN, ESPN.com, and ABCSports, turducken, their own video game franchise, and, of course, the title of America's best. One would have to assume that when they arrive and see the competition, there will be cause for suspicion but the better judgment of our contestants will be clouded by their egos and stupidity. The winner of the competition will have to go on national tv, apologize for years of ineptitude, and then (after an airing of grievances by millions of fans around the world) submit to a punishment of the viewers' choice. What, is that harsh? Well maybe they should've thought about that before they spent a career sucking and ruining multiple in-game sports experiences for millions of fans.

With my host Keith Jackson [Only because he can say "Whoa, Nellie!" as contestants fall to their deaths/are eaten/drown], I present to you the contestants for Survivor: America's Worst Sports Announcers.

Call me, CBS. I think I've got a winner.

Joe Morgan is God's Punishment for Something

2005-10-06T06:18:00.000-05:00

I don't know who called the Astros/Braves debacle but when I heard Chris Berman polluting the airwaves during the All Sox tilt, I felt a chill of horror go down my spine. Joe Morgan had the Yankees/Angels game. I felt the sadness but then realized Lost would be on. [Lost is an amazing show and if I have to miss some innings during the playoffs to see what's goin down with Locke, the hatch, and The Others, so be it! 4 8 15 16 23 42, baby!] I tuned in to the game at the top of the 5th inning, which was just in time to hear Joe remind the masses that he's an addlepated twit. The Yankees were up 1-0 and had A-Rod on 3rd and Gary Sheffield at the plate.

"A-rod is a feared hitter and he's probably the better hitter, but Sheffield is a more feared hitter because of how hard he swings the bat."

While I tried to determine how braindead one had to be to make that comment, Joe topped himself. "Their [the Angels] major concern is to keep A-rod from scoring." Keep the baserunner from scoring? How fucking novel! Could you imagine if announcers in other sports did this as well? "The Patriots' major concern is keeping Peyton Manning from throwing a touchdown." I take that back. Other sports do have mental defectives calling games. Maybe John Madden can join Joe in the booth and they can have a stupidity rumble while they eat turducken. We can call it the Senility Games and make the gold medal event the Battle of the Obscenely Obvious.

So after letting up a run, Lackey retired the rest of the order and Wang went back to the mound. The camera panned in on Brian Cashman, which prompted Joe to wax poetic about the GM's financial genius. You see, Cashman saved the pitching staff with Chacon, Wang, and Small! Even more worthy of praise was Cashman using the *gasp* MINOR league system to find the latter two! Could you have guessed a farm system could be used to call up prospects and not just trade them for expensive has beens? It's crazy, I know. Bravo, Cashman, for doing your bloody job. While Joe continued fellatio, Juan Rivera, a prospect Cashman traded for Javier Vazquez, went yard on Chien-Ming Wang. This little tidbit was lost on Joe but who cares? His road of logic is purely legit. Foolish man builds pitching staff with $100M of damaged goods and one-trick ponies --> Pitching staff goes on the DL --> Man panics; Fears for job --> Man acquires pitching staff from minor league system and the Colorado Rockies --> Patchwork staff is successful --> Man is genius... Good call, Joe!

After Cashman came or Joe realized that Wang got rocked, I can't remember which, the conversation transitioned to the Macha release in Oakland. Neither Jon Miller nor Joe Morgan could make heads or tales of it. Was it a firing? Was he released? Did he quit? Apparently, "negotiations ended after failing to reach an agreement on a new contract" was too ambiguous for the duo and the booth got quiet until the top of the 9th with Jeter up to bat. The Yanks were down 5-3 and it was time for Mr. October. Joe said, "Derek Jeter makes things happen. He's been shutout at the plate tonight and he doesn't walk or steal much but he makes things happen." *Strike* "You can really count on him to do it for you." *Strike* Joe never explains how. He never has an analysis but a non-walking, non-stealing shutout Jeter makes things happen. When #2 struck out, Joe said, "I mean, he really makes it happen." It was like Jeter hit a gamebreaking triple and wasn't actually on his way back to the dugout. Around this time, I muted the telly and watched the rest of the game in silence.

The good thing about the playoffs is we're about to have a 6 month vacation from Joe Morgan. I know I said that about Stephen A. Smith, only to be bashed in the face by "Quite Frankly," but unless ESPN schedules a Celebrity Deathmatch between Joe Morgan and Michael Lewis, I think we can all be assured of a peaceful off-season.

Zantac Fantasy Baseball League, A Finale

2005-10-04T11:35:00.000-05:00

Someone tell me what's wrong with this picture of Johnny Damon. If there's a valid explanation, I'd really like to hear it...

So not only did I lose sole possession of second place in my fantasy league on the last day, I finished tied for first loser. Since it was my first fantasy baseball year, I never expected to win and was mentally prepared to finish 5th or 6th. But when winning became a possibility, my inner-psycho came out and I began obsessing about the actions of other players and those actions left me more than a little steamed. I took particular notice of Plainville Penguins, the league leader. Early in the season, I lead the league in roster moves, trying to make up for the bevy of draft picks like Eric Gagne that went on the DL or simply didn't live up to expectations (I'm looking at you, Adrian Beltre). I made thirty-some roster moves, as I tried to find the right players and made one rookie mistake after another. And while I toiled in 8th place with a score total somewhere around 40, Penguins was in first. His score? Somewhere in the 90s. He lead every statistical category save 1. It was completely out of control. But by the All-Star game, I'd made some trades, settled on a roster, and things were looking up. I started a slow and steady climb up the rankings but noticed Penguins' number of roster moves going from the 40s to the 60s and into the 80s even though no one was threatening his 25 point lead. But then he pulled a ChiSox. His 25 point lead, insurmountable for nearly 4 months, began to dwindle. As Goliaths and I crept closer, he picked up more and more free agents, until finally, we were within 1.5 points. So Penguins unloaded all of his starting pitchers and picked up closers to prevent Geiger from catching him in saves. Once that lead was secure, he dumped his closers and cycled through 5 starting pitchers a day - this time, to try to catch me for the lead in wins. He tied me at one point and that's when I followed suit. Adding 5 pitchers the next day, hoping that my 5 would beat his. The counterattack worked for a couple days. Then Penguins started adding and dropping pitchers in the same afternoon for no other reason than to put any available pitchers on waivers. This made the hot free agent starters unavailable to me for 4-5 days - usually the day after they pitched..... Oooooh if I could only strangle him!! How bush league is that? If he wants to cycle through his pitchers, fine. If he wants to make 124 roster moves, go ahead. But when you pick up and drop players just to place them on waivers and make them unavailable, that's wholly unacceptable. He should be ashamed of himself.

I planned to make my feelings known in the message board but blew it. After the results came in, he had the nerve to say, "Nice run at the end by the Goliaths and Isotopes, made it a fight right down to the final weekend." All I could manage was calling him a tool and saying, "Maybe if you'd tripled our amount of moves instead of only doubling them, you wouldn't have had to sweat it out." It was a total lack of class and showed that I'm nothing but a bitter, poor sport... I wish I knew where he lived so I could kick him in the face. Bastard.

Surfing the Crimson Tide

2005-10-02T23:53:00.000-05:00

HEY GATORS!!
HEY GATORS!!
WE JUST BEAT THE HELL OUTTA YOU!
RAMMER JAMMER YELLOWHAMMER!
GIVE EM HELL ALABAMA!!

The Crimson Tide are back. Second to Notre Dame's total annihilation of Purdue on Saturday, the Bama win was the sweetest thing I've seen in a long time. Tyrone Prothro and Keith Brown were as electrifying in the open field as Brodie Croyle was under center. And then there was the defense, punishing and relentless. There is nothing more satisfying than watching a nasty, old school defense dismantle and expose Urban Meyer's gimmicky "offense of the 21st century" on national tv. Welcome to the SEC, Urban. When you're not in a battle with Fat Phil and his Creamscicle Brigade, you'll find the goings a bit tougher.

Quote of the game:
After Brodie Coyle torched his secondary for 14/17/283 w/ 3 TDs, 0 Ints, Urban Meyer stated: "Croyle is a terrific quarterback. I don't know much about him--but I had heard good things about him. I watched him in warmups, and he's an NFL quarterback."

I don't know what can possibly excuse a head coach from knowing so little about a rival's quarterback going into a game beyond what he saw in warmups and heard by word of mouth. Maybe Urban & Co. screwed up and watched game tape of Alabama A&T instead. Maybe they have Tyrone Willingham disease. Whatever it is, I don't care. With Alabama and Notre Dame taking the paths back to their rightful places in the college football world, I'm the happiest fan around.

GO IRISH! ROLL TIDE!

The New York Isotopes

2005-10-01T23:59:00.000-05:00

Sick of the jackassery that is George Steinbrenner and the Yankees front office, I developed a rather deluded idea that if the Yankees failed to make the playoffs, Steinbrenner would be forced to abandon the $200M experiment and overhaul the organization a la Cleveland in 2001. I know it's crazy and I know it would never happen because it would mean 2 or 3 losing seasons while the Red Sox walk into the playoffs. But in the long run, I don't see why a youth invasion isn't worthwhile. All that said, failing to make the playoffs would only result in 2 things: 1) bankrolling a $350M roster, made up of broken, expensive old balls like Larry Walker and Jim Thome and/or Steinbrenner dying from a shock-induced heart attack. The latter could result in some change, so while discussing the issue with Chad, he suggested that I "should just hire an assassin... maybe buy the team.. its less illegal." And he's right. Murder is bad, so here's the plan...

The hiring of my righthand men, er, right and left hand men? I don't know. These are my guys:

President/CEO: Matt Geiger

General Manager: Chad Young

Senior EVP/Director of Player Development & Scouting: Alonso Warner

Consultant: Rob Neyer

Once team positions are established, my first move would be to NOT sign A.J. Burnett. After that, we're getting rid of everyone except Alex Rodriguez, Derek Jeter, Shawn Chacon, Robinson Cano, Bubba Crosby, and Chien-Ming Wang in exchange for the top prospects available. If a team has a problem taking on an albatross like Jason Giambi, we'll pay his salary in exchange for the best prospect they've got. Crappy teams will eat it up. With this policy, we'll be saddled with a ridiculous payroll for quite some time but we'll take it on because 1) we can afford it and 2) the only time we'll be spending money in free agency will be for can't miss prospects. These policies will last until the 2007 off-season when we fill in the holes and prepare to compete in 2008. With young talent, solid veterans, and a re-established farm system, we'll be good for years to come.

If Steinbrenner refuses to sell, I'm going to take over the New York Mets, change their crappy name to the New York Isotopes, and make them the best team in New York.

**This was written before Yankees clinched the AL East Championship but I think the spirit of my post still applies. Without a $250M payroll, this team couldn't even compete. It's horrendously assembled with nearly $100M of wasted talent on the roster. With a team so absurdly talented, in no way should this race ever come down to the last game of the season.

The Rituals of Dr. Broom

2005-09-29T16:00:00.000-05:00

Nothing says bonding like taking it up the egress. At least, that's what my boyfriend tells me. But it seems that a Canadian football team shares the same deluded method of thinking. During McGill University football's hazing rituals, an unidentified recruit was forced on his hands and knees, had a dog toy put in his mouth, and received a bit of the old ultraviolence from an object called "Dr. Broom." Unlike the rest of the recruits, he refused to remove his boxer shorts, so upperclassmen were only able to "poke each cheek of my buttocks as the audience counted down and then poked the stick between my cheeks and hit my anus." Yesterday, the abused rookie received a letter of apology from the team [I guess Hallmark doesn't make "sorry about the anal rape with a broomstick" cards]:

"It was never mine or the team's intention to humiliate or ostracize any member of our team brotherhood. The long-standing ritual is designed to be a team bonding experience which all members of the team underwent, it is not designed to be a hazing ritual driving new team members away."

Humiliation is an integral part of hazing. I went through it, as did any of you who were on athletic teams or in a greek system. I was stripped naked, forced to do humiliating things, engaged in strange rituals and rites of passage, got alcohol poisoning, and, in the end, had to prove my devotion to the team by being branded. It was a hellish experience from beginning to end but when it was over, I was forever bonded to my classmates and team and they to me. It was amazing......... But had anal penetration with a broom been a part of the deal, I would have run for the fuckin hills. The potential for splinters alone is a thought that's too much to bear. It's not just that the experience is traumatizing. It's absolutely disgusting. Is the broom sheathed with a condom? Is this a community broom? So what if the name of the school's chancellor is Dick Pound. I can't imagine what compels men to engage in homoerotic activities in the name of bonding. If they're going to do it, they may as well hook things up with a dildo or a vibrator and make it enjoyable.... Hmmm - too much? Sorry.

"We fully [accept] that the emotional and psychological stress it induces may not be the best way to forge relationships with new team members."

Ya think? Way to own up. There's a lot of stuff I can let go, obviously, but broom action is simply unacceptable. Too bad this happened way up in Canada. If the Crimson Tide were involved, at least they could have chanted "Rammer Jammer Yellowhammer, Give 'em hell Alabama!" I bet that would've been festive.

Fighting Back with Bible Verses

2005-09-28T16:40:00.000-05:00

I don't know what's going on here between Jeff Francoeur and Chipper Jones but the Braves have now clinched their 14th Division Title in a row. Let's see if they can also clinch their 10th straight failure in a row.

My legs were pretty sore this morning, so I went down to the training room to be stretched out and get a little STIM on my knees. Once the trainer started stretching me, I closed my eyes and gave it a snooze. But then I heard, "The secretaries said this is where you went." I looked down and it was Beano. Given that my soreness was primarily in my thighs, I wasn't in the most flattering position. And with him sitting in a chair at the end of the table, it looked like his head was between my legs. I put my hands over my face but he took it as a cue to pull his chair up to the side of the table.

"You know how you admitted to being Jewish the other day?" He said it like I admitted I had a crack addiction. "And you know how I've been trying to tell you about the Word of God and you haven't been listening?" It's not like I could forget. He'd been proselytizing to me for 2 straight days, inviting me to his Bible study and a Sunday of worship at his church. I nodded and then told him that if 5 years at this school hadn't converted me, he wasn't going to accomplish much. Truth is, no one has ever tried as hard as Beano has in the last three days. On some level, I have to commend him for his persistence. While I laid there, he read various passages of the New Testament and tried to tell me about their meanings. Twenty minutes later, he was still going when I had an idea. I spouted out 20 long, involved verses, finishing with the short John 3:16. That was all it took to convince Beano that not only do I know my New Testament, but I'm obviously rethinking my ways as well. Truth is, I've been well-versed on the New Testament since I was 13 years old - like any educated person ought to be. Luckily, he doesn't know that.

So a message to my Jewish counterparts out there, when overzealous religious douchebags harass you to the point of distraction, run them off with New Testament verses of importance. They'll walk away with a thumbs up and a smile.

Killer Dolphins On the Prowl

2005-09-26T12:08:00.000-05:00

Dr. Evil is working for the Department of Defense. While we don't have sharks with frickin' laser beams attached to their heads, the Guardian reports that we do, in fact, have killer dolphins equipped with toxic dart guns. Apparently, the Navy has trained US Atlantic bottlenose dolphins in attack-and-kill missions since the Cold War. They're trained to shoot terrorists attacking military vessels. But thanks to Hurricane Katrina, 36 of them were swept out to sea.

Leo Sheridan, "a respected accident investigator who has worked for government and industry," is the source for this info. He believes that the dolphins could fire on divers and windsurfers mistaken for spies and suicide bombers. Yet another reason I won't be surfing in the Gulf any time soon.

"The darts are designed to put the target to sleep so they can be interrogated later, but what happens if the victim is not found for hours?" Well I guess they'd die, Mr. Sheridan. Die and then be eaten.

I'm having some trouble buying Mr. Sheridan's story. Back in 1998, he was confident that a group of US Navy killer dolphins had come to grief off the French Mediterranean coast when they got loose and their handlers detonated a "radio-controlled explosion of their signal collars, so that no one could find out their missions."

I guess the dolphins were going to break under interrogation. It's a good thing they've yet to tap into previously unmined mental powers to spontaneously generate opposable thumbs. We'd all be sunk.

Thoughts and Issues on a Friday

2005-09-23T12:58:00.000-05:00

1. I was flooded with hate mail from WNBA fans for Wednesday's The WNBA is Over. Thank God, a post that had the potential to be much worse than it turned out to be. Apparently, I'm a negative for the feminist cause because I have a "a sizeable and loyal primarily male audience" and I "choose to sell out women" with my "chauvinistic views and opinions" when I could actually be doing women some good. Five people questioned whether I had a mother, as no woman could raise a girl that 1) "thinks like you do" and 2) "is so incredibly misguided and lost." And others concluded that if I do have a mother, she is not an athlete and my opinions were shaped by a dominant male figure. In addition, a few suggested that I'm "obviously a homophobe" (not to mention one with "intimacy issues") and a couple believe that I'm actually in the closet. So I should probably clear some things up:

a) I'm a feminist. I believe in the full social, economic, and political equality of women and making that a reality. But I never said anything about shutting down the WNBA or wiping women's hoops from the face of the earth. What I said was that the lack of talent and athleticism makes the league unwatchable. If 300 Diana Taurasi's played, I wouldn't opt for Law & Order: SVU on a random Monday night. Being a feminist doesn't mean I have to be a radical. I'm not going to get militant unless the Raiders or Yankees are playing and the only time you'll see me picketing is when I'm trying to get Norv Turner fired. I'm not rooting for women just because they're women, and I'm not going to keep my mouth shut when the ability of 75% of the players to walk and chew gum at the same time is extremely suspect.

b) Though it's true that I'm a Daddy's girl, my mother, is, in fact, alive and well. She rowed crew and played field hockey at Oxford University and loves sports but she'd rather watch a racquetball tournament than the WNBA.

c) I'm not a homophobe nor am I in the closet. According to The Gay-o-meter, I'm a "perfectly balanced hetero-babe" at 50% gay. But I will admit that a girl walked up to me at a party once and kissed me. I either didn't care for it or was too drunk to enjoy it. I'll also admit that if Salma Hayek propositioned me, I'd be all over her like the ship was goin down. By the way, I never said a word about the sexual orientation of some players or the league's willful blindness to the fact that their primary market is the GLBT community. Get over yourselves. Idiots.

2. Tyrone Willingham is not only a fraud, he's also completely insane.

"I did speak out about the situation (his firing from Notre Dame). My problem is I didn't say what somebody else wanted to hear. ... I haven't bit my tongue. I said exactly what Tyrone Willingham wanted to say. The world's not ready for what I wanted to say." - Willingham being insane

Uh... So is what Tyrone Willingham wanted to say different from what "he" wanted to say? I'm lost. I try not to harp on this issue too much for obvious reasons but what is it that the world isn't ready to hear? Is he gonna tell us that Notre Dame ran him out in a racist conspiracy between a priest and a CEO in the midst of a coup? That's what most of the misinformed world already believes. I don't know what more could shock the world unless Willingham reveals that he's actually the T-1000, sent from the future in the original form of Bob Davie in order to drive Notre Dame into the abyss of mediocrity and destroy the world. That would spin me out.

A message to Ty: Stop sounding like the Sphinx from "Mystery Men." Stick to getting blown out by 30+ once a season. It's what you're good at, you bloody stroker.

3. NFL Game of the Week: No, it's not the Diva Bowl between Oakland and Philly. I never look forward to times when I'll be a mess of tears and huddled in a corner. I'm itching to see the San Diego Chargers at home against the New York Football Giants on Sunday Night Football. I have to believe that Eli making a fool of their organization and fans is going to come back to haunt him in truly unpleasant ways this Sunday.

"It's insulting. And mark my words, it's going to come back on him. You start thinking about a guy like Pat Tillman, who turned down millions to go fight for his country. Then you think about Eli crying about where he wants to play football, and it just puts everything into perspective." - LaDainian Tomlinson

Meanwhile, Eli Manning prepares back in New York...

4) To Dave Smith from Tampa, the individual that left the comment in the previous post inquiring about my racial identity -- You were right on both accounts but if you ask the census, my school records, my driver's license, or any other document that records my racial status, I'm of an "ethnic persuasion," as you so eloquently put it. But a question for you -- what the hell does it matter? Cheers and thanks for stopping by.

[picture via The Hater Nation]

Follow Phil Fulmer to the Citrus Bowl

2005-09-22T13:00:00.000-05:00

Check out my Thursday update for SportsbyBrooks, which includes:

A hilarious recording of Michael Irvin's pre-game speech to Miami players before the FSU game. Crack not included.
New Zealand badminton team finds Black Cocks hard to swallow... and so do I. Goddamn.
"Hollywood Hookers" descend on Motown to suck more than Joey Harrington
Are you a beefcake between 21 and 40 that's more cake than beef? Well the Philly 76ers want you to be their halftime dancer
and more...

Many thanks for those that sent along links and amusing pictures. Gold stars for all.

The WNBA Is Over. Thank God.

2005-09-21T16:04:00.000-05:00

Last night, I was looking for the ChiSox-Indians game, or any baseball for that matter, but found nothing. On possible baseball channels were Law & Order, Behind the Glory, Best Damn, and the WNBA Finals. I'm the type of person that will get fired up over the World Championship of Tiddlywinks, so it might seem natural that I'd just tune in to the WNBA. It was supposed to be an exciting game and, for fans, apparently was, as it was decided by 3 points. Trouble is, I wasn't willing to endure a whole game of that nonsense to get to the riveting 30-seconds at the end of the game where girl X either clanked a last-ditch trey off the side of the rim or banked it in for the victory. Instead, I hit up NBC for the season premieres of My Name is Earl, The Office, and Law & Order: SVU.

I shouldn't be saying this for a number of reasons, but of all women's sports, basketball is the most painful to watch. It's not that I've been spoiled by watching the men. I enjoy all other forms of women's athletics - intercollegiate and professional. I'd admit that college ball can be entertaining when watching the elite teams play one another. The concentration of talent on those 6-8 teams is pretty high. But it still remains that there is no other women's sport in the world that has as many non-athletes as what you'll find in a run of the mill NCAA or WNBA game. There are three types of players: the great shooter with an ugly stroke that wouldn't know true 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 don't include Diana Taurasi in this list because she's an anomaly and the players that come close to touching her in on-court ability are few and far between. But for the rest, it's like basketball is the last refuge for girls who want to be athletes but aren't agile, flexible, or fast enough to hack it anywhere else.

I know what's coming now - "Yeah but do you even play basketball?" Other than pick up games, not since AAU during high school. I found a different sport at which to truly excel. "Do you think you're better than WNBA players?" No, of course not. But I watch professional sports to see athletes mystify me with their abilities and talents. I watch them to be amazed while they do things with their bodies that most people can only dream. I don't watch other 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. It'd take me 5 minutes to swim the 100 free, not 55 seconds. But that's not what I get when I watch the WNBA. I watch them and wonder if they could pull together a team of five to survive Bookstore Basketball. With the exception of their All-Star game, watching the WNBA is largely on par with seeing a tournament of organized pick up games. I can get that watching the more entertaining And1 ballers survive ESPN's Streetball during my lunch break.

Reggie Bush Should Win the Heisman Now

2005-09-20T11:58:00.000-05:00

Because with this type of ability, he certainly deserves it. Check out my update for today's SportsbyBrooks, which includes Reggie's Heisman ability, as well as:

John Smoltz, conservative Christian and Braves pitcher, dresses up rookies in drag and superhero costumes
An enthusiastic Bucknut gets stabbed for being.. an enthusiastic Bucknut
Brent Musburger cited in Lincoln for breaking open container law
Would Stanford be willing to ship Walt Harris back to Pitt after a loss to a Division 2 team?
and more...

I'm scheduled to do another update for Thursday, so if anyone spots any news or pictures about sports that is crazy, interesting, or simply ridiculous, please send them my way.

Ahoy Mateys! + SportsbyBrooks

2005-09-19T10:24:00.000-05:00

Avast ye mateys and Happy Talk Like A Pirate Day! Whether you be a pirate yourself or there's one in your life, be sure to throw out at least one, "Arrrr!" and find someone to shiver your timbers while you swash their buckles before the night is out. I know I will. Arrr! In celebration of this day, I took some time to discover my pirate name:

My pirate name is:

Bloody Bess Read

Every pirate lives for something different. For some, it's the open sea. For others (the masochists), it's the food. For you, it's definitely the fighting. Even through many pirates have a reputation for not being the brightest souls on earth, you defy the sterotypes. You've got taste and education. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from fidius.org.

In other news, I have an update over at SportsbyBrooks, so check it out to see my insights on:

The San Diego Padres "success" is the death of Bob Costas
Barry Bonds decides to get skinny in the upcoming off-season
Michael Irvin cries himself to sleep after Hall of Fame results
Atlanta Braves rookie, Jeff Francouer, shows off skills learned at the Ray Lewis School of Celebration Dances
I'm qualified to be president of The FA
and more...

One other thing - Congratulations to my cousins, Alana and Cole, on the birth of their quadruplets - Max, Jack, Julius, and Natalia. Max is named after my uncle and Jack after my Zayde. Julius, surprisingly enough, came from our Julius, which is somewhat surreal and ridiculous but I love you Julie, so that's okay. I think I'll call the kid, Orange. And I'm not sure where they got Natalia but I like it. Also say a prayer for poor Cole, who managed to get his finger broken, his wrist sprained, and his ego completely driven into the ground while supporting Alana in the delivery room. I guess having 4 babies has the tendency to make a woman a little cranky... and violent.

Cheers, wenches!

Beano, Co-Worker and Baffling Irritant

2005-09-16T19:28:00.000-05:00

I have a co-worker hereby known as "Beano" whose idiocy knows no bounds when it comes to anything not pertaining to his job. Though he often spouts nonsensical comments, as of late, it's really come to a head and I find that no matter when I see him, I have this aching desire to choke him to death. Here are our last 3 interactions.

Beano's been on a diet since I met him but continues to gain weight because he snarfs down 6,000 calories of canned fruit and cottage cheese each day and caps it off with a super-sized Big Mac meal around 9 pm. Fructose + McDonald's = Liberty Medical's Wilford Brimley. So three days ago, the office went through a "health fair" of sorts where our body weights and fat percentages were calculated with this water tank. The results were posted in the kitchen (which seemed harsh) and later that morning, Beano came by my office, wanting to discuss his battle against the pound. "Your body fat is impossible. And your figure! How do you maintain it? It's simply fantastic." I immediately felt uncomfortable and looked around to make sure a joke wasn't afoot. If he'd said it all with a lisp and his hands on his hips, maybe it would have been easier to accept but the reality is that he's a chunky butt, married man with a 5:00 shadow. In no way should "simply fantastic" or "figure" ever be uttered by a man like this. "I'm not 20 anymore. I need to work on my diet and really shedding a tire or two!" He nixed heavy exercise, so I suggested he stop pounding all the sugary fruits, opting instead for more fiber and balanced meals with protein. "Only squirrels get fiber. I don't want to eat a tree to slim down." I thought about making a smart ass comment but refrained. Instead I gave him some fiber options, concluding with whole grains cereals like Cheerios and Shredded Wheat. "Cheerios? Cereal is really fatty. Don't you know the calories per bowl? Why am I even asking you, Cheetos?!" No one's ever called me Cheetos before. He stomped out like a diva, wholly unsatisfied.

So yesterday, I was walking to my office when I passed Beano talking to a secretary about national ID cards. He was arguing for them and she wasn't sure, so they asked me. I shared my anti-ID card sentiments and his mouth fell open. "I should have known you'd be a fascist." I ran it through my head twice just making sure I heard him correctly and then said, "There are many reasons that warrant you calling me a fascist but this issue isn't one of them." He stared at me. "Do you know what a fascist is, Beano?" "I know you're a typical jock, so I know who I'm listening to...... and that's myself." He did the two "this guy!" thumbs at his chest and then told me I didn't know anything about politics and government. Instead of flipping out, I walked away.

So it happens that today, I had my third Beano interaction in as many days. Beano poked his head in my door and asked what I was doing for lunch. "I brought in this chicken thing. You've gotta try it." "Is this a peace offering?" "You can dip it in sauces. I'm changing things up like you said. Getting balance. Delicious balance." I was going out for lunch but I'm all about free food, so I went to the kitchen to check it out anyway. In a brown bag were 4 purple and orange packages; it looked like hot pockets. "Spicy Chicken and Cheddar-Jack Cheese" was written in a whimsical script. Right below that, in bold, yellow, block-lettering was "BURRITO." Also in the bag were little cups of salsa and sour cream. Dipping sauces. ReRe. I walked back into the main office area and said, "Uh... Beano. This... this is a chicken thing?" "Oh yeah, just discovered them at the store and they're really good, especially when you dip em in the dips." If I could get away from this situation without uttering any form of "fuck," it would be a successful outing. "It's a burrito!!!" Cue blank stare. "We had lunch catered from Chipotle last week and I watched you eat 3 BURRITOS!" It was like crickets chirping and then he had the nerve to get indignant! "Not everyone can eat Cheetos all day! Have a chicken thing and be like the mortals for once."

Fatty Cheerios. Fascism. Chicken thing. Fucking unbelievable.

Is it really wrong to strike this guy? Maybe if I do it once and then run away? Some form of violence really must be excusable here.

Zantac Fantasy Baseball League, Part II

2005-09-15T17:59:00.000-05:00

FUCK!

Remember these days?

So my fantasy team is in the shitter and it's like day 8. I know, I know - only a week has passed.. be patient.. it works out. Sod off. This sucks. My team's performance thus far is so abysmal that it actually hurts my feelings. How can they treat me this way? I mean... I had so much faith in them. I believed! Following painstaking research and analysis, I found these players to be the best candidates for my Team of 5x5 Dreams. Something about this is quite criminal... isn't it?

Well they have returned. Once again, I've allowed fantasy baseball to lead me down the primrose path of hope and glory only to have it bash me in the face with disappointment and frustration. After the All-Star break, my prospects started to improve, the ulcer subsided, and I could log into the league page without crying. I shed dead-weight jerks like Adrian Beltre, swiped Johnny Damon and Dontrelle Willis in some solid trades, and made some nice pick-ups in free agency. By late August, I was in 2nd place and 5 points away from Plainville Penguins - the goon in the lead that has made 73 roster moves (20 in the last week) over the course of the season. As the days went by, my team slowly but surely chipped away at his lead and then out of nowhere, it all stopped. At first I didn't care. What's a negative .5 here or there when it's happening to everyone else? But after a few days, it wasn't everyone else. It was just me, as my peckerhead players threw me under the bus by conspiring to stop hitting for average. In the past 7 days, I have lost FIVE points in batting average. Somehow they're managing to produce in every other facet of baseball but God forbid they do better than 0/4 or 1/5 on any given night. I had one night last week where only 3 of my players actually hit the fucking pitch and Derek Lee wasn't even one of them!

I'm in third place now and my position is only safe from 4th place because I have a 16 point cushion... who knows how long that will last. Why couldn't the season have ended last week when things were going well for me? Now I'm going to lose in shame. Thanks team. Losing was one thing back in June when I was fighting for 5th place and simply wanted to avoid failing the female species as the only representative in my league. But now that I've had a taste of the top, it's fuckin war! I'm not standing for this bullshit anymore. Johnny Damon, Edgar Renteria, Javy Lopez, Lance Berkman, Brian Giles.. I'm talkin to you. Pick your shit up! I'll be damned if Flash's Isotopes go down in flames to a team as fruity as the Plainville Penguins. Hopefully my anger will seep out to all the ballparks tonight and my players, sensing my impending wrath, will hit the ball like their asses are on fire and a .350 average is the cure.

18 days left.

Gillette & the All Seeing Onion

2005-09-14T21:49:00.000-05:00

I'm sure those of you that read The Onion remember an article called "Fuck Everything, We're Doing Five Blades" where the President and CEO of Gillette reacts to the 4-blade Schick Quattro:

"Sure, we could go to four blades next, like the competition. That seems like the logical thing to do. After all, three worked out pretty well, and four is the next number after three. So let's play it safe. Let's make a thicker aloe strip and call it the Mach3SuperTurbo. Why innovate when we can follow? Oh, I know why: Because we're a business, that's why! You think it's crazy? It is crazy. But I don't give a shit. From now on, we're the ones who have the edge in the multi-blade game. Are they the best a man can get? Fuck, no. Gillette is the best a man can get. What part of this don't you understand? If two blades is good, and three blades is better, obviously five blades would make us the best fucking razor that ever existed. Comprende? We didn't claw our way to the top of the razor game by clinging to the two-blade industry standard. We got here by taking chances. Well, five blades is the biggest chance of all.

In an amazing case of life imitating art, or something like it, Gillette revealed that it will skip the 4-blade razor made popular by Schick and go right to five blades with a "revolutionary new wet shaving systems for men and the world's first razors to feature advanced technology on the front and on the back of the blade cartridge." And they call it... ~~Excalibur~~ the Gillette Fusion and the Gillette Fusion Power.

"Gillette Fusion is more than just a next generation shaving brand, it's the future of shaving," said James M. Kilts, Chairman, President and CEO, The Gillette Company. "Gillette Fusion extends our rich history of innovation. It's a breakthrough platform that will continue to drive our category leadership."

It's like Gillette read the Onion and said, "Goddammit, they're right!" and got people on the case. In addition to having 5 blades, both razors are equipped with the Precision Trimmer blade. This tool allows men to trim sideburns, shave under the nose, and shape facial hair. I hope it comes with instructions. To add to the insanity, Gillette threw in a patented on-board microchip that optimizes the performance of the razor by regulating the voltage and frequency. It also has a battery indicator light, an automatic shutoff feature, and an Enhanced Indicator Lubrastrip that fades to white when optimal shave conditions have been reduced.

Absolute genius. Thanks to the renovations by these dips, we'll now be treated to the closest shave ever since the last razor gave men everywhere the closest shave ever. These wankers won’t stop until the first layer of skin is peeled off and even then, they'll just add another lubricating strip to help soothe the pain. Fucking retards.

Elijah's Bush & Pumping Iron

2005-09-13T23:59:00.000-05:00

Every time I see Elijah Wood, he looks more and more like a sexual offender... and Drew Carey.

Rather than wonder what compelled Frodo to pop his head out of a scary jungle bush, I would like to know what twist dreamt up this cutout, convinced others that it was a good idea, and found a way to charge people to get their pictures taken with it.

And from the scariest thing I've ever seen files, check out a blog I happened upon while at work: WomenPumpingIron.com Blog. At first, I didn't want to say anything negative about this site for fear that one of the scantily clad, tattooed women would hunt me down and force me to watch a bodybuilding routine. The tragic result would be my needing new eyeballs after I threw my original ones at her in extreme fright. Then I realized that I could actually use a new pair, so bring it on ladies!

Ray Lewis Makes Me Laugh

2005-09-12T16:37:00.000-05:00

There are times when I simply cannot hide my English-ness and now is that time.

ENGLAND RECLAIMS THE ASHES!

Since 98% of you don't know what I'm talking about, I'm not going to ramble on about this. Just know that I'm bursting with fruit flavor. In other news, I still hope Sven-Goran Eriksson chokes and dies.

Side note: The Coors Light NFL recap song on ESPN is back for yet another year of brutal rhymes and twins. When I heard, "And I... LOVE... WEEK ONE!," I gave up hoping for a new campaign from Coors, a beer that tastes like burnt wood. I suppose we'll just keep dealing with twins and the one that talks about how cold the goddamn beer gets when it's brewed. I guess with this Rocky Mountain High process, Coors Light changes from tasting like it was made with water drawn from the woods after a forest fire into tasting like cold piss.

Now, moving back to things that amuse me: Ray Lewis.
I know people hate Ray Lewis for various reasons but there's something about him that leaves me wholly amused every time he does something. Don't mistake me for a Lewis apologist; he just makes me laugh. Something I've noticed over the last few years is that if something is going on, #52 is there. He may not be in on the play or the situation but if you look closely enough, you see his irrational exuberance in the background - if you can't see his face, look for a leg kickout, excessive clapping, and sounds of "Woooooo!!" and "Yay-uh!!" Naturally, one expects to see Lewis in the picture where his defense picks off a pass or there's a big sack but start looking for him in other situations as well - Jamal Lewis' big rushing plays, special teams touchdowns, good deeds in the Red Lobster parking lot... Ray Lewis will be there. His ability to position himself in the camera's line of sight to engage in celebration in any situation is nothing short of amazing. Luckily for me, I tuned in to the Ravens-Colts debacle last night just in time to see Ray Lewis perform his "Squirrel" pregame dance. As he lunged to the right and then to the left, high-stepped forward at an angle, had some thigh action, and then did the full-body thrust/jazz hands finale, I started to wonder how one comes up with a dance like that. I have my well-known celebratory butt dance where I turn my back on the target, crouch just a little, look over my shoulder, and shake my arse around in a taunting manner. But that is more of a spontaneous activity, not anything I've spent time and effort choreographing. So how did Ray Lewis put his together? Maybe in its infancy, his dance was just that lunge to the right; an involuntary movement of passion. Somewhere things went wrong. Maybe he has OCD and he had no choice but to even it out with a move to the left or go insane. But if that's the case, how did the thigh action get involved? Maybe he needs air "down there" but it looks fairly dangerous for the groin. What I'm most concerned about are the jazz hands. Take a moment and imagine Ray Lewis in front of his bathroom mirror, as he works tirelessly through the off-season on this intense production. I can't help but think some moves were thrown out. A shimmy here, the running man there. These are moves to which Ray Lewis said, "Nah dawg, I can't be seen doin that. But this move where I push my penis out to the crowd and follow it up with my head tilted back Liza-style and my jazz hands on parade is tight.... WOOOO!"

I tried the dance in my office today and got caught in the middle of the thigh action. Luckily, I haven't been fired. There is no pretending to be doing something else when you're caught in the middle of the Ray Lewis dance. There's no pretending to stretch. There is no falling down directly into pushups or a pulling off a forward flip after you trip over the feet that are too big for your body - both things that, I am sad to say, I've actually done. When you're caught doing the Ray Lewis Dance just own up to it, sit down, and look out your window... look out for at least 20 minutes. The crowd that's likely gathered to point and laugh at you when you unsuspectingly walk into the hall has likely dissipated by that time.

Teaching Life Lessons

2005-09-09T23:37:00.000-05:00

I went back to my office after lunch and saw that my bags were gone and the place was empty save the secretaries and the pastries they pretend not to eat, so I grabbed my iPod, yo-yo, and a pack of Starburst and headed out. [For those of you that remember my version of 10 Things that Every Single Girl Must Own, my yo-yo would come in at #11, followed by my hacky sack (or some type of kickable ball) at #12.] I had some time to kill, so I hacked a little while playing with my yo-yo, and then I heard, "My dad says people that do all that stuff you do are smoking drugs."

[Boss's son: like Boss but smaller, cuter, more of a wise-ass, and a voice that cracks on every 5th syllable. He asked me to his school dance last week but when I declined because being Mrs. Robinson isn't cool when they're not legal, he told me I didn't know a good thing when I saw it and I'd be sorry. I told him to find me in 10 years and we'll see. We pinky-swore on it.]

I stared at him for a minute and then asked him to repeat himself. "Well, you're doing stuff just like the kids at school that do drugs." Five years removed from high school, it's refreshing to hear the stoner kids that stand in a circle before school and at lunch hacking the minutes away, stopping only to inhale pixy sticks and Cheetos, live on. I asked him if he's ever seen me "smoking drugs" but he responded by saying that he's seen me "drink Gatorade like it's drugs." At least he didn't mention the Vicodin. Burned, I changed the subject. We chatted for a few and then I held my bag out, "You wanna do it... don't you?" I asked him in that peer pressure/after school special type of way that made me feel a little shame. He stared at it for a moment. It's a beautiful footbag. Inviting even. I picked it up at a head shop in Brixton - a London neighorhood. It's yellow with red swirls on one side and yellow on red on the other. Finally, he nodded and we hacked back and forth, rather unsuccessfully, before he asked to see my yo-yo. I have at least one yo-yo on me at any given time but since we were about to travel, I had 3. This one in particular was a Duncan Freehand. I don't normally recommend Duncan yo-yos because they suck but this is a pretty solid piece. In any case, I explained to Boss, Jr. the ways of the yo and he got lost in matters for about 10 minutes until I stopped him and asked when we were going to smoke drugs. "But I don't smoke drugs." I reminded him about the last 20 minutes and he got angry and indignant. "Well I don't smoke drugs!! Just because I did that doesn't mean I smoke drugs!!!!" It was around this time that I heard "meaningful life lesson" background music playing a la the final 2 minutes of Family Matters/Full House/Brady Bunch but as it turns out, that was all in my head. I told Young Boss that making presumptions and stereotypes isn't good for business and all was well.

So in a fleeting moment of semi-adult behavior, I taught a child an important lesson that should carry him, at least, until the next stereotyping situation arises. Hopefully, he'll look back on today and say, "Hmm.. Stereotyping is bad news." And wherever I am when this occurs, I'll get a warm-fuzzy feeling.

GO RAIDERS + Post Game Thoughts

2005-09-08T19:05:00.000-05:00

And because I'm far too amped and cracked out over the unveiling of my revamped Oakland Raiders and the beginning of the 2005 NFL season to put together multiple coherent sentences, this is all I have to say about that.

Post-game Edit:
I spent the majority of the game in a state of total frustration and anger but I've come down from that courtesy of things better left unsaid. My first thought on the game - Warren Sapp can't lose a little weight? He looks like Carl from Aqua Teen Hunger Force. It's as if being absolutely disgusting is a part of his contract. There is no way the keg he's carrying on his stomach is helping him on the line. When you're battling age, it's imperative that you change things in your game to compensate for the likely loss of speed and a longer recovery time; losing a substantial portion of that buddha would be a good place to start. But moving on. Signing Randy Moss and Lamont Jordan was worth the cost on defense. This is a 10-win club that should, at the very least, have a good sniff at the playoffs if Kerry Collins can find a way not to turn the ball over 7 times a game like last season. I can't stand Kerry Collins. It makes me sad that he's our starting quarterback, which is only slightly more disgusting than the fact that Marques Tuiasosopo is our #2 man. Looking at Kerry Collins' sad, pointy face through his little helmet after he overthrows the open man by 15 yards (again) makes me ill. Seeing his confusion, as he fails to sell the play action for the 18th time only to be sacked makes me want to get violent. Watching him drop back 28 freaking yards after every snap drives me to absolute distraction... But that's okay! That's all right!! All I ask is that he throw more scores than the other guy and when Jerry Porter is 100% and Doug Gabriel is back in the slot, that's something the Raiders will be able to do better than almost anyone... at least, they'd better. I didn't like what I saw on offense last night. There were little flashes of hope here and there but on the whole, it was underwhelming. My bias is trying to attribute that to an injured receiving corps and a running back suffering from cramps but I'm uneasy nonetheless.

Bobby Bowden or JoePa Must Retire or Die

2005-09-07T20:15:00.000-05:00

While watching the ugliest game in the history of the FSU-Miami rivalry on Monday night, I came to the conclusion that either Bobby Bowden or Joe Paterno must retire or die. To see a display of football like that was nothing short of sad - that is, when it wasn't absolutely hilarious. But when the Noles tried 3 straight running plays at the goal line and got rejected like a bad kidney, it became clear to me that Bowden has officially gone soft. I know they have quarterback issues but you can't sack up and try a quick out? Where did Bowden's balls go? Are they trapped on that grotesque statue of him over there? I'm wandering off topic.

As a fan of a specific team, I could care less about Noles football. I hope they all choke and die. But from the perspective of a college football fan, the success and strength of the Florida State football program is good for the game; the same can be said for USC, Notre Dame, Alabama, Michigan, and Oklahoma. When these programs are down, the college football landscape just isn't the same and it sure isn't as much fun, unless, of course, you're an idiot. Save the embarrassment that was the Orange Bowl in 2000-01, the last 5 years have been pretty mediocre by Nole standards. True, they continue to show up in the BCS but I attribute recent appearances more to FSU benefiting from a woeful ACC schedule than any type of prowess. With Miami and Virginia Tech now affixed in the ACC, if the Seminoles aren't careful, they won't find themselves in the Gator Bowl any longer; they'll be the Masters of the Peach.

I'm ready for Bowden to say, "Dadgummit, I'm out." But he won't. Why? Because JoePa lives. Bobby can't leave the game of football until Paterno has been shuffled loose the mortal coil or he's amassed such an incredible cushion in the all-time wins category that JoePa will have to live another 50 years to surpass it. God forbid Bowden check out early only to find Paterno is coaching from the nursing home and his 5-wins per season Nittany Lions give him the go-ahead victory. All we can hope is that the 78-year-old Paterno decides to call it quits (or is forced out) after this season with 343+ wins. This will allow Bowden to hit the road as well. He'll be fully assured that his record will stand for another 40 years, FSU can get back to relying on actual football skills and strategies to beat Miami, and I can return to bashing Florida State with the full hate and vitriol that they deserve.

Lance Armstrong Contemplates Pissing off the French

2005-09-06T12:49:00.000-05:00

Lance Armstrong is now engaged to Sheryl Crow; he's also contemplating a charge for an 8th Tour de France because "I'm thinking it's the best way to piss (the French) off." Armstrong began entertaining the idea two weeks ago after French newspaper, L'Equipe, reported that he had tested positive six times for a banned blood booster as he was winning his first Tour in 1999. When asked how serious he was about another Tour, Armstrong said, "I'm exercising every day."

Was he serious? I have to think not because I can't see why Armstrong suddenly cares about pissing off the French. If he wins, is he the best cyclist ever... extra? That'll show 'em. It's time for him to enjoy the fruits of his labor, watch his kids grow up, and let it go. I know he's desperate to disprove the doping charges but there will always be doubts. I don't believe him just because he says so.. nor should anyone - an athlete's denial of doping should be looked upon as a sort of formality. But we do believe him because he's the survivor with an aura that transcended sports. He's the survivor surrounded by voices of suspicion that come with European accents. Only those with the rosiest of glasses believe in the total credibility of any cyclist, Lance Armstrong included.

Having said all that, I hope he's not serious. In the beginning, I was a fan. He was this mythic yet flawed survivor; half human, half hero. But in time, that all fell away for me, as, despite the 50 million yellow bracelets, SI covers, and Tour victories, he showed himself to be an obnoxious, vindictive wanker. I'm not offering up more blind loyalty and support for this guy and, to be honest, I'm sick of seeing him in the news. I hope this is the last we hear of him for quite some time. Good luck to him as he follows Sheryl around on the Lilith Fair tour.

Random Weekend Observations

2005-09-05T05:15:00.000-05:00

I finally got home from work around 4 pm yesterday and kicked back to take in a bit of the Virginia Tech - NC State game. The first thing I noticed is NC State football coach, Chuck Amato. This guy never ceases to amaze me, as he continues to wear sunglasses that make him look like one of Biff's goons from Back to the Future, Part II. All he needs is a hover board to help him roam the sidelines and harass officials. The second thing I noticed is that though Marcus Vick moves like Michael and has a big, inaccurate arm like Michael, it's a shame he doesn't quite look like Michael. While there's an obvious resemblance, Marcus Vick falls into the growing group of "celebrities" who are strangely less attractive than their more popular siblings.

Have some examples:
The Vick Brothers: Marcus vs. Michael. Marcus is cute if you're a drunk, slow 17-year-old who thinks he whispered Michael into your ear, not Marcus. Though Michael is attractive, he comes with a scorching case of herpes and that's not fun for anyone... That is, unless you're that chick in the Valtrex commercial who's tricking the fun-loving, sporty guy into sleeping with her because Valtrex hid all the symptoms. Poor sucker.

The Simpson Sisters: Ashlee vs. Jessica. As you can see, even dying her hair does nothing to help Ashlee Simpson look remotely attractive compared to her ridiculously beautiful sister. Though some of you may find her attractive, it's likely because you have low standards and for that, I'm sorry. In any case, while it's clear these two came from the same gene pool, Ashlee and Jessica remind me of that movie "Twins" where Arnold Schwarzenegger got all the superior master race genes and the remaining garbage genes were dished off to Danny Devito.

The Lachey Brothers: Nick's Brother vs. Nick. I apologize for not knowing Brother Lachey's first name. Everytime I see Nick on tv (with the exception of College Gameday), I see this guy nearby. I initially speculated that he was hanging around to make Nick look better but I later found out they're brothers. I don't know what's happening here but it's eerily similar to the Simpson sister situation. Something simply went wrong in the process for Brother Lachey. The good thing is that maybe he and Ashlee can get married and have a litter of children that will feel bad about themselves every time they play with Nick and Jessica's brood.

The Williams Sisters: Venus vs. Serena. I think Serena has a cute face but whether you like the rest of her "assets" or not may depend on if you get your rocks off being handcuffed and beaten with a crop. But Venus... poor girl. Does she feel self-conscious standing next to her sister, who's not only more attractive but has actual boobs as well? Matt and I were talking about her the other day and wondered if being rich and famous gave her a higher incidence of getting laid, her looks notwithstanding. If you're a rich and/or famous man, you can be disfigured and still bag hot chicks but I don't think it's the same for girls. Let's say you get with Venus for whatever reason.. would you go home and tell your boys about it? Or would you lie and say Serena tied you up, slapped you around, and made you call her Mama? ... That's what I thought. Were I a man, I'd probably try to drink Venus pretty but would inevitably become sad when I found I'd have to fetch a paper bag anyway.

My weekend also showed me other things.. Some echoes are being stirred and awakened... Aaron Taylor not only spews traitorious hate against his alma mater but also resembles one of the goombas from Super Mario Bros... Tyrone Willingham, Molder of Mediocrity at the University of Washington, blew a 17-7 lead to the Air Force Academy in yet another display of being outcoached in the final quarter - this time by Fisher DeBerry... Mark May is a vindictive puddle of monkeyspunk... Omar Jacobs is an absolute freak... And DOWN with the Dannon Frusion commercial. Please! No more! You've seen it. The hyper type that tries to barter breakfast goods in exchange for his smoothies. "Put that down and try this Frooosion!" Fuck off! Why are people are okay with trading food for smoothies from some random on a street corner. What in the hell is he doing with all this food that's supposedly inferior to the Frusion? When is a bus gonna run this guy over?

What's the Name? Notre Dame!

2005-09-02T16:06:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure how to approach this particular piece of hilarity...

Now I don't want to trash on anyone's method of fanship but this is simply out of control. Meet Daryl Buchanan, avid Notre Dame fan and, from what I can tell, operator of Planet Love/Daryl Buchanan Enterprises, the "Home of the Rap Roll Groove Smooth." It's beyond me what that means but when I first spotted this picture, I thought that maybe I was having a flashback to the days of Tony Toni Tone, PM Dawn, and Arrested Development; as it happens, Mr. Buchanan is a musical artist that actually exists in the present.

Located on Mr. Buchanan's site is a clip to what he purports to be "the hot new theme song." He wrote and produced it and, apparently, "it's voted Michiana's #1 ND Football song. A fan favorite." If this is the #1 football song that's because there aren't any others in existence.

I'm proud to present to you 20 seconds of "What's the Name? Notre Dame!" along with lyrics as best as I could decipher them. Have a listen... and a laugh.

Blah, blah Joe Theismann and Tim Brown won the Heisman
And as the Irish set sail, there was the quick one Rocket Ismail
And in '88 it was Tony Rice, the N.D. quarterback
With Bettis and Waters in the backfield, they mastered the Irish down attack
It's time to play, Charlie Weis is the MAAAN
I know he's gonna take the Irish to the football promised land
Go Go Go Go GO IRISH
(Yeah!)
GO GO!
What's the name?
NOTRE DAME! NOTRE DAME!
Go Go Go Go GO IRISH
(Yeah!)
GO GO!
What's the name?
NOTRE DAME! NOTRE DAME!

I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm feeling a little inspired to throw on some MC Hammer genie pants and spend a few minutes doing the Hammer Dance and the running man... maybe even the Electric Slide ;)

GO IRISH! BEAT PITT!

Nick Lachey Joining College Gameday Crew

2005-09-01T15:43:00.000-05:00

Looking forward to College Gameday on ESPN this year? Well you should be! Nick Lachey (Jessica Simpson's husband for the uninformed) will be joining the Gameday crew to provide his expert analysis on I don't know what; he'll also make onsite appearances.

"Nick is a huge sports fan and will add a unique perspective to the show," said Norby Williamson, senior vice president and managing editor for ESPN. "He will provide wide-ranging, off-the-field features spotlighting the tradition of the game, its fans, athletes and personalities."

In addition to Lachey, Desmond Howard, a 1991 Heisman Trophy winner from some unknown northern school of tools and asshats and 1997 Super Bowl MVP with Green Bay, will join as a weekly contributor, providing analysis and features.

Now, I'm not gonna bash this. In all my time watching Gameday, I've never heard a remotely intelligent insight, so what's wrong with it becoming more aesthetically pleasing? Nick Lachey is hot, which works for me, and you have to figure that he'll drag Jessica Simpson to the set every now and again (if anything, to remind people who he is), so that works for most of you! He seems like a relatively normal (read: not annoying) individual, so I don't see the negatives thus far. But going on ESPN's rationalization for hiring Nick, why can't I be a College Gameday contributor? Why can't I show up onsite and offer shallow, fairly obvious observations? I wanna be a shill and I'm a huge sports fan with a unique perspective! Is the problem that I'd spend a lot of time hurling empties at Chris Fowler while I remind Lee Corso that he looks like Mel Brooks without the talent? Maybe it's because I'm not banging the hell out of the hottest blonde in America. I smell discrimination. You put me on a set with the Gameday Crew and I assure you good times.

SportsCenter Pares Down Lineup

2005-08-31T23:31:00.000-05:00

In light of the inordinate amount of bitching and moaning that I do about ESPN, I'm delighted to share this bit of news:

On Tuesday, ESPN announced plans to pare down its SportsCenter lineup, reducing the number of anchors that will regularly handle the program. Do you know what that means? That's right - LESS STUART SCOTT. Instead of using a dozen or so anchors and mixing up the combination of teams, the network has settled on six anchors and three teams.

"We believe at the end, a smaller pool of on-air talent and more consistent production team will create a better product." - Norby Williamson, senior vice president and managing editor for ESPN.

Beginning Monday, SC viewers will get Dan Patrick and Fred Hickman for the 5 p.m. show, John Anderson and Steve Levy at 10 p.m., and Neil Everett and Scott Van Pelt at midnight. Stuart Scott will continue to anchor the Sunday night edition and appear occasionally on the 10 p.m. weekday slot.

It's not much but it's a start in the right direction.

2005-08-31T12:20:00.000-05:00

Everyone,

I'm tinkering with my blog template, so a lot of random looks may show up here today. If you care enough to offer suggestions one way or the other, let me know either by leaving a comment or sending me an email. I'm getting a lot of feedback to revert to the original template but I know some people's eyes struggle with the text on such a harsh red.

I'm going to try to find a happy medium but if I get frustrated, there's a high probability that I'll throw a tantrum, say the hell with all of ya, and switch it back to the original. Sorry for the inconvenience and thanks for bearing with me.

Cheers

SportsCenter Goes Indie

2005-08-30T12:35:00.000-05:00

The NEW YORK POST reports [where would gossip be without the Post? We'd be in a veritable wasteland of celebrity not knowing, which would force people to focus on their real lives. Sad, isn't it?] that when Martha Stewart eliminates the first contestant on her version of "The Apprentice," she'll substitute Donald Trump's trademark "You're fired!" with the less catchy, "You just don't fit in." That's no fun at all. I think she should line the contestants out across the Montauk Highway (or "Main Street" depending on her exact location) and point her Suburban at the cast off. Then she can should tear ass toward said ousted individual and literally chase him off the show. Now isn't that the real Martha Stewart way?

* I was flipping through the channels yesterday when Quite Frankly came on. But at the moment Stephen A. Smith walked out and began to speak, the sound went out on my tv. I checked to see if I'd pushed mute - nope. It's a $400 tv that's less than a year old, so if there's some type of random malfunction, I'm gonna really curse myself for not letting Best Buy rip me off with that warranty. But that wasn't the problem either. About a minute later, a graphic popped up - "Audio Difficulties." Stephen A. shouted in silence for nearly 3 minutes before ESPN went to commercial and then came back with something else entirely. It was like God was at the controls.

* Twice in as many days I've heard that Clay Aiken is gay. Not that this wasn't obvious before. But one of my new favorite sites, What Would Tyler Durden Do, shares (via RaderOnline) that not only is the painfully unattractive Clay Aiken gay but that his boyfriend is hotter than all of you.

Reichen Lehmkul, the US Air Force Academy grad that won The Amazing Race 4 with his then husband/partner/companion, has been romancing Clay Aiken while filming on the Kill Reality set. I don't know what Kill Reality is but Clay Aiken was calling the show's only openly gay star like a crack ho in need of a fix.

"Reichen swears there’s nothing going on," says our source. "But Clay kept calling non-stop. It was all very weird."

* I have another ESPN complaint/question, as it continues to do its worst (or is it best?) to attract fools and alienate intelligent sports fans. While watching SC this morning, some random anchor said, "What Ben Gibbard is to Death Cab for Cutie, Rafael Nadal is to blue courts." What the hell does that mean? They said it the other day, too, after Jason Marquis' 2-hit shutout - "What Ben Gibbard is to Death Cab For Cutie, Jason Marquis is to the Cardinals on 3 days rest." Booyah! That makes all kinds of sense because until a couple days ago, Jason Marquis couldn't pitch his way out of a paper bag on 2, 3, 4 or 5 days rest. Should I just be glad that I didn't have to suffer through, "This is how we do," "Holla at ya boi when ya something or other in the club," "Cooler than the other side of the pillow," or "illest?" Perhaps, but saving us from Stuart Scott doesn't give these people the right to inflict damage in other ways. The other day, it was the Lew Ford:Twins::James Mercer:The Shins. I first question whether anyone at SportsCenter even knows who Ben Gibbard is, let alone James Mercer, but let's pretend for a moment that they do. If you ask someone about Ben Gibbard**, you're going to get one of two responses, so does comparing Marquis and Nadal [a streaky pitcher backed by a ridiculous lineup and a capri pant-wearing, clay court prodigy no one heard of 6 months ago] to Gibbard mean that, in their respective crafts, the two are the unappreciated geniuses of their generation or that they're whining emo pussies? Our SC friends never say but that's likely because they don't actually know. I assume they mean the former and if so, they should remind the "hip" intern writing this bullshit that he should reserve the "Gibbard is a genius" analogies for the people that actually deserve it. On most nights, the only thing Jason Marquis deserves is to drive home without being followed by a van of heckling redbird fans.

**For readers over 35: Ben Gibbard is the singer/guitarist/songwriter of indie bands, Death Cab For Cutie and The Postal Service.

Serena Williams Unveils Yet Another Horrible Outfit

2005-08-28T16:41:00.000-05:00

ESPN Magazine ranks the University of Tennessee No. 6. However, in its preview of the team, there's not even a hint that 12 UT players have been arrested since the end of last season... so typical of the obnoxious, biased, hype machine that is ESPN. One day a bomb will drop on Bristol and after the nuclear fallout, I'll journey to Connecticut to do the Dance of Joy on the ruins.

I read this morning that Serena Williams is unveiling yet another creepy outfit that will be worn during the US Open. Nicknamed "The Diva" in the USTA's incredibly annoying marketing campaign [and what the hell is that campaign? It Girl, Goddess, Rocketman. Thanks USTA. I want to watch tennis even less now], she'll be wearing a purple and white tennis dress that boasts a plunging neckline and a transparent, pleated purple skirt. "It is see-through," Serena told The Post, "so I'll have to get some shorts under there." Then why have it at all? Why not wear those ass shorts that volleyball players wear? Or just go back to that freaky dominatrix/booty short business that frightened the masses last year?

My question is this -- Am I the only one that wonders if Serena feels like a dumbass when she goes down in flames looking like the Gimp from Pulp Fiction? Look at the picture in the middle! She looks like a Jamaican holiday. Is there not a point where Serena says to herself, "Bloody Christ, as if the humiliation of losing isn't enough.. I ALSO look like Wolverine today."

Come Serena. You've got to get it together.

Kansas Changes Mascot: Now the Gayhawks

2005-08-27T16:59:00.000-05:00

Senior linebackers Nick Reid, Kevin Kane, and Banks Floodman show off their "leaping ability" at media day. Reid, Kane, and Floodman make up the linebacker core that will be an integral part of a highly touted Kansas defense.
I can't come up with a wisecrack that would be funnier than this picture. Can you?

Problems

2005-08-26T18:06:00.000-05:00

Problem 1 - i had this "nightmare" last night where my job situation was hammered and people started throwing stones at us. I woke up assured that it was real and wondering how I'd rationalize this to anyone that asked questions. But as it turns out, it was just a regular Friday morning. So that was either a horrifying premonition or I should think about finding a different cold medicine. Nyquil is obviously causing me some trouble.

Problem 2 - my laptop fell victim to my morning incoherence. It sits on a table next to my bed and when falling out of bed this morning to start my day, I ran into the bloody thing and it fell onto the floor. The internal pin (something which with I've had previous problems) that receives power from the AC adapter broke and for the 3rd time this year, I have to send the bugger to HP for repairs. I managed to save all of my pictures and word documents before the battery died but I lost about 15 Gigs of music :( It's all either stored on my ipod or in my cd collection, so it's not like I lost everything completely but goddammit!!! AAAHHHHHH!

Problem 3 - I went to Boss earlier to ask for a day off in October. I figured 2 months notice was good enough. Going in his office was easy enough and after I offered him some candy, it was a jolly atmosphere. We shot the breeze for a minute and then he looked at me with concern. "Is there something you want to talk about? Can I help you with anything? You know I'm here for you." With the exception of when he's freaking out, Boss uses this fatherly tone with me, so I almost felt bad that I didn't come in there prepared to have a heart to heart. In any case, I was pretty careful with my wording, talking about how much I love working for him and how much I treasure the every day experience. After he returned the compliments, I could tell he knew I was up to something. So I asked straight out. "Day off? The last day off you had was for a concussion. Planning on a bone break?" He stared, waiting for an explanation. "You see, sir.. I want to ... partake.. in an activity... that will be funandIregisteredforitalreadyandI'vebeenreallylookingforwardtodoingitfortwoyears?" His facial expression remained unchanged. "If I can't have the day off, I completely understand." I hardly got "understand" out before he said, "That's great. Because you can't go." Dejected, I turned to leave, but Boss then lead me down the primrose path of hope. "You look really sad about me saying no." I nodded and shared that I'd been looking forward to this event for quite some time. "Is this one of your crazy, adrenaline issues?" I didn't want to lie but figured an affirmative answer would ruin everything, so I didn't say anything at all. "Where are you going?" I couldn't silence my way out of this one. I told him about Bridge Day, that this is the first year I've been able to attend, and normally I would ask first and register later but I actually registered in December of last year. [For the uninformed, Bridge Day is this spectacular day on the New River Gorge in West Virginia where the bridge is opened to B.A.S.E. jumpers - this only happens once a year. This year it's on October 15, which is 49 days and 14 hours from now] Boss looked in the air and went into thinking mode. It felt like 5 minutes went by. "Little Flash, you do a fantastic job?" "Thank you sir." "And I don't know what we'd do without you." Hello, Bridge! "... so I'm still not letting you go, okay? If you jump off the bridge and die or break your legs, then what? I won't authorize your hazardous, radical, nutball interests. You save that for 10 years from now when you work somewhere else. Why don't you go climb the fence outside and jump off that." I thanked him for his consideration and while turning to leave his office, my foot caught on the carpet and I fell, spilling my candy and what little was left of my pride.

I'm leaving now to cry. I hope you all have a nice Friday.

Not Calling Random Hookups Has Consequences

2005-08-24T22:11:00.000-05:00

I can't drink coffee. Well, I can but for the good of my life span, it's best that I don't. The last coffee I had was during finals last winter; it was a latenight cram session powered by Maxwell House. I loaded each cup with sugar, french vanilla Coffee Mate, and some York Peppermint Patties. I had my fourth and last cup around 2 am but at 4, I still couldn't sleep. I first thought it was a normal coffee buzz but then I started jumping off furniture and screaming and running around outside in circles. I did this for 3 straight hours and then ran the mile to class. Once there, I got my test and found a seat but you know how finals are - you have to wait 20 minutes with your pencils and anxieties while tightass douchebags to your left confuse you with a faulty information review and obnoxious tools on your right talk about how easy it will all be. A few minutes after sitting down, my buzz developed into a full-on PCP type freakout. I was wearing a knit skullcap and could feel the knit material sliding against my skin, I heard my pounding heartbeat from every possible direction. At first I thought the professor was piping in sounds through the intercom to scare us but that wasn't the case. I looked down expecting it to pop out of my chest in some pseudo Temple of Doom moment but that didn't happen either. I could feel the rest of my clothes creeping along my skin, my head itched more and more, and I could hear conversations from 30 feet away, pencil erasures, random sniffs, and someone opening a juice box in the far corner. It was like Spidey sense but from the devil. Somehow, I got through my test, ran back to my room, and sat around twitching and shaking my head back and forth like Katharine Hepburn until I crashed out on my face in the middle of the living room floor about 2 days later. My trusty housemates left me there while they had pizza, played video games, and watched tv around my comatose body. 16 hours later, I came to. "You were breathing so we knew you weren't dead. We were gonna give it a day."

Today was my first coffee since the "incident" and on Scott's suggestion, I hit Starbucks on campus. I didn't recognize the guy working but he seemed to know me. [Read all of his lines in a catty bitch voice] "Oh, it's you... Let me guess, come here to apologize for not calling?" I looked around but I was the only person around. "Yeah I'm talkin to you. I don't know who you think you are." I apologized but he went off like we were on Guiding Light. "You don't even know why you're sorry you insensitive-" but then somebody came around from the back, so he calmly asked for my order. Caramel Macchiato. His anger seemed to fade, so I relaxed a little. I shouldn't have. "I didn't know you were a coffee drinker. I thought you were a Gatorade girl." Was this a slight? I couldn't be sure. "I heard about that thing with you and the coffee last year. That must've sucked." I nodded and then my phone rang. When I hung up, my drink was ready. I drank it near the counter. It tasted weird and seemed thick but what do I know?

"How'd you like that mach?" Why do coffee people always have to use the lingo? I told him it I'd probably stick to Gatorade. Then he started talking like he was Jessica Fletcher solving the case. "It was a party in Knott your freshman year.... You were with your friends in Rocky's room. We talked and later I was pretty NICE and GIVING to you. When I asked if you'd call me, you said 'Oh yeah, sure, whatever'? Register? Remember that?" It took a minute but then I remembered [that he was pretty run of the mill at the giving] and asked how he'd been [probably the wrong move]. "Well.. I'm doing well. You know what makes me feel so good? .... Knowing I just put 10 shots of espresso in that macchiato and that your heart will explode. Have a nice day, you heartless bitch!" Then he spun around and walked in the back.

I haven't been the same since.

Boss thinks I'm on crack, I'm jumpier than a virgin at a prison rodeo, and I have this overwhelming need to run out in the streets, break things, and scare innocent bystanders. If anyone is up for causing trouble tonight, tomorrow night, or even the next night, email, IM, or call. I'm gonna be up for a while.

I Wrote Jose Guillen Instead of Ozzie Guillen

2005-08-23T10:10:00.000-05:00

Check out my Tuesday update at SportsbyBrooks, which includes:

Me having my head in my ass and accidentally calling ChiSox manager Ozzie Guillen, Jose.. twice
Eva Longoria discovering her inner sex goddess with a Brazilian wax. [I swear by them. Ladies, stop messing around and get a Brazilian. It won't be that bad - just take an aspirin before your appointment. I swear it'll change your world.]
F.U.T.O - An Open Letter to Terrell Owens
Indiana high school football coach: "Running clock sends a bad message to kids"
... and more