The Strip Club - Part II

Note: This is part ii in an ongoing series of the nuances of strip clubs.

The Fat Stripper
Not many things are as baffling as the fat stripper. It’s not like she’s pushing 300 pounds or anything, but even in a dive bar you wouldn’t pick her out. Look at it this way—would you hire me to do your taxes if I couldn’t count? Call me old fashioned, but it’s my belief that the skills should fit the job.
What do you say to the fat stripper anyway?
Her: Would you like a dance?
Me: Only if you lose 30 pounds doing it.

(Note: I don’t have anything against overweight people at all. Not a thing. But it’s my preference not to pay them money to get buck naked and dance. It’s that simple.)

My buddy summed it up best in five words: Different strokes for different folks.
Plus, he added, there is probably a shortage of hot girls willing to take their clothes off around here.

He’s got a point.

Here’s the conversation my buddies and I had with the fat stripper:
Her: Hi guys, I’m Eeda.
Buddy 1: Eeda?
Her: A-I-D-A. Aida.
Buddy 2: Oh, OK (like that made a difference)
Buddy 1: How’d you come up with a name like that?
Her: It’s an Italian play.
Buddy 1: Really?
Me: Yeah, they just redid it on broadway a few years ago. I think Elton John rewrote it or something.
Everybody: (Blank stares—somewhere, the music stopped playing. Crickets were audible)
Me: I know how that sounds. Let me explain that one.
Here’s a quick aside- Back when I worked in radio, we used to get tons of CDs sent to us, all (obviously) free. Very often a record label would send us about a half dozen promo-CDs to hand out over the air. Basic radio stuff. Well, one day whoever produced Aida the Musical sent us about twenty promo Aida-The Soundtrack CDs. Along with a whole press kit, posters, all that crap. Now, imagine yourself as a college DJ where the most exciting thing that’s happened all year is the Weezer comeback. Your listeners share the same views. Now imagine you’re forced to give away twenty CDs of a Broadway musical produced by Elton John. Pretty tough, right?
We kind of had to trick people into taking them, since nobody would have ever called in to voluntarily win that disc. Calls went something like this:
DJ: Hello, WRUC 89.7 FM (yep, that’s a shoutout to my alma mater—do people even still give shoutouts? Or did those die off 10 years ago?)
Caller: Did I win?
DJ: Yeah, you win a free CD. Just give me your info and we’ll put it in your mailbox.
Caller: Which CD?
DJ: (holding back laughter) Uhhh… we’ll just see what’s in the prize bin (we had no prize bin)
Caller (Several days later): DAMN IT!

After that story, my status was restored. Phew.

The Old Stripper
Equally as awkward but far more amusing than the Fat Stripper is the Old Stripper. She probably got her Farrah Fawcett hairdo when it was first in style. She will half-heartedly flirt with you in a manner that’s so over the top, it becomes self-parodic. It’s as if she knows she’s old and unattractive, and if she bugs you enough, you’ll pay her 5 bucks just to get her old ass out of your face.
Now that I think about it, I don’t want to talk about the Old Stripper. It’s almost depressing.

The Talented Stripper
This is the girl who is like the Mary Lou Retton of stripping. If this were a floor routine, she’d be getting 9.8s, but she’s still swinging on that pole to get a few more points out of the Ukranian judge (and while I’m on the topic, why don’t they have more vertical poles in the Olympics? I think this could really do wonders for the ratings).
If you can manage to get out one sentence between droolings, you’re doing better than most. Take this exchange between my buddy and I for example:
Buddy 2: Wow, she must have gone to, like, stripper college.
Me: She’s got a stripper MBA.

It’s really a marvel to watch. The Talented Stripper is the only reason you’re there in the first place. Limbs are flying all over the stage, dollar bills are sailing through the air, and just about every jaw in the room is on the floor.
Except for the stripper’s—hers is wrapped around the pole.

The Strip Club - Part I

"… Brad, let me impart some wisdom on you that I’ve learned through the years: All Boobies Is Good Boobies."
-Nelson

My friends, truer words have never been spoken.

It’s not often that the events of one night give you so much to write about, but it just so happened that one of these Haley’s comets occurred last night: The Strip Club

Strip Clubs are a wonderful invention. They allow you to abandon all pretenses of political correctness and revel in the beauty which is professionally nude women. It’s a place where money really does solve all your problems. And because I think so highly of these establishments, I’m going to share with you my thoughts on them today.

The Law
The State of New York has fairly strict regulations regarding strip joints and alcohol. It basically breaks them down into two categories: alcoholic and non-alcoholic. In the teetotaler clubs, otherwise known as “juice bars,” women can go bottomless and you wind up paying 8 bucks for a Snapple.
If they do serve alcohol, the girls are required to wear at least a thong, and you’re separated from the dancers by about 6 feet of stage and 3-foot high fence. If you feel the need to give them a tip, they have to cover themselves up before taking your money. Talk about taking all the fun out of it (this gets even more annoying when guys tip during the act and not after it. Since REO Speedwagon only plays for so long, you lose about 30 seconds of boob time for each dead president the girls receive). The worst part about the alcohol bars is that you completely lose the ability to pull the dollar-bill-in-the-mouth move, which, let’s face it, is an absolutely vital part of the visit.

The Girlfriend
Even though I was going out with a few buddies, I invited my girlfriend to go with us, since she enjoys these types of excursions (again: sorry, she's taken). To make a long story short, I’ll just paraphrase the email chain between my buddy and I:
Him: You’re just doing this to get out of trouble.
Me: You’re an idiot. I’m doing this so we can have conversations later such as the following. “Did you see the cans on that blonde one?” “Yeah, those were awesome.”
Besides, you only get in trouble for going to strip clubs for one of a few reasons:
1. Your wife is threatening divorce
2. You’ve been arrested more than 3 times for killing strippers
3. Your daughter works there
Him: But you've killed strippers. 8 to be exact.
Me: Yes, but I said arrested. I've never been arrested for it.
(Author's note: We're into morbid stripper-killing humor. Apologies to any actual stripper murderers who were offended by this joke)
Him: But you forgot the fourth reason-- what if your girlfriend dumps you and starts dating one of the strippers?
Me: (Silent)

Sadly, the girlfriend couldn’t make it so it became a guy's night. In hindsight, I'm not sure this was a bad thing.


Coming up in Part 2: The Fat Stripper, The Talented Stripper and more...

Why the Movies Suck

I was talking with one of my co-workers the other day, and she told me that there were a few movies playing right now that she'd like to see: Sahara, Fever Pitch and Miss Congeniality 2.

Wow.

That could just be one of the most terrible lists of movies I've ever heard. At least, it's way up there. And yet, there are never any shortages of this kind of drivel in the theaters. Never. And then it occurred to me: Hollywood rarely makes good movies because morons keep going to these movies. It's a vicious cycle. And it's a vicious cycle controlled by women.
Think about the last time you heard a guy say something like, "Hey, let's go see that new Matthew McConaughey movie!" Never. The only time men liked McConaughey in a movie is when he was an unknown playing Wooderson in Dazed and Confused ("I like those high school girls-- I get older, they stay the same age")

The biggest culprit these days is the excessive output of romantic "comedies." Clichéd, predictable, corny and downright boring. But always profitable. And what’s to stop Hollywood from churning out swill when it always makes money? Can you think of a time you saw a Sandra Bullock film where you remember saying to yourself afterwards, "Wow, that one really made me think." How about Jennifer Love Hewitt? George Clooney?

Why pay money when I'm just going to rub one out to Alias for free on Wednesday?

Take a look at the money that leading men pull in versus leading women. An untalented male lead can single-handedly pull in an audience, while the same thing simply cannot be said about a female lead. Try finding a guy that isn’t floored by Halle Berry or Jennifer Garner, but then try finding one that’s seen either Catwoman or Elektra. Pretty tough.
And on the flip side, think about pre-Bennifer Ben Affleck, post-Indiana Jones Harrison Ford, XXX Vin Diesel or anything with (single worst actor of his generation) Josh Hartnett. They’re slam dunks.

So how are the women behind this?
I’ll tell you how—because chicks pick the date movie, that’s how.
For the most part, you’re not going to see a Sin City or a Dodgeball on the first date. And even if she’s into action movies, can you name one good action movie in the past year? I can’t. As a guy, you’re going to take the high road and give her what she wants. If you don’t, chances are you’re not headed to second date territory, let alone second base territory. Any guy who’s been on his share of first dates will back this up. It’s common sense. I mean, do you really think Notting Hill would have made that extra 15 bucks if I didn’t think I was headed for the nipple zone? Sorry, Hugh Grant, not a prayer.
It’s a rough world, but it’s reality. There just isn’t as big of a market right now for guys’ movies as there should be. Or maybe that’s because nobody gives it a chance.

But what about guys who go to the movies without girls?
Oh, you mean Sci-Fi fans?
Well of course science fiction movies do well. When you’ve never spoken to a girl without having to type, you’re not bound to their controlling movie-going ways. This is why the Star Wars series does so well. (Speaking of Star Wars, there’s a great article in Esquire this month or last month-- the one with Eva Longoria on the cover-- written by Mike D’Angelo which begs everybody to boycott the new Star Wars movie for the first weekend, just to smite the Hollywood juggernaut and their opening week gross. It’s exactly the type of article I’d write if I had three things 1) a real writing gig 2) real writing talent 3) less self-deprecating humor).

Your palms wear thin.
Lonely you must be, young Jedi.

So how do we fix this?
Stop going to movies. Not forever, just until they get the idea. Don’t give in to the crap they throw at you just because it’s there. At the bare minimum, stop going to bad movies. Even though you can’t judge a book by its cover, you can usually judge a movie by its preview. Choose wisely. If you’re going down the dating path, there have only been a few genuinely good date movies (defined as a chick flick that has enough non-lame comedy for a guy to enjoy) that I can recall in the past few years: Garden State and Lost In Translation. The rest of it you can safely avoid at all cost. Are you really missing anything by not shelling out 9 bucks for Maid in Manhattan? No.
Send a message to Hollywood. Actually, send a bunch: we don’t buy Ethan Hawke as a tough guy, stop overexposing Will Ferrell, Sandra Bullock isn’t cute or funny, and please send Josh Hartnett to a remote South Pacific island that still practices cannibalism.

With a little support, this could really work. Let’s do our part.

Celebrity Look-Alikes

Another entry in the I Look Like A Real Celebrity contest:
Algerian bombing suspect (name withheld because I don't want terrorists on this site) and Nicky Katt (aka The Dude from Boiler Room, or That Guy from Boston Public).
Creepy, but I'll let you decide.

Bomber

"That Guy"

Next up: Clay Aiken and Annie Lennox (from the Sweet Dreams era)

Family Guy Returns

I had a nightmare this weekend.
I dreamt that I was watching the first new episode of Family Guy in 3 years, and it sucked. The voices were different, the dialogue was forced, the jokes were flat. In other words, it had become a sitcom. It was a huge relief when I woke up and figured out that it was just a dream. But then I got to thinking...

We've been waiting 3 years for new episodes. 3 years. Now, not all FG fans have been waiting this long. The group is split into two separate but friendly subdivisions: First, there's the hardcore fans. The fans that watched the first episode after the 1999 Super Bowl and never looked back. The fans that watched as many shows as possible, sometimes under the influence, and had VHS tapes with the original commercials and everything. I am proud to say that I fall into this category. The other half (which actually takes up far more than half of the fan base) consists of fans that never really caught the originals, but woke up to it with the Cartoon Network re-runs and the DVDs (which, in my opinion, is the best show to have on DVD-- ultimately watchable, any time, any episode). Thankfully, this second group of fans was so large, the network was forced to un-cancel the show (a network first).
Now where was I?
Oh yeah-- 3 years in waiting to watch this show, less if you're a newcomer, but it's still a long wait. Is there really any show that can live up to this hype? Think of the last episode of Seinfeld and what a letdown that was. That show had been in production for all of 2 months. This is 3 years. That's almost 5 years!
I know I should give [FG creator] Seth McFarlane more credit. He is, in today's world of pop-culture, a genius. And I don't just throw that word around lightly (OK, so maybe I used it a few times about Sir Mix-A-Lot a few years back, so sue me). A mind like his all but ensures that the season is going to be a huge success, and all my fears will be eliminated. It will be raved about by the original fans, the second wave and even the third wave. FOX executives will look moronic and smart at the same time (kind of like Coke's "New Coke/Coke Classic" debacle of the mid-80's). World hunger will be cured, polio eradicated (again), and Chevy Chase will make a comeback.
The last three I made up, but you get the picture. The three year wait ends this Sunday, at 9PM, and I'm really looking forward to it.
But I'm still scared.

Filler

Tons to write but no time, so I'll hold you over with a few news stories that you may have missed.

If I remove the male parts of my genitals, will you marry me?

Talk about a double whammy.

Can you claim self-defense for this?

Caroline Marcil: This chick makes Carl Lewis look like Whitney Houston. (Part I) (Part II)

The World's Worst Covers

After cleaning up the vomit on my keyboard, I knew I had to post about this: the single worst cover I have heard in a long, long, long time.
For some strange reason (actually, it's not such a strange reason-- it's stupid, but it's not strange) two worthless bands, The Used and My Chemical Romance, released a cover of the classic Queen/David Bowie collaboration, "Under Pressure."
Let that sink in for a moment. Bowie and Freddie Mercury, two of rock's top 10 legends, being covered by somebody who's best known for dating Kelly on a season of "The Osbournes."
Ouch.
There are three distinct rules for covering any song:

1. If you cover in the same genre as your usual music, don't go more than a few levels over your head. For example, the aforementioned no-talent bums could have covered Beck's "Loser," or something more along those lines (If you're covering across genres, go nuts)
2. You can't cover anything that was written in the last 15 years.
3. Make it your own. Don't just play the same song note for note. A cover needs to reflect both the original and the current artist.

The 'Under Pressure' cover violates rules 1 and 3, thus making it completely unlistenable. It also violates another musician rule, which is: If you have a song that you only play in concert (as this song was for these two "bands"), keep it that way. When you release it as a single, you're not doing it for your fans, you're doing it for your record company. It's the fast lane to selling out.

That being said, let's run down some of the best and worst covers (in this ex-DJ's humble opinion), in no particular order. Note that this list doesn't include songs that were merely sampled (not actually covered), thus eliminating most every hip-hop song known to man (especially Will Smith).

Worst:

• "Under Pressure" by Bowie/Queen, performed by The Used/My Chemical Romance
• "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd, performed by Fred Durst (gag-inducing, if you weren't already crying for David Gilmour and Roger Waters)
• "Live and Let Die" by Bob Dylan, performed by Guns 'n' Roses (not a bad song, but when you hear the original, you realize how painful the remake is)
• "My Perogative" by Bobby Brown, performed by Britney Spears (I'm sobbing as I write that)
• "Simple Man" by Lynyrd Skynyrd, performed by Shinedown (probably the worst tribute imagineable to one of the best southern rock bands to walk the earth)
  

Best:

• "I Will Survive" by Gloria Gaynor, performed by Cake (anytime you can make a roller-disco anthem into a damn fine rock song, you're doing pretty good)
• "Mrs. Robinson" by Simon & Garfunkle, performed by The Lemonheads
• "Dazed & Confused" by Led Zeppelin, performed by Electrasy (nobody's ever heard of this brit-pop band, and because of that they almost violate Rule #1, but it's just a cool song)
• "Smooth Criminal" by Michael Jackson, performed by Alien Ant Farm
• "Turn the Page" by Bob Seger, performed by Metallica (if I didn't mention this I'd be shot)

Am I missing a ton? Of course I am. I'd never argue that. Especially because this list was right off the top of my head (there's a punk cover of Sinead O'Connor's "Nothing Compares" I like also, although I have no freakin' clue who does it).

Leave your thoughts as a comment on this post if you'd like to contribute. In fact, please do.

Earth Day

Today, April 22nd, is Earth Day. I'm sure that all of you out there remembered... right? Or, at least it's marked on the calendar. Not there either?
Exactly.
I'm not even sure if today is Earth Day or the anniversary of Earth Day or just another Friday in April. Frankly, I'm not too concerned. My guess is that it's the latter, but just in case, here are some helpful tips to help save our planet on Earth Day:

• Make sure all the trash you throw out on to the highway is biodegradable.
• Start cultivating a garden. But make sure it's indoors in a greenhouse, so the DEA choppers don't catch you.
• If your house uses lead-based paint, scrape it off and slowly feed it to your neighbor's dog as payback for "the fence incident."
• After you get too drunk to speak at your Earth Day party tonight, make sure you only urinate outdoors, where it can be reused by the soil.
• If you make the switch to all-natural toilet tissue, watch out for poison sumac. Don't ask why, just watch out for it, OK?
• Give dirty looks to every SUV you pass on the road.
• If somebody is smoking a cigarette nearby, politely remind them that you'll be happy when they die of emphysema.
  
• Whatever you do, do not (repeat: DO NOT) attempt to blow up a nuclear reactor just because you saw it on "24" this season.
• To conserve electricity, turn off all the lights, appliances and security systems in your house if you happen to live at 324 South Main St.
  

So come on and pitch in. If we all work together, we can make this the best Earth Day that none of us will ever remember.

Brain Farts and other Gym Stories

Don't you just love it when your brain ceases all cognitive function? Rendering you so useless, you feel like breast implants at a gay bar? The term for this, I believe, is a brain fart. You may not actually be stupid, but you feel that way. And if you already are stupid, well, then you're really S.O.L.
This happened to me the other day when I lost my gym membership card. Or, at least I thought I did. I'll bring you into the story on Monday, when I approached the Cute Gym Girl Working the Counter Whom I Didn't Really Want to Embarrass Myself in Front of:
her: Hello, welcome to [gym name]
me: Hi. I'm an idiot. I lost my card. Is that going to be a problem?
her: You can get away with it today. Take a look around for it, and if you don't find it, it's a $5 charge for a new one.
me: OK, here's the thing, I've been looking everywhere for 2 days, and I haven't found it, so can I just give you the 5 bucks now?
her: Yeah sure (...takes down my name and info...). Now the first couple times you come in here, the card will say "Please Rescan," so just tell them it's a new card and you'll be fine.
(For some reason, I felt the need to swipe the card at this point)
computer: (in a loud, obnoxious computer voice) PLEASE RESCAN!
me: (turning red, embarrassed laugh) ... You mean like that?
her: (not amused) Yeah. Like that.

5 dollars poorer, I work out with a few buddies. After we're done, we're getting the stuff out of the locker and a gym membership card tumbles to the ground.
buddy: Hey, whose card is this?
me: God damn it.

The DHG
One of the most confusing mysteries of the cosmos is the Disproportionately Hot Girlfriend (DHG). I'm borrowing the term from the 'referee' series of Miller Lite commercials (which was a brilliant campaign, by the way, only to be trumped by the even more brilliant Bud Light 'cops arresting the refs' campaign that came out a month later).
At the gym, you're bound to see a few DHGs here and there, and it gets no less confusing each time. Here's a girl who obviously keeps herself in shape, and she's with some chimpanzee who hasn't yet learned how to walk with his arms by his side. I mean, Jane Goodall could be studying these guys. It makes absolutely no sense.

But Brad, you have a girlfriend, why does it matter?
It's the principle of the thing, damn it. Did they hand out a trophy to the Milwaukee Brewers last year? No, they didn't. Because they didn't deserve it. Just like Roid Rage Jones doesn't deserve the gym's token hot chick.
Yes, I'm aware that looks can be deceiving. She could very well fit into one or several of the five categories of crazy: Controlling, Hates-Your-Friends, Over Sensitive, Klingy (I know it's misspelled) and Ex-Obsessed (aka CHOKE - I'm patenting this, by the way). And if she's a CHOKE girl, obviously nobody wants a part of her.
But you can't know that from a glance, it's extremely difficult (although not impossible). And thus, the mystery of the DHG will continue forever...

MLB Notes: 4/20

Dmitri Young is falling further and further off his pace for 486 HRs this year (he currently has 4). I'm beginning to think he may not even crack triple digits.

If you follow these sorts of things, Cubs pitchers this year are batting .440 (11 - 25) so far. On a related note, Cubs shortstops named Garciaparra are hitting a combined .163. You can't make this stuff up.

I'm going to start a list this season called, "Ways to make $15 Million in New York this summer." I just thought you'd like to be aware of that. Last season, it would have included "Breaking your hand by punching a wall" and "Helping the Sox complete the greatest comeback in baseball playoff history." Can't wait to see what this year brings.

Among the homerun leaders in the AL is diminutive second baseman Brian Roberts. In the NL, you have light-hitting Joe Randa. Congratulations, fellas, and let me be the first to say STEROIDS! STEROIDS! STEROIDS! STEROIDS! STEROIDS! STEROIDS!

Back to Kevin Brown. A few days ago I ripped him in my post and the Yanks scored 19 runs the next day. After that game, I wrote that Tampa Bay is the worst team in the Northern hemisphere, and then Tampa goes out and wins...

Naturally, I concluded that I have some sort of warped psychic/telekinetic abilities. Frankly, I don't think there's any other answer to this mystery. Using this new found strength, I can apparently control the events of the universe by blogging the exact opposite. And I'm thinking this could prove useful.

Let's see, what's on the list tonight:
OK, Yankees suck again, Fox won't decide to run the Simpsons instead of American Idol, and Eliza Dushku isn't going to stop by my house at 10 o'clock tonight carrying a 6-pack and some nachos.

More updates tomorrow.


Move over, Miss Cleo, you've got company

The Allman Brothers

There's a channel on XM called "Deep Tracks," where they basically just dust off some pothead's music collection and play classic rock all day. Except it's not the classic rock you usually hear, it's mostly stuff you've never heard, which makes it a top-notch station. I mean, there's only so many times you can hear "American Woman" in any given week.
As I turned my car off last night, the Allman Brothers were in the middle of an extended jam. That was about 10:30PM. When I turned my car back on this morning, sure enough, Allman Brothers extended jam. That was about 8:15AM.
Then I thought to myself, You know, it's entirely possible that that was the same exact song... not like they played it twice, it just kept going for 10 hours.

An Allman Brothers concert-- the number
2 Mecca for burnouts, next to Jamaica

Couldn't you picture the Allman Brothers, circa 1971, starting an all-day festival at 10 in the morning, and playing just one song that lasted until 8 at night, to an audience of 56,000 tripped out stoned hippies? I can just see Gregg Allman stammering up to the mic afterwards, saying, "That was... uhhhhh.... uhh.... whipping post... I think. Up next is... umm... shit, let's play whipping post again! Wooooooo!"
And the crowd goes wild.

MLB: Back on Rookie Mode

Author's Note: I'm going to include two translations for this article. One for people my age, and one for the younger crowd who might not have shared the same experiences.


Growing up male 20 years ago, you are bound to have an involuntary muscular reaction to the phrase "Tecmo Bowl," even to this day. If for some reason you slept through the mid-80's, however, I'll break down what was far and away the best football video game of its time: Tecmo Bowl debuted in 1988 for the 8-bit Nintendo Entertainment System (NES) as a crude precursor to the world of football gaming as we know it today. There were only 9 players on the field and only 4 plays to choose from. And yet, its simplicity (at least as we see it today) was its boon, demonstrated by the fact that almost 15 years later we still played it on my old roomate's fully-functional NES (do you have any idea how difficult it is to find a NES in good condition these days? It's near impossible, no matter how much you miss playing Mike Tyson's Punch Out. And even if you do find one, it takes a good 10-15 minutes of the 'blowing technique,' and if you don't know what I'm talking about, just stop reading right now because this is way before your time).

Watch out for his right hook, his jab, and his bicuspids.

Tecmo Bowl got frustrating sometimes as a kid, like most NES games, and quite often you found yourself violently pressing your thumb down on the controller with that exasperated look on your now-purple face, screaming "B! I PRESSED B GOD DAMN IT!!"
That was about the peak of agony, after which your parents would come bang on the door and tell you to either play outside or stop yelling profanities at the TV. Needless to say, you chose the second option. You'd hit the Restart button and set up a new game, but this time you'd pick Chicago. And all of you who know the game know why you'd pick Chicago-- Walter Payton.
Sweetness was the ultimate weapon in Tecmo Bowl, like using the cheat code on Contra (up up down down left right left right A B A B select start-- you know you've done it in your sleep before). He'd tear up the backfield like nobody's business, and before you knew it, you were back in the groove. You were tearing up defenses (there were only 4 of those too), avoiding the blitz, breaking the 4-3 by sending your flanker across the tight end...
Well, the first two you could do. The point is, you were back. The swagger was back. You were once again in your rightful place as the master of Tecmo Bowl.
To bring this rambling piece to its rightful close, this must be what's it's like in baseball to play the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. It's not like you're using a different team, but the competition is so incredibly weak, you're back in your zone in no time. It wakes you up (not unlike Irish Spring, from what I've been told), it snaps you out of whatever funk you've been in, it completely obliterates your slump.
And teams need that. They need a group of players that can be everybody's bitch. They need a pitching staff that throws batting practice, a lineup that can't hit a wiffle ball and an infield that couldn't catch VD from a "ranch" in south Reno. So congratulations, Tampa Bay and the dozen or so fans that attend your home games, you are to baseball what warp zones are to Mario-- recognized not for your talent, but for your ability to get a foot up your pipe.

Translation for those not in the NES era: Have you ever played Madden on All-Madden level, then gotten so frustrated that you had to put the settings back down to Rookie level just so you could wipe that smug grin off Bill Belichik's face? Good. By the way, Devil Rays suck.

Second Author's Note: Would somebody at Nintendo please put out Tyson's Punch Out for the Game Boy Advance? You have Zelda, Metroid, 4 different Mario's...
Look, I know that after the rape trial you had to change it to just "Punch Out," but at least do something. This needs to happen. Period.

The Bill Simmons Conspiracy

If you don't read Bill Simmons' column on ESPN.com, you really should. I became a fan a few years back after being directed there by a friend, and have been a religious reader ever since.
And it's the best kind of religion too-- you know, the kind you can take into the shitter with you.

But if you do read his column, you recognize the person whom we only know as, "My Buddy House." I had a theory with him that had to do with the Sheffield Incident last Thursday, but it turned out to be just that-- a theory, and nothing else.
But since I thought it was interesting, I'm posting it anyway. Here's Friday's would-be post:

So here are the facts we have about the Sheffield Incident as it stands right now:

• Gary "Ray Lewis of Baseball" Sheffield (almost violently) interacts with a Boston fan who took a swipe at him during a game.
• It leaks out that the fan's name is Christopher House, who appears to be in his mid-30's from the photographs at the game.
• House was sitting in the right field stands, in the first row.
• Boston sports writers often get comped at Sox games for front row seats.
• The House from Simmons' column is from Boston, mid-30's, a die-hard Sox fan, and is good friends with a sportswriter.
  

Sounds like a real mystery, Scoob, we should get to the bottom of this. Maybe Old Man Simmons is hiding his buddy's guilt because his farmhouse is on an abandoned gold mine... OK, so maybe it's not a job for Shaggy and the gang, but it's still interesting in an obsessive kind of way. I'm roughly 99% certain that this is just a series of benign coincidences. And I'm 100% certain that I shouldn't be jumping to the wrong conclusions using vague facts about a writer whom I admire and don't particularly wish to alienate or piss off. But I'm dumb. And you can judge for yourself.

Unfortunately, actual facts (or "true facts") came out in recent news stories, which discredited my theory. It was really too bad, I was hoping for some major media cover-up. Turns out that the 'Fenway' House is a season ticket holder (not for long though), not a guest. And if nobody has made the connection to the 'Simmons' House by now, especially from people that actually know one of the two guys (i.e. "real" writers), it just isn't going to be true. I guess that means it's time to drop the story.
Damn it.

But then again, you never know. And as They say, "Truth seldom stands in the way of a good story."

Update: 4/20/05
This tidbit straight from Simmons' column:
"...and no, he's not the guy who took the swipe at Sheffield..."
Like most things in the Sports world, they're fun while they last, but nothing lasts forever.

MLB Notes: 4/18

After watching the Orioles come back against Tom "Flash" Gordon and the Yankees on Saturday (OK, can we stop calling this guy 'Flash' already? The only thing 'Flash' about him is how quickly his career went downhill), the announcers came on to tell us that Kevin Brown would be pitching on Sunday.
Great, I said to the rest of the room, another loss. It's automatic. The game's not even worth watching. And I was right. Here's Brown's box score line from yesterday:
6IP 6ER 9H 2BB 3K
His best stuff came after the second inning, after he had already put the Yanks in a 6-0 hole. The word "Loser" does not come close to defining this guy.
Open letter to Kevin Brown: Please punch more walls. You serve the team better on the DL.
Did Vegas even bother putting a money line on that game?
The Yanks have a guy named Chien Ming Wang pitching for AAA right now who is more than ready to step up to the bigs. Look at their spring training stats this year:
Wang: 1.00 ERA 1.00 WHIP (walks + hits per innings pitched)
Brown: 6.66 ERA 1.75 WHIP
OK, so I'm cherry-picking my stats a little, since Wang didn't pitch as many innings, but you get the picture. If the Yanks want to win a title this year or next, they need to get rid of this aging, temper tantrum throwing sack of crap and go to their young guys. Don't feel like putting a rookie out there? Fine, stick Tanyon Sturtze in the rotation, he's more than proven himself out of the bullpen.
"But didn't Brown he start off 7-0 last year?" Yes, he did. And 4 of those wins were against Tampa Bay.
"Wasn't he the best pitcher available for Jeff Weaver?" Maybe, maybe not, but we'll never know.
"Couldn't the Yankees be better served by signing a peanut vendor who tosses left-handed?" Funny, but yes. I think the answer to that is yes.
"Were you the jerk who sideswiped my Lexus in the mall parking lot this weekend?" Woah, hey, let's stay on topic here.
The bottom line is that Steinbrenner and Cashman were four steps beyond stupid for not hanging onto Andy Pettitte after the 2003 series, even with his injuries. Aren't there a few Gottis hanging around in NY? Can't they quietly take care of this situation? What happened to this town?

More random notes:
Jose Guillen might be the most underrated signing of the off-season. Or, at least it was when it happened. But he's one of the most important reasons the Naticles are hanging on to 1st place in the NL East.

Wow, read that last sentence again. Who would have thought the Nu-Expos would have a shot at first in that division? I mean, it's only April, but still.

Is it OK to hate the Mets but still like Willie Randolph?

When Tony LaRussa ends his managerial career, they should put him on Baseball Tonight with Larry Bowa. Just trust me on this one.

Weekend Recap

Textbook guy's night at my buddy Smitty's house this weekend: beer, pizza, wings, Ultimate Fighting Championship on pay-per-view, and a lot of poker. There was only one girl at the party, and she was pulling the "look how good of a girlfriend I could be" routine (she's just starting to date one of the party's attendees) by getting us beer all night and cleaning up after us too. Degrading to her? Yes. Completely worth it? Of course.
In hindsight, the only thing we were missing at the party was cigars.
The best part of the night had to be (in my humble opinion) when I pulled a third 4 on the river card of our texas hold 'em game (I had 2 in hand) to beat the grinning asshole across from me, who was sitting on a pair of aces. More rewarding than the money I won was the expression on the guy's face when the final card was flipped. It went from "This one's all locked up" smugness to "I just turned on the lights and realized it was my sister" horror. Priceless.

Surprising to hear, this was the first time I had ever watched the UFC. Here's a quick rundown, if you've never seen it: extremely entertaining in 10 minute intervals, as two evenly sized guys (most are pretty average looking) kick the living crap out of each other in a manner that is illegal in all 50 states. Two things really make this sport fun: A) The fact that there are rules... but at the same time, it feels lawless. B) The fact that you could accidentally pick a fight with one of these guys in a bar, only to wake up from a coma in some hospital four years later without the use of your arms or legs. I mean, when you see the moves that a 5'10'', 170 lb guy can pull, it makes you think twice about picking on the I-CON crowd (OK, maybe that's a stretch, but you get the point).

Another great exchange between me and the girlfriend this Friday, as we were at the mall (I know, I know, I hate the mall too. Don't judge me):
her: I need some hand lotion, my skin is dry.
me: Well there's a [insert generic mall store that probably has hand lotion] right over there, and it's probably cheap. You want to go in?
her: No, I don't mean I want to buy hand lotion, I need to use hand lotion... you know, like a tester [bottle].
me: (blank stare)
her: Oh look, a Bath & Body Works!

Sorry fellas, she's taken.

Quotes from the News

Since I usually don't get around to posting over the weekend, I'll leave you with some quotes from the news I've found particularly funny today:

"The personalization entered cannot be accepted."
- NFL.com website, when you try to customize an Atlanta Falcons #7 jersey with the surname, "MEXICO"
If this makes no sense to you, check out this story about Mike Vick and his alias, Ron Mexico (shouldn't Ron Mexico have been a porn star name like 15 years ago? You're telling me nobody thought of that?)

"She must have panicked."
- Sales manager of a car dealership in Florida where an 80 year-old woman hit her husband, a salesman, a car, a tree and a wall during a test drive.

"Every time I'd yell at him, he'd chirp."
- Colorado resident Uegene Safken while resuscitating a chicken (read those last 3 words again if it didn't sink in the first time)

Other random thoughts for the day

I have now seen, in two different publications, front page blurbs on how "Fran Drescher is back!" Really? People are excited by this? What's going on here? Is Satan throwing snowballs?

Bet your radio doesn't do this: On XM's alternative channel, every time they play Modest Mouse's "Float On," they lead into it by playing "The World at Large," which essentially serves as a 4-minute intro. By the time that first song is over, you have your radio cranked so loud, people 3 blocks over can hear "I backed my car into a cop car the other day." Just great programming there, 8 full minutes of one band, and you'd never hear it that way on FM.

Speaking of alternative music, don't you think the band Seether should be a Veruca Salt tribute band?
I had this same thought about Godsmack a few years back in my college radio column, except with Godsmack it was actually true (not about Veruca Salt though). For those of you who haven't been stalking me since that column, I'll recap quickly: Godsmack's first album essentially was an Alice In Chains tribute album, but poorly disguised and passed off as actual music. It was sorely unoriginal, and the few tracks they didn't rip-off from AIC, they got from Nine Inch Nails.
If you look away from all that, and just take the record for what it is-- a band trying to make a rock album and not caring about originality-- it's a decent album to put on and zone out, like the background at a party. And what I caught of their live show last fall (they opened for Metallica, I was busy getting drunk across the street when Godsmack was playing, so I only saw about 20 minutes of their stuff) wasn't bad either.
But overall, they're a forgettable group. A 90's version of the 80's hair band scene. And Seether is a thousand times worse. I could write all day about this. I won't, though. Not today at least.

Lastly, I heard an Elastica song on the radio last week that wasn't "Connection." 100 bucks to the person that can name ANY Elastica song other than "Connection." I don't think it can be done.

MLB Notes: 4/15

First of all: Happy Tax Day
Just so happens that every year, tax day falls on Bend Over and Grab Your Ankles Day.
Go figure.

On to baseball:

More Sox-Yanks rivalry-- another fan-player confrontation.
One guy you never (repeat: NEVER) want to mess with in baseball is Gary Sheffield. He is undoubtedly the Ray Lewis of the major leagues. How do I know that? Look at him-- he's got the Crazy Eye.
Remember last year, during one of the heated Sox-Yankees series, when he was buzzed up high, and he just stood there mouthing to Pedro, "Not me. Not me." Quintessential Shef moment right there. Displayed everything you need to know about the guy: clutch hitter, heck of a ball player, but at any moment, he could just lose it. Crazy Eye. Don't be surprised if that fan goes missing in a few days.
Watching this game at a sports bar last night was the ultimate experience for this play. We just sat there (already way in the bag by that point) saying to ourselves, "He's gonna kill him. Shef's really going to kill that guy. We could actually witness a murder on national TV tonight." Classic.

Digressing for a moment about Ray Lewis and the Crazy Eye, which by the way is the ultimate sports weapon, I was hugely disappointed when the cover of Madden 2005 failed to capture Ray's Crazy Eye. I mean, here's a guy who can literally de-bowel a tailback with that stare, and they completely miss that. It's a travesty.

Moving on.

The Naticles won for the first time in Washington since 1970. And the first pitch? Ball - high. W needs to work down in the zone if he wants to keep righties in the park. I'd be surprised if he's not down in AAA by June.

Has anybody else been watching Baseball Tonight recently, just to see if Larry Bowa gets pushed the wrong way and explodes on Harold Reynolds? I have. The clock's ticking on that guy.

And finally, my Adam Dunn for MVP campaign is running a little off track lately: .179 avg, 2 HR, 6RBI, 10K. That means his strikeout-to-hit ratio is 2:1. Ouch. But I'm not losing hope... yet.

The Office, Chapter 206

It shouldn't be terribly surprising at this point for me to share the fact that blogging is not my day job. If this is at all shocking, I invite you to please take a few moments to collect yourself before reading on.
I'll be starting a continuing, if disjointed, narrative series on my life at the office. It will skip in time, switch points-of-view, everything that should make an entirely confusing journey. This could become quite a compendium, albeit in 500 word bursts. And it also could really suck. But it's worth a shot.

We begin the series in medias res:

Chapter 206
Tires popped on the loose gravel beneath as the car slowly rolled to a stop. From a thin cloud of smoke, two gently curved figures by the doorway glanced towards the noise, squinting to see past the glare in the windshield. The one with her back towards the vehicle pivoted slightly, and when she was satisfied with her view, turned back around, not quite hiding her sneer from the driver. He caught the gesture, as he may have been intended to do, and the sentiments were duly echoed under the cover of the glass.
"Shit," he said out loud. It was half past noon, which meant another five hours before he would be able to sniff the familiar stale interior of the car again. The driver took a deep breath, exhaled and stepped out onto the concrete; the half hour of paid freedom was nearing a close. The sun mocked him from above, shining brilliantly and reminding him of its impending absence during the next three hundred minutes of his life. Bastard of a gaseous fireball, he thought to himself.
Dues had to be paid, he reminded himself. Machiavellian underpinnings in an office of daft morons. A cubicle farm of false hopes and defeated morales. He imagined the scenario in his head where he subtly passed the smokers by, him with is neck pointed down and them with their nicotine fix. It would be perfect, he thought, nobody pretends to like each other, everybody is happy ignoring the other’s respective existence. It would be a world of pure bliss, built on the principle of mutual unrecognition.

Why do it? he asked himself, Why play make believe? Why put on the mask? What’s that phrase? It takes so many muscles to smile, but only a few to extend a finger… something like that.

Approaching the entry, his gaze fixed on the back of her head, he initiated the engagement. “Hi, Sandra,” he said, continuing to walk quickly toward her.

“Hi there,” she smiled back, "how was your—" she started, before being interrupted by the sound of bone meeting flesh. The blow from his right fist had caught her directly under her jaw and taken her clean off her feet, sending her six feet back into the row of hedges lining the building. She lay there, stunned and giggling, until…

Giggling? Why was she giggling?

Dazed, he looked down at his feet, which were still planted on the ground outside the car, where he sat with the door flung open. He looked around, pausing at the two women, still smoking and giggling in the sunlight. Another deep breath, shook his head to rid the daydream, and he stood, closing the car door behind him. His afternoon was beginning.

Dear Motorola

I wrote the following letter in September of 2004. Along with this photo, I have the video to go along with it, although I'm having trouble finding a host to post it online. The picture was taken with the new phone I had purchased that day (as was the video). Enjoy.

Dear Motorola,

I am writing to express my dissatisfaction with one of your products: the T-720 mobile phone. I purchased the phone in November of 2002, and since then have had nothing but problems. Aside from the numerous dropped calls and depressingly short battery life, there are also two major defects with the phone. Being a "flip-phone", many times the phone's software will not recognize the fact that it is closed-- until, that is, it receives a call, after which it immediately recognizes that the phone was in fact closed, and promptly hangs up on the caller. I've also noticed that the phone has a tendency to shut itself off at very inopportune moments, regardless of any effort I have made to keep the phone on.

I took the phone to my local service center several times, but they could do nothing to fix the problems, causing me a great deal of frustration.

Which leads me to my third problem.

Recently, I've noticed that when the phone is placed directly in the arc of a rapidly moving aluminum baseball bat, the phone's basic operations cease to function at their optimal levels. I've noticed that the performance of the phone was severely hindered and further, more forceful repetitions of this problem produced the same result, until the point that the phone wouldn't even turn on.

Enclosed is a photograph of the issue described above. I expect a full reimbursement for the cost of the phone, as well as a rebate on a future mobile phone purchase (from a different manufacturer, obviously) for the mental anguish that your sad excuse for a consumer product has caused me.

Thank you.

Brad C.

Albany, NY

Opie & Anthony

In case you're new to the blog, I am very intimately involved with XM radio. It governs my life. I am not ashamed of this fact.
I was a DJ/Promotions Manager/General Manager at my college radio station, and subsequently became a typecast music nerd, if I hadn't been one already (I'm pretty sure I had).
Pretty quickly after graduating, I got so sick of FM radio it made me prone to horrible fits of violence, and I have a hard time finding gainful employment to this day as a result.
I'm digressing...
XM, if you didn't know, is home to Opie & Anthony in the morning, whom you may remember from a few years back as the guys who got thrown off the air for pulling an on-air stunt that involved having sex in a church (between two listners, not O&A themselves). Still not ringing a bell? That's fine, it's not crucial to the post anyway.
O&A have been accused by Howard Stern of ripping off his act, and he has a point there. But then again, you can say that about pretty much every morning show out there right now (and Stern often does). But instead of brushing off the criticism, O&A talk about it constantly, and keep mentioning how Howard thinks they're ripping him off. They don't, mind you, defend themselves, they just attack Stern for doing it.
What? That's the strategy? That's like somebody trying to convince you they're over their last relationship by constantly reminding you just how over their last relationship they are (this struck a chord with me because I have a co-worker who takes this approach to her ex). It's horse shit, and it's transparent on anybody who tries it. If you're over it, you're over it and you move on. And if you haven't ripped off Howard Stern, you don't mention it and move on.

That being said, I still occasionally listen to and enjoy their show, so I'm not quite sure what that says about me.
And I have to hand it to O&A, they had what is probably the most amusing piece of ironic comedy, or iromedy, that I've heard in years. They have an audio clip of Howard Stern (the man himself, not an actor) announcing a promo for XM. Priceless. And if you can't figure out the irony in that statement, then you don't follow news about $500M contracts very well.

Of course, the other blinding irony about this situation is that O&A never would have signed with XM if they hadn't been already booted off the FM airwaves. And Stern never would have signed with Sirius if O&A hadn't already signed with XM (the difference in subscriber base between Sirius and XM is laughable).

And yes, I'm keeping the copyright on the word iromedy.

I-CON Photo Gallery - Part III

Finishing up the last of the I-CON photos, these really pale in comparison to the knight post yesterday.
This first photo struck me as inordinately funny, if only because I pictured the thought process going through this guy's head (more entertaining if you read it aloud with an excited orthodontic lisp): "Everybody's going to be so jealous of my Vulcan costume, all the babes are going to be asking for my screen name. Now let me just finish getting dressed in my mom's van..."

Bet you didn't know Vulcans drove red minivans.

The photo below didn't come out at all like I wanted it to, so I'll just have to explain it. The arrow above that guy's head says, "Generic Asian Male." Easily the most clever costume I saw all day.

What, no barcode?

So what have we learned through this experience, boys and girls?
That's right: Never trust anybody with an eyepatch, and always carry around your digital camera, since you never know when you're going to stumble upon a convention with 6,000 nerds.
Until next time...

I-CON Photo Gallery - Part II

Not sure exactly what I-CON is all about, even after reading their mission statement, but I concluded it to be just as I saw it on Saturday-- a completely random assortment of sexually frustrated people with little to no grip on reality. So am I part of this elite crowd for (kind of) attending the event? Of course not (how's that for a grip on reality?).

Who needs 20-sided dice when
you have plastic and duct tape?

Despite a strong showing from the sci-fi congregation, there were a lot of renaissance themes floating around, including a medieval battlefield. This, just as in the 16th century, consisted of pasty white guys wearing metal pasta strainers on their heads while trying to knock each other senseless with duct-taped wiffle-ball bats. During the "battles," which relied mostly on the enhanced wrist strength of the combatants, you could hear such disputatious phrases as, "I blow my nose at you, English pig dogs," "It's just a flesh wound," and "You will find me a shrubbery."

Man, knights get all the chicks.

Adding to the weird factor of the Holy Wars was an outcast fringe group of what I can only assume to be peons, but who many judge to be simply, Lesser Nerds. They had the desire, they had the duct tape, but for some reason or another, they just didn't have what it took to dress up in full regalia (most likely this missing element was a bored grandmother with a sewing machine). The only real protection they had was the bite plate on their retainers. I think the picture speaks for itself.
See that guy all the way to the right? That's an Ewok hat he's wearing.

Someday, lads. Someday.

Next up: Last few remaining thoughts.

I-CON Photo Gallery - Part I

Let me begin the galleries by stating how disappointed I am that a 4-dollar disposable camera takes understandably crappy pictures. Should've seen it coming, but didn't. And I learned my lesson-- always carry a digital.
That being said, let's get on with the photos:

Here walks the aforementioned Link from the Legend of Zelda, who we followed all the way to the convention (if your screen is large enough, you can make out the Triforce shield). Fortunately for us, he was not being trailed by any Moblins or Wall Masters.

I was a little scared to take pictures from too close up, even though it seemed he was not wearing the Blue or Red ring. From that distance I couldn't be sure if he had a Diamond sword either.

And to all of you out there on which these Zelda references were completely lost, I apologize... sort of. I'll try to keep the next few posts a little less esoteric.

Coming up next: Knights-- In Long Island.

The Bulging Buffalo

Taking a small break from writing about I-CON, I got one of those new nickels as change at the drive-thru today. I was mildly intrigued, more of a 'hey look at this' than a 'I just creamed my shorts' reaction.
Anyway, I showed the nickel to one of my co-workers, only to have her reply, "Hey look, that buffalo's anatomically correct!"
Yes, sure enough, folks, the buffalo on the new nickel has a penis. Let's hear it for Uncle Sam.

Nerds - Something to look forward to

After I posted yesterday, we (my girlfriend and I) finished up our business at Stony Brook and had some time to kill. The following conversation took place:
Me: So, you want to go check out that I-CON thing now?
Her: Yeah sure, we can do that.
Me: Do you know how to get there?
Her (gesturing behind me): Why don't we just follow the guy from Zelda?

Yup, sure enough there was Link, walking on the sidewalk as if all was well in the kingdom of Hyrule (thank you for defeating Gannon and completing the Triforce, Link!). Needless to say, we followed him down to the convention (luckily for us, we guessed right and that's where he was headed), and all I can say is "WOW." I mean, I consider myself somewhat of a dork (and I actually own this shirt), but this was beyond over the top. And it wasn't just one type of nerd, like a Star Trek convention. It was a smorgasboard of dweebs, from all hunched walks of life, and all hailing from different dungeon masters. It's the kind of diversity that would have made Dr King proud.
But before I end up alienating/insulting more readers, I'll just say that I took pictures. A bunch of pictures. And I'll be posting them throughout the week.
Suffice to say it's something to look forward to. Should be an interesting week.

Disjointed thoughts- a weekend away from home

Here are some random thoughts for the weekend as I'm in foreign territory for a few days-- Suffolk County, NY (on Long Island, otherwise known as "The SC")-- which, by the way, is hosting I-CON at the SUNY Stony Brook campus. I was about to ask my girlfriend (we were at SB for other business, I swear) what I-CON was until I saw 3 people standing there talking-- one was dressed like a robot, one like a medieval warrior and the other like a guy from Star Trek. I was about to quote Ogre from Revenge of the Nerds and crush a beer can while sneering, "Nerrrrrrrrrds," but then my girlfriend pointed out my Back to the Future shirt.
I also snickered at a few guys wearing wife-beaters and gold chains who spoke with heavy accents and walked funny, until it was noted that they were locals who weren't actually in costume. Wow.
So now on with the rest of the post...

If a tornado hit the Earth and the only person killed was Jon Leguizamo, would it even make it onto CNN.com? Even in their 'Off Beat' section?

Do you think people will ever get tired of hearing James Earl Jones' voice?

Wouldn't it be easier to train the Iraqi police force by showing them reruns of Cops: in Dallas?

When are we going to get to see Janet Jackson's other boob?

If Oprah revealed to the world that she was actually God's daughter, 580 million housewives would simultaneously turn to their husbands and say, "See, I told you."
I'm waiting for the day that Oprah brings in a studio audience of people waiting on a kidney transplant list, and then tells them all she's donating 732 of her own kidneys so these people can live. Everybody will think she's the sequel to Mother Theresa, and the fact that all of the kidneys came from Pontiac would make back-page news.

If McDonalds is forced to put warning labels on coffee-cup lids, shouldn't Taco Bell put them on burrito wrappers? "WARNING: UNFIT FOR HUMAN CONTACT FOR AT LEAST 3 HOURS"

You ever notice how unrealistic shaving commercials are? All of them. You see a completely hairless guy in an enormous bathroom from the year 2053-- all polished steel with weird lights and mirrors. Do those people actually exist? If they really wanted to reach their target audience, they'd show a fat, bed-headed 50 year-old guy with a beergut, toothpaste on his cheek and a bathrobed wife screaming at him from the bedroom to get rid of that 5 o'clock shadow, quit coming home drunk and do the fucking dishes once in a while.

And they should come up with better ad slogans. "The best a man can get" is garbage.
"Gilette - Because no intern's gonna blow you with that stubble."

MLB Notes: 4/7 - 2

Here are the games I had to choose from on XM Radio this afternoon:
Mets @ Reds
Royals @ Tigers
Nats @ Phillies

Right, so I flipped on the Reds game.
Listening to the game, if the play-by-play guy wasn't announcing the Mets' team name or the players names, you'd think you were listening to the Reds play the Chili's Bar & Grill Age 5 Tee-Ball team. The Mets are terrible. Fred Wilpon (the Mets owner) has got to be livid over this investment. It's like he paid for a new Jaguar and ended up driving home in a Schwinn.
Attention Mr. Wilpon, I think there's some shares left for Pets.com.

If Pedro Martinez called the Yankees his daddy last year, shouldn't the Red Sox be calling Mariano Rivera their love-bitch? I mean, he might as well put on the gimp outfit from Pulp Fiction. What happened to this guy? Against the rest of the league this guy is untouchable, but against the Sox he gets knocked around like Apollo Creed against Ivan Drago.
And while we're on it, here's today's example of a quote I wish I said first:
"Fans at Yankee Stadium even booed the great closer on his way back to the dugout, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that Yankee fans are headed to hell." - Bill Simmons, ESPN.com

I'll end this post by declaring that I will be referring to the Washington Nationals as the Naticles from this point forward. It's a juvenille play on words, simple low-brow dick humor, and yet I embrace this cheap joke willingly. Feel free to use it.

MLB Notes: 4/7

I was really hoping for Dmitri Young to be the first player ever with 486 HRs. Unfortunately, he fell off that pace last night and is now hitting a paltry .625. Loser.

I'm rooting for the Mets to break .500 this year, if only for the fact that female Mets fans are easy because they're used to being let down. Seriously, the Mets are in danger of becoming the New York Rangers of baseball: overspending for high-priced talent that never really works.

The thing I love about a nascent season is that anybody can make a run at early-favorite-bandwagon MVP. Take this week's example: Joe Randa. Joe Randa? you ask. Yeah, the guy was stuck in the hole which is Kansas City where nobody noticed him, even fantasy players-- and that's saying a lot. He was more of a defense-first kind of guy. But now he's got 2HR and 7RBI to lead the UNDEFEATED Cincinnatti Reds (sorry, had to get that in there before their impending tailspin).
I mean, come on. The only person who will be calling Joe Randa in 5 years is the manager of KFC to tell him he's late for his shift again.

Sin City

Just saw Sin City (aka Frank Miller's Sin City) last night in the theaters. For the 7 of you out there who don't know, the movie Sin City is based on the series of graphic novels of the same name. The film takes 3 loosely-correlated stories from the novels and turns them into roughly 2 hours of highly-entertaining stuff.
Visually stunning, very well done movie. I don't think they could have captured the comic-book feel any better. I loved it.
I'll spare you the full review, since I'd just be gushing anyway, but I'll break down the winners and losers in the acting department:
Winners: Mickey Rourke nailed his part and almost stole the film, but they also got great performances from Carla Gugino (from the short-lived series Karen Sisco-- don't worry if you never saw it; good actress for the wrong part in that show, but she rocked in this movie), Jessica Alba, Benicio Del Toro (I don't know why I even mention him, he's always good), Rosario Dawson and Nick Stahl (to name a few). Clive Owen was sick.
Hung Jury: Bruce Willis was excellent, but he was supposed to be playing a guy in his 60's, which I wasn't buying for a minute. My girlfriend thought he pulled it off though, so I'm going to go with a draw on this one. Michael Clark Duncan was solid, but he didn't have enough of a part to really gain attention. Same thing goes for Elijah Wood.
Losers: Josh Hartnett has solidified himself as the next Ben Affleck-- horrid actor, but gets parts since girls like him. Even when he's a lead he falls flat, but when surrounded by some of the best actors around, he just looks amateur. Piss-poor. Brittany Murphy was her usual lousy self, which wasn't unexpected but still disappointing. Alexis Bledel (aka the jailbait from Gilmore Girls) doesn't really need to be in this category since she did have her moments (and she looked great doing it), but she was too hit-or-miss to call it a real success.

Overall: 9 out of 10. If you miss it in the theaters, I have a good feeling about the DVD.

Soccer

Note to my readers in the UK: I thought about calling soccer "football" in deference to your culture, but I can't justify writing the extra letters to differentiate 'American football.' Sorry.
Note to my readers in North America: Why did you just read my note to the brits? You know it wasn't for you. Quit being so nosy. And stop watching reality TV.

I played soccer the other night, for the first time since I was 11 years old. That was Monday. Today, on Wednesday, my legs are so sore it feels like I got attacked by a herd of angry midgets-- they could only reach my waist.
It ended up being a great time, actually. That surprised me at first (I mean, it's soccer for God's sake), until I remembered that soccer is one of those games that's fun to play, but brutal to watch. Moves too slowly. Waaaaay too slowly.
But the nice thing about soccer is that, like football and masturbation, you don't really need anything to play it. Just a ball. You can't say that about many other sports (I could throw rugby in here, but I'm fairly certain you also need severe brain damage to play it), which is why it has such high popularity with kids. Cheap and easy. A real boon for soccer moms (and now that I think about it, soccer moms are far higher on the popularity chart than the actual game of soccer, and with good reason).
Soccer in the US gets lower TV ratings than hockey. Even this season, when there isn't even hockey to watch. Golf is more exciting. Curling is more exciting. Most people don't even know soccer's played professionally. I mean, when you're getting less viewers than the Pet channel's "When Animals Don't Attack," you know you're slumming.

But the game the other night got me thinking. Soccer isn't really doomed, it's just misguided. It needs a little kick (lame pun intended!) to really catch on with the folks on this side of the sea (clearly, it's already working fine in the EU). If I ran the MLS, here's what would happen:

• More explosions. Pre-game, post-game, in-game. It's a cheap effect and it's dumb, but it works (see: Arena football). High-brow doesn't always work here.
  
• Cheerleaders. The more exotic dancers, the better (like that B-movie with Keanu Reeves, the Replacements). And you're encouraged to tip them.
  
• Put a 2-point line in there.
  
• Make the goalies bald, and have them paint their scalps like they're auditioning for Braveheart.
• Follow the NBA's example-- make them wear longer shorts.
  
• One word: Ball-cam.
• Make Dick Vitale an announcer, and team him up with Marv Albert and David Coverdale from Whitesnake. Just because.
  
• Shorten the field; watching 6 guys prance around midfield for 10 minutes at a time with nothing in the camera view but grass gets more than a little boring.
  
• Face-offs. Enough of this free-kick nonsense.
• Celebrity endorsements: i.e., Jenna Jameson presents: Soccer!
  
• In a tie game, you go to sudden-death OT, with one small change: now there's 3 balls on the field.
• Watching somebody get kicked in the groin is gold, so work that into the promos.
  

And the list goes on like that. So, I'll be checking my email for the keys to the car from MLS. I look forward to hearing from you.

Beer News: Truckload of Beer Flips

Thanks to TJ for pointing this article out.

Truckload of beer flips:

“I had a tear in my eye, actually, when I was watching it,” said Halifax Regional Police Const. Mark Hobeck. “It was full of beer. We were hoping a Hostess truck full of pretzels would come by, but no such luck.”

http://www.hfxnews.com/news.aspx?storyID=32313

NBA: Land of 0 Lakes

A great day for Lakers-haters today, as they lost in embarrassing fashion to the Phoenix Suns and were eliminated from playoff contention. To this, I say woo-hoo.
The land of zero lakes hasn't been the same since Shaq left. Those who thought that Kobe could lead the team (a group that includes Mr. Bryant himself, and about 2 other people) were put in their place. Finally. Not to say that Kobe isn't a great basketball player, because clearly he is. In the previous 2 games against the Suns this year (he was "injured" and did not play last night), he scored a triple-double. Of course, in those 2 games the Suns came back to win it. And there you have, in a nutshell, Kobe Bryant. Flashy when he can be, worthless when it counts.
The basketball gods are smiling today.

One more thought on the NBA, moving to the other coast: Did you ever play with Legos when you were a kid? Were you one of those kids who completely ignored the instructions, only to end up having your new creation look like utter crap? Don't get me wrong, there were kids who could pull that off really well, but then there were others who just flailed around wildly, sticking pieces where they didn't belong, mixing and matching all sorts of horrid combinations...
In case you haven't guessed where I was going with this, I'm talking about Isiah Thomas and the Knicks. Enough said.

A Dark Day for Yankees Fans' Ears

Note: This is for Yankees fans only. I apologize in advance to all my readers in Michigan and Kansas City.
WFAN, the Yankees radio network, dealt recently with the loss of Charlie Steiner, who took a play-by-play job with the Los Angeles Dodgers. It was a tough loss for fans of Yankee broadcasts, because even though it was known that he and John Sterling (the longtime Yanks PBP announcer) didn't get along, they were both extremely pleasant to listen to. Insightful, sometimes humorous, always focused. You get the idea.
Now, instead of replacing Steiner with an equally pleasant voice, they decided to go with the nails-on-a-chalkboard screech of Suzyn Waldman, who was previously relegated to pre- and post-game commentary on the YES Network where viewers could easily hit the 'Mute' button or simply change the channel.
That option is no longer.
Now fans are forced to listen to a woman who, although very qualified, is likened more to a carnivorous earwig than a radio personality. This is brutal. When I found out XM radio was carrying the MLB package, I was thrilled. A few days later, the Waldman news broke, and I just lost it. I felt like the victim in a Greek tragedy.
So as of this day, I am organizing a campaign to get her off the air. I am calling this campaign "the National Organization to Silence Useless voiceZ on the Yankees Network", or NO SUZYN for short (and yes, I know getting a 'Z' out of the urban spelling of 'voicez' is a stretch, but I'm not backing down).
The goal of NO SUZYN is entirely devoted to somehow, someway, getting her off the air, be it by convincing WFAN of their horrendous error, or bribing a pharmacist to give her a crippling, season-long case of laryngitis.
You can show your support by leaving a comment on this post, or just send an email here.
We will not be stopped. Suzyn will.

Quick thoughts on Monday's Openers

- Oops. Looks like Omar Minaya forgot to overspend on a Mets bullpen. Pedro was lights out, but unfortunately the Reds kept the lights on for the last 3 innings and won 7-6.

- Keep an eye on Adam Dunn (one of my top 3 favorite players -- 2 HR and 5 RBI last night) this year. He quietly hit 46 HRs for a bad Reds team last year, and with Kearns and Griffey healthy he'll have plenty of protection in the lineup. Look for him to make an MVP run if the Reds close in on the wild card. This guy is only 25, and he keeps getting better.

- The Oriole's are undefeated so far, but unless they can pull a smoke and mirrors act with their pitching staff (e.g. the 2004 Texas Rangers), they'll be below .500 again. It's too bad, because they have the offense (Sosa, Tejada, Palmeiro, Lopez, Mora) and the manager (Lee Mazzilli) to be a solid team. Put them in the Central and they'd have a shot at the wild card.

- I like the Cubs offense this season (so far). Aramis (aka Errormis) Ramirez could be poised for a big year, now that he just got a contract extension. Remember, he's only 26. The Cubbies put up 16 runs against Javy Vazquez and the D-Backs in their opener, making Brian Cashman look like a genius one year too late.

MLB: A new candidate

Well, now after 3 full games, we have a new AL MVP candidate: the Tigers' Dmitri Young, who was 4-4 with 3 homeruns and 5 RBI in his season opener.
Projected over a full season of 162 games, that would be roughly this stat line:
AVG: 1.000
HR: 486
RBI: 810
SLG: 3.250

Those would all be records. Let's hope he can keep up this pace.

More Notes on Opening Day(s)

The MVP debate: After 1 game out of 2430, Hideki Matsui is the leading candidate for AL MVP...
OK, that doesn't say a whole lot, but he had one heck of a spring. Ichiro looked solid in March as well (he hit about .500 this spring), and if he can get off to a faster start than last April (where he hit .255), we could be looking at the first .400 hitter since Ted Williams, and the first all-Japanese MVP race in history.
Of course, that would take a sub-par year from Manny, Ortiz, Shef, Vlad, etc.

On the NL MVP race, this could just be Albert Pujols' year, with Bonds on the DL. In almost 80 ABs this spring, he had 0 strikeouts. That's not a typo. Zero.
And in case you missed it, a clause in Carlos Delgado's contract gives him a bonus if he finishes 2nd in the MVP voting to Barry Bonds, but not if he's 2nd to anybody else.

That the first MLB player was unmasked as a steroid offender today shouldn't surprise anybody. That it was the Devil Rays' Alex Sanchez should. Or should it? People always throw around Bonds, Giambi and Sheffield, but why don't they mention Randy Velarde or Benito Santiago, the two other names in the BALCO scandal?

Yesterday for lunch I went to stop in an Italian deli down the street, only to find that they were closed on Sundays. Across the street, there was a Subway restaurant. This was hugely disappointing, because although Subway isn't horrible, it's nowhere near what you'd get at a real Italian deli. And when you have your heart set on great food, you're extremely let down when you have to go to a marginal fast-food joint like Subway.
My point is, now I know how Red Sox fans must have felt when they got Clement and Wells instead of Pavano and Johnson.

Notes from the Yankees-Red Sox opener

Opening night. Yanks - Sox. Rematch of last fall's 'The Greatest Comeback in Baseball History.' The Sox are defending champions for the first time since 1919 (the same year as the Black Sox scandal). The Yankees added much needed firepower to their rotation. The Sox begin their first season in the Post-Nomar era...
Does this seem a little too scripted to anyone else?
Need more convincing? Here are the pitching matchups for the first 3 games:
Sunday - David Wells vs. Randy Johnson -- i.e. The New Old Guys
Tuesday - Matt Clement vs. Carl Pavano -- i.e. The Young Guys switching from the NL
Wednesday - Tim Wakefield vs. Mike Mussina -- i.e. The Understated Staples of the Rotation over the past 5 years
Convinced now?

Quick notes about the game (played in Yankee stadium):
- Why are Yankees fans booing David Wells? He just let in 6 runs. They should give him a standing ovation. Andy Pettitte wouldn't get booed in here, he'd get a harem and a ticker tape parade. And they left on similar terms. I don't get it. Is it the fact that he went to the Sox?

- To close out the top of the seventh inning, Tino Martinez made a sparkling defensive play when he dove to grab a Johnny Damon grounder. When they lined up to hear God Bless America in the seventh inning stretch, he had a smile so big you'd swear he just lost his virginity to Alyssa Milano.

- Speaking of Milano, it's fairly common knowledge in baseball that she dated new Yankees pitcher Carl Pavano (making her the almost Alyssa Milano-Pavano). You think they could start that back up again? There's only so many hairy bleacher bums you can look at on television. And don't tell me the YES Network cameras wouldn't be on her for half the game.

- Every time David Ortiz bats, he scares me. And speaking of Ortiz, who else wonders why the Sox went after Carlos Delgado during the off-season? Ortiz and Delgado are the exact same player, give or take 30 pounds; left-handed, power hitting, horrible defensive first baseman. And they already have a right-handed poor defensive first baseman in Kevin Millar. Wasn't that why they went after Doug Mientkiewicz last summer?

- Oh, by the way, the Yankees won 9-2, if you follow that sort of thing.

Those wacky British are at it again

BBC asks Bob Marley for interview

In a nutshell, a broadcaster from the BBC (not named) wrote a letter to the Bob Marley estate requesting an interview with Bob Marley for a couple days.

For those of you unfamiliar, Bob Marley died in 1981.

G-Mail Address

Got a new e-mail address for the blog: stoutlager@gmail.com
There's a pretty back-asswards way to get G-Mail now since it's still in beta testing (unless you know this shortcut -- I found out after the fact). You have to track down somebody who already has it, then get a special invite from them. Odd. One step further and it would be a growing network of prostitution.
That idea in 1997 could have made me a millionaire.

PETA and Star Jones... and the pigs

I love PETA. It's not often so much joy comes out of so much blind stupidity.

Actually, I hate to say it but I agree with them on this particular stunt (ripping on Star Jones). I mean, hating Star Jones is something everybody can enjoy. You know in the movie Independence Day how the whole world forgets their differences and joins together to fight the aliens? That's kind of like how it is with Star Jones. Hating her unites people.

Of course, PETA also has this recent quote:
"Shocking more pigs is only going to add their numbers to the Taser-related death statistics," Patti Gilman, on a report that pigs will be used in research on (human) Taser-related deaths.

Ah, and the world is right again.

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