And so in this Podcast…
Jeff and his sCrUBS fan nemesis pal, Johanna Mahmud, get back in the studio and throw down on the art of being right! Among the titillating topics of discussion: mispronouncing dominance [Doc Halladay] and futility [John Grabow], Brandon Phillips’ wings, a wild war of words over Albert Pujols, the Lou Piniella Mailbag and much, much more.
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to the RSBS Podcast by clicking *HERE*
via iTunes by clicking *HERE*
thanks to Keith Carmack — our engineer, director, editor and
all-around sound guru. He always knows when the Hawks are (or aren’t) gonna get donged.
Recorded Monday, May 31, Memorial Day 2010
As a man of the People, I am not adverse to opening up myself to the other side — to hear what the opposition has to say, to understand their positions and to really look at the world from their points of view. This willingness towards transparency is a fundamental step in creating good policy; and quite frankly, such idealistic strides are what makes being an US American so special.
That being said, even I have my limits. Rude, callous and hurtful remarks defaming my dear mother are not only uncalled for, they’re sophomoric and as I have said here before, I refuse to acknowledge any like correspondences.
Well, finally, this freakazoid (who won’t tell me his name) left my mother out of his hateful emails, so I thought, why not post some snippets here to show the dear readers just what kind of nutcase I have to deal with on a daily basis. He hides behind a computer, masked by the interweb; I know him only as:
…and he is absolutely chock full of misguided wrath.
Again, I receive a lot of hate mail; and that’s totally fine. I enjoy it — welcome it actually — but this guy is so off-the-charts that I might sleep better if he just disappeared. In fact, this vigilante posting of mine is done in part because I’d like to leave a record of his nastiness — just in case I happen to disappear myself.
Remember, this is just a small sampling. I have edited nothing accept expletives (there are a lot, so hang in there) and though I may have taken some liberties in what sections I’ve shared below, I assure you nothing has been added or deleted that would distort the integrity or purpose of the emails themselves.
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Monday, June 30, 2008
“…Why dont you write me back you f****** ***hole? You know the cubs will kill you guys in any day or time. you dont even know how to write man prolly coz your a b*****. i bet you cry in your bed at night wishin you had something to look forward to haha lol or are you just another f****** f*g like all the other cardnl fans i know…”
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
“…hey f** boy f*** you and f*** albert pujols. pooholes. lol what a f****** f****t name in the first place you peace of s***. no one reads your f****** blog coz its stupid and dumb and you dont even know how to write it. i rotfl coz every time i think about how jthe cardnals s**k so bad i think your prolly crying about it like a little b****…”
Thursday, July 3, 2008
“something we can all appreciate? im a stats guy and i know that you cant even tell the diffrence between a f****** win and a loss. when was the last time the sox even won a world series? so what the cards won one f****** time this decade. you f*g* and b*****s are sox fans thats why no one goes to the games coz their scared to see them and gangbangers all at the sox park. and albert pujols is a juicer too and you know it if you dont say you do you lie like you do every day on your stupid retarded blog. everyone knows it why do you think they are behind the cubs now. i can prolly kick your a** so just do it. you wanna throw? come to division and clybourn any day of the week and meet a real f****** man!!! hahaahha. prolly couldnt find it write if u wanted to. i f****** hate s***for brains cardinal fans. especially you do you even know the cubs are in first or yare you blind. right. cant read ib et too. if the world series was today who woudl f****** be there? if its today we already won the whole f****** thing your prolly crying like a b****!!! id burn you and you cant stop it!!!!!”
Sunday, July 6, 2008
“hahahhahah. number five my a**. whod you hafta bl** to get that you b****. like anybody even reads your blog what a stupid belief. mr. this and mr. that you think you oh so f****** tough and smart you say but you say it like f****** peace of s*** and well your not smart and i would beat the s*** out of you for the stupid things you say which arent even true…”
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
“lol that you could even think about getting erin andrews you b**** theres no way shed go for you who wares f****** glasses. you think you know what to even do with a girl like that you think she wants to here your stupid f****** bulls*** p**** *ss stories that arent even true? your righting is not even as good as f****** kid could do it. when lou gets his ring again its not gonna just be one lame *ss ring like boozer larussa who got drunk and drove a car and fell asleep like the b**** he is lou will get back to back to back rings at least and thats if z leaves. if he stays then you can bet we will get even more and youll be crying like the b**** you are f*g bob howry would kill you with his fastball and i know for f******* sure coz he knows me from mesa every year i go he saw me at applebees and talked so f*** you and there i told you you dont know s*** about baseball…”
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So there you have it, folks. A brief snapshot of the lovely, uplifting, always poetic words from cubluvr1995. My best guess makes him a pimply faced, braces-wearing, fat kid who has no life outside of Halo, X-men comics and Red Bull.
Maybe now that I’ve acknowledged his “grievances” and shared them with the public, he’ll finally leave me alone.
But I am prepared that he probably won’t. He hates me. He hates because he knows I’m right… and it’s killing him.
Suddenly people in Chicago know who Rich Harden is. Good. It’s about time Cub fans find out they got swindled by Billy Beane because it won’t be long before Harden takes another trip to the DL. In a perfect world, that would’ve happened today. Hoping for such an opportunity, I wanted to see it firsthand. If possible, I wanted to talk to Harden myself and find out how he was going to hurt himself again… how he would do it… would he cry…
That’s why I went to the game.
Don’t worry, dear readers. I am perfectly aware that the simple act of showing my face at Wrigley Field could get me shot, maimed, urinated on and beer bashed. That’s why I wore a mask.
“You mean Red State Blue State?” said the pimply faced kid at the door.
“That’s right.” I replied.
“Man, I write hate mail to that guy every week.”
“Yeah? So you like the blog then?”
“Sure, I like reading it despite all the Cub dissin’ that goes on there. I mean, it is funny. And I hate to say it, but that Jeff Lung guy is a genius.”
“He sure is.”
“Why doesn’t the other guy ever write anything?”
“Oh, Allen? He’s a flake. Confused. Occupied. Look, I need to talk to Rich Harden. Can you get me in to see him?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
The pimply faced kid, totally deceived by my ingenious disguise, led me down to the field level where the Cubs pitching staff was warming up. I posted up along the wall and waited for my opportunity. Harden was nowhere to be seen; just a bunch of relievers lollygaggin’ and doing pilates.
I got impatient. I yelled some not-so-nice things at Neal Cotts and Scott Eyre. They ignored me. To show them just who they were dealing with, I picked up Scott Eyre with my thumb and forefinger — just for fun.
So I ditched the mask.
“Hey, you,” yelled an angry Bob Howry, “you that guy from RSBS?”
“Yeah. That’s me.”
“Yeah? Well, F*** YOU!”
Needless to say, Bob Howry is not a fan. He said some choice things about my mother too, but he obviously didn’t take the time to check his sources because my mother is a very nice lady indeed. In fact, Bob, if you’d like a great recipe for her Oh-So-Good Pie, just holla and I’ll hook you up, D-bag.
Back on the field, Harden was still nowhere to be seen. The sucker was probably warming up away from the press. What a lameball.
But I am not one to disappoint my fellow US Americans hungry for the hard truth. I had to do something. So I didn’t interview Rich Harden. I interviewed a guy who liked Rich Harden. This guy:
Old Grumpy Guy: Who are you?
Me: I’m Jeff Lung from Red State Blue State.
OGG: What do you want?
Me: An answer I suppose… to start with.
OGG: Oh yeah? Well start with this: eat s**t and die, pal. I’ve read your site and you can su<k it!
Suddenly surrounded by a mob of angry Cub fans and their century-long unfulfilled hopes and dreams, I decided the best thing to do was go find my seat.
Once there, finally, I found someone who was happy to see me:
It doesn’t matter what sport, what stadium, what team, friend, foe or fantasy, the beer guy is always glad to see me. I needed the beer too. I was seeing strange things:
And the more Old Style I drank, the less bothered I was by Wrigley’s trademark steel beams that seem to always find a way to get directly in front of me, no matter where I am in that ballpark:
The more Old Style I drank, the more numb I felt as Rich Harden pitched lights out baseball, striking out ten, making me look like a fool. The more Old Style I drank, the less bothered I was that Jim Edmonds — who still don’t look right — had four RBIs and got the crowd to turn into wildly electric banshees.
Sure, I wanted to get up and boo, to remind those Cub fans about their lovable-loser status, to point out the infinite woes of the franchise and all those associated with it — players and fans. But I couldn’t. I was schnockered:
I woke up somewhere around the 9th inning, when Carlos Marmol tried his hardest to lose the game by throwing up underhand soft tosses wherever the opposing hitters requested them. Unfortunately, he only allowed the lowly Giants to tie it by putting up a five-spot, which sent the game into extra innings.
Finally, in the 11th, the Cubs came back to win on a Reed Johnson RBI single. It was a close call at home plate, but the Cubs walked off the winners.
Rich Harden, however, did not get the win. As far as I know, his arm is still connected to the rest of his body, but how long that will actually last is uncertain. I estimate that shortly after the All-Star break he’ll find his way back on the disabled list, and when he does, I’ll be telling all you sCrUB fans that I told you so.
I will also be telling the Tribune Company that they should remove those steel beams from the stadium and hope for the best.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.