If I’m a Californian, I’m not too excited about the two gubernatorial choices jockeying for my November vote. Jerry Brown? More like Jerry Boring. Meg Whitman? Uh… you invented eBay, Meg, not the actual internet (Al Gore did that), so don’t be so proud of yourself.
To be honest, I don’t think most Californians even know there’s an impending gubernatorial race going on. With so many distractions, like the Kardashians and Alex Smith and The Hills… when does one have time to care about politics?
You needn’t worry, California. Your man — though barely known just a few weeks ago — is Cody Ross.
After being fed to the waiver wire in August, Ross was reluctantly picked up by the Giants; his timely bat and quiet confidence has since turned into the bargain of the year.
He banged one out against Derek Lowe to break up a no-hitter in the NLDS.
He banged TWO out against Roy Halladay in Game One of the NLCS.
He banged ANOTHER out against Roy Oswalt in Game Two of the NLCS.
That’s a lot of friggin’ bangin’…
And for a state that’s known to bang, I think Cody Ross should get a shot.
Hate me ‘cuz I think outside the box (and occasionally use tired cliches), just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
That’s right, dear readers. The ginormously ugly head of the Chicago political machine is callin’ it quits. He’s done. Out.
The last time Chicago saw such expeditious light, names like Doug Dascenzo and Danny Pascua anchored both sides of the Second City’s streets, while far across the globe, the Soviets were just gettin’ out of Afghanistan, after the United States ignited what would later turn into the biggest American tragedy of all time.
In other words, Mayor Daley’s been around a while. Perhaps too long. And we Chicagoans have gotten used to his turbulent tendencies.
So who in the heck is gonna replace him?!?
Don’t worry, folks. The hardworking RSBS interns have put together a shortlist of candidates, all of whom come highly recommended:
month ago none of us knew who he was. But having gone 9-4 in his first
13 games as the Cubs manager, let it be known that no Chicagoan has ever
done more with less than Mike Quade. Believe that.
see… He’s a democrat. He’s a Chicago hardliner. He’s abrasive.
He’s on the take. He’s got “friends” that wouldn’t flinch in breaking
your legs. He primps for the camera. He’s full of himself. He dreams
bigger than he can act. And he thinks the world revolves around him.
If that’s all that’s required of the mayor of Chicago then someone give
this guy the key!
And… one final candidate to consider:
Why not? I live in Chicago. I love Chicago. Hell, I am Chicago (don’t believe me? Ask me to do my super fan
impression sometime). Seriously, why wouldn’t I be a good candidate
for the job? Because I love the Cardinals? Because I might burn down
Wrigley Field? So what, I support the Sox and I’d build a bigger,
better Wrigley (to house the Expos I plan to bring back once I get rid
of the sCrUBS). Okay, so maybe I’m lying about all that — Hey, I’m a
liar! That qualifies me on its own! — but I will say that I, too, hate
paying the highest sales tax in the country. I, too, am tired of
reading gang and gun-related headlines. Let’s make a change, people.
Let’s get deep dish pizza in all the schools and make it mandatory that
baseball theory is taught to every kindergartner, before they find out about basketball or football.
Hate me ‘cuz you don’t believe that ‘yes, we can’… just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Some things just don’t feel right unless they’re together. Like, how can you have pizza without pepperoni? Ok, yes, there is the Hawaiian but that’s a rare exception. Or what about Tom Selleck without a mustache? Catholicism without the pope…..or scandal.
Baseball is the same way but to an even greater degree. In a way, baseball just isn’t baseball without them. But if I had to choose just one thing that completes baseball, I’d say beer.
Now when I first went to games and was old enough to drink, the options were pretty limited. Usually there was Bud, Bud Light, Miller Lite and maybe some sort of local favorite like Old Style. But that has all changed in recent years. When I visit Nats’ Park, I can choose between the regulars or something like Blue Moon. Out in San Francisco one of the vendors had Anchor Steam on draft and that made me very happy.
It makes me wonder who I have to thank for all this malty and hoppy goodness. What brave soul forged a path through uncharted wilderness to make sure that my ballpark experience lived up to my expectations?
The answer will probably surprise you as much as it surprised me: Jimmy Carter.
Yes, the man who is best known for growing peanuts, botching the hostage rescue and overseeing the oil shocks of the 70’s also inadvertently created the conditions for the microbrewery explosion that continues today.
So, the next time you’re at the park, skip the Bud and drink a microbrew for Jimmy instead. If nothing else, it’s definitely better than a Billy Beer.
wasn’t enough, every single division race is still up in the air. Is
it me or has the world gone crazy?
Well, Percy, I gotta admit: you sure lost me with the whole Russia and Pakistan thing. What is Pakistan anyway? Any relation to pachyderms? Or pachydermia? I think one of my sisters has pachydermia. Sores. Lots of ’em. I think…
I know that I’m a US American, man! Heck, nowadays, you can just label me as a plain, old ‘Merican. Stuff my face with apple pie, stick me in front of the tube to watch baseball, let me marry three chicks at the same time and let’s make a damn reality show out of this highfalutin awesomeness!
Has the world gone crazy?
The world has been crazy for as long as I can remember, and it just keeps getting crazier. I mean, we live in a world where aggressive foreign policies are based on bronze age fairy-tales — a world where Kyle Farnsworth always has a job — a world where the Texas Rangers are running away with the AL Western Division title!
Of course, the world has gone crazy, Percy! Of course! Look around!
We live in a world where technocracy trumps physicality — a world where Elisabeth Hasselbeck is seen as an authority on social issues — a world where I can have 600 “friends”… without ever leaving my apartment… EVER!
Crazy?!?! More like frightening, Percy! Frightening!
Ya see, if I could have it my way I’d live on a self-serving farm, surrounded by nothing, accompanied by a sole transistor radio beaming exciting play-by-plays of men laboring in wool uniforms hundreds of miles away while I sip away on barrels of whisky.
Yeah. I think I could get by on that.
But this is 2010, Percy. And 2010 has iPods and Blagojevich and MLB.TV and Glenn Beck and Facebooks and Lady Gaga and Twitters and… and… whaddya call it? Pakistans?
Yes, the world has Pakistans.
And Pakistans are crazy.
Hate me ‘cuz I ain’t down with holy wars, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
***SEND US YOUR FILIBUSTERS****
Something on your mind? Want to see
Jeff and Al sweat (separately, not
together, eww)? Think you got a real stumper? Send us your Filibuster
question(s) by commenting or emailing them to us at
*Information leading to the arrest of Mr. Krause’s imaginary friend, Sal the Tiger Lovin’ Slobberer also welcome.
For me, the biggest difference between being 21 years old and 31 years old, is that at 31 years old I realize I don’t know everything there is to know about the world… most things, yes. Everything? Not a chance.
So that’s why I get so giggly when I learn something new. Always be learning… that’s my motto. And believe me, folks, last week was full of virgin information.
The Pirates Have Run Out of Future Stars to Trade Away
Yeah, yeah, you can make a strong case for Andrew McCutchen being that guy, but the Pirates have long said he’s a keeper. I’m talkin’ about the Aramis Ramirezes… the Nate McClouths… the Freddy Sanchezes. Okay, maybe not the Freddy Sanchezes. But you get what I’m sayin’.
Sarah Palin Thinks She Knows What Having “Cojones” Is All About
I can tell ya this much: those with cojones don’t quit their jobs as governor mid-term. And they never use the phrase “hopey-changey”. And they tend to not make up words, then compare themselves to Shakespeare. Believe that.
The Yankees Have a Death Wish
How else does one explain their trading for Kerry Wood? Look, I know Joba’s been bad and all… but Kerry Wood? Seriously? The Boss is rolling over, y’all.
A Chelsea Clinton Wedding Does Not A Camelot Make
Look, I know Bill Clinton is cool and all. Hell, some might even say he’s… sexy. But at the same time, no one would ever use the word ‘sexy’ to describe Hillary. And Chelsea? Exactly. Let’s just agree that this whole Clinton shindig was more proof that what US America really longs for is ultimate regression: give us back our king; make us slaves to royal inbreeds; let the pope wreck the world with his medieval wordview. I, frankly, will not be a part of it. I will finish my spaceship and move to Betelgeuse, where I belong. But I’m taking my collection of scorecards with me.
And, of course… I also learned that…
It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye… To Ryan Ludwick
Admittedly, Luddy ain’t no Albert. He ain’t no Yadi. He ain’t no Waino. But he is Luddy… and over the last few years we’ve really learned to appreciate his bat, his patience, his gamesmanship. And we’re gonna miss that. Ludwick has always been one of those quiet warriors — a stoic gamer who never shies from giving his best effort, even when that means playing through pain. But the Cardinals needed pitching. And with the outfield logjam set up by the excellent play of John Jay, there wasn’t room for Ludwick anyway. The Padres are gettin’ a boost. We’re gettin’ the arm we need. And everyone ought to be happy (except for the Indians who currently reside in baseball hell).
We’re gonna miss ya, Ryan.
Don’t hate me.
‘Cuz I’m right.
(Special thanks to C for the top photo)
Don’t quite understand VORP? UZR? PECOTA?
But the baseball basics? I thought everyone knew them.
I was wrong.
And rightly so. Not everyone’s interests align with mine; I shouldn’t look down on those who eschew the grandest game on earth (feel sorry for them, yes; patronize them? No.). Of course, I know this — NOW — after being way out of the loop on a conversation revolving around physics and something called… AFV.
“What is this curious AFV?” I kept asking myself as the cognoscenti carried on, oblivious to my poorly hidden obliviousness. The conversation dipped and rolled, skipped and scooted… “the air to ground ratio” this and “the hyperbolic arc” that.
Later, when I was all alone, I googled this curious AFV, only to find out that I’m a windmill-chasin’ idiot. Because AFV stands for America’s Funniest Videos.
Ha. Ha. Ha.
The lesson is clear: know your acronyms. And since we live right in the middle of technocracy’s jumbled white noise, we’d all do ourselves a favor by learning the hard ones. So, of course, the RSBS interns got to work on providing you, dear readers, with three of the most up-to-date acronyms you’ll ever find:
(Heterosexual Life Partner)
My HLP is Albert Pujols. He doesn’t know this (yet), but he is. He will know sooner if the GD cops would stop throwing this GD order of protection in my face. Uh… it’s getting in the way of my DESTINY*, Mr. Police MAN.
(Lou Intending to Actually Retire)
Admittedly, this is an odd acronym as it only pertains to people named Lou who hold whoop-dee-doo press conferences with the idea of hanging it up for good. And, considering the nature of our thought processes, it requires us to juxtapose the truth with a LIAR. If you’re confused, it’s okay. You should be. Lou Piniella intends to be in the Bobby Valentine and Buck Showalter retirement camp: waiting for a bigger, better paycheck.
And don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(Determined Effort to Stalk Top Infielders Nightly, Yearly)
Tired of the Barbara Boxer v. Carly Fiorina bad-hair-day feud? Are you sick of the back-and-forth budget battle between Senate democrats and republicans? Has your patience been tested with Joe Lieberman’s unending political bed-swapping?
I have a solution.
And I learned it from the Taiwanese.
It’s called… fist fighting; and though we at RSBS would never condone violence as a foolproof solution to conflict, we do admit that a quick, controlled and monitored brawl will go a long way in fixing an otherwise needless argument. Why do you think my nefarious and oft-rattled colleague, Mr. Allen Krause, has been so passive in his literary retorts lately? Uh… yeah. ‘Cuz he knows not to mess with these guns.
It worked for Nolan Ryan (not so much for Robin Ventura). It worked for Pedro Martinez (again, not so much for Don Zimmer). It worked for Carlos Zambr — wait, okay, maybe it doesn’t always work.
But, as was the case in Taiwan’s parliament session yesterday, it did provide plenty of laughs (not to mention plot lines for future Michael Bay films):
Still not convinced?
No? Okay, imagine Saxby Chambliss dueling to the death with Kristen Gillibrand… in jello! Think of what wonders that could do for our country! People might actually vote!
So yeah, go ahead and hate me, folks… just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.