I know, dear readers. It’s only been three days. And sprinkled in there I got to indulge in a long awaited Senior Circuit victory in the only All-Star Game that US Americans actually care about. But three days is three days; and without a constant barrage of baseball stuff (pick-offs, home-plate collisions, oppo-taco bombs) I tend to go a bit batty.
Thankfully, our trusted RSBS interns know how to quell my baseball madness as they were able to use their unpublicized delinquent ways to grab me a sneak peek at the much anticipated and poignant decision making tell-all by our 43rd president, George W. Bush. The book is called Decision Points.
And yes, that title (with that author) is an oxymoron.
Still, we think you’ll appreciate these snippets of Dubyan enlightenment:
“I ran the country like I ran the Rangers and if that meant sitting in the bottom of the West, well, then that’s what it takes… or is it took? Tooken? Yeah, that’s what it tooken.”
“I told Mel Gibson, ‘if you’re gonna make a Jesus movie, make sure there’s lots of blood. Whip that Jesus! And make Mary Magdalene hot. No fake boobs, but make her hot.’ Did you know Mel Gibson’s from Austria? He don’t even have an accent.”
“Hehehe… wait til ‘Merica finds out I’m a big Nickelback fan. Look at this photograph… hehehe… it’s hard to say it, goodbye, goodbye. Kinda makes me wanna cry. Hey, that rhymes too! Hot dawg!!!”
“If it looks like a Saddam and it talks like a Saddam then it must be Osama bin Laden! Let’s blow some s*** up!”
Hate me ‘cuz I got to see it before you did, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
As if the world wasn’t overflowing with enough bad news already, Iranian officials came forth on Thursday to boast of their newly installed 7,000 centrifuges, presumably to scare we evil US Americans into bowing down to their racist demands or else.
During the kangaroo court adminstration of ‘Lil Bush and Smokin’ Dick Cheney, this clear and present danger would have been immediately dismissed like a young Dubya D.U.I. arrest. Unfortunately, Iran is not North Korea: they are not just playing around. And thankfully the Obama adminstration is making a sincere effort to work out these serious issues.
That being said, the topic of nuclear weapons is not what interests me on this day; rather, it is the centrifugal technology behind it that leads to such scary development.
For it is this exact same technology that the Baltimore Orioles and Toronto Blue Jays are currently utilizing to trick their fans in to thinking they have an actual shot at competing this year. After one series apiece, both teams find themselves with more wins than losses.
The Orioles? Well, they just got lucky.
The Blue Jays? They played the Tigers.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
It’s still early in Spring Training but so far the Cardinals are
looking as rough as you thought they might. Similarly, the great
non-white hope of the Republican party, Bobby Jindal, faltered
astonishingly in his first nationwide address the other night, drawing
unfavorable comparisons with Kenneth the Page, a character on 30 Rock.
If you had to make one of these two the next President and the other
one would then become the new GM of the Cardinals, which way would you
Let me tell you a story…
There once was a Republican. He wasn’t white. He was the governor of Louisiana. As if that wasn’t exciting enough, one day, after the non-white president from Chicago by way of Kansas, Indonesia and Hawaii gave a stirring speech to a bunch of cranky, old white guys, this clever governor from Louisiana (let’s call him Bobby Jindal) gave a sing-songy speech soiled with serendipitous condescension better fit for an audience of preschoolers. But this Republican had guile. He had wit. He had an unparalleled pep of awkward confidence. In fact, he was so bold that he touted the strengths of the Republican party in the same breath as mentioning Hurricane Katrina.
Okay, so that story means very little in the grand scheme of things, right? I understand the need to put a fresh, young, non-white face on the identity of the GOP, but shouldn’t someone be responsible for helping Jindal become that — mold him, teach him, brief him — rather than just throwing him into an awkward circumstance unprepared?
As Mr. Krause mentioned, Jindal is now drawing comparisons to NBC’s 30 Rock character, Kenneth the Page, and for good reason. They are both scrawny, bubbly, out-of-touch persons who tend to smile and giggle a lot while making everyone around them extremely uncomfortable.
Verily! Republicans have a long way to go…
But the question was asked: if I had to make one of these characters the next president and one the new GM of the Cardinals, which way would I arrange them?
First off, Kenneth the Page, while quite similar to Jindal in speech and performance, might be more accurately compared to our last president, GW Bush. Both seem aloof, unregulated and the benefactors of nepotism. Based on that, I would throw the ball to Jindal, hope for the best and not read a newspaper for four years.
Meanwhile, after being brutally victimized by John Mozeliak’s micromanaging to the tune of hope, wait and see baseball, how much worse could Kenneth the Page really be in the Cardinals front office?
Not since the early 90s have I been so void of confidence going into the season. Mozeliak is putting a lot of pressure on the young kids and if they cannot perform, Redbird fans (me included) will be found in sewers and sinkholes all across this nation muttering expletives to themselves and wishing for a new GM.
If Kenneth the Page is available, we’ll take him.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
What could possibly be funnier than a holocaust-denying bishop exchanging blows with an Argentinian reporter?
I can think of many things.
But in the end, what is making my side split today is the announcement that Condoleezza Rice (what’s the second “z” for anyway?) has signed a book deal with Crown Publishers to write three — count ’em three — books detailing her tenure in the White House as well as delving into her oh-so-saucy personal life.
Crown issued this statement:
“Rice will combine candid narrative and acute analysis to tell the story
of her time in the White House and as America’s top diplomat, and her
role in protecting American security and shaping foreign policy during
the extraordinary period from 2001-2009.”
Extraordinary? You betchya! That was an extraordinary, poorly structured sentence!
When Crown Publishers says “candid”, what they really mean is “bullhickey” and when Crown Publishers says “acute analysis” what they really mean is “a cute anal cyst”.
I am going on record with that.
Ah yes, the moment we have all been waiting for, my friends: the inevitable onslaught of uninteresting, embellished memoirs (see James Frey) from Bush administration cadres who would be much better off hiding under that blanket of destitution they collectively weaved over those eight long years.
Dick Cheney’s memoir: I Screwed Over My Own Country and Got Away with It
Donald Rumsfeld’s memoir: Blowing Up People Is Fun
Dubya’s memoir: I Am Smarter than a Fifth Grader Because I Am Way More Educationified
I suspect these tell-alls will not tell all and that they will all be as candid and truthful as an Alex Rodriguez/Katie Couric interview.
If you want the truth, read the battery of explicit facts spewed by one Jose Canseco. He seems to be the one with all the info and up to this point, he has been the most accurate when disclosing the inner workings of a poorly policed administration.
Speaking of good stuff, I am and always have been a reader (how else do you think I became so intelligent?) and though I enjoy some good fiction every now and then, my true passion is reading about real life. These days I can be found reading Jane Heller’s Confessions of a She-Fan. My busy schedule of Cub fan hounding and John Mozeliak thrashing has allowed me to only read a little bit each day, but I can honestly say that I am thoroughly enjoying it.
And since we are all about telling the truth here at RSBS, I am not going to withhold the fact that while reading Jane’s book during my commutes on the Chicago Transit Authority, I do my absolute best to hide the chick-lit-esque cover boasting a female fan donning a Yankee cap, looking up at an invisible monster whom I can only assume is Theo Epstein. The cover lady’s eyes are dreamy. She’s definitely into me. But I still force myself to cover it up. I live in Chicago after all. Like the rest of the blue collar cities, we hate ‘dem Yankees… don’t get me wrong, the book is great and all…
Just remember: I have an image to uphold.
Luckily, my stealth allows me to take in Confessions and really enjoy it. And while I may not have the desire to date a Yankee, as author Jane Heller once did, I sure would not mind dating some of the Yankees’ leftovers.
Believe me, that would be way more interesting than any Condoleezza Rice book.
So go ahead. Throw the book at me; just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Clearly established is the fact that perhaps nothing is what it seems these days. From Alex Rodriguez gallivanting around the Dominican streets with his cousin scoring steroid sauce because he was “young and stupid” to Larry Craig simply taking a timeout in an airport restroom because he needed to “relax”, we, as US Americans, would be doing ourselves and our country a great disservice by not postulating the underlying motives and behind-the-scenes shenanigans that make up our anti-apotheoses of leadership.
Guilty until proven innocent?
Why not? This is America after all. We do what we want, when we want (see Iraq, Guantanamo, “W” for more information).
Baseball, democracy, Erin Andrews being all hot and sexy… these are as astutely American as a Paris Hilton reality television show; so it should be no surprise when they eventually fall victim to our insatiable desire for dirt.
So why not celebrate the fecundity of our backpage headliners… bring them together, assemble a stellar nine to barnstorm the backwoods, villages and small towns of this great nation?
Well, I have thought about it and I am all for it and I am doing something about it, damnit.
Marion Barry — CF
At the top of the lineup we need speed; and who better to give us speed than a bonafide crackhead? Believe me, folks, Barry will get on base — perhaps even manage to free-base — all the while giving pitchers (and Washingtonians) nightmares better fit for an episode of The Wire.
Eliot Spitzer — 2B
He’s scrappy, he’s fast, he leaves his socks on. With a name like Spitzer (see Roberto Alomar), Eliot’s the guy I want at second base. As patient in the number two hole (wink, wink) as he was hypocritical during his gubernatorial reign, Eliot is a surefire shot taker whom I definitely want on my team because he knows where to buy all the hot chicks.
Kwame Kilpatrick — 1B
The bigger, the fatter, the sloppier the man, the better the first baseman. Well, at least that is how they do things in Detroit. And Kwame, though once a sharp dresser, now looks a bit haggard after those 99 days in jail. The fact is, defensively liable players often end up at first base. On the plus side, Kwame is a big target and he has the agile hands of a 14 year-old text messaging champion.
Bill Clinton — 3B
No one knows his way around third base better than Slick Willy. Besides, this position requires a bit of flash peppered with a sprig of charm… not to mention an oh-so-faint cheating character. Of course, there are doubts that Clinton could handle the duties of a clean-up man (refer to the stained blue dress) but if we know anything, we know that Bubba is always full of surprises.
John Edwards — SS
Protect a cheater with a cheater: enter John Edwards.
Rod Blagojevich — DH
Now here’s a guy who comes to play, pays to play, forces others to pay to play, whatever; he’s a player. Widely known as a bit of a primper, Blago manages to fill the flashy DH role better than most. His only drawback: if you take him out of the game he will continue to run his idiot mouth.
Roland Burris — RF
Admittedly, the only reason Roland has a spot on this squad is because he’s in tight with the DH; but by now we all know it didn’t take long for Burris to wield his own personal bat of corruption and make a stately name for himself. And let’s face it: Burris has quick feet, able to change his story faster than you can say Chicago Democratic Machine.
George Ryan — LF
Bringing up the rear of our team’s famed corrupt Illinois politician trifecta (CITP) is the always forlorn oft uninteresting George Ryan. He’s fat. He’s slow. He’s a left fielder. But the man knows how to sell contracts, licenses and leases on behalf of his team, so it’s always good to have a guy who can get things when you’re on the road half the season.
Dick Cheney — C
The scowling shot-caller. The calloused captain. The man who hides behind a mask. With the entire field in front of him and myriad opportunities to talk s*** behind people’s backs, it is quite evident that Cheney was born to catch. More fierce than a misguided, misled, mishandled bombardier, he’ll chat the opposing hitter up as much as possible, flashing his hunting rifle from time to time to gain a psychological edge. Arrrrggghhh.
Larry Craig — P
Bringing up the rear, ahem, Larry Craig is one of those subversive anomalies of the baseball-politico reality. Sure, he can pitch; but he can catch too, which makes him all the more valuable to a team going long and far down that dirt road called destiny.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
In his last post, my oft misguided and ever self-loathing colleague, Mr. Allen Krause, offered up some morbid thoughts on how to pass the next several weeks while we wait to thaw out and spring into some serious baseball action. Poignantly defeatist in nature, Mr. Krause squashed our spirits more than he uplifted them, as more lamenting on the sad state of Detroit sports franchises and focusing on the natural discourse between Iran and the rest of the world leaves little else than a tinge of bitterness.
Dear readers, there are many more things you can do with your time. For instance…
Postulate How Many More Superbowls the Steelers Will Win Before the Pirates Get Back to the Post-Season (If They Ever Do)
Already the winningest franchise in NFL history, the Pittsburgh Steelers have long drowned out the cheers (if any) from the Pirates faithful. But don’t worry, ‘Burgh, the 2009 Pirates boast a lineup that features the likes of Jose Tabata, Brian Bixler and Nyjer Morgan! Whoo-wee! Get out the ticker-tape, ya’ll! I’m feeling a bit like 1991!
Count the Reasons Why Ann Coulter Has No Soul
Verily, this woman is as crazy as A-Rod is attention hungry. In her most recent blog post (dated 1/28/2009), she had this brilliant quip to share:
“The only reason McCarthy was elected to Congress in the first place is
that her husband and son were shot by a crazed gunman on the Long
Island Rail Road in 1993. Colin Ferguson’s shooting spree wasn’t
stopped sooner because none of the passengers had guns. As has been
demonstrated beyond dispute at this point, armed citizens save lives.”
There is no way these words came from a live human being complete with a heartbeat and the ability to actually feel. No way.
Waste Your Life Away by Playing the Harold Reynolds Drinking Game
(I don’t personally recommend this, but if you’re looking for a quick, painless way to hibernate until Opening Day, click **here** for details. And when I say “painless” I’m lying.)
Try To Nail Down How Many Games the Cardinals Will Finish Behind the Cubs in 2009
Let’s see, there’s Adam Kennedy, Trever Miller, a busted up bullpen virtually unchanged from last season, question marks at third base, second base, starting rotation, no one to protect Albert Pujols, the reality that LaRussa and Duncan will most likely be gone next year, and we still have Bill Dewitt and John Mozeliak at the helm! Folks, that’s just the beginning… I won’t go in to how good the Cubs look, how fresh and exciting the Reds look, how explosive the Brewers look, how nagging the Astros look. Ooh boy, can’t wait to battle Tabata, Bixler and Morgan in the ‘Burgh for the NL Central Toilet Bowl!
Okay, so I admit, my suggestions are just as morbid and defeatist as Allen’s… but if there is one thing we can all agree on, it is that a laugh — a good, hearty, gut-cleansing laugh — can last us a while… or in this case, a long, long while:
Now that is what I call comedy!
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
The five living US American presidents met earlier this week to discuss their hopes and dreams for the 2009 MLB season.
When asked who they thought would win it all this year, they responded with the following:
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
And here I thought this was supposed to be the slow point in the RSBS year. The elections are over (well, mostly) and baseball is still a couple months away from pitchers and catchers reporting. What could we possibly have to debate or comment on? Luckily, though, this is not your normal year. Thank god for shoe-throwing Iraqis, Kennedy-coiffed Illinois pols and baseball’s winter meetings.
With all of the problems facing the United States right now, it’s important that we ask the important questions. Like, is shoe chucking an attention getting scheme or a legitimate critique of American foreign policy? (Here’s a hint on that one. Anyone who actually understood the Middle East would not claim that the act was just about attention. Throwing your shoe is a mortal insult. If a shoe had been thrown at Zinedine Zidane, he would have head-butted the thrower.)
Or, with the city of New York involved in a free agency bubble that rivals the housing bubble and internet bubble combined, have the Mets become as evil as the Yankees or is their dauphin status chronic?
However, if we aren’t willing to answer these questions or concentrate on the imminent and necessary demise of the Big Three and the impending credit card crisis, there’s really only one other place we can go for solutions: the demented but brilliant mind of Andy Samberg.
Seriously, if that’s not a critique of US foreign policy, I don’t know what is.
Initial scouting report:
Good velocity. Decent movement. Has control issues.
Temper is sporadic but fixable.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
I’m sorry, but did the National Bureau of Economic Research just inform me and myriad dear readers, that indeed the United States of America’s economy is in a (daresay) recession?
I beg your pardon, but did our Dear Leader, in an interview with ABC’s Charlie Gibson, admit his own incompetency by saying “I think I was unprepared for war”?
As if the mass exodus of once-successful business owners to the overcrowded unemployment line in my Southside Chicago neighborhood wasn’t reason enough to believe. As if the tense gazes of disgust from world leaders and record low approval rating during Bush II wasn’t enough reason to believe. Well, folks, believe it; and believe that the spindoctors are just going to keep getting more and more convoluted as they assume we US Americans are as dumb as they are obvious.
Because apparently, the new status quo put forth by those in power has regressed to that of an unnecessary complication of issues that should otherwise be clear as day.
This has never been more true as we go into the third year of Mark McGwire Hall of Fame eligibility, where once again, I predict the baseball writers will find it in themselves to be a group of holier-than-thou judgmental jack^sses who consistently confuse clarity with integrity.
Did McGwire use performance enhancing drugs? Maybe. Probably. We don’t know for sure and we never will.
Did McGwire’s awkward Capitol Hill exchange further damage his image and cause us to question his character? Yes. Definitely.
Should it matter when considering him for the Hall of Fame?
Hands down, Mark McGwire should have been a first-time ballot Hall of Famer. His numbers, his performance, his legacy and the positive impact he had on the game alone should have put him in on the first try.
While I dare not minimize the damaging stain PEDs have left on the game of baseball as well as the youth of our nation, I still believe in the democratic principle of one being “innocent until proven guilty” and until someone proves that McGwire broke the rules, he deserves to be remembered as a Hall of Famer.
Jim Rice, Bert Blyleven, Andre Dawson… sure, waffle on those guys. They deserve to be waffled on a bit because they’re not stand-out no-brainer players. But McGwire? Give me a break. Give him a break.
And beware, for Barry Bonds will soon be in line for the same retrospection. Look, as much as I dislike the man as a human being, I cannot conceive a Hall of Fame without Barry Bonds’ plaque. Baseball writers, your job is not to teach lessons to suspected bad boys. Your job is to reward players for having Hall of Fame careers despite their antics — whatever and as displeasing as they may be. Remember, Ty Cobb, arguably one of the most disgustingly erratic, singly detrimental members of the entire human race, is rightfully in the Hall of Fame.
Get over yourselves, writers. You’re not judges. You’re not the police. You’re not God(s).
Do the right thing and put Mark McGwire in the Hall of Fame. And while you’re doing that, prepare for the barrage of suspect PED users, headlined by one Barry Bonds, who will soon be eligible for HOF consideration.
The world will be watching and I will be quick to slander.
So yeah, go ahead and hate me; I only ask that you don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.