And while his latest project may be getting Jake Peavy to respect his own body (regarding injury, not that Jesusy “your body is a temple” stuff), we should all certainly stop to thank the baseball gods that, despite his busy schedule, Ozzie still has time to tweet.
It’s just that… sometimes, his tweets… they’re not easy to comprehend. And that’s where RSBS and our faithful interns get to work!
Let us enter the interwebs to analyze some of Ozzie’s latest…
My dog dh needs a gf he want to be charlie sheen he is desperate lol
March 3, 2011
Translation: I think it’d be funny if my dog did a bunch of coke, assaulted hookers and got fired from the best job in television, ‘cuz let’s face it: self-destruction is hilarious.
Very nice day off great golf 89 finnaly play good any cuestion ask oney lol yesssss
March 15, 2011
Translation: Punctuation? Spelling? I don’t need no stinking punctuation or spelling! Ask one of my delinquent sons!
Nice shot james lol
February 24, 2011
Translation: Bet you wish you had a Derrick Rose, right, LeBron?!?! (this tweet came during one of the Bulls’ three victories over the Heat — right after LeBron threw up a humiliating BRICK towards the end of the game.)
Folks, this is but a small sampling of the logorrheic ramblings Ozzie spews on a daily basis, which is definitely cause to celebrate technocracy. Just imagine if Earl Weaver had a twitter… oh boy.
Hate me, I don’t care. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
In recent weeks, much ado has been made about the ongoing interweb scuffle between bloggers and “real” journalists. From JRod’s mental wanderings on Raul Ibanez to Geoff Baker’s self-serving opus dei to Hugging Harold Reynolds‘ public flaying of Jay Mariotti, everyone seems to be getting in on the controversy — creating it even.
I’m sure JRod is pretty pleased, if for nothing else than for being noticed (albeit harshly). As sports bloggers, isn’t that all we really want? To be noticed?
Apparently, this is the best way to go. Stir up some real crap.
So I’m gonna.
The following are very, very, very TRUE:
- Vegetarian or not, Prince Fielder is fat
- In my “fantasies”, Yadier Molina and Albert Pujols always fan me with palm tree leaves from the side while I… y’know, do my thing
- The color orange is on steroids!!!!
- Rush Limbaugh is also fat… and annoying
- Babe Ruth was only awesome because he had to overcome and compensate for the fact that he had a girl’s last name (and breasts)
- Barack Obama is a smoker. Deal with it, yo!
- Bud Selig is as good at being commissioner of baseball as the Washington Nationals are at being champions of baseball
- I spent a lot of money on Cardinals games during the summer of 1998, in awe of Mark McGwire, realizing that something fishy might be going on, but, like you, didn’t care that much about it ‘cuz it was friggin’ awesome. Like Selig, I too, looked the other way; but I would still make a much better commissioner of baseball than he because this All-Star Game’s “this time it counts” thing is absolutely ridiculous.
- Our earth is flat; gravity is just some bulls*** made up by Communists
- Manny Ramirez is Predator… and a cheater and annoying; but in a few days no one will remember that he got popped for taking a banned substance… and just in case you’re wondering, no, Manny is not fat — just big-haired.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m a fire-starter, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Ordinarily, this would be the time I start complaining about the Cardinals’ inevitable decline from post-season contention, or the neck-and-neck battle of the AL Central or better yet: the inherent hypocrisies of the Christian Right. All of the above warrant extensive coverage, but today, something else has caught my attention and I’d like to share it with you, dear readers.
Have you seen the Tribune today? If not, go get one and turn to the front page of the Tempo section. I read that this morning and swore I’d heard that before. Then I realized that I read it on your blog a while ago. Do you remember that? Can’t seem to find the article now but I know I read it there somewhere. I work next to the Tribune. Should I go over there and break someone’s legs?
Oak Park, IL”
Why, thank you, T.J. for having the guile to confront the big whigs who actually get paid to write about baseball. Thank you too for volunteering some muscle for the good RSBS fight. It is much appreciated.
If You Show Up to a Sox Game in 2008 Wearing an Albert Belle, Ray Durham or Sammy Sosa Jersey, You Are NOT Cool:
Seriously, folks. Let’s be real. And no, a Scott Podsednik jersey is not acceptable
either. You want a sure thing? Go for a Hall of Famer or a retired
jersey. Baines, Fisk, Minoso, Aparicio. Heck, go for Dye or Jenks
right now (in 2008), but buyer beware…
Admittedly, this small blurb in a post with many other small blurbs hardly makes a case for plagiarism. In fact, the real debate on this topic took place in the comments section, not the post itself. I should also point out that the nature of the article, while very similar to the tone and theme of my post, did have its own unique spin accompanied by interviews and images independent of mine. Of course, given that the Tribune has a bigger budget than I — because I don’t have one at all — I am inclined to think that this fun little article is similar to mine only by chance.
However, just to be sure, I did have my army of technocrats go back and check the viewing activity of that post and in doing so they found several hits with long, extended pageviews stemming from an IP address associated with the Tribune building.
It’s flattering to know that my posts are being read by major media corporations. I find it uplifting that my work may inspire others to explore similar creative themes. I enjoy entertaining the idea that my posts may influence paid writers to put food on the table.
At the same time, I also think credit should be given where credit is due. No, T.J., I don’t think this is a case of plagiarism per se: the general idea of the post has certainly been circulating among the kitchen tables, bars and ballparks of our great nation ever since jerseys became a popular baseball fashion statement.
But considering the timing of the Trib’s article (compiled by one Michael Pasternak) in accordance with my post, not to mention the myriad suspect hits coming from 435 North Michigan Ave., I gotta go there and send a great big old RSBS Eat it! to the Chicago Tribune.
Maybe Jay Mariotti was right. Perhaps newspapers are dead. And in the afterlife, they just peruse the blogosphere stealing story ideas…
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Every media outlet has been full of Olympic coverage for the past few months. We watched as French surrender-monkeys and dentally deficient Britons tried to tackle, steal or otherwise snuff the Olympic flame during its journey to the Bird’s Nest and then we saw the Chinese defy gravity to set the torch alight and begin the games.
Although the passing of the torch always seems to provoke strong emotions, these emotions tend to play out differently depending on the setting. When Jesse Owens overcame the Fuhrer’s supposedly invincible Aryan champions at the 1936 Berlin Olympics, he tried to defuse the situation by saying that Hitler had shown him respect. Michael Phelps managed to show a touch of class this year as he overcame Mark Spitz’s decades old record.
But sometimes the old guard is reluctant to let the torch out of their grasp. When the Yankees had the Red Sox in a 3-0 stranglehold during the 2004 ALCS, it seemed that the old guys had a little life left in them. But they should have realized that they had used up all the gas in the tank during the previous year’s ALCS. The Yankees may have won that 2003 series but in reality, Pedro Martinez body-slamming Don Zimmer was emblematic of the rivalry’s not too distant future. And in 2004 they proved it by fighting back to win the ALCS and then the World Series.
A similar fight broke out during the primary season as the junior senator from Illinois took on the Clinton juggernaut. And when the dust finally settled at the Democratic National Convention last night, it was obvious that the party the Clinton’s created was now firmly in the hands of Sen. Obama. Sure, there were a few last grasps for the torch (Hillary’s non-concession speech back in June for example) but the look on former President Clinton’s face during Sen. Clinton’s speech Wednesday night told the whole story.
So, how does one pass the torch gracefully and not get burned in the process? Well, you could take a lesson from Ted Kennedy (2008 Ted Kennedy, not 1980 Ted Kennedy)
Or you could look to Richard Nixon who so graciously handed off to Gerald Ford in 1974. However, I suggest avoiding the example of the 1997 and 2003 Florida Marlins. Or Jay Mariotti. Burning bridges and fire sales are tacky even in the best of times.
Those of you who know me personally know that my obsessive-compulsive disorder has no boundaries. You know that I am a stickler for preparation, execution, reflection.
Today, as I prepare to make my way up to the North Side to watch the Cardinals battle the Cubs, I realize that this could be the end. I’m not hoping for it; but I am prepared for it.
So, if the Cub fans really do make good on their threats to my livelihood, I have prepared the following:
Flair for the Dramatic, you can have what’s left in my bank account, which you should then donate to the Yankees, because everyone knows the Yankees are hurting for cash.
Some Clubhouse, you can have my thoughts that I scribble on the little notebook I carry with me everywhere. You might find something interesting to stretch your think-tank.
And of course, you, dear readers, get to have this:
You, I, We will always have that. Always.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
**Allen Krause gets nothing**
Does Ozzie Guillen get a little nutso sometimes and say things he probably shouldn’t?
Does Ozzie Guillen need to be quarantined from the press after a tough loss (or three)?
But let me tell ya, folks, a world without Ozzie Guillen is just unfathomable. For Southsiders like myself, a Guillen quote is as close a reminder of home as Connie’s Pizza or Ramova’s Grill or a drive-by shooting. And believe me, as much as I am oft to disagree with the psychology of Ozzie’s wild rants, I must admit to finding them oddly soothing and curiously pleasant.
There is definitely something to be said for being in the spotlight and not giving two s**ts what anyone else says or thinks about you, what you say and the way you go about your job. I admire that.
And I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit that Ozzie’s tirades didn’t make me laugh. I only wish my boss was as understanding as Kenny Williams (click *here* for Tribune article). Imagine if I came in to work tomorrow and said: “What? Our summer catalogue isn’t finished yet? Susie Q didn’t set the templates? What? She used that friggin’ Trajan font again for the Chinese neolithic pottery section!?! What do you mean John Doe didn’t translate the bronze inscriptions from running script to seal script!?! I expect the boss-man to do [bleep] something Tuesday, and if we don’t do [bleep] anything Tuesday, there are going to be a lot of [bleep]
changes in this Asian art gallery! The book gallery too! [Bleep] [Bleep] [Bleep] heads will roll!”
On Chicago Cub Rich Hill:
“Who is Hill? That piece of [bleep] who pitched? Michael [Barrett]
realized he was wrong [in punching Pierzynski]. Michael realized he
“But that little [bleep] Hill, he should be in Triple-A. He is going to
make Dusty Baker get fired. Shut up, you just got here in the big
leagues. When you make a comment like that, it was a cheap shot. You
don’t know the game.”
On Jay Mariotti:
“He’s a garbage.He’s always been a garbage.And he will die a garbage.”
On whether his children were involved in the Cubs/Sox brawl in May 2006:
“If my kids were on the field, [they were] going to get [their rear
end] kicked. What’s Ozzie [Jr.] going to do? Eat
somebody. My other one is 20 pounds and the other one is only 14.
“One is a baby, one is too little, another one, the only thing he can do is eat somebody or drink somebody.”
And if that isn’t enough folks, check out this Youtube post featuring a love-filled conversation between AM 670 The Score’s Mike North and Ozzie himself last year. While you listen/watch, realize that sure, Ozzie can be awful but he could always be worse. I mean, he could be Bill O’Reilly or god forbid Howard Dean. In any case, when reviewing this material, you can hate me, you can hate Ozzie, but don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right: the world needs Ozzie Guillen and his lunacy.