The RSBS crew understands how tough life can be when you’re forever being confused with someone else. Back when I was blond and Jeff had his mustache, we were often mistaken for Hall & Oates. Of course, it didn’t help that we regularly launched into spirited renditions of “Maneater” for these screaming fans but sometimes you just have to make lemonade out of the lemons.
Of course, it’s a little harder to make lemonade when your particular lemons involve war crimes and 42 years of repression. Just ask Carlos Santana.
In all honesty, I probably wouldn’t know Santana if he walked up to me on the street so it’s not out of the question that I might believe he was Gaddafi. However, since Gaddafi happens to be dead, well, you can see where the confusion might set in. I guess this is just what you have to deal with when you like the flashy clothes and curly locks:
I don’t really have any advice for Santana except for maybe a haircut. After all, that turned out to be the short-term answer for Jeff and I. Yep, it worked right up to the point when people started confusing us with my favorite Tigers’ double play combo, Alan Trammell and Lou Whitaker. That’s definitely better than a dead dictator, though.
Speaking of making dreams come true, don’t forget to send us your pictures showing why you’re RSBS‘s biggest fan and keep checking in as the Pass the Crown contest continues. As it stands right now, you could win yourself a pair of Oakley sunglasses!
America has given so much to the world. This Friday, I want all of our readers to just sit back as RSBS leads you through the awsomeness that is American history. We start, as is our wont, at the beginning….
Well, if the “news media” and its “official reports” are to be believed, it appears that Placido Polanco will be leaving the Motor City for the City of Brotherly Love. Pla-Po (a name I gave him that just doesn’t seem to be catching on) will take his Gold Glove and join the not quite World Champion Phillies, leaving Detroit slightly more sucky. If that’s possible.
Now, as bad as this news is, it was made worse because I found out about it in the same way I inevitably hear about most bad news involving the Tigers, a gloating email from Jeff:
I’m sorry for your loss of of Polanco back to the Phils.
You know what else sucks? You suck. You……sucker.
There, now that I’ve finally added a certain level of maturity to the discussion maybe I can move back to the important question which is, what do we do now? My lucky wood carving of Simon Bolivar practically screams out to address the problem by acquiring more Venezuelans. But I think the number of Chavistas on the team right now already leaves the Tigers in danger of imminent nationalization at the hands of El Jefe. Not that this would present a problem for Detroit considering what has happened to its other industries.
No, the solution lies elsewhere. And since I’ve always believed that uncertain times call for intellectually suspect and overblown measures, I’m pretty sure I hit upon the perfect plan. I am calling for Lou Whitaker to step out of retirement and once again man second base. Of course there will be naysayers against my “Draft Lou” campaign but those are the same people who say that it was a bad idea to put a banker in charge of regulating the banking industry. That worked out all right in the end so why shouldn’t this? Come back, Lou! Let’s see some of that 1984 magic all over again.
Achtung! For my esteemed yet often misguided colleague, Mr. Allen Krause has finally done what no one ever thought possible: he emptied his soul of memories sweet and dear to his heart, thus proving that indeed, he does obtain some semblance of emotion, a hint — albeit faint — of feeling.
But just who knew his heart was set on Alan Trammell?
Well, actually, I did… but that’s only because I’ve been listening to Mr. Krause’s Ode-to-Trammell for over eleven years now. Trammell this and Trammell that… Trammell and Whitaker and Lemon and Gibson and Parrish and Trammell and Trammell and TRAMMELL!
Alright. I get it. We get it. Mr. Krause is in love with Alan Trammell.
Fine. There’s nothing wrong with that, Al. And I especially applaud you for realizing that despite your ongoing man-crush and ever-growing infatuation with all things #3, that you are still able to logically conclude that Trammell has no business in the Hall of Fame. Because he doesn’t. If you really want to argue the HOF case of a deserving ex-Detroit Tiger, come to your senses and rally behind the Jack Morris train. (*for more information on the blasphemous errors of Mr. Krause’s ways regarding HOF worthy Tigers, click *here*)
What I (and most probably all RSBS readers) can’t seem to understand is why, if Alan Trammell and Lou Whitaker remain so dear to thy heart, Mr. Krause, could you not find a better picture of this treasured double-play combo than this:
It’s 2008, Al, and with the advent of the interweb, CNN’s ability to “beam” people “up” on live television and the fact that a black man will be the president of US America, one would think you’d be able to find at least one decent picture of your childhood sweethearts.
The one you provided looks awfully similar to this anomaly of reality:
And you’re right, Al, the possibility of Trammell ever donning his face on a Cooperstown plaque is about as possible as Bigfoot piloting a UFO over Detroit during a World Series championship parade.
It just ain’t gonna happen.
So go ahead. Do what you do. Hate me. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.