Whether we’re talking about getting drunk and hitting the Taco Bell drive-thru at 4 a.m. or the state of my phone after a fast-movin’ night at the Roxbury, this much is known: things blow up.
This much is ALSO known: nothing blows up quite like the internet. I had a front row seat to the Twittersphere when Michael Jackson died (for real that time) and was amazed at how far-reaching this convoluted series of tubes really is.
And, as my melancholy and oft addled colleague Mr. Krause recently pointed out: proper internet explosions get a lot of fuel from fumbling politicians intent on keeping their multiple wives inside the three-ring trappings of a Trapper Keeper.
But the REAL explosion has yet to come. Hopefully, it will come tonight — Friday night. Hopefully the Cardinals will wrap up the San Francisco Giants’ futile efforts, kick back and wait for those cute little kitties to come to town.
That’s right, my fellow US Americans. An RSBS World Series is on the horizon…
Have you ever hit that point in a game of pool where you drink just the right amount and everything just seems to go in? You’re not overthinking your shots. You move with fluidity. You’re like Minnesota Fats mixed with Michael Jackson. It’s a spectacular feeling but, unfortunately, one that tends to slip quickly into sloppy drunkeness where even hitting a ball with the cue stick would be an accomplishment.
Well, it’s possible you weren’t just imagining that feeling. It turns out that drinking can be good for you. But hey, you probably already knew that, didn’t you? I sure do. For a guy like me, even talking to girls was impossible. A half of a forty of Mickey’s later and suddenly I’m Cyrano de Bergerac mixed with, uh, well, not Michael Jackson. But you get the point.
The study also maybe justifies the much-maligned decision of several of last season’s Red Sox to drink in the clubhouse. They weren’t being selfish, egomaniacal @ssholes. They were merely “enhancing their problem solving skills” through oral application of a legal substance. Let’s face it, although baseball players have significant physical skills, what separates the wheat from the chaff is the mental aspect. If beer can fill that void, I say “drink up!”
When you’re a baseball and politics blog, things get a little interesting when the baseball season ends and it’s an off year for elections. It’s like what you get in football when you’re up by four touchdowns with 30 seconds left to go. Even if I were put in the game to quarterback at that point, it would be pretty hard to lose.
Luckily, there’s an answer to garbage time and its name is YouTube. Today, in honor of Halloween, here’s a guy with waaaaay too much time on his hands. Which is not to say that it isn’t impressive:
Fall and the playoffs also mean the imminent death of another baseball season. Fittingly, the news outside of baseball also seems fixated on endings and death the last couple weeks. Of course there’s the Michael Jackson doctor trial which seems to inspire the same kind of media circus that Jackson himself used to bring out. But there are two other endings that I find more interesting.
The first is the death of Anwar Al-Awlaki in Yemen. The dude was definitely a bad guy and behind, or at least the inspiration behind, some of the more nefarious plots against the US in the past couple years. But he was also an American citizen which makes his assassination problematic at best. Does his death make us safer? Probably. Should we be assassinating US citizens? That’s a little less certain.
Obviously a lot of US citizens, a majority most likely, don’t agree with Al-Awlaki’s rants against the US and exhortations to do us harm. But there were also a fair amount of people who didn’t like Martin Luther King’s message and thought his ideas just as dangerous as those of Al-Awlaki. But the US government didn’t assassinate him. No, I’m not saying that the two men are similar or that their messages bear any resemblance but I am saying that assassination is a slippery slope during the best of times. When it becomes an easily employable tool in the context of a nebulous concept like the “War on Terror,” how long before it becomes a similarly employed tool within other nebulous concepts like the “War on Drugs?” Again, I’m not saying this will happen, I’m just saying it needs to be considered.
Considered in the same way that Trinity College in Dublin should have considered their options before e-executing one of their faculty. Ok, sure, Professor Conan T. Barbarian may not have been a real professor or even a real person but did he deserve so inglorious an end as to simply be deleted from a server somewhere? Precedents, people. They matter.
At the break the Mariners were only 7.5 games back. But let’s face facts here. This team is not going to win anything this year. Even the normally untouchable Saint Ichiro has been taking flak from fans and commentators. Those 110+ win seasons remain nothing but a distant and faded memory.
But all is not lost. Maybe the Mariners don’t win but at least they can still entertain. Or at least their fans can:
Just don’t tell the kid that Michael is as dead as the Mariners’ chances at the pennant.
Dear readers, I can hardly wait to jump in the car and spend four deadlocked hours sitting on the southbound on I-55 while night falls on my west-central Illinois family as they talk as much s*** about me as they can before I get there. Oh, if only every day could be so special!
We at RSBS don’t ever want to be trite; but hell, it’s Thanksgiving, so we gotta give thanks. Thanks to you (for reading). Thanks to my parents (for making me, even if it was in the backseat of a car at a run down Motel 6 outside of Disneyland). Thanks to the Cardinals (for making me think my team has a chance every year).
That stuff is easy.
But life is much more complex than that, and so too are the abstracts that must be recognized, appreciated and acknowledged.
For example, the picture at the top right of this article. Yes. That is Michael Jackson. And yes. He is chugging some nasty vodka while flanked by two midget groupies. See, he’s not as weird as you thought. Back in the early days, when he was just raising tigers and being best friends with monkeys and sleeping in souped-up tanning beds, he was pretty friggin’ chill.
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!
On the political tip, where it takes quite a bit of searching to find anything worth my thanks, I am pleased that the new majority leaders are actual
human beings and not blood-sucking money-hungry lobbyist-lovin’ big-business-bailin’-out corporate-drone-piggin’ bible-belt-thumpin out-of-touch neanderthals Americans.
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!
And, yes, I know we have a long way to go before pitchers and catchers report, but let me just say: I am very thankful that I am a whacked out baseball nut and not married to any of the other sports. Don’t get me wrong, I love football; but I don’t LOOOOOOOOVE football. It’s just not tangible. I respect what they do, but it’s a team sport divided by uncontrollable personalities. Elaborate celebrations in the end zone when your 2-7 team is down by 20 points in the 4th quarter? Taunting your opponent ‘cuz you FINALLY got a first down, after 13 consecutive failures? Spitting in a guy’s face? Please. I’d like to see Brandon Marshall or Vince Young or Albert Haynesworth talk crazy to Mike Scioscia.
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!
For those of you counting, there’s only 146 more days til Spring Training 2011!
Have a very thankful and reflective holiday. And please, don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
And so in this Podcast…
Jeff, Allen and Johanna vehemently compare and critique Croc-based lifestyles, which (surprisingly) include but are not limited to the many labels of Josh Hamilton (including those who are scantily clad), Derek Jeter’s inner Pete Rose, Jeff’s go-to-Gehrig impression, Ozzie Guillen’s mess-mouth and much, much more… all so you can at least laugh while you waste some valuable time!!! Go ahead, laugh it up, fuzzball!
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*Special thanks to our PodMaster Keith Carmack. Keith is involved in some impressive projects himself. Check out his work at Undercard Films. Seriously. Do it. Or I’ll have Prince Fielder sit on your face.
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Recorded Saturday, October 30, 2010
And so in this Podcast…
Jeff, Al & that rock-n-rollin-Cub-lovin’ sage Johanna Mahmud take on all things ‘Merica, including (but not limited to) Rinku and Dinesh, Carlos Zambrano, The Hills (seriously? that happened?), the All-Star Game, the Lou
Piniella Mailbag and much,
much more… all to make you laughy-laughy!
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. His Undercast
podcast is a must-listen (listen to it!). It’s available on iTunes and
is posted regularly at Undercard
Recorded Monday, July 5, 2010
Yep. This is pretty weird. And I bet you are wondering what exactly is going on.
So are we.
That’s why, once again, we pitted our trusty RSBS interns to the task of discovering why Sammy Sosa is turning white. After toiling for about twenty minutes, here is the shortlist of what they found:
- Ran out of shower gel, bleach does a good job, life is rough in the D.R.
- Wants to be remembered as a member of the White Sox; this is a good way to make that happen
- Saw the ghost of Sammy past (circa 1989)
- Planning a trip to the Northside of Chicago and doesn’t want to be recognized. Why? Urine Trough Diving. That’s why.
- Combine Oxandrolone with Dignotamoxi add a little Methyltestosterone and BAM! You’re WHITE!
- Sun bathing below the equator has a reverse tan affect, much like eating after midnight turns you into a Gremlin
- The white skin came free with the Humphrey Bogart toupee package
- Tired of living in the shadow of Mark McGwire, hopes being brighter will help him stand out while still stuck in the shadow of Mark McGwire
- Took a look at the man in the mirror and decided to make that change
- Sick of seeing Karl Rove have all the fun
Skin rejuvenation? More like how could you make your image more of an abomination!
Hm. Sounds better when I read that last sentence out loud.
Just don’t hate me. ‘Cuz I’m right.
(Image courtesy of Getty Images)
What could be more spooky than changing locations for a pivotal game 3 on Halloween night? The answer: not much. I think I’d even rather face the terror of national health care than show up wearing Yankees gear in Philadelphia tonight. No matter which side of the debate you find yourself on, the fright of getting dropped from your health insurance because of a pre-existing condition or sending Nana in front of a “death panel” because her health is no longer viable sure beats the horror of beer and hot dog wielding phanatics.
However, no matter how insane Phillies fans may be, I am hard pressed to believe there is anything more scream inducing than listening to Joe “I don’t even pay attention to baseball anymore” Buck doing the play by play. Although they could have made it even worse by bringing TBS and the corneal abrasion that is Craig Sager in on the act. Even Michael Jackson couldn’t make that outfit look good.
What would be really nice is if just for one night they would bring in a voice that could give the World Series the gravitas it deserves. And since it’s Halloween I think you all know where I’m going with this. Exactly. We should raise Vincent Price from the grave and let him do it. Hey, it worked for Thriller:
***IMPORTANT PROGRAMING NOTE***