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!
Muammar Gaddafi died an ignoble death yesterday afternoon at the hands of people he violently repressed for 42 years. However the storyline in the immediate aftermath was not so much his death but that he had been captured and shown still alive before being reported dead a little while later. “What brutality,” cried the pundits while wringing their hands. “He was a horrible, awful man but he deserved to be tried by a jury of his peers before a sentence was passed.”
To this I respond with the words of my good friend Mr. Lung and ask, “What would Tony LaRussa do?” No, seriously, what would Tony LaRussa do? If his team is up by five runs in the 7th with runners on 2nd and 3rd with no outs, is he going to be happy if they don’t score? Of course not. He’s going to go for the jugular. When you let up, you give the other team a chance to get back in the game. You give them hope. I’m no political scientist but knowing that there were still Gaddafi loyalists in Libya, it seems to me that keeping him alive only gave them something to rally around. It’s like your pitcher putting two people on and then coming back to get three straight strikeouts. You start to think there might still be a chance.
So, the Libyan people did what they had to do. They drove in those runners and then they scored a couple more when they got rid of Gaddafi’s sons and closest advisors. No lead is insurmountable, especially in baseball which has no time limit. But if you go up 20-0 on the other team, it’s going to be pretty hard for them to come back. Libya went up 20-0 over the memory of Gaddafi yesterday. I’m pretty sure Tony LaRussa would have done the same thing.
Summer vacation is the stuff of dreams. In elementary school it’s a lifetime of water balloon fights and slowly driving your parents crazy. Once you hit high school, it’s a chance to make some cash for the school year by working as many odd jobs as possible. By the time you move on to college, it’s either summer jobs to keep the debt manageable or internships so you can hopefully nail down a job after graduating.
Once you graduate, though, there’s no more summer vacation. Sure, there are occasional Flex Fridays and no summer is complete without a nice 4th of July weekend. But three months of free time to spend as you wish? Nope. That’s gone.
Me, I have no pretension toward excitement and simply choose to accept the reality of lost summer vacations. But there are others who still try to find their own little piece of summer vacation in between the mundane rigors of real life. Maybe it’s a weekend share in the Hamptons. Perhaps you follow in the footsteps of Mr. Lung and attempt to watch 5 baseball games at a time every evening. Or maybe you go a little more extreme.
For instance, Londoners decided to burn down their city as a way of celebrating their summer freedom.
Or like Chris Jeon who decided to join the Libyan rebels during his summer break. He may not speak any Arabic and he may not know how to carry a gun but he’s got spirit and that’s half the battle, right? Let’s be honest, for a 21-year old math student in California, this has to be the highlight of a life whose decisions up til now have mainly consisted of burrito fillings. And what’s with the polyester jersey?
At least others dress up appropriately for their adventures. I’m sure these guys had mothers who told them that if you’re going to be launching yourself 30 feet into the air over a pond, it’s probably a good idea to wear a helmet:
You know, come to think of it, Jeff might actually have the right idea. At least watching baseball games in the safety of your own home helps lower the possibility of being shot by a Gaddafi loyalist or getting hit in the face by a foul ball. There’s something to be said for that.
After a mere two episodes that had the same effect as a handful of Ambien chased by a fifth of Knob Creek, Paul Reiser’s triumphant(?) return to network television lasted about as long as a Milton Bradley welcome party.
I guess this is undeniable truth that US America just isn’t mad about you, Mr. Reiser (*RIMSHOT*).
But don’t worry, Paul, there are plenty of folks out there who are WAY WORSE than you. And of course, the RSBS interns have been working furiously to bring you the shortlist. Shall we?
After signing a $43.5 million deal to be the ignition in an otherwise defunct offense, it only seems fitting that the fate of the Mariners took another giant step backwards as Mr. Figgins continues to be the only thing that smells worse than Pike’s Place fish market. Last year he topped off his .259 batting average with a debilitating case of bad attitude. This year, he seems to be on track for more of the same, only, Wakamatsu ain’t there to box the boy’s ears. Therefore, Chone is definitely worse than Paul Reiser.
Since he is the CEO of the McDonald’s Corporation, I think it’s important that we call out Jim Skinner and everything his company stands for: taking advantage of the masses’ inferior intellect. I don’t care what you do to the labeling, the packaging, etc., “food” that comes from McDonald’s is not f***ing good for you. In fact, it’s killing you… it’s killing you and the rest of US America. When I first swore off fast food (about 7 years ago) I was surprised at how my body reacted by feeling good most of the time. After a year of zero Big Macs, I decided to give it another try. I had a Big Mac, large fry and a Coke. An hour later, I threw up… from both ends. That was my body’s way of saying STOP THE INSANITY. I did and I’ve never felt better.
Also, people are using Jim’s restaurant as a place to throw down. Not cool. So Jim is definitely worse than Paul Reiser.
2010 Jason Bay
This lucky (and smart) Canadian managed to work out a $73 million five-year deal with the Mets after the 2009 season. He followed that trip to the bank by hitting 6 homeruns in 95 games, before he got hurt and missed the rest of the season.
He was bad. So bad that he is STILL worse than Paul Reiser.
NATO wants him dead. That doesn’t make him bad, that makes him SOOP-UH BAD… or, WORSE than Paul Reiser.
I really hate to pick on the Mets here, but, well, the Mets have done a lot of dumb things in recent years… like, y’know, pay Oliver Perez $12 million a year to throw baseballs like my athletically-challenged and oft persnickety colleague, Mr. Krause throws softballs.
Not very good.
Of course, Ollie’s situation comes in way WORSE than Paul Reiser’s, because Ollie is STILL getting $12 million from the Mets this year, even though he’s not on the team.
All of the above are bad. In fact, all of the above are really bad.
But they are also UNANIMOUSLY rich beyond my Joe Plumber @$$, so… the moral of the story, once again, is be bad. Get paid.
Congrats on making the team, Paul Reiser.
Hate me ‘cuz it’s legal, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
What a coincidence, dear reader Henry! For just the other day I was telling my crestfallen and oft flustered colleague, Mr. Allen Krause, that the only surefire way to take over the world is to get a bunch of followers to trust in some cliche, universal proverbs with some fairy tales thrown in for fun. And hot dog if you didn’t just poke me to share!
First, allow me to correct you on the title. Mr. Lung is my pop’s name. This here lil book is called The Holy-Cow Canon of Jeff. It is presented in three parts, or books as you shall see.
The Book of Baseball
Respect. Not sayin’ you have to love the hell out of baseball like I do, but you gotta at least respect it. You must recognize the fact that those of us who worship the game and revere the diamond as our sanctuary tend to be wiser, more patient, and definitely more prone to bouts of combustible love rooted in our collective ability to cherish the good and to quickly forget all that is bad.
From The Book of Baseball, Chapter 28, Verse 5:
“Smith corks one into right, down the line! It may go . . . Go crazy, folks, go crazy!”
The Book of Womenz
Basically, the moral of this book (the largest of the three, naturally), is to always admire and respect beauty — whatever that means to you. For me, that means Erin Andrews’ choice wardrobe selection, Kim Kardashian’s bangin’ bum, Jenna Fischer’s girl-next-door allure, Allison Stokke’s athletically gifted physique and Lucy Liu’s dominatrix potential. (If it’s menz you’re into, then simply substitute “menz” for “womenz”. If it’s non-humans you’re into, then I can’t help you, but maybe these folks can).
From The Book of Womenz, Chapter 43, Verse 12-14:
“The girls is all jockin’ at the other end of the bar, havin’ drinks with some no-name chump, when they know that I’m the star. So I got up and strolled over to the other side of the cantina, I asked the guy ‘Why you so fly?’, he said ‘Funky Cold Medina’.” (via Deacon Loc)
The Book of the Golden Rule
Just like in modern day Christianity, you can skip the other books of this canon if you want and just focus on this last and most important one. It’s fairly simple and you heard it in kindergarten (maybe you haven’t learned it yet) but you’ve definitely heard it: Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.
Got it? Don’t want someone to beat you up and take your money? Then don’t beat people up and take their money. Don’t want strangers dictating to you what you should and shouldn’t believe? Then don’t dictate to strangers what they should and shouldn’t believe. Like living in peace without bombs being dropped on your house? Then live in peace and don’t friggin’ drop bombs on other people’s houses!!!
It’s really that easy!
There’s only one verse in this book, so let me repeat it, The Book of the Golden Rule, Chapter 1, Verse 1:
DO UNTO OTHERS AS YOU WOULD HAVE OTHERS DO UNTO YOU.
Thank you and good night.
Also, the above chapter and verse can be ignored when it comes to Chicago sCrUBS bashing, which is vehemently encouraged and allowed.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m makin’ moves, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
– – –
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In an attempt to present the nuanced coverage of Muammar Gaddafi that the rest of the internet seems to be lacking, RSBS has recently focused on the softer side of the good Colonel. Sure, he may be batshit insane and the Michael Jackson of despots (bleached skin, disturbed children, etc.), but there’s also a softer side to the guy. It’s clear that Mr. Gaddafi puts some thought into the face he presents the world.
But, as we’ve seen this past week, at least the Colonel is in good company. In fact, it’s just about impossible to tell him apart from somebody like Charlie Sheen. Granted, Charlie hasn’t killed anyone (yet), but the way he’s going it’s probably only a matter of time. So, Charlie, Muammar. I’d like to dedicate this Saturday to you. If nothing else you’ve given Jeff something to focus on besides Wainwright’s broken elbow. That’s no small feat.
North Africa seems to be going the way of the Pittsburgh Pirates. You know it’s bad but it just seems to be getting worse. In Tunisia, Ben Ali had a few people killed but then decided to leave before it got too much worse. In Egypt Mubarak held out a bit longer and tried a little harder to crush the opposition but soon enough he realized that enough was enough.
Enter Gaddafi. Now, we’ve always known that the Colonel had a few screws loose. This is the guy who ordered the bombing of the Lockerbie Pan Am flight after all. From his Shakespearean, almost Lear-esque, pronunciations to the equally unhinged speech of his supposedly sane son, Saif Al-Islam, promising a “blood-bath” in Libya, the Gaddafi family has shown an intent in the last few days to usher Libya into an era of civil war.
But over here at RSBS, we prefer to focus on the positives. The news media is full of all these negative portrayals of the Libyan leaders so we decided to do a little research and come up with reasons to appreciate the Gaddafis. Granted, it wasn’t easy but the RSBS interns are always up to the challenge and came up with two important pieces of information that you should consider before judging the Colonel and his family.
#1. Saif Al-Islam is a pacifist at heart
Don’t believe me, take a look at his doctoral dissertation. Sure, he may be promising a blood-bath if the protesters don’t back down but all he really wants is a more democratic international structure that can break down existing authoritarian power structures. As Mr. Gaddafi puts it, “Citizens in undemocratic states emphasise that they are not represented in
the decision-making process of the IGO [intergovernmental organisation]. Even if their governments are represented in some capacity, because
their governments are authoritarian, abusive and unrepresentative of their
people’s real interests.” Does this sound like a guy who wants to help daddy drop bombs on his fellow countrymen? Wait, don’t answer that.
#2. Can you really hate a James Bond style villain?
How can you take Gaddafi seriously? Besides the almost comic stylings of his speeches, you also have to take into account the shades and the funny mustache. Not only that, he’s run the gamut of super-villainery from the aforementioned bombing to his sponsorship of various other ne’er-do-wells. On top of that, he has a statue of an enormous fist crushing an American jet. A statue! All he needs is a volcanic island as his headquarters and a group of fem-bot style Amazonians as his personal bodyguards and he’d be set. Oh, he already has a group of fem-bot style Amazonian virgins as his personal bodyguards? Well played Mr. Gaddafi.