The Pirates were a perennial losing franchise?
Bob Costas’ pretentious Olympian superlatives weren’t pretentious because they were about baseball, something the man truly loves?
I mocked Sarah Palin’s mocking of Obama’s proposed “hopey-change” politics?
Everyone discounted the Cardinals’ playoff hopes with three weeks left in the season?
The GOP wasn’t an absolute joke?
Christopher Nolan’s Batman franchise was the greatest thing that ever happened in comic book film history? (WARNING: Major spoiler alert with that link)
NBC didn’t ruin every single sporting event it broadcasted?*
US American politicians really worked for the people?
And remember when you didn’t hate me ‘cuz I was right?
*Not including the XFL, which was a brilliant endeavor, even if it was extremely stupid.
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.
I was but a child when I first watched his infamous Cosmos series — a series that, for the very first time, made me realize that the mysteries of life, of the universe, of existence as we know it are far more grand and far more expansive than anything I could ever understand in my lifetime.
But, more importantly, it taught me to always ask questions.
And that’s what I’m doin’ today… ‘cuz some of this shizzo just doesn’t make any sense.
Let’s take a look at some contemporary mysteries of the universe, shall we?
Kyle Farnsworth Has a Job. Gregg Zaun Has a Job. Jermaine Dye Does NOT Have a Job. Again.
How does this work? How does a bonafide game-yacker who cries a lot get paid $3 plus million a year while Jermaine Dye sits at home drinking scotch, watching NBA League Pass and surfing the 900 channels? And Gregg Zaun? Isn’t he an AARP officer? The dude’s knees must be concrete by now! Dye had what it takes to play last year and no one gave him a deal because he supposedly wanted too much money. Well, I’m sorry, but I’d rather pay Dye decent money to do his thang rather than throw it at the above two fellas knowing the bad days have a good chance of outweighing the good.
Armando Gallaraga’s Very Bad… Life
He went from rookie sensation (2008) to minor league road block (2009) to work-in-progress (2010) to the imperfect game… THEN… in just a matter of hours went from agreeing to a $2.3 million contact to being DESIGNATED FOR ASSIGNMENT! DFA’D YO!!! That’s the sort of thing that happens to the Wilson Betemits of the world, not someone who had a perfect game ripped from his reach!
Matt Drudge’s Recent Lapse in Calling President Obama a Socialist
Oh… wait. Nevermind. Mystery solved because there is no mystery. He just went two days without a dig. That’s… strange, but not mysterious.
As far as I know, vegetarians can eat donuts.
And that’s a whole lot of donuts.
Yet I do not doubt Prince’s ability to devour them all.
Hate me ‘cuz I went a whole week without a Prince-Fielder-Is-Fat joke, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Writing is therapy.
So let’s give this a try.
Valentine’s Day weekend may be over, but the imperfect thoughts left to simmer in my consciousness are still very active — so much so that I feel the only way I can avoid them is to disclose them to everyone who reads these pages.
Indeed, I have a pretty unhealthy crush on Jenna Fischer (Pam from The Office). It’s a new thing. It’ll go away, eventually… I think.
But just so you understand my pain, this is what dealing with this crush is like:
They say that without pain, you will never really know what it feels like to feel good.
But it still hurts like hell.
Hate me, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
– – –
PS. This picture essay originally appeared on Sky God!, my alter-ego site, which you are all welcome to check out. Updated often. Though be warned, things are definitely rated R over there.
That was a lame attempt at fake excitement for an entire world of sports I could care less about it. At least I know I’m not alone. In fact, a very tiny minority of US Americans actually know anything about ice dancing, mogul jumping and figure skater beating (see Tonya Harding meets Nancy Kerrigan circa 1994).
Even NBC has a pretty good idea that the next two weeks are gonna just plain suck, which is why whoever inked Bob Costas to lead that whole Olympic thing ought to get a raise.
You have heard me rave about Costas before, so I won’t bore you with any more bromantic praises for my mental doppelganger (at least, not now anyway); but I would like to present just one example of why Bob Costas is the bomb.
We all saw Costas buzz McGwire and stick handle Dubya, but have you ever seen him prod a foreigner towards the Dark Side? Then you will enjoy this:
Ichiro is, of course, hilarious in this clip, but Costas’ body blasting reaction at the 25-second mark is just priceless.
And you know I’m right so don’t hate me.
In baseball, if it’s a joke you want, it’s the Pittsburgh Pirates you get. No question.
In US American politics… Sarah Palin.
Television? The Office‘s “that’s what she said” bit.
And now, for your viewing pleasure, two of those three… put together:
Hate me ‘cuz I know magic, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
In 2001, the king of crap conglomerates and no-holds-barred entrepreneurship, Vince McMahon, teamed up with NBC to create a new world order football league deftly named the XFL. The league featured ‘roid-raging castaways with unfettered guts and brawn who considered the actual rules of the game nothing more than a bothersome set of circumstances meant to be ignored — all in the holy name of entertainment.
Personally, I have had enough of the steroid scandal in baseball; and in an effort of compromise between giving the fans what they want and keeping Major League Baseball clean, I propose we gather up all the Mannys, Barrys, Alexes and Marks, give them to Vince McMahon, throw a ton of money at marketing and licensing and let them hit the hell out of the ball all they want in a rule-breaking utopia known as the XBL.
No drug tests. No suspensions. No questions.
And who better to get this league off the ground than Rafael “What the Heck Is Stanozolol Anyway” Palmeiro?
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Hold on to your money-makers, dear readers… this is gonna be a thrashing ride reminiscent of Clint Malarchuk’s 1989 throat-slashing — the first and only image on television that made me actually throw up.
Verily, NBC gave her demonic highness, Ann Coulter, the greatest public relations gift in the history of the human race by banning her for life from their network and all like-minded lefty-linked affiliates. This decision was made in lieu of Coulter’s new book which attacks the media as being a farcical, one-sided (left), pretentious boys club incapable of stomaching any of her ranting diatribes, most of which we learned folks have grown to just call ‘crap’. Strongly suggestive of fecal matter or not, Ms. Coulter is still a US American, one who is astutely literate in the land of fantasy writing and one who has the same exact rights that all of us share in making our voice and our opinions known. Nothing good can come from this. She’s going to run with it ad nauseum and in this case, NBC clearly proved the exact point she’s been trying to make all along.
And it might not make me want to vomit as much as the above, but Pat Burrell is now a Tampa Bay Ray and in doing so virtually shuts the door on my boyhood hero, Ken Griffey, Jr. ever getting another shot in the playoffs. Having shored up their veteran/DH hitting needs, I doubt the Rays will have much interest in Junior now. In my mind, this can only mean he’ll likely end up with that cyclical hell-hole of a franchise known as the Seattle Mariners (for nostalgia’s sake — yack). Sorry, Junior. I really am.
And just as sure as I was that the Democrats’ insatiable desire for unwanted negative attention had already met Biblical proportions, it got worse when Rod Blagojevich appointee and prophetic puppet, Roland Burris, said he was the junior Illinois senator because “the Lord has ordained” him. How come the Lord is always talking to everyone except me?
Maybe he’s been talking to Al Franken too. No matter what, the Minnesota senatorial feud will be nothing short of a long, drawn-out, party-dividing legal and social battle that will only make us hate politicians that much more, if that’s even possible… wait, yeah… yeah it is… because there’s still this guy:
And of course his team is just one passing physical away from putting another ice pick in my chest and signing Milton Bradley to a three-year deal. In essence, the Cubs continue to get better, continue to open their change purse, continue to be savvy in all their dealings.
Note to John Mozeliak: You might want to consider waking the hell up!
And no, Mr. Mozeliak, I do not consider your signing of left-handed bullpen scrub Royce Ring, who finished 2008 with an ERA higher than Method Man and Redman on a Saturday night backstage (his ERA was 8.46), to be a “savvy” move.
(*insert dramatic pause while I take the time to puke… again.)
So what do I do when the world around me crumbles like Amy Winehouse during happy hour?
I tune into the wondrous world that is Red State Blue State…
But, folks, it ain’t always pretty. And it’s painfully obvious to anyone with a remedial math education that whether I’m younger by twelve years or twelve days or twelve hours than my cooped-up colleague, Mr. Allen Krause, I am and always will be younger than he, and more eloquent, and better at baseball. That’s just the hard, undeniable truth.
And yes, just as Mr. Krause stated in his low-blow, I did indeed spend some quality years without a steady girlfriend. This I cannot deny. But to call me out on the transgressions of the past without expecting a wicked rebuttal is quite juvenile.
Alas! Mr. Krause has long been the New York Yankees of meaningful romantic relationships: he was always in one, always spending too much money, always on top (so I hear).
Equally, I have long been the Tampa Bay Rays: never actually in the race, always flirting with free-agent wh0res who weren’t worth the inflated dollars, always on the bottom (cuz that’s just how I roll).
But (and I think we can all see where this is going here) like all facets in the grand scheme of life, balance ultimately plays a most crucial role. And nowadays it’s pretty apparent that I’m on top (with a hot girlfriend) while Mr. Krause wallows in the despair that is not making the “playoffs” for the first time since 1993. Don’t worry, Al, I’m sure they seat parties of one on Valentine’s Day somewhere in the nation’s capital. If not, you can always give Eliot Spitzer a call. I’m sure he knows some “people”.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Indeed, after that long and winding baseball-politico season and the ominousness of losing every dime I’ve ever saved due to the current worldwide economic crisis, I deserved a damn vacation.
And vacation I did.
Which reminds me, don’t you just hate when you meet the perfect girl and you hit it off right away — so much so that you spend the entire day with her into the evening through the night and find out the next day that she’s your cousin?
Happens to me every year.
But that’s not what I want to focus on today. No. You see, dear readers, while on my vacation, I missed out on some very important happenings: like Gov. Sarah Palin‘s adamant cry to NBC’s Matt Lauer that during the campaign she never got involved with that “inside baseball stuff” that supposedly divided her camp from Sen. McCain’s.
Look, I don’t even pretend to know what she meant by calling it “inside baseball stuff” seeing how it had absolutely nothing to do with baseball; however, I can appreciate her obviously sentimental regard for greatest game on earth and implying that indeed, it’s complicated.
Because it is.
The coast is clear now, but how is it that the Cardinals were even considering a trade for Matt Holliday? A trade that would send away at least two (maybe more) of our most talented youngsters and leave us with a one-year rental of a player represented by Scott Boras? Has John Mozeliak officially lost his friggin’ mind?
The answer to that question is yes and I’m quite sure we St. Louis fans haven’t even seen the beginning of it. Stock up on the painkillers, folks; 2009 could be a long one.
And how is it that Lou Piniella received the Manager of the Year Award? Don’t get me wrong: I have nothing but respect for Sweet Lou and I admire his guile, but this year he did what he was supposed to do (sorta) which was manage an extremely talented, high-priced ball-club to a winning season. That’s like me getting rewarded for drinking beer and watching football on Sundays. That’s what I do, people!
The Cubs were on cruise control all season until October and Lou didn’t have to work nearly as hard as the likes of Tony LaRussa or Joe Torre to get the job done with less talent.
The one thing Lou was supposed to do this year (win playoff games) never happened. I see that as one thing and one thing only: failure. F-A-I-L-U-R-E.
On the other side of the Second City (my side), complications arise with Jermaine Dye and his future in a White Sox uniform. Rumor is: Kenny Williams wants to get some fresh legs in exchange for the veteran outfielder who had a resurgent season in 2008. I understand Williams’ point of view, but I’m pretty sure there will be rioting in the streets if Dye is traded away. Even more rioting if Big Fat Bobby Jenks is dealt (which is also floating around the rumormill).
Just let me know if and when that’s going to happen, Kenny, because I’ll make sure to be back in South Padre until the Southside firebombing lets up.
I suppose Gov. Palin was right. This “inside baseball stuff” is complicated. And I gotta hand it to the Republicans. They ran a
good laughable race. And the tides seem to be turning for the GOP: Mark Foley, while still making excuses for his pedophilia, is at least speaking to the media again; Alaska has more problems than just Palinmania; and Norm Coleman has a 209 vote lead (as I write this).
Like my boy Tupac used to always say: “Ya gotta keep ya head up.”
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.