Things to Do in Miami When You’re Dead
Just one week ago I wrote about all the good the Marlins are doing. It’s been an interesting week since then. I baked. I strung lights. I went sledding in my neighbor’s bathtub (she may or may not know this). I made a gingerbread house. I have Christmas fever!! And it’s Big Cat week!! But wait, there more!
I’m also slightly sore from the waist down since my man Aramis Ramirez is leaving the Cubs, but I’m not in the same stratosphere compared to what Jeffy is going through with Alberto de la Pujols. But that’s not why I called.
See, my father lives in the Miami metro area. He slipped me a story that’s been going on down there, one that hasn’t been reported too much here and it details the mess the Miami Marlins have created with the locals involving their new stadium. Check it out from the Herald.
And *this one* too!
Apparently all isn’t so sunny in Dade County regarding the tax payers who paid for the stadium. And the Marlins are BANKING ON FILLING THE HOUSE. Way to piss everyone off before DAY FREAKING ONE.
Will owners ever learn? They can tell you they put on pants the same way you do, with the whole putting one leg in at a time, but they probably just lay on shag carpets and have the butler put them on for them. I know this because my iguana, Dudley, does this for me every morning (despite his violent protests).
The Marlins couldn’t come close to half capacity, even winning it all twice. Now this?
Again Vice City proves just how douchey a place it really is. Other than visiting my father and my two stripper friends Leviticus and Deuteronomy, you can keep it. I have enough Crockett and Tubbs in my life. Just when I thought the new look Marlins were doing things the right way they go and screw the locals.
But I gave Dad some advice for when they tax him again: “The problems of the world won’t be solved by love alone. You need the opposite of love too… and by ‘opposite’ I mean Scientology.”
And… “Life is like a mustard burp, momentarily tangy and then forgotten in the air.”
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Admit it. It may be Monday, but your mind is already on Thursday — Thanksgiving — the one day of the year where your sole responsibility is to eat yourself into a coma, sprawl out on the couch and watch football for 7 hours while catnapping as necessary.
You get all of that for the small price of being thankful.
And what do I have to be thankful for this year?
I’m thankful for the 2011 Cardinals. For the second time in six years I’m bragging about being a champion. And I got to be a part of it by going to the first two games. HOT DANG!
I’m thankful that, as always, whenever the Cubs triumph (Theo) they also manage to fail (Zambrano).
I’m thankful that Rick Perry has disappointed, that Herman Cain has self-destructed and Sarah Palin has invisiblized.
I’m thankful that I think I can get away with making up words.
But most of all, I’m thankful that I’ve never been punched by Mike Tyson.
Happy Thanksgiving Week Monday!
By now, my century long-depressed baseball brethren on the north side of Chicago are aware that, despite Prince Charming occupying the king’s seat at Addison and Clark, Cubbie Land might still get turned on its head.
If Ryne Sandberg becomes the new manager of the St. Louis Cardinals — THE WORLD CHAMPION ST. LOUIS CARDINALS — then I think I might just pee on myself.
Oh, the joy… to think, that one of the greatest Cubs in the history of the world — THE SAME CUB WHO WAS SNUBBED OVER FOR MIKE “LAME DUCK” QUADE — could sit at the St. Louis helm with those beautiful, beautiful birds on the bat, blazing across his Hall of Fame chest.
Oh sure, Francona would be great. Oquendo too. Hell, even Pettini is good in my book.
But Ryno… oh Ryno… *SALIVATES*
A friend of mine ran into Ryno, his wife and some friends of theirs in Times Square this summer. He said he was so in awe of the Hall of Fame second baseman that he sort of lost track of his thoughts and the forced conversation sorta became… awkward.
I imagine it was the same sort of awkward that would come from him championing the Cardinals to a World Series title in 2012…
I’m a Cotton-Headed Ninnymuggins
Things are changing for me. Before I know it I’ll be wearing jeans and reading fiction. I don’t know where I am. My favorite color is rainbow. I’m giving in to wearing sandals over socks. I don’t need the therapy! I’m just mentally ill!
Tony Effing LaRussa is back in my world and I CAN’T STAND IT. He’s a throbbing, raging, @$$bag that I wish would go away but he won’t. And you can’t kill him. If you try, he just keeps coming back. And, with all my might, my baseball sensibilities consume me so much that I can’t not respect the man.
When I was a child I would squint and mistake him for Thundercats supervillain Mumm-Ra (Magician or sexual deviant?). I wanted to lightsaber him over and over BECAUSE I AM A JEDI! His steroid riddled teams have infuriated me to no end. I loved the Dodgers and Orel in the 80s, the Giants and their earthquake, my Cubs of the last decade. I’ve always respected the man and his managing abilities; but he really has outdone himself this year. WOW.
When the Cardinals beat the Tigers in their last World Series appearance with no pitching, that was quite a thing. What’s happening now is nothing short of spectacular managing. My Jeffy’s Cards are the hottest team in baseball and I will once again be rooting against Texas. Watching this series will be like being touched by a priest…
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If you’re like me, then you must have been feeling pretty good on Wednesday after the Cardinals sneaked by the Brewers to take a 2-1 series lead in the NLCS. Hell, I wasn’t just feeling good. I was feeling FANCY!!!
Having gotten word that I would be attending Game Two of the World Series in St. Louis, I was also quite busy securing travel arrangements, making a shortlist of folks I’d have to brag to and trying to decide what exactly I was going to eat at the ballpark (there’s so much to choose from!).
And then the Brewers went and won NLCS Game Four.
DAMN YOU, BREWERS! DAMN YOU STRAIGHT TO HELL!
I ain’t havin’ this, y’all. It’s bad enough that we have to go back to Milwaukee now. But I will NOT let a 10-ton vegetarian take away my dreams of going to the World Series! Will not, CANNOT!
It’s time to unlock Steve Jones…
And so in this Podcast brought to you by Lifestyles…
For the first time EVER in RSBS Podcast history, Jeff, Allen and Johanna all meet IN THE SAME ROOM! That’s right, no phone lines, no Skype, just a microphone and three unfettered opinions overlapping and slip-slapping without pause. Among the topics of discussion are the Tigers, the Cardinals (it’s PLAYOFFS, duh!), an Ozzie Guillen-less Chicago, “blowing” it down the stretch, why you should see Catching Hell and much, much more!
Now getchyer beer and getcho happy on!
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Recorded Saturday, October 1, 2011
That’s why I’m super excited to hear the Cubs rumor-mill sound off on a possible Billy Beane signing as the next Northside GM. Like a sick unempathetic psychopath, I enjoy watching the Cubs die a long, painful death. So bring on the Beane!
The notion that Beane is this magical franchise-saving GM is nothing short of a mirage. If you pick through the mountains of excellent work at PoNY you will find plenty of detailed examples why. But for now, I will just focus on one: during his tenure in Oakland (1998 to present) he hasn’t won anything. And if you’ve paid attention to the Oakland A’s the last five years you’ve probably noticed that those teams have been ATROCIOUS.
Yes, going back some years the A’s captured the AL West Division title four times (2000, 2002, 2003, 2006). But since when does being the best out of four teams and nothing else get you all the accolades of a champion? The dude is a flop! His teams are flops! And his club has no fans! Wait til he has to deal with an angry mob of 40,000 Chicagoans in that dump of a stadium as it shakes back and forth, falling apart!
So, you know what to do, Ricketts… bring on the BEANE! We Cardinal fans are lickin’ our chops!
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.