Tagged: Twitter

RSBS Digest: Blowing Up

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…

Happy Friday!

Jeff

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Things Still Fall Apart

Like any good book, the baseball season unfolds as a series of intriguing stories.  Mike Trout.  Bryce Harper.  The Baltimore Orioles.  The Boston sell-off.  ROIDS!!!  These are all striking plot lines that draw us in, forcing us to check Twitter and MLB Trade Rumors and MLB Tonight as often as Mr. Krause uses a 5-year old picture of me looking like a goof.

Yet, at the end of the season, after the World Champions have been crowned, the champagne has been drunk and Ozzie Guillen has said something unintelligible on live television, I firmly believe that the biggest story of the year could be the complete reversal of what up until a few weeks ago looked like a major headline grabber.

That’s right.  I’m talking to you, Pittsburgh Pirates.

Not even International Talk Like A Pirate Day could save loyal baseball fans in the Steel City from wanting to bring back the brown paper bags from the last 19 years.

With the losses on Wednesday and Thursday, the Pirates find themselves back where they belong, with a losing record.

It’s sad, right?  I guess.  No.  I know.  It is sad.  But for a realist like me, it was also predictable.  The Pirates doing well would be a surprise.  Seeing them sink back into loserdom is not.

Speaking of losers, you are not one today, my friend.  In fact, you just won!  What did you win?  Well, I can’t leave you feeling so sad on a Friday… so here are 18 glorious minutes of bloopers from The Office.

Happy Friday!

Jeff

Anaheim Albert ang I Are Juss Having Fung, Mang

The Twittersphere is a strange place.  It can be as welcoming as it is alienating, as terrifying as it is hilarious.  But just like anything else on the interwebs, it is what you make of it.

Over the years, I have fawned over several accounts in order to make SUPER-HAPPY-FUN TIME.  Coco Crisp’s was golden.  Barry Zito’s was embarrassing (before he blocked me from talking to him).  And I’ve probably cried more laughing at the hilarity of Fake Ned Yost than I have all the times I’ve watched Braveheart combined (stop judging me).

But these days there’s a new mang in town (somewhere along I-5 between Los Anaheim and Orange Angeles County).

BEHOLD: ANAHEIM ALBERT!

He waxes on performance:

Compares himself to others:

And provides sultry details to his odd albeit professional relationship with his agent Dan Lozano:

Extra mad points for that Scott Spiezio reference.  He’s another man whose heroics are shared by both Halos fans and Redbird Nation.

Speaking of Spiezio, where’s my scotch… and the strippers???  ALBERT!!!!

Hate me ‘cuz I made you L-O-L, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

All Too Easy

In the Twittersphere, we at RSBS have a reputation for taking cheap shots at Prince Fielder’s… er… um… corpulence (good word, interns!).  While we do a good job of avoiding the F-word (no, the OTHER F-word, silly), we cannot help but point out the absurdity that is Prince Fielder’s physique.

Dude is big, as in I’s hongry big.  He does not have an athletic body.  Yet he’s just as athletic an athlete as you’re apt to find these days when it comes to production.

Prince is an anomaly though.  An anachronism, even.  He’s the digital watch in Glory in that HE SHOULDN’T BE WHERE HE IS.

Except he is.

How did he get here?


I call McDonald’s’ bluff.  If it were really that easy — to just stuff one’s face full of awful simulated food product — then nearly all of US America would be getting paid by a Big League club right now.

In Prince’s case, I gotta think it’s the genes that make it all too easy.

Don’t hate me.  ‘Cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

Mr. Lung, Superstar

I’m a day early but these things are rarely exact.  No one really knows for sure if Jesus was born 2,012 years ago, for instance.  But I can tell you for sure that Jeff was born 33 years ago as of tomorrow.  I just hope that Jeff doesn’t decide to follow in Jesus’ footsteps.  See, after disappearing for 30 years between his birth and the start of his ministry, Jesus managed to piss off the entire Roman Empire and the Jewish elite in three short years and get himself killed.

I don’t want to say the allusion is exact but for the past three years Jeff has been pissing off the MLB empire and the baseball elite (including getting kicked off Barry Zito’s Twitter feed).  So far there have been no threats against Jeff’s life but MLB is sneaky like that.

It’s a day early but happy birthday Mr. Lung.  And please, beware of crowds bearing palm fronds.  You know what happens a week later.

-A

I See What You Did There, White Sox Fan Girl

The Twittersphere is an oddly fantastic place.  It’s a lot like American Gladiators, you either get it or you’re like “Dude, wtf is this insanity?”

So whenever someone comes along and does something different, I have to give credit.

We have a new follower whose handle is @White_Sox_Fans

Of course, I assumed it’d be one of those generic, autoposting, borderline-spamming accounts that just pumped link after link of White Sox affiliated stuff.  But then I saw the profile picture!

That certainly doesn’t look like the stylized “SOX” or the ho-hum cursive “CHICAGO” script one would usually see associated with a White Sox themed Twitter feed.  I’m in!

And I also thought, Tigers fans could take the above hint and put sexy back into the grandest game on earth.  What do ya think?

Hate me ‘cuz it’s allowed, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

RSBS Digest: Dealing With It

The last few days have seen my interwebs, my YouFace and my Tweeters blow up with concerned dear readers galore:

Jeff, I heard about Pujols… man… are you okay?

Jeff, I heard about Michele Bachmann topping another 2012 poll, is everything cool?

Jeff, I heard one still can’t find Kraftbrau’s Doppelbock on tap anywhere in the Chi. Are you contemplating suicide?

No.

No.

And… no.

Definitely not.  Everything is cool, man.  I mean, what am I supposed to do?  Give up!?!?!

Ha!

Bein’ down isn’t something I’m unaccustomed to, my friends.  And yeah, back in the old days, I would sit and stew, fume and pout, whine and complain about things I could not control.  But where is there value in that?

I would rather fight through hardships than lay down and die because of them.  The satisfaction of overcoming adversity is like that first sip of a cold adult beverage after work on Friday: earning it makes it taste better.  And sometimes, when failure is still the result, knowing I gave my best effort keeps me sane.

But I swear, if I don’t find that Doppelbock on tap somewhere in this city soon, no wall in my apartment is safe.

Hate me all ya want, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff