Bad ideas are everywhere. All around us. Sometimes they’re blatantly awful. Sometimes they take a while to figure out. But whether it’s a delusional moron (who supposedly has the invisible ear of “gawd”) scheming to kill gay folks or a real life horror-show cutting up his friends and eating them, bad ideas are abundant.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop them from happening.
Even if one should know better.
That’s right. During a recent Red Sox game I became fixated with the primordial ugliness of our good flopsweatin’ friend, Vicenteticus Padillicarpeus (known to some as Vicente Padilla). Before I knew it, I was doing a Google image search of the man. Why?
I wish I knew.
All I know now is that a little big of ugly is a bad idea. A whole lot of ugly is a night without sleep.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m cruel, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
I hate to be that guy who talks about his fantasy baseball team but I came across an article the other day that kind of summed up my season. Let me go back a little, though, and explain. At a couple points I was looking good. The hitters were hitting. The pitchers were pitching. But some guys were starting to taper off so I made some changes.
Bad idea. As most readers of this blog know, we like to comment on the simian nature of Vicente Padilla. However, despite two year’s worth of warnings, I went ahead and picked him up anyway. He was pitching well, the Dodgers looked good. How could I lose?
Well, instead of trying to explain what Padilla did to my season, I’ll refer you to the article I mentioned at the beginning. Yes, I think the best way to describe Vicente Padilla is “drunk baboon.” Read the article while imagining my team as Cape Town and you’ll get the picture.
And so in this Podcast…
Look out, y’all! The Prince of New York (aka Paul Lebowitz) is back! Joining forces with Jeff and Johanna, the best writer you’ve never heard of exercises his unfettered angst and admits to whom he’d like to strangle to death. Lots of heads roll as the guys discuss Carlos Zambrano’s temper, Vicente Padilla’s flopsweat, Mark Prior’s overgrown calves, the Lou Piniella Mailbag and much, much more… all to bring smileys to your faceys!
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*Special thanks to Keith Carmack — our engineer, director, editor and all-around sound guru. And his Undercast podcast is wicked smaht! I actually ran into his Undercast crew the other day, as they were going to Subway, and I realized Subway couldn’t contain their bad@ssness. Anyway, their podcast is available on iTunes and is posted regularly at Undercard Films. Check it out!
Recorded Thursday, August 5, 2010
And so in this Podcast…
Dear readers galore FINALLY get to meet THE one, the ONLY, Mr. Allen Krause as he joins Jeff and Johanna to discuss all things urgent, all things necessary. And it’s all made possible by science. And hard work. And Skype. Judge for yourself. Among the titillating
topics of discussion: Strasburg as Jesus, the difference between anathema and an enema (it’s important), starting a Pete Rose for US WBC Team Player/Manager petition on Facebook, Gallaraga’s thingy, the Lou Piniella Mailbag and much,
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 the bomb shizzy, by the way. It’s available on iTunes and
is posted regularly at Undercard
Recorded Wednesday, June 23, 2010
As the health care bill moves to debate on the senate floor, partisans on both sides are gearing up for what is expected to be an epic battle. The conservatives, exhorted onward to ever greater paroxysms of religious (and irreligious) indignation by Glenn Beck and his ilk, decry the very thought of doing away with the current system that has failed so miserably. Meanwhile the liberals turn every which way but loose making a perfect hash out of what should have been the easiest sell in the history of sales pitches. And who suffers? Just the millions of Americans without coverage.
However, we here at RSBS may have come up with a perfectly libertarian solution which even our friend Jonestein could be proud of. Take a look at this video and pay special attention to the chorus:
There, did you catch it? “Have a baby by me, baby, be a millionaire.” It’s the answer to everything. What we need right now is for all the wealthy people in our country, be they entertainers, moguls, crime lords or even baseball players, to have babies by other women so they can then pay their doctor bills. It’s foolproof!
I understand that some people will have a problem with this solution, especially the people who have to get the ugly girls pregnant. But the United States was built on sacrifice. Besides, that’s what we have ugly guys like Vincente Padilla and Bud Selig for. And they need to get on it now. Trust me Bud, it’s going to be just as bad for the girl who’s stuck with you as you think it is for yourself.
Now, we could also follow the more difficult but ultimately more sustainable path described by David Goldhill recently in The Atlantic. But, let’s be honest. Americans are incapable of that much patience and this idea would require a rationality that is light years beyond our elected representatives. And that’s why we come back to 50 Cent. He let us know that it was all right to party like it’s our birthday and now he’s solving the health care problem. If only “Candy Shop” offered some sort of solution to global warming.
Congratulations on winning the World Series, fellas. You kept me interested by keeping things interesting; you played great baseball all season long; you are champions of the universe. You deserve — and receive — my recognition.
But I still don’t like you.
And that’s a good thing. It’s good for me, good for you. It’s good for baseball in general.
I am human and humans hold grudges… even if they are stupid.
That’s right. 1996. Three terrible things happened to me in 1996: Tupac Shakur was murdered. The Yankees won the World Series for the first time since 1978. And MC Hammer went bankrupt.
I can only hope that this present calamity is not followed by two equally devastating events.
Luckily, it has coincided with at least one current positive from the baseball cosmos: Los Angeles Dodgers pitcher, Vicente Padilla (species name vicenteticus padillicarpeus), shot himself in the leg earlier this week near his home in Nicaragua, lending even more credence to the “Padilla Once Shot Himself In the Face” theory of explaining why he is so goddamn ugly.
Life is about balance.
I like it that way.
Hate me ‘cuz I hit neanderthals below the belt, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(Image at the top courtesy of Three Frames)
While you and I spend our time wondering when the Phillies bullpen will
next self destruct or why there aren’t as many green M&Ms as there
are brown, or how long it will take Glenn Beck to realize we’re laughing at him, not with him, there are some people in the world (scientists and such as) who pass the time by making ground breaking discoveries, actually furthering the intellect of the human mind.
Move over Lucy. Make way for Ardi.
That’s right. Australopithecus afarensis,
an extinct hominid (most commonly known as Lucy), who was once thought
to be our oldest common ancestor, now must take a backseat to the most
recently proclaimed elder of bipedalism: Ardipithecus (or Ardi for short).
Like it or not, this is a big deal because Ardi is a million years older than Lucy! Consider her the
cougar of the archaeological bar scene. And with her discovery, the
entire evolutionary map of modern day humans and just exactly where we came
from, how we evolved, what we once were, has been totally rewritten.
It is no longer safe to say we share a common ancestor with
chimpanzees. More likely than not, we came from Ardi and whoever (or
whatever) came before her. Her construction is rare, odd, striking: a
bipedal creature with an opposable big toe; an animal that walks
upright on land but acts as a quadruped in its arboreal environment,
Ardi is the corner border in a 5 gazillion trillion piece puzzle that
is the evolutionary road to modern day humans.
We’re starting to know where we came from.
Yet the only plausible explanation science can come up with for where the
ugly flop-sweat of a man known as Vicente Padilla came from is this
thing from the Clash of the Titans:
Hate me ‘cuz I don’t pull punches, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
**Special thanks to Jason Russell for the pic and assist. You can follow him on Twitter at @JasonrussellUT
Things seem a little topsy-turvy so far in the MLB playoffs. We still
have a long ways to go but I’m feeling a little confused as to who is
doing what and why. It helped me a little when I read Allen’s playoff
preview but I still find myself wondering who will actually come out on
top. So, what do you think Jeff? And considering your Cardinals aren’t
looking too good, I want to hear the truth, not your hopes.
Okay, Cheryl. It’s the truth you want, is it? You want the truth? Ha!
Neither can I.
That’s why I’ve been conducting a little research into one of my favorite adult beverages: Kalamazoo’s very own Bell’s Oberon beer. And this is what I’ve discovered:
Created by Bar Stools
Either that or getting swept in the National League Division Series.
As I sip on this here 16th bottle, let me disclose *burp*… the er… um… *hiccup*… thissdsk is whaat I knoooow.
- Yankees… good
- Angels goooooooooooooder…
- Dodgers *hiccup*, er… I djslamurss… Padilla is uuuuuugly!!!
- Rockies… brrrrr… remember Dante Bichette?
So there… you *burp*, have it, Chhhhhheryl. Maybe it’s not as *hiccup* articulified and edumacated as Mr. *burp* Krause’s baseball-politico sex romp of an essay (ha! I allllmost wrote “Ese!” like “Hola vato! Que hay de nuevo!?”)…
… but… er… it’ll do. I’ll sleep this off and be back to my normal, blathering, pedantic ssssself tomorrow.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m schnnnnnockered, Cheryl, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m not Vicente “I AM FLOPSWEAT” Padilla.