Outside of baseball, there’s really only one man worth wearing the crown of my man-crushdom. Whether its his svelte good looks, his vocal charm, or his ability to cheat on multiple baby’s mamas and still be adored by all… this man is someone I’d like to be, if only for a day.
That man’s name is…
So imagine the pure shock, the horror, the Crying Game-esque gut twisting reaction I had when I was informed that Usher was responsible for the comeuppance, development and overnight success of the height-challenged lesbian look-alike from Canada, Justin Bieber.
If it’s pop-culture-to-baseball analogies you’re lookin’ for, look no more, dear readers. For Usher is the St. Louis Cardinals. He’s tops among R&B artists. He’s consistently good. He’s been around the winner’s circle. He belongs among the best.
Justin Bieber? He’s the Cincinnati Reds. A mere fart in the grand world of entertainment, he too will eventually dissipate back into nothingdom, where he belongs.
The Reds boast a team of Cardinal has-beens: Scott Rolen, Jim Edmonds, Russ Springer… hell, even Walt Jocketty. During the course of a 162 game season, even has-beens find time to shine.
But like Justin Bieber and his awkwardly prolonged fifteen minutes of fame, eventually the Reds will burn out…
…the Cards will be on top…
…and Usher will be asking:
Hate me ‘cuz I wanna eradicate Bieber Fever, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(Special thanks to C for the vomit-inducing photo)
One of the most peculiar realms of science is understanding what exactly goes on inside of a black hole (and no, folks, we ain’t talkin’ about the vile emitting from Milton Bradley’s mouth). Widely understood as a “deformation of spacetime caused by a very compact mass” — an area from which nothing can escape the immense gravitational pull of its center — black holes are like the underground club scene of the cosmos: all kinds of weird s*** can happen… and does!
To me, the most interesting aspect of a black hole lies at its very center, past the event horizon, down the rabbit hole, settling on an infinitesimal point known as the singularity. If you were unfortunate enough to be sucked into a black hole and lucky enough to survive the trip down its core, by the time you reached the singularity you would surely be a shredded mess, the result of being filleted by the strongest forces theorized by the human mind.
But boy would it be an exciting death!
The oddest thing about the singularity is that once we start working in and around that point, we realize that the laws of physics become completely erroneous and unnecessary. That’s right, dear readers, when you get to the singularity, Einstein’s theory of general relativity makes no sense at all.
And while black holes and their singularities may be intangible to us from our terrestrial vantage point, if you look around you today you will see all sorts of things that could cause one to think we may be close to such a singularity — a place where what we see is so shocking, so odd, so perplexing that it just doesn’t make sense…
The Good Guys Win: Joe Mauer
Twins fans were so afraid they would lose their hometown hero to the evil chops of the Yankees and the Yankees 2.0 that doomsday scenarios and flat-out decrees of apostasy had already been accepted as fact. But in the end, the Twins had to sign Joe — for the sake of their new stadium and for the sake of their fans. And they did, for a very reasonable price. Oh, and by the way, the Twins are not a small-market team, so this situation is getting even more black-holish by the minute!
Liberal US Americans Actually Accomplish Something
After eight long years of maddening sound bytes, phantom wars against phantom enemies for phantom purposes and an all-out assault on reason, the liberal majority in the House got together and passed a health care bill that might actually work. Oh yeah, sure, not everyone is happy about it and the most concerning aspect is how we’re going to pay for it; but, in my opinion, the sheer fact that you won’t be financially punished for being sick anymore indicates a huge step forward. And besides, since when do US Americans care about national debt? Here, in the great state of Illinois, for as long as I can remember, the political machine has been borrowing money from the FUTURE to pay for current projects. I hear that Illinois is rich in the future, so I’m gonna see if I can get in on that too. I need a Lamborghini.
Exciting News Out of Cincinnati Reds Camp
You have to go back quite a few years to find anything worth anticipating from the Reds in March, but this year is different. Under the wise hand of former Cardinal front office legend Walt Jocketty, Cincinnati signed Cuban defector Aroldis Chapman during the offseason, hoping he would live up to his international hype. And boy does he! Thought by many to be an ace-caliber pitcher going into this season, Reds fans have a whole lot to be excited about for a change… of course, that is… until Dusty Baker blows out his arm and ruins his career.
Hate me ‘cuz I test the limits of physics, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
A smile, a wink and a good old fashioned Chicago roundhouse to the face and everyone seems to have forgotten that Rod Blagojevich is the scum of the earth who not only embarrassed the millions of people who chose him to lead but also tainted the already highly critiqued political machine known as the City of Broad Shoulders. And let me tell ya: it’s really friggin’ hard to embarrass a city known to root for those lovable bastions of disappointment: the Chicago Cubs.
Indeed, after a brilliant array of surreptitious spin-doctoring, both Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid and President-Elect Barack Obama swiveled from one extreme to the other and now favor seating Blago-appointee and Chicago granddaddy of patronage, Roland Burris, to the US senate. To quote Jack Buck, “Excuse me while I stand and applaud.”
(*clap, clap, clap)
Yes, dear readers, Rod Blagojevich may appear to be a complete idiot, but his sinisterly savvy move of handpicking Burris to take Obama’s place (accented by the potentially trumping race card) just proves that he’s way smarter than anyone ever thought. In fact…
Dude is wicked smah’t.
Meanwhile, many of you may see my flippant ferments to dispel equally corrupt John Mozeliak from the Cardinals’ helm as mere exercise in futile hyperbole, but believe me when I declare my absolute sincerity — that my dissatisfaction stems from a sound place: my undying loyalty to preserve the winning spirit of St. Louis Cardinals baseball.
Whether you like it or not, Mozeliak is corrupt. Anyone who thinks he can throw around pretentiousness disguised as frugality in the Cardinals’ front office is corrupt. Anyone who squashes the fans’ perennial hopes for a pennant (before the season even starts) while the hated Cubbies build and build and build only to get better, is corrupt. Anyone who “rebuilds” a severely damaged bullpen by signing the likes of a lukewarm lefty named Trever Miller or Royce Ring — mere band-aids on a gaping, gushing head-wound — is corrupt.
Yeah, sure, Tony LaRussa is extremely intelligent — so much so that he hid Mozeliak’s ineptitude for most of the 2008 season. With Dave Duncan at his side, it’s no secret that LaRussa has fixed many a troubled bargain-bin pitcher — whatever riff-raff Mozeliak (and Jocketty before him) could dig up and throw his way. But how long can we expect TLR’s elite level of intelligence to conceal the GM’s corruption?
One of these days (probably sooner than later) LaRussa and Dunc are simply gonna get tired of the b.s. and walk away.
One of these days (probably sooner than later) the Illinois legislature (and the Democrats as a whole) are simply gonna get tired of the b.s. and send Blago on his way.
At least, I hope as much.
Intelligence can’t hide the scandalous scars of corruption forever.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
As Allen’s moral quandary comes to a close, I am left in a somewhat reflective mood. His terse analysis of the character of Chicagoans was not only a fierce example of absolutism, but it was also a plain indicator of why he is so bitter and jaded towards life in general. Having grown up in a small no-name Michigan town, then spending several soul-searching years in France, Chicago, Cameroon and New York City, it is no wonder why he knows not the real nature of his being — except that it exists, even if just barely. The Truth is, Allen Krause lives a pretty good life (obviously, otherwise he’d post more often) and yet he chooses to complain about it. In reality, Allen’s life could be much worse.
He could be me for example.
Indeed, my life has been tough this week. My city was flooded by the gangs of New York, Hillary left Pennsylvania as victor, the Cubs have been on a tear, the Cardinals pitching staff has been showing weakness, the Sox haven’t been able to outslug the Evil Empire and the Reds hired Walt Jocketty, whom I once wanted to honor by naming my first born (boy or girl) after him. Oh, and I should probably also mention that I haven’t been on a date since September.
Sure, it would be real easy for me to slip into the cesspool of sympathy-seeking sadness while feeling sorry for myself. It would be real easy for me to put my teeth on a curb and ask an innocent bystander to stomp on the back of my skull. But no. No! I am a U.S. American. And one of the fundamental principles of our country — what makes this nation stand out among the rest — is our individual freedom of choice. Yes, that’s right, folks. I have a choice: hate life or live life. And who better to sum up American idealism than English gentleman and poet George Eliot (1819 – 1880) who said:
“The strongest principle of growth lies in human choice.”
I choose to choose. I choose to grow. I choose to make Mike’s Hard Lemonade out of the tree of lemons in my front yard. I choose to analyze, scrutinize and ultimately pursue the right path. But beware… many a moral quandary and philosophical pitfall await the anxious do-gooder. And bad things happen to those who screw up (just ask the gatekeeper at Wrigley who wouldn’t let the goat in to see the game).
Mirror my example and take heed, for these choices were not easy to make:
Erin Andrews and ESPN or Kerry Sayers and Comcast Sportsnet:
Hmm. Watch the world-class ESPN broadcast featuring the hottest woman in baseball or Hawk and DJ rehash the ‘glory days’ on CSN with mojo buzzkiller Kerry Sayers. These are the choices I thought I would have when preparing to watch Wendesday night’s broadcast of the Yankees versus the White Sox. The Baseball Tonight teaser featuring Erin licking her lips and winking at me through the tube made it an easy choice; but DirectTV took the choice out of my hands and blacked out the ESPN broadcast. I wrote my congressman and he assured me he would do absolutely nothing about it. At least I wrote my congressman.
Write an Exposé on the Greatness that is Evan Longoria or the Greatness that is Eva Longoria:
I know, I know, seems like a tired joke already. It’s not. This, like farts, will always be funny. Longoria is a great future star who will be a staple of all my fantasy teams. Respectively, Longoria is a great star who will be a future staple of all my fantasies. Longoria is not just great, Longoria is perfect and Longoria is awesome and Longoria is the epicenter of my earthquake, the eye of my storm, the cow in my tornado.
Ah, Longoria. Longoria Longoria Longoria. Longoria Longing Longoria Longoria Long Longoria Lung… Eva Longoria-Lung.
Mrs. Eva Longoria-Lung.
Lead a Life of Fame or Lead a Life of Obscurity:
Now that the press has relaxed its death grip on my every move in favor of reporting on a much more successful, more “professional” MLBlog from a more attractive, more “informed” writer (Alyssa Milano) I have resorted back to the mundane existence I once lived. Oh sure, the paparazzi on the 62/Archer bus can still be a pain and yes, I can’t get into US Cellular Field without signing an autograph or three, but when we come right down to it: I am of the People. Though my success has avalanched in recent weeks, I must keep a humble heart and leave such pompous and pedantic acts to my colleague/opponent, Mr. Allen Krause. For I know what victory tastes like and my reservations will ultimately prove me to be the bigger man.
I choose to sit on the couch, watch some ball and feel damn good about it.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.