Tuesday, February 28, 2006

A Solution to a Problem

A few nights ago during an NBA game, Kevin Garnett tossed the ball into the first few rows of seats behind the hoop, hitting a fan in the head. He was ejected from the game and fined $5,000, which is the equivalent of someone fining me a dime. Anyway, the real story is about the guy who was hit with the ball. I first heard of what happened by reading the bottom line on ESPN, you know where the scores and transactions scroll by. It read "Garnett ejected from game after throwing ball into stands; hitting fan." When I saw that, I figured he hurled the ball 30 rows back and hit someone who wasn't paying attention. Then I saw the replay. Garnett took the ball after the whistle had blown, and just flipped it behind the basket. His arm didn't even make a throwing motion; he didn't even bring his arm back like you would when you throw a ball. He just tossed it, flipped it...it was just about the same throw as you would make playing Beirut.
The man who got hit wasn't bleeding. His nose wasn't broken, his eyes weren't watering...he didn't even have a red mark on his face. But he called for a stretcher. A Fucking Stretcher for having a ball lightly bounce off his head. Are you kidding me pal? This guy looked to be in his 40's, and was there with his daughter. If she had been hit with the ball she wouldn't have even cried, and Daddy has to leave on a stretcher for medical attention? Jesus Christ what is going on in this country. This dude probably figured he had a big pay day on his hands, and tried to make it look worse than it was. Then while he was being 'treated' in a back room, he probably caught a replay of what happened and was embarassed for himself and his family. At least the fans there booed the shit out of him when they saw him get on the stretcher, and he deserved that. I'm classifying this act as: Sub-human.

Another incident occurred in the NBA earlier this season. Antonio Davis, who played for the New York Knicks, went up into the stands after his wife was involved in an altercation with a fan. The fan, a guy named Mike Axelrod, said that he was planning on suing Davis for $1 million dollars. Apparently, when a woman swears at you and poked your chest with her finger, that is grounds for a lawsuit. Where I come from, if you can't handle a dispute with a woman, you might as well be one yourself. My question is: Who allows these frivolous lawsuits to be filed, or even discussed? If this incident had taken place in 1985 at The Boston Gahdn, she would have gotten punched, taken out by security and dumped in the alley while the man who punched her finished watching the game and having his cigarette indoors. Today, you get in a heated arguement with someone, and you end up being sued. What the fuck is going on?

Obviously, the people getting sued are filthy rich, and the people filing suit probably not so much. But why is it that people with money are such targets? Kevin Garnett is over 7 feet tall and one of the best basketball players on Earth? So he is rewarded with a $100 million dollar contract. His punishment? Having to fend off bottom feeders and scumbags looking to extort all his money from him. Professional athletes are paid exorbinate amounts of money, but that doesn't mean that we should try to take it. I'm not 7 feet tall, so i boil my options down to getting mad at God or suing someone is who that tall. I don't know who's fault all this is, but it makes me sick. There is no way that everytime something happens involving an athlete and a fan I have to hear about a lawsuit, especially when nothing really happens. I can't wait for the day Shaq goes into the front row for a ball, and grabs a handful of popcorn from a fan, as has happened before. Then Shaq finds out later he is being sued because the fan got a cold and thinks it was from Shaq's hand in his popcorn. When is it going to end?

My solution? The players should start suing the fans. Think about it; players get sued all the time for minor incidents and infractions. What is preventing Kevin Garnett from suing the guy yelling, "Hey Garnett, I fucked your mother and she loved it!" from being sued for slandering his mother's name? I hope the next time David Ortiz comes up to bat in the Bronx and Johny NewYorker yells " Ortiz you suck dick you fag!" that he steps out of the box, calls time and points the guy out to the police. Then after the game he accounces that the man is being sued for defamation of character. Seriously, think about it. One athlete sues one asshole fan, and all this comes to an end. Usually the person with the most money is better off in a court hearing anyway. The athlete could suck that fan dry to the point of remortaging his house without even missing the $20, 000 in court fees that went into busting this asshole down. If this sort of fan behavior doesn't end soon, the only way to watch a game is going to be on television because fans won't be allowed at the games. So here's to the fan that goes to a game not to see his favorite player or watch his hometown team, but to hopefully get into an altercation with a player, however small or insignificant it might be...so he can sue the shit of the player. Long live sports.

Jim Croce Lives!

ROCHESTER, MA- In what can only be described as one of the most elaborate hoaxes in history, it appears that singer/songwriter Jim Croce is still alive! New evidence has surfaced from a small southeastern Massachusetts town in the form of a photograph, taken in 2003. Mr. Croce, a popular singer during the late 60's and early 70's, had allegedly died in a plane crash over Louisiana in 1973. The pilot of that plane had suffered a massive heart attack while in the air, and there were thought to be no survivors. But new photographic evidence has come to light from the town newspaper's archive, causing a renewed interest in discerning the truth about what happened to Jim Croce.

Apparently, while living under the psuedonym Jim Walker, Mr. Croce was a player/coach for the Red Sox team in a summer wooden bat league.The photo in question belongs to one Adam DiOrio, who claims he had no idea as to the true identity of his coach. "One of the guys on the team told Coach that he looked like Jim Croce. Half the team didn't even know who Jim Croce was. I just told them all I felt sorry for their mothers. Anyway, Coach just shrugged it off." 'A lot of people look like famous people,' he said,'Doesn't mean they are those people.' Although Mr. DiOrio provided the picture, he could not comment on the current where-abouts of 'Jim Walker.' "Who knows?" says Mr. DiOrio, "He could be anywhere. He would just show up for games, play and then take off when it ended...he never came out for beers with us . I think its pretty cool though...like a Big Foot sighting or something."

While this man has yet to be confirmed as Mr. Croce, he did assume the name of one of the characters from a Croce song; Jim Walker. But why did he fake his own death? What did he have to gain? And why would he leave us that name as a tantalizing clue? If this is in fact Jim Croce, he will have a lot of explaining to do. We are currently exhausting our databases here at the Wide, Wide World of Sports in an attempt to find more pictures of this man. If anyone out there has information that would be helpful in this investigation, please alert us immediately through the proper channels. We will have more updates as they appear. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for Jim Croce...he walks among us.

Friday, February 24, 2006

Un-Fucking-Believable News: 2.24.2006

How to Rob
This past week in the United Kingdom, bank robbers made off with more than $42 million from a bank in southeastern London. That's awsome. Other sources put the total closer to $75 million. So rarely do we hear about modern day bank robberies that are this successful or elaborate. Allegedly, the heist involved no less than six people, four separate cars, and multiple kidnappings. The best part is, nobody got hurt.The money was taken from a private security firm. The robbers kidnapped the manager, and separately, his wife and son. The man's family was kidnapped from their home, while the manager got picked up driving home. The guys who pulled these off must have huge nuts. They posed as cops when they pulled over the bank manager. They cuffed him and brought him back to the money house to open it up. When they got there, the six men tied up the staff on duty, spent an hour emptying the money out, and took off. This is exactly the way a robbery should happen, if a robbery must happen is to happen at all. Those crazy guys who run up on a bank teller with stockings on his head telling the petrified woman behind the counter to empty the safe are dangerous. Those crimes are done by desperate people during desperate times. This heist(love that word) seems to have been well thought out and planned over months. The best part was the execution of the whole plan. It must have been like watching Jordan and the Bulls run the Triangle Offense. Everyone does what they are supposed to do, nobody panics...everyone wins. I'm going to keep an eye on this story...

Earth's Population Spiraling Out of Control!
Incredibly, this story talks about the Earth's population reaching 6.5 billion on Saturday. What the fuck? Who decided that, and how would anyone know? Just in case you were wondering, it is going to happen at exactly 7:16pm. Now, this obviously isn't an exact figure, but it sure is a bold claim to make. I mean, if you are making taking a guess at this based off numbers, why designate a specific time. According to your numbers, this event SHOULD happen on this date and time, but you don't know if that is the case. Say someone in Iraq pushes their suicide mission up a few days and blows himself up Friday? Then your numbers are fucked, and your claim bogus.
But let me get this straight: We cannot build an affordable car that doesn't run on gas, cure cancer, or build a spaceship that works, but we can say we know the exact total number of humans on Earth at any given moment is? Give me a break. Maybe the people working on this global census should be reassigned to projects worth spending time on, since you cannot tell when people are going to die, or exactly when someone is going to be born. Apparently, there are 4.4 people born every second. One item of interest is that the popultion has doubled since 1960. Which means in 40 years, we went from around 3 million people on Earth to around 6 million people. I think life's revolving door is getting stuck. Too many people are living, not enough are dying. Perhaps those 4 and a half kids born every second don't add up to the people who are dying, walking through the other side. So what's the solution Earth? More babies, or more dead?
Island in Middle of Caribbean Source of Dispute
I read about this article last week, but thought it was very intersting. There is an island in the middle of the Caribbean ocean named Isla Aves, or Bird Island. This island has been the source of a dispute between many different countries, claiming it for their own. Two countries, mainly Venezuela and the island of Dominica, claim it is theirs and within their boundries. Dominica is 70 miles west of the island, while Venezuela is over 340 miles south. Under U.N. rules, a country can claim unclaimed land within 200 miles of its coast. Currently there is a Venezuelan coast guard shack there, which is inhabited and run by the military. The island is rumored to be sitting on a huge amount of oil as well. Also of note, the island is never more than 120 feet wide or more than 12 feet above the ocean. It has been known to completely disappear during hurricanes as well, and is composed mostly of sand and coral. It got its name from the huge amount of birds that visit here. It is strategically placed in the middle of the Caribbean, making it very valuable. The president of Venezuela particularly wants the island for his country. He has gone so far as to send people out there to get married. I just want to go there and stand on a sandbar in the middle of the ocean, with no land in sight.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Grandma's Boy

Ok here is my inaugural movie review. I won't be doing this for big movies that everyone will see. I will probably do it when I feel a movie has somehow gone unnoticed even though it is good. Occasionally I will talk about serious movies, but I like watching comedies, so that is where the majority will come from. Without further ado, I present the first review fromWide, Wide World of Sports'....Grandma's Boy.

Grandma's Boy was made by Happy Madison, the movie company run by Adam Sandler. It is also responsible for every Rob Schneider movie ever made. Grandma's Boy is a story about a 35 year-old video game tester named Alex. He lives with a roomate, but soon is evicted by landlord Rob Schneider, sporting a Russian accent. Alex pays his rent to his roomate, who in turn should be paying the landlord. Much to Alex's dismay, his roomate has been spending Alex's portion of the rent at a Thai massage parlor on massages and happy endings. This forces Alex to move out and find a new place to stay. His first option is his friend Jeff, a fellow game tester, albeit twenty years younger than Alex. Jeff, played by Nick Swardson, is HILARIOUS. Apparently Sandler saw this guy perform a stand-up special on Comedy Central and wanted him in the movie. He has a dry wit, is sarcastic and is perfect with his timing. He contributes a lot to any scene he is in. Jeff lives with his parents, and things don't go well during the sleepover, so eventually Alex ends up moving in with his Grandmother.

Alex works for a video game company testing games. He used to work in accounting, but quit to pursue this(I'm considering the change myself.) His office, if you can call it that, consists of mini-cubicles set up with televisions and game systems. There is also a lounge area with a huge t.v., and all the testers challenge each other to games. Alex is undefeated, and known as Grey Bush by his co-workers. Then there is J.P., boy genius in the movie who created one of the best games ever when he was 14. Now he is under pressure to replicate that success, although it is that success that makes him a social outcast. He dresses like he is in the Matrix, longs for the day he can have a surgery to give himself robotic legs, and even has an alter ego that sounds like a robot. The owner of this company is played by Kevin Nealon, who, while not at his best, still provides some good laughs as Mr. Cheezle.

Everyone is working on J.P.'s new game, and there is a deadline. Enter Samantha, a corporate exec brought in to oversee the final stages of the game's development(she's hot as hell, by the way). It is understood that most everyone working there is a virgin, so her appearance makes some waves. On the side, Alex is developing his own video game that nobody knows about. He also likes reefer. There is a lot of it in this movie, and we come to know his dealer, Dante. Both the actors who play Dante and Alex have been in pretty much every Adam Sandler movie to date, so you will be familiar with them. Dante is funny; he sells weed and uses his own product often. He has some good names for the weed he sells, based on what it does to you, such as Frankenstein and the Brown Bomber. He operates his business out of his basement with the help of an aborigine, a lion, a monkey, and a martial arts expert who doesn't speak English. The aborigine, Dr. Shakalu, imports animals from Africa for Dante to protect his business with.

Back to Grandma's house. Grandma is played by Ray Romano's mother from Everybody Loves Raymond. She lives with two other old gals, and after their fourth roomate dies, Alex moves in. He doesn't like doing all the chores they ask him to do, but when he comes home at nite and has the munchies, there isn't a better place in the world. Eventually the plot emerges, and J.P. tries to take credit for Alex's video game idea. Near the end there is a huge party at Grandma's House after they drink tea made from Alex's stash they found upstairs. The party is about 15 minutes straight of non-stop laughs, along with the best karyoke version of "Push It" by Salt & Peppa.

In the end, all is set right and Alex gets the girl. Grandma's Boy, as you can tell, isn't about the story or a plot. Its about the characters, and how they interact with each other and the rest of the world. Its almost like video game testers are another race of humans, like blacks or whites. They have their own way of doing things and their own set of rules. Alex by himself wouldn't make the movie, but surrounded by everyone else, he carries it through. There are also some side-characters who's name you may not know, but you recognize. J.P. is played by the skinny kid from Dodgeball. A fat kid named Barry, who appears in 40 Year Old Virgin, gets the most ass out of anyone in the movie. Other Sandler favorites pepper the rest of the movie, from Alex's original roomate all the way back up to Dante. And by the way, I love this movie's poster. It makes it seem like a classic comedy, although I don't think that is its destination judging by the two weeks it spent in the theatre. I do feel a rebirth for it on DVD. I know I will be buying it. This movie, and all movies like it, will be reviewed on the brand new Stoner Scale. Movies are rated on this scale from 1-5, 1 being Schwag and 5 being OOOOOWEEEEEES.....I give Grandma's Boy:

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

M-M-M-Manny and the Soxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx....

Pitchers and catchers have reported for spring training for the 2006 season, with position players filtering in this week. That is, unless your name is Manny Ramirez. Ramirez has been given until March 1st to report to the team's training facility in Florida, a day before he is scheduled to join the Dominican team for the World Baseball Classic. While all his teammates are in camp already, Manny has been given permission to join the team late because he is "in Florida completing an extensive training regimen, and is prepared to have an exceptional season.” Does that first part sound like Manny to anyone else? I didn't think so. It is a known fact that Manny works very hard at his hitting, but he has never been known to be the most phycially fit player on the team. I seriously doubt he is undergoing extensive training for the season. That being said, I have no idea why he isn't in camp. Maybe he won't ever show up, forcing the Sox to trade him or he will sit out. Nobody knows what is going with Manny; not God, not his teammates, probably not his wife and definately not himself.

Manny being absent from spring training actually gives me an opportunity to talk about something I despise...The Boston Media. A lot is made about this group of haggard writers, overweight radio hosts, and ridiculous commentators. Boston has a bad reputation as being a tough place to play, because of all the pressure, and deservingly so. The big misconception is that the fans have alot to do with it. To me, that is not the case, and here is why. The fans who put pressure on the players are not always true fans. There are alot of people who come to Boston that may have never been Sox fans, but they are now. They put on the radio and hear the guys bashing Keith Foulke, and the fans follow suite because they don't know any better. True Red Sox fans are cynical, but they never try to hurt the team, or hate for the sake of hating. I have been watching almost every game in every season since high school, and before that I watched a lot of games. I used to get mad when Mark Belhorn struck out all the time, or Renteria made an error last year. But it ended at that. Radio shows and internet sites drag it out and want blood for these mistakes. That is where the problem lies.

At any time of any day, if you are in Boston you can find news on the Red Sox. It's almost an up-to-the-minute soap opera. The people bringing you the news are part of the old group of Sox fans; the cynical, out of touch complainers who fill the airwaves and pages with negative views of the Sox. Herald writer Steve Buckley is at the top of my list. This moron runs his mouth and intenionally writes abrasive articles about the Sox, whether in season or out. I believe he does this to boost his guest television appearances, and to make a name for himself. There are too many loudmouths in this town who feel their opinion rules, or is the voice of the people.
Another place you will find this sort of person is on WEEI, specifically what is known as The Big Show. I'm not sure if the show is named as such because every guy in the studio takes up two chairs, or that they think their show is a big deal. I realize it gets a lot of listeners, but its like the situation with Sportscenter...what other options do you have? If you are in the car on the way home and want to hear something about the Red Sox, thats where you go. Glenn Ordway and Pete Sheppard seem to be the ring leaders, the ones who run the show. I want an installment of The Big Show broadcast on t.v., because this is what you would see: five fat middled-aged men, trying to talk louder than the next guy, all trying to voice their negative opinions on that day's topic. They have segments where they take calls, but don't be fooled caller...you only exist to be laughed at, ridiculed, and looked down upon by these has-been hosts and no-talent contributers. Also, don't even try to make a good point, because when that happens shit really hits the fan. Argue against what they are saying during the show, and they just start talking over you while you are still talking. I guess the prevailing thought is, he who talks loudest is right. Then they dismiss the caller like they don't know anything, make fun of him for a few, then keep the show rolling onto the next sap. I am putting the most of the blame for Boston's negative media squarely on the husky shoulders of these two slugs, and anyone who contributes to their show.

Back to Buckley. He writes for the sports section of the Herald. This guy is garbage. I read the Boston Herald, and I can only think of one article I didn't hate by him. I don't even remember what it was about, just to show the quality of this guy's work. Also, he thinks he is funny and clever when hes not. His response to Manny being late for spring training is that he does it because he thinks its funny to fuck with management. He says that the Sox management is lying for Ramirez, which is probably true, but then goes on to say..."...and they lie. They lie for Manny Ramirez, sitting at home watching it all get replayed on 'SportsCenter' and laughing so hard that his milk starts coming out of his nose." I seriously doubt this is the case, and since it isn't funny, I am led to believe that Steve Buckley is a functional idiot. He thinks by putting a hard edge to his writing that he will enhance his personal popularity. Nobody gives a shit about him, he's just a writer, and a shitty one at that. Hey, Buckley, if you ever see this, I would rather read a novel written by my 5 year old cousin based the intricacies of the fuedal system in ancient Japan than to read your articles. Keep up the shitty work, maybe soon your editor will realize your words poison every eye that view them. Hopefully there are more people like me who see the word "Buckley" and your ugly mug next to an article and immediately turn the page.

So I got off track tearing up a writer and the morning radio show. I also should mention my growing contempt for Jerry Remy, yes the Rem-Dawg or as he has become over the past two years, Whore-Dog. Hey Remy, do they SELL OUT at your concession stand on Yawkey Way? Have you SOLD OUT of Rem Dawg shirts on your website? I think you get the point. This guy went from being the color guy to hawking any and everything he can put his name on. It's pretty pathetic, but thats all I will mention. I am talking about the media, the negative media, and Jerry isn't too negative. But I had to make my thoughts on him known.

The final piece of this sad puzzle is the internet. I like going to bostondirtdogs.com for one reason; because they collect every Sox article written during the day and post it or a link to it on their site. That is where my love for this site ends. I have sent several emails to the webmaster of this site asking for clarifacation on why they continue to function the way they do. The site would be great if it would stick to the news on the Red Sox. Instead, I open the page and find that someone has changed the words to Green Day's song "Time of Your Life" to make fun of Johnny Damon. The title of that song is also Good Riddence, which is a good indicator of the media around here. A day after Damon signed with the Yankees, Good Riddence. Thanks for the championship you long haired freak, now get the fuck out of town. I have expressed my views on Damon already in a previous post, but to attack the guy hours after he leaves town, totally forgetting what he has done in the past, is irresponsible. But it feeds the public opinion.

There is a sampling of the Boston media. Maybe it would help people who don't live around here to get a glimpse of what really goes on. The media here is suffocating, and every single person covering the Sox in this town has his own agenda in mind. The main goal of a sportswriter should be to report the news and give a responsible opinion. Boston sports writers are adept at taking a quote or an action, and turning it into a huge story...or at least trying to. By showing examples from the print, television, and online media, I have provided a strong basis of support for my feeling that the media here is poison.
This brings me back to Manny Ramirez. It is my opinion that all the extra curricular stuff he gets involved in is just immaturity. The man is 32 years old, he isn't going to all of a sudden start acting normal; he has had over thirty years to do that. So Boston, MY stance on Manny is, enjoy him while you can. It's only a matter of time before this guy gets traded, and it will be a sad day for Boston regardless of your opinion of him. Whether you hate him or love him, there is one underlying fact contributing to his time here: Manny Ramirez is one of the greatest righty hitters in the history of baseball. Last year some felt he had a slow year with the bat: he hit 45 HRs and had 144 RBI. With a .314 career average, a .409 career on-base percentage, and he will reach 500 HR's by the end of next season. If we were discussing any other player, he would have been gone from the team a long time ago. Can you imagine if Adam Hyzdu pulled this shit?ButManny is a special hitter, and this is a special case. Put it this way; after all the shit he has done, all the boneheaded decisions and his antics, the Sox still won't trade him...he is that good.

I'm calling for all the sports media in Boston to make a decision; stick with Manny or don't. You can't sing his praises for going 4-4 with 2 Hr's if you are goign to destroy him the next day for being late for a meeting. In an ideal world, the best players have the best habits, and make the best decisions. But in an ideal world, I would own an island and be married to . Sometimes you just have to take life as it is, and that is how we must treat Manny. He might not be on time, he might daydream in the field, and he might request a trade every few months. But every night at 7pm during the summer I thank God that I get to watch Manny Ramirez swing a baseball bat.

So to all you Steve Buckley's out there, to the Big Show crew, the perps on bostondirtdogs, listen up: Nobody cares about YOU, nobody tunes in or reads an article or visits the website because of YOU. YOU have the privelage of working in Boston and the honor of covering the Red Sox. That is where you're 15 minutes of fame ends. If you did your job the right way and stopped trying to make everything a bigger deal than it is, things might be different in this town. Manny might stop requesting trades and players might not want to leave because they lack privacy. Who knows how many free agents over the years have went elsewhere because of Boston's reputation. Even a World Series couldn't shut you assholes up.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Going Forward...

Today's update comes from the corporate accounting world, a world that I am unfortunately familiar with. The master plan for me had always been to not end up working a 9-5 Johnny Pencilpusher office job. Unless you either have had an internship, an ivy league education, or good connections, you must start out in an office. Every office is different, but in many ways it contains the same elements. I watch The Office every week and wonder how close that depiction of an office is to other offices.
For some reason, the phrase "going forward" is like nails scraping down a chalkboard to me. I cannot stand when people say it; mainly because they say it all the time. If I had copywritten "going forward" like ring announcer Michael Buffer trademarked "LLLLLet's get ready to Rummmblllllleeeeeeeeeeee, " I would be swimming in a pool full of liquid gold. I hear that phrase at least once an hour, everyday of every week. Its almost like when I worked at Circuit City, and they played the same Peter Framton video and song for 3 months straight. (The scene from 40 Year Old Virgin where he flips out from the Michael Macdonald video being overplayed is perfect) If I don't hear 'Going forward', I read it in emails. How bout saying something else, like "in the future," or "from now on?" That would make me so much more happy. Its one of those things that just bothers me.
I don't know if that happens to anyone else. I like to call it Automatic Unexplained Distain. Sometimes you see something, or someone...or hear something that makes you furious. You can't explain what it is about that person/thing, but no matter how hard you try, you can't stop hating it. It eats at you, you can't get away from that infuriating feeling everytime you encounter it. It happens with me and those emo kids. You know the ones with checkerboard paint on their cars, black clothes and bad attitudes? Its one thing to dress or act a certain way because thats your style, but come on. What made you decide black eye shadow and fishnet stockings were what you should be wearing, guy? Those are clothes for girls and so is the makeup. Do you think because you bought a Korn cd and hate your parents that means you have to dress that way? Quit making me hate you even though I don't know you...

Friday, February 17, 2006

President's Day Massacre

Ah yes, Monday is President's Day, and with it the stock market is closed. Therefore, I do not have work on Monday, and will not be posting anything until Tuesday. This week went by fast, and it seemed like a busy week in the world. Today I'm just gonna ramble on, hit upon a few topics, then go home and have myself a weekend.

First up, anyone out there planning on getting fast food this weekend, take a gander at this article. Turns out the ice at fastfood restaurants contains more bacteria than the toilet water at those same restaurants. Basically what that means is that when you order a Coke, you would be better off having ice cubes made from the toilet water than with the ice that you get. That my friends, is pretty disgusting.

Next up is everybody's (least) favorite president, George W. Bush. It seems that he and his administration had been keeping a scientist who has new information on global warming from going public. So Bush, after the U.S. was one of the only countries to refuse to partake in a recent global warming initiative, is now trying to silence scientists who have concrete proof about the effect global warming is having. Sounds pretty suspicious to me, especially since we all know that he has been bending laws and shaping events to maximize the profit of every business partner he can. If the U.S. had agreed to cut back on the proccesses and industries causing global warming, billionaires would lose billions, and we sure as hell can't have that.
Here is one disturbing story that makes me feel good that even though this country is going to hell in a handbasket, at least it ain't Zimbabwe. You know its not enough that their economy struggles like my brother talking to women. Now since inflation is currently spiraling out of control at 613%(!!!), there has been a breakdown of all public services. 20 tons of sand are removed from the sewers daily, not to mention the corpses of 20 fetuses and new born babies. Yes, thats true. Sand, dead babies and fetus's clog the sewers of Zimbabwe. They are also washing pots and pans with sand and brushing their teeth with salt. Good God.

I'm still trying to make sense of this story. For the second time in less than 3 months, a girl in California had two prosthetic legs stolen from her. She is only missing one leg, but has one prosthetic she uses for sports, and one for regular use. They each are valued over $10,000, which is the only reason I could think of for someone taking them. Maybe there is a lot of interest for these things on the black market. I really hope there isn't some deranged mad-man somewhere building a human spider. But I feel bad for the girl. Not because she has to use a prosthetic, but because some dooshbag(i know how to spell it) took them twice. She sort of depends on them to get places. Thats the difference between riding a bike to work or taking a unicycle.

And finally, in tribute to President's Day, I thought I would start and end with the current president. Here is an article that relates to Bush's plan for outer space and human exploration there. Now, after reading this article, I'm reasonably sure that he did not consult a living soul when he was drafting up his space budget and his goals for the program. He says he wants to do things, like put man back on the moon, that go against what NASA is doing. I would bet a week's paycheck that Bush doesn't know what NASA stands for. He probably got a few sci-fi books on tape (he can't read), rented Independence Day, and decided what he wanted to do. The Bush administration's budget request for NASA in 2007 is $16.8 billion dollars. Let's see what NASA's Chief Administrator has to say about the president's budget: "Our human spaceflight program is not an optional program...We are already strained to the limit." The chair of the House of Representatives Science Committee, a Republican named Sherwood Boehlert, added this: "I am extremely uneasy about this budget...This budget is bad for space science, worse for Earth science and possibly worse for aeronautics."

So, Mr. Bush, whats up with the space budget? Is it a P.R. campaign or are you that stupid? You presented it at a peculiar time, when you were catching heat for the war you made up in Iraq. Maybe you thought it would help your approval rating, which looks like some of my test scores when I attended Umass Amherst (south of 40%). The head of NASA, and the chairman of the committee overseeing science spending, both find your plan for space and your budget to be alarming. Maybe you should listen to these people instead of being a fucking moron. The people in these positions know alot more about what they are talking about than you. Why wouldn't NASA's proposed budget come from NASA? They know what they need to accomplish their goals. Maybe it is this sort of decision making that had led us from the moon in the 60's back to Earth where we can barely get into space without blowing up astronauts. Our technology has expanded exponentially since then, and we still can't get by the moon. For Christ's sake, by the 70's calculators had barely been invented, and the ones that were were the size of a desktop computer.
If I wanted to, I could fill this blog every day of every week with stories of how Bush is an incompetent leader, a liar, and worst of all, a horrible, horrendous, indescribably inept president, the likes of which have rarely been seen in this country or any other. He gets off on a lot of things because he is protected by the U.S. government, and who is going to go against that? So as I sit at home on Monday, I doubt I will spend much time thinking about the president. Instead I might go to church and pray for the President's Day when we have a moral, powerful leader, one who does the job as it should be done, and not for personal gain. Happy President's Day George W. Bush. I hope you take the time to realize that most people in your country hate your fucking guts, and wish you would retire and take your whole corrupt administration with you.

P.S. Condoleezza Rice is a piece of shit.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Invasion of Ignorance

Each week, bare minumum, I spend 10 hours driving. While you're driving, you really don't have too many activities to keep you busy. Most people are content with simply operating their vehicle. Not me. I have to put on music, have a drink, find something in the backseat, or adjust the heat. For some reason I spend the majority of my driving time looking at things besides the road. Now, while this may not be the safest route to work everyday, I don't think its all bad. I see lots of things out the window: nosepickers, cell phone earpieces, people singing, and the often performed coffee in one hand-cigarette in the other hand. I also notice other things, things that make me think a bit more. Like today, in Middleboro. First, I saw that someone had spraypainted a speed limit sign, so you could barely make out the 35 on it. Then I came to a stop sign, one that had a red undercoat, but was covered in black. If you were driving on this road for the first time, you would never know it was a stop sign. What I want to understand is the reasoning behind this and the following examples. What good does it do to black-out a stop sign? Honestly, if someone explains it to me in a coherent manner that makes sense, I will listen. Its a tough thing to say, but I hope if anyone ever misses that stop sign and causes an accident, its someone that the person who did it knows. It isn't a funny joke to do that; its not clever or original. Its fucking retarded. Go spraypaint some dirt, or a rock or something if you need to rebel with a spray can. Maybe you should also consider lining up the can with a wall in front of you, turning the can around, and filling your mouth, throat and lungs with paint.

Next up in the batting order of ignorance is keying someone's car. Before we delve into this subject let me first say that I understand, to an extent, vandalism. Hell, I can even let someone convince me that occasionally it is deserved. Eye for an eye. For example, if your girlfriend finds you fucking some broad in the backseat of your car, then certainly when you hear that key start scraping a line down the side of your car you can understand where it is coming from. That scenario has never happened to me, but I can tell you about one that did. I had my car keyed in the parking lot during a fucking Coldplay concert. I cannot understand this for the life of me. Do I have an arch enemy who followed me to the Tweeter Center, and hid until I went into the concert to fuck my car up? My Magic 8 Ball reads, "Outlook not so Good." I'm pretty sure it wasn't anyone I know, which makes it a random crime. How much ignorance do you have to possess to key a random car in a lot full of cars? I wonder if I was the only one, or if he was a serial keyer. The point is...you don't even get to see the person's reaction when they see that their car has been keyed. Unless they hide somewhere, but that act carries the possiblity of being caugh, something that a person keying cars would avoid at all costs. Basically, some punk ass walked by my car, dragging his keys, him and his buddies laughed, and by the time they passed the next row of cars, it was forgotten. And my car was now pinstriped....on one side. At least if you are going to do it, go for the gold man. Hook me up with a matching one on the other side. And really, if you get off on keying cars, key a good car would you? "Duuuude I just keyed someone's caaaarrrrr man." "O ya, who's?" "I don't know, just one I saw when I was walking." "Awsome. What kind? Lexus? Benz? H2?" "Na man, just some old green Chevy..." So if you are out there, tell your mother I said I was sorry she has to call you son.

For the last item on our exquisite menu of ignorance, we have today's special: My brother getting randomly punched in the face at a Goo-Goo Dolls concert. What the fuck? Is that a misprint? Did I really type that? Yes I did, and its fuckin' pathetic. So I'm at home, hanging out a few years ago when the phone rings...its my brother, Matt. "Is dad there?" "Why, " I asked. "Because I got punched in the face. I think my nose is broken, and someone needs to come get me." "Are you serious?" I hear myself say. "Ya can you put him on the phone?" Needless to say my father was heated, and if there is one thing in my life I know...its that you don't get Tom DiOrio angry. It's not quite Lou Ferrigno turning green, but its close. In the end, he did have a broken nose, and he was ok, but I'm sure you are wondering who punched him and why. Turns out he was walking on the grass in one direction, with a few friends, when a pack of drunken idiots walked by the other way. Somone from that group decided to slug him, and they all kept on moving. If you have ever got your clock cleaned, you get disoriented and can't comprehend what is happening, especially if you get blind-sided and aren't expecting it. My question is, what did that guy who punched him do immediately afterwards? High-five his friends? Punch someone else? Have a good laugh about it later? Here's my guess; this guy threw the punch, finished his beer, puked, when he finished yelled "Woooooooooooooooooooooooo!"then got another beer and degraded a woman in line. I guess the point, again, is why would you do that?

What do you get out of punching someone randomly or keying the first car you walk by with your keys out. What does it prove, when you aren't even there to be held accountable for your actions. There are many kinds of ignorance in this world, but why is it that cowards seem to have the most of it. Spraypaint a stop sign, don't stop. Punch someone, keep walking. Key a car, keep moving. It don't make no mu'fuckin' sense. I honestly would have less of a problem with all this if the people were there to see their dirty work in action. Like if the spraypainter sat near the stop sign with a lawn chair and a beer, waiting for someone to crash. What about Random Puncher, if he turned around and actually challenged someone to a fight, instead of punching and running. And finally, if that fucker who had keyed my car had been sitting on my hood waiting for me to come out so he could show me his craftsmanship, I would have respected that. Then, I would have put all my distain for ignorance in my back pocket...pull out my keys, place one in between each finger, and key this kid's face. You know what they say....Ignorance breeds ignorance.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Un-Fucking-Believable News: 2.14.2006

Sometimes you come across a news story so appalling, so unbelievably incredible that it boggles your mind. Such an event occured this afternoon while perusing news stories from www.drudgereport.com. A 26 year old woman from Missouri is being charged with knowingly exposing men to her HIV infested box. Ok, you might say, so she is not mentioned the fact that she has HIV to her lovers, it can't be that many right? Wrong. Dead Wrong. Can you count to 100? This bitch can. She had a miscarriage at 14, and was infected with HIV at that age. She is 26 now. I have to assume that most of her tally came after she was 14, and after she had HIV. So she averages banging a new guy about once a month, for 10 years. I have come across some scandalous women in my days, but Jesus Christ... thats alot of dudes. When God was handing out vices, this lady must have been at the back of the line. "Ok, you get cigarettes, you get booze, you don't get a vice....keep the line moving...porn, legos, baseball cards, porn, video games, lottery, booze...whoa wait a second Ms. Angela Harris. Your vice is sex, and from the moment you have your first time, you will spend all your free time fucking and unleashing incurable diseases upon the unsuspecting public...." Hey, if she doesn't end up in jail, she should read this next article...It could do wonders for her mission to fuck and kill anything that moves in Missouri.
I sort of did a double take when I happened upon this doozy of an article. Its called Vaginal Rejuvination surgery. Its the new health trend that is sweeping the nation. It basically involves a woman going to a hospital, leaning back in a chair, and having a mad scientist (or doctor) say 'spread em' while he points a laser between her legs. Now I'm no woman, but that doesnt sound like my idea of a good time. A quote: "Some experts estimate as many as 30 million American women suffer from excess vaginal relaxation, a condition where the vaginal canal is more spacious than desired." AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA what a quote. Now if you are a woman reading this and are afflicted with this condition, excuse me. I just think there could be better terms used to talk about it and describe it.
"So what brings you in today?" "Well doctor, I am having a bad case of excess vaginal relaxation. I mean, my vaginal cavity is spacious... I mean really. You could, and I have, fit some good sized foreign objects in there. Is there anything we can do to cut down on that flapping noise i hear when the wind picks up?" For you 30 million America woman who are looking into this surgery....No handshakes, no hugs....Just a Fist Pound.
And finally, a follow up to last weeks story about the 6 year old boy from Brockton who got suspended for sexual harassment after he had the audacity to touch a young girl's waistband. The boy has transferred to a new school. The principal of his old school apparently held a meeting with the child and his mother to apologize. The school said it had learned a lesson, and would go over the rules to change things. The school describes sexual harassment as "uninvited physical contact such as touching, hugging, patting or pinching." Subsequent games of Duck, Duck Goose were cancelled, as well as Trust Falls, Tag, and all sports involving balls. Students trying in vein to pat their heads and rub their bellies were told to abort all activity or face expulsion. When reached for comment about the events of the past few weeks, the 6 year old boy said, "Man fuck a suspension. Was it worth it? Heeellll yeah it was worth it, I got some waistband son! You know how many kids get a hand full of elastic waistband at this age?!? I ain't washed my hand since. I'm a fuckin' legend son. A LEGEND! "

Monday, February 13, 2006

Black History Month

Today we are going to talk about Black History Month. First of all, I thought it was a little embarrassing that the United States recognizes black history in the shortest month of the year. Even on a leap year they still don't get 30 days. So then I went to find out when this observance first started and how it came about. I was actually wondering why it takes place in February, if there are specific reasons. Black History Month actually started in 1926, as Negro History Week. It was started by a man named Carter G. Woodson, who was a historian. He chose the second week in February for Negro Week because two honorable black men were born then; Fredrick Douglass and Abraham Lincoln. Granted, Lincoln did contribute greatly to abolishing slavery, but that seems like an ominous sign for choosing a week to celebrate blacks. In 1976, while the country was feeling particulary patriotic, the week was extended to a month.

The main question here is; why is there a month devoted to just one race. Does it mean that since blacks have one month, white people have 11 months? Like November is the 10th installment of White History Month? Sorta get that Black History Month out of the way early so white people can enjoy the rest of the year? Or, since its really not just white and black in this country, do other races have other months? Does it end at race, or does it extend to nationalities and sexual orientation? Is March Irish month and I don't know about it? Do Native Americans have a month, or did they trade in their month in for casinos? Maybe the government gave them a choice.
And speaking of the goverment, whats going on here? They feel bad about the mistreatment of minorities over the years, so they try to make it up like this? Here Mr. Negro, have a month. During it we will talk about your ancestors and teach white kids about their accomplishments. But once the calandar turns March 1, no more of that shit. Back to John Smith and British Parliament. Or Hey, you on horseback living in a trailer on the outskirts of the desert selling silver jewelry... I know we took all your land and forced you to live here or give up your beliefs and traditions. Why don't we build a casino, and you can run it and take all the white man's money.
Look, I understand trying to make up for past errors. But would the U.S. goverment ever truly repay the minorities of this country what they lost? Like literally, not with a month dedication or something else. I realize that Native American casinos are goldmines, but Manhattan was purchased from them for less than $25 in traded goods. How much would Manhattan be worth to Native Americans today if they it was still theirs? Can you imagine the guy (Peter Minuit) when he was bartering with the native indians(Algonquins) about Manhattan? "Ok sooo... I'm gonna give you two horses, some magic seeds, some corn-on-the-cob; shit I'll even throw in my sixth born daughterties too-Sarah get over here darlin'- and you're gonna give me the rights to this island? Well Chief, you drive a hard bargain but you got yourself a deal. Good doing business with you..."
For the record, I don't support the idea of reparations for slavery either. I actually find it incredibly ignorant when I hear people talking about them. Let's be reasonable; you want 40 acres and a mule because your great-grandfather's great-grandfather was a slave? You want a reward because your distant relative had an excrutiating existence? Tell me what it's like to be a slave. What does a whip feel like on your bare back after a long day tending the fields? I don't know, and neither does anyone else. Slavery was a brutal, horrible practice. I cannot imagine infringing on another person's free will. How can you claim to 'own' someone? Using the rationale of those seeking reparations, what would stop the distant relative of a plantation owner from seeking reparations for what was lost when slavery was abololished. You have to admit, if you are running your company on 100% free labor and you have that taken away, your business is going to suffer.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, we don't need Black History Month. Blacks are just as much a part of the history of America as Europeans are, or Mexicans, or anyone else for that matter. Black people hold many imporant positions in the public eye, from sports to music and movies to politics. The workplace gets more diversified every day. Every year the balance of this country moves towards minorities. A lot of people worked hard to end segregation in America and lay the foundation for the future. So why would we segregate history?

Friday, February 10, 2006

The Legend of Latch, Cap and Probert

Ok not much time here before the weekend (Yesssssssssssssssssssss!), but I want to make sure everyone out there knows how to handle themselves in the case of an emergency fight. The forecast calls for snow this weekend, and lots of it. What can you do on a snowy Saturday night besides settle into the house with some friends and some drinks and get down to business? BUT, if you are in college, or hanging out at a place where people are drinking and stuck inside, beware: prolonged periods of being indoors due to the weather can raise stress to riot-like levels. If you are in college, I'm sure you know about meatheads, and I don't need to describe them or go into what they are capable of. These are the sort of people who, when intoxicated, would fight their own mother's for the last 'Stone in the 30 rack. The people that spend so much time in a gym that when they aren't in the gym, they feel akward and uncomfortable. It is for times when you are confronted by these people that I leave you with a little knowledge nugget to always remember, and never forget....Latch. Cap. Probert.

The concept of Latch, Cap, and Probert was handed down to me just before the turn of the century by the sage "Crosby Stills" Nils Johnson. While I spent my summer working construction for a man with a mullet and a drinking problem, Nils instilled ages of knowledge upon my and my friend; knowledge that cannot be read in books, or discovered with math. Three words, all related and intertwined by their purpose and results. Remembering these three words can improve your chances in a fight exponentially. Lets start from the beginning.

Latch begins the fight, or is in response to your opponents first move. The latch is a quick, sharp punch with your dominant hand. It sometimes isn't even close-fisted. Its purpose is to stun, and set up for the Cap and Probert. When the meathead takes a swing at you, it is usually a long, poorly aimed punch thrown more by alcohol than the person. Avoid this contact, then fire out the Latch. A properly placed Latch should hit your opponent in the face, preferably the nose. This causes eye watering, and your enemy will be temporarily blinded. Follow this up quickly with the midpoint of your defense/attack...the Cap.

When you hear the word Cap, most think of something related to guns. Very true, but that is not its only use. The Cap is the connection between the Latch and Probert, so make sure it does not miss its mark. After a well placed latch with your dominant hand, use your offhand for the Cap. If you are awkard and box lefty, throw the right hand Cap. The reason is simple; although your cap should be the second hardest punch thrown, you want your dominant hand ready for the Probert. Cap someone by swinging your offhand in a semicircular arch, from roughly your shoulder (keep them hands up!) to the side of your opponents face. Hitting the nose is a bonus, as it will be close to broken now. The Cap should be a hard, well placed punch that builds off the Latch, or stunning shot, has done so far. Both of these together set up your finishing move...The Probert.

The Probert is named after former NHL player Bob Probert. Probert logged over 3, 300 penalty minutes over his career. That's almost 3 entire days this man spent sitting in a box for crimes committed on the ice. And those were just the ones the refs saw. He fought over 100 times in games, and according to one website, he won 90% of his fights. Yes, there is a website called hockeyfights.com. He is the sole inspiration for the finish to this three-step dance of death; The Probert. If things are going as planned for you so far, you have stunned your opponent and put a hurting on him. He is now set up to be banished to meathead hell. As you throw your cap, ready your strong hand for the final blow. Once your fist ceases to make contact with the enemies face, keep your offhand on his shoulder. Grab a fist full of shirt as your deliver the fight-ender. Bring your strong hand over the top, straight back and straight down on the person's face. This blow is meant to inflict damage, and insure that no one else will try what this meathead tried. Plant your fist in between the guys' eyes. As you do this, use your offhand to lift his shirt over his head. Now he is stunned, disoriented, and in the dark. If the fight has ended, leave him to find his way out of his bloody shirt. If he wants more, you can do with him as you please. That is how Bobby Probert did it, and let's face it; if you want to know how to ruin a successful career, you would watch a Britney Spears highlight tape. If you want to know how to win fights, you watch a Bob Probert tape...
:The Latch, Cap, Probert is meant for self-defense ONLY:

Anti-ESPN: Part 1

Poor quality
Part 1 in a Series....
Sportscenter. We have all seen it. Its on every weekday from 6am-noon. Also, it is on at 6pm and again at 11pm. On average I would say that ESPN shows Sportscenter 8-10 hours out of everyday. It is the show that the station has become synonomous with. So why has it declined considerably in quality over the last decade? What are the issues preventing the show from returning to its golden years, considered by me to be the mid-to-late 90's. That is what I intend to find out, first by laying down what isn't working now, what did work back then, and what I think needs to happen to make ESPN's Sportscenter what it should be.
Since this is an intro, I want to start back in the 90's when I felt the show was good. In the early days of sportscasting, announcers did most of the talking, as there weren't any highlight shows on at night. Most people don't remember, but before Sportscenter used to come on in the morning, they showed a regular news program. World wide leader in sports, but showing the news like its CNN. That was tolerable though; you don't have to watch shows that you don't like (or that offend you, or make you angry, or insult you...for all you fuckers out there who bitch about the content on t.v.). Even in the early days after they did in the news program, Sportscenter only had a few anchors, and they all played it straight, reporting sports and thats all. Then came Craig Kilborn, Charley Steiner, Keith Olbermann, and all of a sudden sports anchors had names. People started looking forward to the funny things that Kilborn said along with the highlights. He spiced things up; he made it better, but he never took away from the highlights.
As time went on, Sportscenter continued to grow, easily becoming the top place to find highlights and news on sports. Highlight packages were allowed room to breathe, and it showed by illustrating a full game in about two minutes. In two minutes you can get alot of highlights in, but you can also feel the flow of the game, and observe key turning points. Back then, if Ken Griffey, Jr. went 4-4, you saw all his at bats. Back then, the Bulls highlights were packed full to the brim with Jordan and the rest of the guys. But then something happened. Around the turn of the century, ESPN believed its own hype. They started making changes to the show, adding in segments and cutting into highlight time. Even that was acceptable, to an extent. Now the show has evolved, or devolved as is the case here, into an unentertaining collection of analysts opinions and minimal highlights.
I will use the example of the weekend of the AFC and NFC Championship games. Normally the Sportscenter following a weekend of football starts off with football. This was a different Monday, as Kobe Bryant had scored 81 points the night before(which is no small feat, don't get me wrong). So they started the show with Kobe, and showed most of his shots, especially in the 4th quarter. Fine. Then they showed interviews with Kobe, Phil Jackson, and a few others after the game. Good, we get the point. Let's move on....but wait! Bill Walton announced the game, lets get his opinion. Let's see what Greg Anthony has to say! Then he can kick it over to Tim Legler, who will put in his similar but slightly different two cents. After that, Steven A. Smith will give his take on what happened....Why the fuck would I care what these guys have to say? One of them, maybe, but all three? Finally a commercial. When they come back, we get Steelers highlights and Seakhawks highlights...about a minute apiece. Then, instead of something new or more highlights of the game, Scott Van fucking Pelt sends it out to Stuart Scott, who is sitting at a table with Chris Berman, Michael Irvin, Steve Young, Ron Jaworski, Sean Salsibury, Tom Jackson, Merill Hodge, and my all-time (non)favorite, Mark Schlereth. Every guy has his turn giving his opinion of the game. Individually. Somebody fuckin kill me.
It is of note that, with the exception of Irvin and Young, ESPN employs Has-Beens and Never-Were's to break down football film. Anyway, by the time they got through Kobe and the football games, we are almost 30 minutes into the show. Knowing Sportscenter, I realize there are two more segments that will eat up another 15 minutes of the show. First we get Chris Berman's Top 10, which goes 5 and 5 with a commercial break, and provides the most brutal moments of the already gruesome show. Apparently Berman can't keep it together for a full 10; he needs a commercial break to catch his breath and mned the suit jacket he just ripped up the back. His typical Top 10 of his consists of a squirell skiing, a highschool basketball buzzer beater, five football highlights, a mouse in a Big Wheels, an obituary and last nite's lottery numbers. This guy is a fuckin' egomaniac who should have the mic wrapped around his neck. Also, if you plan on giving someone a Top 10 on a sports program, how bout making it entirely about sports? Its only 10!!
Then there is the Ultimate Highlight, as its called. Never has the word 'ultimate' been so abused or misused. I heard a rumor that the guy who edits this is forced to drink two Red Bulls and a sixer of Jolt cola as he edits. I tried to induce a seisure during it one time, but that still didn't help. Neither did the morphine drip. I'm sorry, I need Tivo to even identify what is going on. And who came up with the idea for showing the weekly highlights with that 'twiiins' song from the Coors Light commercial playing over it with different words?
Ladies and gentleman, let me introduce you to the new Sportscenter. A cross-promotional waste land of epic proportions. A place where all sports meet, and none come out alive. A magical place where players with no talent go to share their unsolicited opinions, and sports anchors try to be something they are not. Not everyone on Earth is funny, and yes I'm looking at you Stuart Scott you fucking piece of shi.....sorry I almost got through without doing that. So this is basically where i am coming from as far as ESPN goes. Next week, I will move on to the anchors. Not the analysts, the anchors. The men who guide the show towards disaster and make me long for the days of visiting Craig Kilborn's bird sanctuary.

Thursday, February 09, 2006

My Ipod Wrote a Short Story....

Today I thought I'd try something new. I was trying to do something different. So, without further ado, I would like to present a short story written with the titles of the last 5 songs that randomly played on my ipod on my way to work this morning.

Amber didn't like to do much during the week. Due to her mundane job at an accounting firm, and the lack of social life, Amber had become a recluse. She had t.v. shows that she watched every night of the week, and based all other activities around the shows. The weekends were marginally more exciting. She sometimes would go to a bar and get some drinks with friends, maybe catch an afternoon movie or go for a walk. But mostly she kept it low key.
Then, one Friday as she was getting on the elevator at work to leave for the weekend, she met Dizzee. They had never met before, but had worked in the same building for years, separated by only two floors. By the time the small talk had subsided, both were outside on the way to their cars in the parking lot. Dizzee was going out for a drink right down the street, and asked Amber to go. She agreed and met him there. Dizzee slid up to the bar and ordered his drink, Belvedere vodka and cranberry juice. He asked Amber what she would like to have, and she responded "It Makes no Difference." "Two glasses of Fruit Punch then..." said Dizzee to the bartender.
Amber really liked the drink, and had another. They were really interested in each other because each saw a little piece of themselves in the other person. Dizz invited her back to his place, where he was planning on hanging out with a few friends. They arrived back at his plush yet not overly ostentatious apartment in South Boston to find a few of his friends were there already. Dizz had lived in Southie since he moved there from South London after college. Most of his friends were Londoners living in the States, but he had a few other Irish American friends. If you have been to Southie, you know its hard not to know an Irish person. They are like air; they're everywhere.
Amber followed Dizzee upstairs to his room, the biggest one in the apartment. There was a small balcony attached to his room, and after he took a quick bathroom break, he asked Amber to join him on it. Once out on the porch, Dizzee produced a joint. Amber had never smoked but she knew what it was. "Do you smoke?" asked Dizzee. "No I never have before," replied Amber. Dizzee shot her a quizzical look, and said "Well then, I think its time for your Chronic Intro." He lit it up and passed it to her. She coughed like a mine worker after a cave in, but did alright besides that. She asked him questions about it. How he got it. Where and from who did it come from. He basically told her that his friends downstairs were Graftin'. He went on to explain that graftin'= workin' hard = hustlin'. (Its London slang, same as when rappers say they are out 'grindin' or 'hustin' on the street corner.) While Dizzee held a legit job, his friends made money on the streets graftin'.
After she burnt her finger on the last of the joint, they finished their drinks and went downstairs. But something was different, and it wasn't just that Amber was smoked out. Dizzee's friends, who were there twenty minutes earlier, were nowhere to be seen. Something didnt seem right about it to Amber, but she figured it was the cheeba thinking for her. Then she caught a gleam out of the corner of her eye, and saw Dizzee hit the deck. The next thing she knew, there was someone standing over him, with a gun out. Amber never forgot what she heard next: "I'll Whip Ya Head Boy! You know I will." "What?!?!" shouted Dizzee back at him. "I'll Whip ya head with the back of the steel!" And so he did. He whipped Dizzee until he was out cold, and she saw a little trickle of blood in his brown hair. The man told Amber to leave before it happened to her. Since she didn't know where she really was or how to get home, she wandered the block for what seemed like hours. Being high for the first time made this experience infinitly worse, as she couldn't stop looking back over her shoulder, like she was being followed.
Eventually she saw the man who had whipped Dizzee leaving the house with a huge paper bag, and he got into a waiting car. They made eye contact, but never spoke words to each other again. She was out of options so she went inside to find Dizzee with a frozen bag of vegetables pressed to the back of his head, as he was cutting loose his friends who were tied up in the kitchen. They had been robbed of their stash and all of the proceeds from that stash; a tough hit to take, but at least they were all alive. Dizzee apologized, and paid for Amber's cab home. Although they saw each other sporadically over the next few weeks, neither mentioned the events of that night. And Amber never smoked anything again....

Songs (In Order of Appearence)
Amber by 311
This is a good song for a summer afternoon or a day at the beach.

It Makes No Difference by The Band
This is good song for a warm night and some friends. Go outside, grab a lawn chair and a beer, and just kick it.
The Chronic (Intro) by Dr. Dre & Snoop
The only song where calling someone a "Penguin-lookin muthafucka" sounds hard as fuck.

Graftin' by Dizzee Rascal
I stole his name for this story. If you don't know who he is, download something by him. He is a London rapper, and while I can't understand two words he says, its rap like you have never heard before.
I'll Whip Ya Head by 50 Cent ft. Young Buck
Something about this beat makes me wanna fuck someone up. Also, 50 Cent stopped his Ja Rule impersonation long enough to make a hard song. Young Buck is real nice on the last verse, and you know that all that shit he says he did it last week.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

The Future; Past, and Present

I am back writing after a long weekend off. And what an uneventful weekend it was. Super Bowl sucked, but I watched anyway. Matt DiOrio took the first step down the path to stand-up comedy on Monday night with his debut performance at the Comedy Connection in Boston. With a crowd of between 30-40 people from The Roc, Matt did very well, judging by the laughs of the people he didn't know. The possibility exists that nobody will read the stuff I write, which is fine by me. I just want to run over a few topics I will be tackling in the coming weeks. Oh, and for those wondering why my blog is titled 'What in the Wide, Wide World of Sports?' I suggest you direct your attention to the first ten minutes of a movie called Blazing Saddles. Trust me, if you haven't seen it already, you will not be disappointed...
Anti-ESPN Campaign
Poor quality
This will be a weekly series dealing with the steady decline of ESPN, and more specifically, Sportscenter. It is my opinion that the quality of ESPN's flagship show, Sportscenter, has sharpley declined since the turn of this century. I should know, since even though I think the show sucks, it is where I go to for sports news. They are the Rollerblade of sports recap shows. My beef with ESPN will be outlined and presented in a fair manner, serving the sole purpose of exposing this show(Sportscenter), and this station (ESPN) for the greedy corporate vehicle that is it.
I will start with Sportscenter and branch off into different segments and sports specific shows, such as NFL Primetime and Baseball Tonight. Notable personalities that will be reviewed include everyone from Sean Salsibury to Harold Reynolds to my own personal enemy, the reprehensible, dispicable, Stuart Scott.
Classic Album Countdown
This is where I will be reviewing classic albums that I enjoy listening to. Although some of you may not realize it, I am somewhat of a rap aficionado. I suggest you do not take this segment lightly, as I will only be reviewing the finest albums rap has to offer (skits not included).
Unbelievable News
Everyday I sit at my desk and read several different sources of news. I visit cnn.com, yahoo news, and the drudgereport.com. All of these are great sources of news, and provide good articles that I like to include in posting. Some of them might slip by the average reader, but the average reader doesn't have three hours a day to devote to reading the stories. So for that reason, I am at your service with the Newnews blogs.
Sometimes I feel like having my motherfuckin' opinion heard. Whether right or wrong, outlandish or conservative, idiotic or clever, I plan on posting them. It can be anything from commuting to work to the number of copies of Catwoman available for rent at the local Blockbuster.

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Groundhog Day Madness

Today, I want to talk about Groundhog Day. This is by far the dumbest idea for a 'day' that we have in this country, and believe me we have many dumb days. You know the drill; Punxsutawney Phil either sees his shadow, or he doesn't. If he does, we are allegedly supposed to have six weeks more of winter. If not, then spring comes early. I have a problem with this because why is this groundhog's shadow more important to predicting the weather than, say, mine? My other problem is this groundhog is either a random groundhog every year, or the oldest fucking living organism on earth. Most humans base their February-March plans on whether or not this thing sees its shadow. As evidence of how unimportant this event is to all besides a handful out backwoods Yokels in Pennsylvania, as soon as this thing was over the crowd started a Steeler's chant. Do you think anyone starts a Pats chant at midnite mass on Christmas? Can you imagine if they did this in Boston. "Go back in ya hole ya piece a shit. I don't need you I got Storhm Track Five and you know Dick Albert's got the dopplah!"
I also just found out that the spokeman for Pennsylvania lottery is in fact a groundhog, named Gus. His motto is "Keep on Scratchin" and no I'm not making this up. How can an entire state feel good about themselves when they are identified by either Steel or a Groundhog? To top it off, they stole the idea from Germans. Even though we owe the Germans thanks for Jagermeister and Heineken, we now know that they backstabbed us with this Groundhog Day. Turns out that in Germany they think that if a hibernating animal sees its shadow on February 2nd there will be more winter. This tradition has been ongoing since 1910, and the last time the little fucker didn't see its shadow was 1999. I don't think he has been right too much, but in the end, its everyone's fault for believing what it says. After all, if a meteorologist with a dopplah radah can't figure out the weather, what does an animal that lives underground know?

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Fiction Can Be Fun...Johnny Damon

Alright. I hate to do this but I'm starting to get a little annoyed. When Johnny Damon was in Boston, I really liked him. He played hard, played well, and helped bring us a championship. After the Red Sox won the World Series, I thought that everyone on that team, all the way from Ortiz down to Leskanic, had a free pass in Boston. Going out for dinner? The restaurant will pick up that tab. No, no Mr. Cabrera, the drinks are on the house. The team of players who finally delivered the championship to Boston are immortalized around here. There would be only one thing that I could think of that would spoil that for a player from that team: Going to the Yankees. Good thing last May our friend Johnny Damon put to rest the thought of seeing him in pinstripes...

"There's no way I can go play for the Yankees, but I know they are going to come after me hard," Damon said. "It's definitely not the most important thing to go out there for the top dollar, which the Yankees are going to offer me. It's not what I need." -Johnny Damon, May 2005

So, things changed, as they usually do in life. The Red Sox went on to have a tough season, and even though they made the playoffs, you could tell it was a matter of time before the wheels fell off. Damon played well, hitting over .330 for most of the season, but by the end of September his average was down to .316. Then, he helped El Duque put the nail in the Sox playoff coffin by striking out late in game 3 with the go ahead runs on base. Compared to the 2004 team, this one didn't have a chance. This playoff loss was easier to take than most, because we had the title. So Sox fans could feel good going into the offseason knowing that the Sox would be back next year, and probably with Damon in center and leading off.

Little did anyone know that the Red Sox really didn't intend to keep him. Damon said that the money wasn't the issue...but the money is almost always the issue in pro sports. I think to a certain degree Damon was telling the truth. But the Sox first offer of 3 years and $27 million doesn't constitute a hometown discount. That offer, in this sport during this offseason, was an insult to Damon. I don't believe he was worth much more per season, but he is in great shape and has earned more than a 3 year deal. The Sox next move was to blow him away with a 4 year $40 million contract. That was more like it, but not to Damon. In my opinion, it is the Red Sox fault that they didn't re-sign him, BUT, Damon could have signed with any other team and it wouldn't have been a big deal. Instead he chose the Yankees. Instead, he sold out. According to wikipedia.com...Selling Out is a common slang phrase. Broadly speaking, it refers to the compromising of one's integrity in exchange for money or other personal gain. It is commonly associated with attempts to increase mass appeal or acceptability to mainstream society. A person who does this is labelled a sellout. You can decide if Damon fits this description.

"I know fans are upset. I’m sorry. It wasn’t even close and obviously the money looks like a huge factor. There was a 6-year offer for more money than the Yankees. I’m walking away from $25 million from another team, so I can play for four years in New York... I was just trying to get the best offer," Damon said. With this logic, shouldn't he have been saying "I'm walking away from $13 million from the Yankees so that I can play for four years in Boston." So, contrary to what he said, the money was important. That is why I don't believe any team ever offered him 6 years or $75 million...he never would have walked away from it.

Since signing with the Yankees, Damon has done everything he can to make it seem like he loves being on the Yankees and doesn't feel weird about it at all. I disagree. I keep seeing quotes from him where he is still talking about Boston. For someone who plays for the Yankees, he seems to be very concerned with the goings on at Fenway, and not just because he has to show up there next year and get booed. For instance...

"'Manny really wants out of Boston, just so he can relax and chill,' Damon told Kay. 'If he played for the Mets, he probably wouldn't be able to chill much. But I think the Yankees would be a perfect fit for him, as well as for David Ortiz.'"

Wow Johnny, now your talking. That makes sense. You can't even decide how you dress or act as part of the Yankees, but Manny would be a perfect fit. Ya? Ortiz can't wait to get out of his contract so he can sign with the Yankees. What's wrong with you, do you miss Boston already? Why don't you ask if they can build a Blue Monster for you in left field. How bout buying a Cask n' Flagon franchise with the extra money that you didn't need(but your wife probably did), and put it outside the Stadium. We want to make sure your comfortable Johnny, but you just left the last place on earth that you would be comfortable in. How bout another quote from Bizarro Johnny Damon?

"Everything feels right about being a Yankee, about the tradition, about my new teammates. It feels pretty special." -- Johnny Damon, New York Yankees CF

Awww how cute. You feel special being part of something you hated and were against for the best 4 years of your career. Boston made you a star as much as you helped the Red Sox win. Would any other city embrace someone who shows up to spring training looking like a 30 year old Teen Wolf? I appreciate the way you played and your honesty in interviews and so forth, but now you can't be honest, you can't have an opinion. You can't even decide the length of your hair. If you haven't realized it yet, you will soon. You fucked up. But hey, at least you went out classy so that your replacement in Boston will feel welcome.

"'I wish (Crisp) the best. I don't hope negative things on anybody, but just hope that Boston fans can embrace him and make him feel as special as they made me over the four years I played there.'" "'He is a guy they wanted. It was clear in the papers they were wanting other center fielders as soon as the season was over. The fact that my jersey went for half price after the season, that kind of tells you something. They got the guy they wanted, so I hope he enjoys it."Sounds bitter doesn't he? He doesn't hope negative things on people, but he hopes the Red Sox fans can just let Coco Crisp play and not remind him who was in centerfield before he got there. Maybe the Sox starting looking for a new centerfielder the minute your agent said he wanted a 7 year deal for you. Seriously, what did you expect..."Ya lets lock this guy up till he's 40, and pay him like he's still 32 the whole time." Sorry Champ...not happening.

But alas, Johnny is gone but not forgotten. We will see him 19 times at least this year, and may a plague come upon him and his teammates each time he does. If he thought Boston was 25 players and 25 cabs when he got to town,I can only assume he will love playing on the Yankees. Do you think A-Rod and Damon are gonna hang out after games and play xbox? A-Rod goes home, puts on a striped one-piece swimming suit and dives into his Scrooge McDuck money chamber. Jeter goes home, looks out the window of his penthouse overlooking the city and laughs to himself while some exotic woman gets undressed in the other room. Jason Giambi goes to the nearest club, mixes the clear with some Patron, then sexual humiliates himself and the woman he tricked into coming home with him (more on that in the future). I think the one consoling thought that Sox fans is the message Damon wanted to get through before he left: he tried.

“My message to Red Sox fans is I tried, I tried everything in my power to try to come back. Unfortunately I know they are going to be upset but I'm always going to have a strong feeling about them. I'm always going to remember the great times. The World Series. The three out of four years we made the playoffs. I just want them to know that I appreciate them and I tried and that's the least I can do." I disagree. The least you could do is sign with a team other than the Yankees.

This year we 'll see Damon in a Yankee uniform, and as sad as that is, it wouldn't be half as sad if he had signed with the Dodgers or Diamondbacks. But he signed with the Yankees, the team he said he wouldn't go to, for the reason he said he wouldn't base his decision on: money. So now he has an extra few million to play with (which will be spent on living in NY and his wife's collagen habit.) I think Johnny Damon is about to find out that, indeed, money can but you many things, but not happiness. And certainly not a World Championship. All he has to do is look around the locker room to realize that.

In closing, I would like to leave you with two recent quotes from Mr. Damon, to show how confused he is with being a Yankee. These quotes reference an upcoming meeting between Damon and George Steinbrenner, their first face to face since Damon signed there. "We're just going to talk, kick back and crack some jokes," Damon said."It's great to be on his side, so now we can talk about the Yankee way." I don't personally know George Steinbrenner, but he doesn't strike me as the type to share some jokes and stories over a glass of scotch. And as far as the Yankee way, whoever that guy is impersonating Johnny Damon can have it.