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Archive for February, 2008

Better Fed than Read

February 29, 2008 Leave a comment

Everybody is now after once immortal lock for baseball’s Hall of Fame, Roger Clemens. Latest arm of the Federal Government piling on ( a fitting term seeing as Mr. Clemens was/is a pitcher ) are the Boys of Hoover. He’s lucky it’s not the CIA. I saw a movie where Meryl Streep was in the CIA, she was one stone hearted mama. BTW Meryl is getting chunky, got to be from all those years of scenery chewing. . ..

Yes sir, the FBI will be investigating, while The CEO of the USA, is making dead grandma jokes about Latin lunkhead Manny Ramirez. Manny, being Manny, a state of being coined by somebody in Boston, likely not from Harvard, depicting moronic behavior as an expression of Ramirez’ individuality. I know he can’t, but can you say: E U P H E M I S M?

Seems Ramirez didn’t show up for the Boston victory lap around the Rose Garden. Again. He didn’t make it in 2K4 either.
I’m betting his excuse is he was off in his home country, the Bronx. Manny doesn’t know that’s in the US, a hundred miles or so to DC being too much of a hardship expense for a multi-millionaire. He does know he’s wealthy because he owns way too many vintage cars. Probably didn’t want to drive one of those babies on the Beltway. Elijah Dukes is with the Washington Nationals now, he’d key a quarter million dollar Bentley just because he saw his reflection in it.

Now looky here. No, here> If you break a law, especially one they made for your own good ( anabolic steroids & human growth hormones [HGH] bad! ), you shouldn’t be allowed to skate. I guess the cheating in sports angle really pisses a lot of people off too. Bettors get surly, makes things unpredictable, er, more unpredictable. I certainly didn’t care much for Roger Clemens when he was with another team, hmmmm what was that team? ah yes, those nurturing, benevolent Mother Theresa’s of Massachusetts, the Boston Red Sox, that’s who. They must have known someday he’d turn to drugs, so being high minded, they dumped him. Nothing to do with his four consecutive mediocre seasons. Nope. Which rhymes with ____?

I, for one, will sleep better and better, each time an athlete is punished to the full extent of the law for attempting to extend his career or get an edge. When Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens are taught a lesson, possibly water boarding, who knows, maybe all the political/religious extremists who hate US Americans, will rehabilitate themselves. Ray Stevens would like it, he could release a song parody of his old hit, the new one would be Rehab the Arab( pronounced w/a long A, like Mr. Bush would ). I wouldn’t want a PED Clemens fastball coming at my head in a dark alley! AND I damn sure don’t like the idea of Bonds breaking up my no hitter with a HGH homerun. Hell no!

Chicks Dig the Lung Ball!

February 26, 2008 2 comments

If only we could go back to the Golden Age of Baseball, when the athletes were as pure as the media( jk.) Make that the Old Gold Age. Say what you will about Roger Clemens or Barry Bonds, you won’t see them lighting up in the dugout! Jim Leyland, manager of your Detroit Tigers, might, but hey, he’s grandfathered in and a winner.

Back before all those do-gooder hippies & activists showed up, professional athletes could only

( provided they were famous enough ) supplement their then low seasonal pay, via lucrative endorsement deals. Car, beer & cigarettes were the troika and no lesser stars than Hall of Famers Babe Ruth & Ted Williams, were once at the top of the endorsement heap. Many fondly recall the Reggie Bar, Reggie Jackson’s validation of his superstar stature in the 1970’s. Though as a candy, it’s more remembered as a missile, rather than a taste treat. Free agency has aided that fiscal shortfall for current ballplayers. No more off season jobs pumping gas, working in a coal mine or being a deputy sheriff. Unless you’re Shaquille O’Neal: the NBA legend doesn’t need the money, he just needs the law re-enforcement.

Smokeless tobacco, the addiction formerly known as chewing tobacco (wow! they can spin anything—how about coming up with Cancer-less tobacco?), is still used primarily by baseball players ( and select NASCAR drivers.) There has been a concerted effort in the last few years to educate especially young players regarding the risks of mouth cancer, for that little bit of metastasis between cheek & gum. I was fond of Jim Bouton’s ( former Yankees pitcher & author )Big League Chew myself, a pouch of shredded bubblegum. You could blow bubbles with your mouth, and not with that hole in your larynx like Uncle Joe Bob.

AND never a bit of controversy with guys like Richie, er, Dick Allen ( our poster boy below ) back then either. OK, maybe he’s a poor example. So, that’s where the Phils got the idea for candy apple pinstripes! Still Spring Training is here and baseball is back on the field & out of Congress ( for the moment ). Can anybody say ‘Play Ball!’ Where’s my effin’ brewsky dammit! I mean CrackerJack. . ..

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*The U.S. Surgeon General Dr. Hibbert has determined juggling while smoking, may be dangerous to your health.

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The above is for educational and entertainment purposes only. Photo and cover art copy are sole Copyrights of Time Warner Inc. None of the above commentary or opinions are endorsed by Time Warner Inc. No monies were accrued by the author for this work entitled Chicks Dig the Lung Ball ©2008 Jukeofurl Prod.

God Man Out

February 20, 2008 Leave a comment

God, John Lennon once wrote, is a concept. Then some fat mental patient shot him to death. Some people have a personal God. My personal God would’ve whacked Yoko. Before you jump on me, think about it: John would’ve really missed her. Lesson learned. Until a few years later and he got a load of Joan Chen or Ming Wa.

Richard Dawkins, not to be confused with Richard Dawson, a scientist at Oxford University, has a book. Titled: The God Delusion, in which he essentially states–ain’t no God. He also pretty much calls anyone who believes, a dumb ass. (Cough-Correct!) Then he repeats himself over & over ad nauseum. Kinda like God. . ..

My proof God existed, was getting an eyeful of an attractive woman. I’m not naming names. Anymore, any way. A few weeks ago I told a bunch of morons I thought Eva Green was hot. They told me she looked like a man. The nicest thing anyone said was—she looks very severe. Eva, if you read this, I still think you’re fine. Call me?

However, my proof there isn’t a God is, none of those hot chicks ever reciprocated my ardor. I tried compromising, but after a few lukewarm level babes dissed me, I turned devout atheist. Get serious, if you’re only gonna love me for my income, you’re a Satan worshipper. AND I don’t go for that one bit. Fork tongue, fork tail? Fork you!

Also mean nuns. Those [deleted] were married to God! Yikes. NO wonder God was vengeful with those harpies around the house. Though that original black & white look was tres chic. If you were Diane Arbus. This also explains the celibacy of priests and some of their unfortunate urges. Not all nuns were mean naturally. But sexual repression turned inward should never be allowed near children or to possess a ruler.

Country performers, athletes & certain races, like to thank God at awards shows. I admit, if I’d have had a hit record ( or 6 which is what I asked God to let me have–btw God thanks for the Brad Paisley box set, not what I had in mind but hey!) I’d have thanked God right after my parents & dogs. I don’t believe but I would’ve, based on good old fashioned Catholic guilt. Hee haw.

Because my reading retention skills have eroded since puberty, I can’t recall if I read this in the Dawkins book, but apparently that 72 virgins crap the Muslims sell suggestible social retardates, was mistranslated. It’s supposed to be 72 ‘raisins.’ Man, oh Manischewitz, I’d like to be there for that—what a treat! Admittedly, if you lived in the desert a thousand years ago & came across a bunch of grapes, you’d be in Heaven. But that sun would dry them out fast, so the leap to raisins is easy. Guaranteed there wouldn’t be a bit of old Allah left, after one of those psychos got handed a box of California raisins for blowing himself up & murdering some more of God’s Chosen People. Good times all around.

The best display of belief in God, is however, all those so called Christians who persecuted, tortured & killed in the name of God. And they have bad hair. The Spanish Inquisition is my favorite. That epistle was in one of the lost Gospels where Jesus said ‘Rack ’em up boys!’ Torquemada getting Lamb of God mixed up with rack of lamb. Not only is that type sociopathic, they are no fun at parties. Nor are they fun, as radio station owners, who along with tele-evangeli$ts, fleece millions for millions, for God. Makes you hope there at least is a hell. You know, that place where most of my former ‘flames’ will reside for all eternity, as per their fervent wish, granted by their master, the Prince of Darkness, without me! I’ll be in hebben with my raisins, though I’d prefer ambrosia.

Really, I think God was a 5th grader who got a C- on his science project & dumped it in the basement & forgot about it. Then went on to produce reality shows. I know truly wonderful things exist. I’d mention some, but it would just be my list. We all have a list of stuff that makes life bearable. But the repetitive cruelty & injustice, the stupidity of sports talk radio & the Red Sox winning two World Series in the last 4 years, proves it to me. God either doesn’t exist or is an idiot savant who now roots for Boston. Either is too sad to contemplate. In fact, God can just ki *

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* for those who wondered, this is not a glitch, it’s supposed to be the hand of G*d reaching down and stopping me before I’d type something like God can just kiss my as

Little Dead Rooster

February 8, 2008 Leave a comment

Here we go again. Yet another intellectually challenged, highly paid, professional athlete, makes news for a so called ‘ cultural ‘ pursuit.

Pedro Martinez ( NY Mets ), previously known for carrying a midget around, knocking down a 70 year old man & no surprise, being a pitcher for the Boston Rude Sox, hangs out at cockfights. He and former MLB pitcher Juan Marichal, best known for beating another player ( John Roseboro, LA Dodger catcher ) on the head with a bat, were getting off, watching roosters kill each other. Amazing! nobody sprang to their defense by claiming they ate them later at a festival held in their dubious honor? What do they call Buffalo wings in Dominica? el LOSER!

Words like culture and legal are being used. What a load of crap. A bunch of morons can make anything legal in a third rate country. Calling something which is amoral, legal, is an expedience for the morally challenged, who are no doubt profiting in some way from the law. Isn’t this the same Dominican Republic whose neighbor was once Papa Doc Duvalier? voodoo was legal there. Also torturing people. The same Dominican which was ruled by dictators until the US Marine Corps was sent there. Now they have a propped up democracy, many of the people there are still apparently having cultural pains transitioning from the Stone Age.

This opens the door again for the historically bereft sports hosts & their predominantly unlettered callers, to show off their lack of critical discretion and bumper sticker world view. ” Hey Biff, it’s legal there! ” Or the high tone: ” Who are we to impose our standards on other countries! ” The US is no paradise for animals. The condoned practices of greyhound racing prove it, let alone the subhumans here who sponsor illegal dog & cockfighting. But any intelligent person, no matter what their country of origin is, can see cock fighting is for knuckle draggers. Ignorance is ignorance. If you like watching animals kill each other for any reason, you are not even an intellect equal to those animals. You are a soulless buffoon and no excuse absolves you of your flaw.

The Mets were poised to launch a new season, with great hopes of making their fans & anyone else forget their September Swoon of 2007. Now Mr. Martinez has dumped all over it by showing himself to be a jerk. I’d hoped he’d outgrown it. Whatever law he thinks is on his side, it’s written in mud using a stick, with a lower case L, and is superseded by a much higher one. One he is incapable of perceiving, along with those in a peer group that has the audacity to cloak itself in concepts such as culture & law. A cloak made of chicken feathers; straight from the floor of a chicken coop.