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The Artless Dodger…
It seems Manny being Manny was aided and abetted by performance enhancing substances†[please see below]. All those clutch, drop the Yankees hits while with the Boston team, were bullshit. Now, while that city and its players enjoy the rewards their envy and hypocrisy continue to provide them, they need to admit they are phonies. If they can hate on and gloss the NYY as the evil empire, riddled with cheaters, then they themselves are surely the Weasel World of sports. Yankees suck? you m*****r f****rs suck and blow.
I have been watching, and for a short youthful period, playing baseball since 1956. I steeped myself in the game via what media was available then— TV, radio, books, magazines and baseball cards. It never seemed enough—sure baseball was talked year round—with friends. Nothing like the current media, carpet bombing 24 hours a day, seven days a week; pervasive and invasive coverage. Really, it’s too much. It encourages excesses and it gets them. From everyone involved.
Too much and yet the magpies who pass for talk show hosts on all sports radio outlets, discrete team owned tv, and networks like ESPN & Fox, turned a sycophantic blind eye to some tried and true practices. Amphetamines before games and shopping trips after—lining up groupies for stars. AND the last 20 plus seasons of slowly unfolding revelations of anabolic steroids and human growth hormones (HGH)usage by the big names of the big leagues.
It has resulted in the breeding of hack writers such as Selena Roberts (Sports Illustrated) who indicted the Duke Lacrosse team for party fouls at the rapist level before they were found NOT guilty*, to her present exposé book of Alex Rodriguez. These jock sniffing carrion eaters turn on you faster than a whirling dervish and they care not a whit if they are subsequently off the mark. The bullshit “court of public opinion” is the demographic they court. The lowest common denominator, once the exclusive stained and chawn turf of the National Enquirer, a newspaper no self respecting journalist would’ve been employed by when I was in J school, is catered to via sensationalism passing for reporting and writing.
It has also grown the barely literate radio talk host, most of whom have never read a book. If they have, it was about sports and no doubt, at the level of a fifth grader. Video games began cutting into the sports dollar heavily during the eighties and in some cases supplanted it for youth recreational time and bucks. The spawn of gamers are the announcers of today’s media. Dumb as rocks without the charm and personality. The majority of athletes, even less so. Easy to see how in this environment a clownish thug such as Manny Ramirez can thrive and pull the double-knit polyfiber over the eyes (and the limited intellect within their heads) of the feral media. One moment they are sucking up, the next, sucking the life out of their prey—the superstar, over paid and undereducated.
Major league baseball itself is led by a septuagenarian former team owner and used car salesman. He needs to step down; he never should have been there to need to do so. Baseball needs restructuring, it is at once archaic and contemporary, the new parts grafted on top of its decay, an aging Hollywood actor made of plastic. A Joan Rivers face, attempting to deceive the world into thinking she’s Megan Fox. A world moving so fast, it almost works—one because even if they had attention spans, most humans own the observational skills of two year olds.
No Boston fan will ever own up**—Manny ain’t theah prawblem anymore. I’m sure they’ll say he never got caught copping ‘roids down by the Charles River. He is however, the true face of the MLB, smug and bloated, and they only suspend him for 50 games? ha ha ha. Manny loves a vacation, he comes back well rested (pumped full of some new undetectable designer dope) for the stretch run and leads a slumping LA to the playoffs again. This is almost a strategic gift! Blow up baseball and bring the Dodgers back to Brooklyn—if you rebuild it they will come. But you won’t, you’re too fucking stupid. And so are your ugly, dumbass friends.
Did I mention beam me up, Simon? Simon! Theodore? ALVIN!!!**
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† Ramirez tested positive for a female(!) fertility drug HCG, or human chorionic gonadotropin. HCG is popular with some steroid users because it can mitigate the side effects of ending a cycle of the drugs. Going off steroids can stop testosterone production, decreasing sperm count & shrinking testicles. Manny apparently wants to maintain those big balls as well as cheat…
* Niether Roberts nor SI printed a retraction—creeps.
** Denis Leary, Doris Kearns Goodwin & Jonathan Schwartz might, but they are exceptions because they are exceptional.
** Simon Pegg appears as Scotty in the new Star Trek movie—Alvin & the Chipmunks reference 110% gratuitous, though a nuts connotation is implicit
A Ronic?
It may be awhile before any of the new smoke clears around Alex Rodriguez. Will he have surgery? or be muy macho, make that muy pendejo and play through it. Until he drops. Then we can have some real fun. The next month will tell the tail ( sic ). Sports people are so ignorant, it’s painful. They prefer to wait until there is real damage—meaning the guy can’t cut it on the field. Sheesh, do you think Madonna. . . oh, never mind.
AND if you have enough money to buy an expensive MLB licensed jersey with A Fraud on the back of it, you need to be made to also have A Hole on the front. It would be stupid any time, but during an economic recession, your credit card should be cut up and you need to see a shrink. That’s not freedom of speech, that’s being free dumb.
All sarcasm aside, this is a serious health issue and the last few weeks have been both figuratively and now literally degenerative, for Rodriguez, the increasingly devalued Golden Boy. The best part really, will be if the healing process will include doctor prescribed anabolic steroids.
NOTE: as of March 8, Mr. Rodriguez has opted for a two-stage hip operation. He has plans to play this season, following a period of rehab. Scheduled return on or about May 11.
Ars Gratia Ici
I’ve finally figured it out. Lucky you, now you won’t have to do it, you get it here, virtually free of charge.
The godz, the hired powers or the big gas cloud, rules existence in its own cruel to be kind way. Mostly it makes stuff to break stuff then makes more stuff to break it, ad infinitum. Which seems to place the age of this particular universe in the Terrible Two’s; not even the dumbest Christian thinks life is that young! All of that is usually depressing and/or befuddling for any survivors, until it’s their inevitable, tough shit turn in the barrel.
Oh sure, there are some neat misdirection tricks, geeks get hot chicks & underdogs win World Series. Favorite sons get erected U.S. President ( not a typo.) That kind of thing. We all tune in for the show, because it’s so random, there really is a chance we might be a winner. Odds roughly being googolplex to one. Sadly, there be dragons. The ever present dark side they never teach you in school. Unless of course you’re a cognitive genius and have an epiphany waiting in the cafeteria lunch line ( c’est moi naturelement.) Yes, we are the Mystery Meat. Which was the original title of that We Are the World song. It was changed for our protection.
OK, the answer is coming, eventually. Be patient, remember, it’s free. Lately I have noticed more and more, how what passes for creative, is just crap. At least 25% of the males starring in mainstream media look like the bastard sons of the Pillsbury Doughboy. AND fully 60% of dudes in rock bands, the spawn of the Michelin Man. Back when I was a boy (creak)those whey-faced lardos, were nerds and football players. Oh and please, somebody slap a cease and desist order on those endless SF/Fantasy book series. My time travel hitlist will now have to include Tolkien for baby daddy-ing that phenomenon. I’m all for EOE but it’s gone too far. So far in fact, its let the fat cat out of the bag.
Before I say any thing else, let’s all agree on something. There are always exceptions. For every Seth Rogen there always will be a Zac Efron ( is it me or did somebody at Disney edit out a K, P & H?). For every Sarah Palin there will be a Michael Palin. For every Oprah there will a photo of Oprah( they should change the spelling of ego to egO and yeah, put a pic of her as the definition.) Nothing will change that. Well, nothing short of a Cosmic singularity occluding us, harshing our dubious high.
The first sign of the Apocalypse as far as I’m concerned, is the exponential proliferation not of nukes in OPEC nations and/or dictators rocking wardrobes from Army Surplus stores, but that of one named recording acts. If you’ve stumbled across this blahg before, I mention those pretentious aholes every chance I get. If people known by three names are serial killers and people with the standard two are us, what does that make the uni-noms? Please reread this paragraph slowly and focus. Voila, you too can be a visionary. If only I had some product tie ins to sell you.
So what if Wall Street is headed for Wall-E, wearing their throwback jerseys from the October 1929 season. No fear. The stock market was established back when it actually was a stock market, cows & pigs—bulls & bears are metaphors. It’s all based on speculations and futures. We all have just one future. Fuck Dow Jones and the SUV he rode in on. The only sure thing in life is debt and Texas. Then you eat out of a dumpster until you actually do die, do die.**
That said ( whatever that was–I am trying to be entertaining and enigmatic ), I have had a revelation. The reason things start to seem so awful in the arts as we age is for one reason only. It’s so, that with our last thought, we don’t gasp a final hacking deathbed breath of regret, in which we utter the immortal words:
” Now I’ll never get to see HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL 86 arrrrrrggggghhhhhhhhh. . ..”
Anybody know what we’re having for lunch? hey dude, no cutting in line!
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* the word unpverse ©2008 JukeofUrl Productions
** cryptic Johnny Cash song reference – 20 points
God Man Out
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
Johnny Cum Laudely
The kings & queens of hindsight are speaking. The media is all lathered up. Suddenly all the information is available about the twisted soul who murdered 32 people at Virginia Tech. Seems as if he wasn’t suited for campus life, especially at such a large university. Seems as if he had socialization & communication problems. Oh, and those who vetted his admission, ‘ misinterpreted ‘ rules about an individual’s medical privacy.
In much the way the events of September 11, opened the door for more stringent laws regarding homeland security, I can see trouble ahead in dorm life. All twitchy Gen X-boxers, better keep their Wiis-wiis in their pants, or face the consequences of not making it past level 1. Here we go again, classic WASP misdirection. David Copperfield got nothin’ on them dudes.
I’m not a fan of VA Tech. I think they also dropped the ball, literally and figuratively with the Vick brothers. Coach Bubba & alums can dissemble & get as huffy as they like, but they dragged these individuals out of their rough surroundings because of their athletic skills. Now both are nothing short of criminals; talk about being asocial! What thought was given to that while recruiting them? they didn’t really fit anywhere but a football field, and Marcus not so much. Sure, Michael Vick got his NFL payday and we’ve seen the results. Add his recent woes to his lousy pass completion stats & Falcon brass are not all that weepy. . ..
The state of Virginia btw, gets no pass from me, in the case of the VA Tech tragedy. They sold a dangerous person a gun. Oh wait, make that 2, though they did make him wait another 30 days. This bullshit about warning the campus is also a huge ‘ what if. ‘ Yes, I think it would’ve been prudent. No doubt many of the deceased would not be. However, the perpetrator of such venomous intent, might well have escalated into unimagined realms. The chances to change the outcome, was long before that day. Long before.
The cliche ‘ only human ‘ applies here exponentially. All involved were, and are, only human. I admire the spirit of the Tech student body & wish them all the best forever. But the state & their institute of high learning, needs to address many things, rather than say, sucking revenue from unfastened seat belts & rabid football fans. I don’t advocate jailing any kid who carries around a copy of The Anarchist’s Handbook. But if anyone sees him around campus with floor plans, pointing at buildings, while making cartoonish ‘splodey sounds & laughing like DeNiro in Cape Fear, show some %$*#! sense. Focus his mad subterranean gaming skills & send him spelunking with some new high-tech weaponry in the ‘stans. . ..
The Ebonic Woman
In the upcoming August 27th issue of the TV Guide, a columnist asks a good question. The words used to ask the question are vomit inducing. The topic is the new Bionic Woman. The question is, why not a black woman in the role. The barf factor is the word (?) sistergirlfriend. What? is this the German version of TV Guide! AND shouldn’t that be spelled ‘ sistah…?’
I agree. I think the Bionic Woman should be an Afri-asian-hispanic Lesbian dwarf with a speech impediment. But give me a break with the perverting of language to make the point. Sports talk guys are handling that job quite nicely, we don’t need other media types piling on that heap of ignorance.
This ought to create a stir among the superficial & self deceptive, but people are mostly attracted to people who look like them. Next comes bank account or ability to bring home the bacon & keep the troglodyte the next cave down from dropping in and taking it away. Along with the Mrs.
Due to my oft mentioned laziness, I am not doing any research, so I’ll just say, last time I looked, Caucasians are still the majority in the USA. Television people have noticed this, as have their advertisers, and they are guided by it. While we’d all love to see Whoopi Goldberg play Marilyn Monroe in a new bio-pic: If Marilyn had Lived. . .. OK bad example. That might be huge.[ ©2007 Jukeofurl ] Imagine the conspiracy theories on that one!
I’m attracted to Rashida Jones & she doesn’t look a bit like me. But she can bring home the Chateaubriand anytime. I know that’s hedging because her mom is Peggy Lipton. The thought of her dad Quincy Jones reviving my music career, doesn’t enter into it. Rashida is good looking. If her dad wants to help me, bonus round. Apologies to Condoleeza Rice, I like overbites but I’m not into Republicans.
Maybe I’m no judge of talent: I thought Hallie Berry was fine in Catwoman. The screenplay was crap. But she still looked like Hallie Berry. Where is the problem? Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr Once one gets to broader racial features which haven’t been blended through miscegenation, though, I’m not so physically attracted. It’s biological and believe me, the feeling is mutual. No sistergirlfriend wants to be my mrs.girlfriend. It’s called survival instinct. You could look it up. No conforming to stereotype please.
I might not be doing this blog for awhile. I’ll be working on a screenplay. I guarantee you though, if I have anything to say about the casting, Paula Patton is my Marilyn Monroe. She’s better looking than the original too, JFK would’ve loved her. . ..
Mouth-odd Acting
I’ve previously mentioned I’ve been criticized. I’ve always been the kind of person who attracts it. When I was a kid, it would happen a lot. Today, I’d like to talk about it some more. . ..
I was 11 and pitching in a Little League game. After one inning, some other kid comes up to me and says: ‘ you stick your tongue out when you pitch.’ Being 11, I immediately became self conscious. I attribute my lack of a Major League baseball career, directly to that moment. This other young feller joined a large group of people whose life was spared because I was a devout pacifist. Also a bit spindly, I admit it.
A few years later, my mouth full of orthodontic appliance, a pal hanging out with me in the school lunchroom, feels free to point out: ‘ you cover your mouth when you laugh.’ I couldn’t win.
Many decades from those treasured memories, I noticed an increasingly creepy trend of young actors using their lips & tongues to emote. I don’t know who started this technique—Stanislipski? Wouldn’t matter, it’s just bad and that’s that. What directors think that works on screen? Is the tongue a phallic symbol when thus employed, especially when done in the company of a hot chick? What do those compressed lips mean? those lolling tongues? AND why? Men–please knock it the fuck off. Women, your comments invited. Thank you.
While I’m at it: those tight frame close ups on TV are so beyond stupid. Do you enjoy that kind of shot? I don’t. Of course, the dialogue in most TV shows is so incredibly insipid, they are probably hoping to distract viewers. ‘ Look Gertie! a giant head! get me a beer.’ AND if one more hack uses the phrase — ‘ Excuse me! ‘ as a reaction line when one character is affronted by another’s question as in ” hey, Morty, WTF are you doing with your tongue?”— I will hunt them down and excuse them with extreme prejudice.
In a related story: does Oprah Winfrey ever take a pic without her mouth wide Open ? You’ll start noticing as of now. The answer will be, hardly ever.
Yes, I am bitter. Obviously, I was ahead of my time, I could’ve been a star. A huge headed, tongue waggling star! #%*@!