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Vox Jox w/extra cheese

March 13, 2009 Leave a comment

The abstract saw of infinite monkeys, given infinity to do so, who would randomly & eventually type out Shakespeare’s works, cannot be proved. Not by me any how. I also wonder, would that appear in contemporary English? the original 16th Century? or in basic monkey? Either way, I’d still only like the comedies. . ..

I know for sure what would happen if you gave say, 3 monkeys a broadcasting school. They’d turn out the clowns who end up as sports talk hosts. I just know there is a secret text these guys all have read to them. They all mispronounce the same words & have the identical world view. Sports is their entire life & their livelihood. Yet every chance they get, they state in very serious tones, sports is the toy box. Ha ha it’s not a real job. Do they get paid in Monopoly money? Seems to me when a 400lbs. lineman hits a quarterback, it feels seriously like real life. Plus if you decide not to show up for your not real job, you will not get paid. Really.

” Men, playing boys games “, is a huge favorite. When in fact, for the most part, it is older ( + fatter ) men drooling over younger men, who they live vicariously through, exploit & get paid to do it too. There are always exceptions in life. Sure, some ex-jocks are excellent commentators. Some, jock wannabes, are even better. But the need for the type has expanded exponentially with the success of all sports talk radio. Though it existed in both major & small markets for years, the summer of 1987, a small company named Emmis Broadcasting ( which means – truth in Yiddish ) took a huge risk, WFAN AM in New York went on air, making sports talk an around the clock format. It paid off; and then it took off. To say I didn’t listen avidly then & like it, would be a lie. Now we reap the whirlwind of the worst of its spawn, ESPN Radio & Fox Sports Radio. Yeah yeah, ESPN TV was on cable before FAN launched. Whole other beast. The Worldwide Leader in Being NFL & Boston Butt-boys didn’t get into radio until they saw what Mike & his ex, Mad Dog were billing in NYC. Even then, they waited for Disney dollars. And that’s the emmis.

Now, jock talk pollutes the commercial airwaves. Since the mid-seventies AM radio stations needed sports, any sports to stay in business. Big market operations competed for the pro teams. Regional settled for being on the network & getting area colleges ( and high schools!)—lots of fights there for the share of the ad bucks too. The latter eventually put me out of radio. I think collegiate sports should be for students, their families & staff. Not fat white guys in suits & ties. Or morons who can’t even spell university, spewing stats in the middle of the night, laying bets with gamblers. Leads to all kinds of nasty behavior. Namely, more of the same.

Am I bitter? yes. Do I understand? yes. Would I still hear sports talk hosts for the barely literate & limited intellects they are, even without the personal grudge? Oh yeah, I would. If I mispronounced a local name wrong, I got calls. Did I ignore them & continue to say the name wrong? No. Because I wanted to be right. I was even known to call up people to get it right. Even if it was just a public service announcement for a bake sale. And you need to verify that Connie Linkous is a real name, of a real person. Yes and yes. You could look it up.

Sports talkers don’t take criticism. Or correcting. They just continue to say words the way they like them said. Which is often the wrong way. They also never met a hackneyed phrase they couldn’t use ad nauseum. Then puke it back up & chew it again. You know, I admit I rarely used algebra since high school. But English? pretty much on a daily basis. Though I do like to employ the odd Latin saying. And French, I like French. Jock sniffers apparently think sports transcends precise speech. Not formal mind you, I am all for casual & natural sounding conversation. But pronounce the words correctly; especially if an amicus curiae sent an email with it spelled phonetically, you ahole.

Getting words jumbled up like Homer Simpson riding a donut high while on a 3 day drunk, is nothing compared to what sports talk radio does best. Taking the athlete they worshipped 24 hours ago & exposing him ( occasionally her ) as a loser. What they really mean is, how could he let us down—we are so hurt, and as they are warriors ( LOL ) they will understand why we must attack them, shooting from the hip, lip & bloated body parts from media buffets. Burp—now back to bashing the Yankees/A Rod. . ..

Being from the Bronx, the Yankees were not only my hometown team, they were the first sports entity I ever knew about. That was long ago and far away. The player I most revered & emulated, was controversial beginning to end. The only time I wavered, I was 13 and learned he not only smoked but drank beer ( and more as it turned out ). But just like I did with my father, it didn’t take long to forgive Mickey Mantle for his flaws. After all, all he’d ever done for me was deliver the goods. He was human, just like me. The hero part was my lucky bonus.

Mickey caught plenty of heat, sports talk radio was flexing it’s muscles in the early 90’s. When Mickey stood up & admitted he was dying, and that his self destructive choices were the kind he regretted and sincerely hoped no other would make. Not a chance on the latter Mick, but a lot of people respected you for saying it. I guess Alex Rodriguez was busy playing in the toy box that day. Around the horn, and voila! it was his turn in the barrel.

Men like Mantle & Alex Rodriguez are built larger than life. Then there are people with the ability & means to make them even larger. The overriding reason for that is not altruism. It is profit & to some extent, reflected glory. Humanity, especially the sports media, has the nasty habit of putting athletes on precarious pedestals. Then, like vultures circle, until the time is right to dive & feed.

The New York Yankees and by dint of that, their all star ( Yankees are his third team ), Alex Rodriguez, are the evergreen whipping boys of sports talk. Even after O.J. went from slashing his way down a football field to just slashing humans, the black athlete was sacrosanct. Until one day, Barry Bonds, a guy most of the jock media loved to hate, became indirectly responsible for two reporters getting jail time. They had some privileged info about illegal steroid production & suppliers, involving Mr. Bonds, and refused to reveal their source. Bingo—Barry be bad, open season on him. Then asocial thugs like Terrell Owens, Adam Pacman Jones & Plaxico Burress, ad nauseum. Old news, they have ” A Roid ” in their sights now. Along with that group of tables with all the food laid out on them. That’s more emmis w/cheese. . ..

Sed quis custodiet ipsos custodes

March 9, 2009 2 comments

We now know who will watch the Watchmen—anyone too smart to watch a dumbass dude in a dress. They are indeed super-heroes for knocking that db off his hook. The average IQ of ticket buyers for The Watchmen-119. Cumulative IQ for the previous box office leader-83.

Bust A Cap

March 3, 2009 Leave a comment

Both the Major League Baseball teams from NYC are catching heat. Steroids? no. The stadiums? no, not this week. It’s patches. Patches? yes.

Let’s get the Mets out of the way first. The myopic and short-sighted, jockocracy, in their 12 year old boy way of using broad strokes, has roundly ridiculed the Mets new ballpark patch. They claim it looks ” just like ” the Domino’s Pizza box logo. Um, sure it is a 4 sided geometric shape, canted at about a 60º angle. But a moron can see the Met patch is the shape of a baseball game ticket, and elegantly simple in both color scheme ( not the Domino colors, for sure ) and graphics. Likely this eludes what passes for ” observant ” by jock sniffers. Maybe they were hoping for a patch in the shape of the new stadium? No, because, the Yankees did do something like that—a patch which appears on the back of their 2009 cap.

A cap, which other than the new Yankee Stadium commemorative, looks like every @#%&*! NYY cap since about 1929. Except for the one thing, the critics are too scared to complain about. ( BTW the Yankee patch also looks just fine. It is in the shape of the famous Yankee RF frieze. Ooooooh, but it’s on the back. Give me a fucking break. ) That thing would be what the official cap shape has devolved into over the last few seasons. The NewEra company manufactures most of MLB’s wear, the game cap style is the model 5950. It has adopted the hip-hop thug look. The one which most resembles a tin pot, once styled by Johnny Appleseed. A certain kind of player enjoys an oversized look & uncurved brim on their dome. Hey, they’re the pros. Lame look, though.

Why aholes with the common sense of a slow 2 year old, can literally reshape what was developed to be functional headwear for athletes who once played in the sun for 3 hours, is foolish. Most of them also wear jewelry and necklaces while playing now. It’s astonishing their accessorizing, would’ve not only gotten baseball players from my era extra wind sprints, after practice, but asskicked by the football players. And the chess club.

Look, if a segment of the population thinks they are sticking it to the man by wearing ballcaps sideways, fine. Their fashion sense, born of too large hand me downs from their big brothers ( except for Tyler Perry—he got his from his sister ), embracing their tight clothing budgets. But what are baseball players, who all make at least 350K USD ( upwards to 25+ million ) rebelling against? possibly bad patches! Manny Ramirez who is still unsigned as of this post, might actually be wearing his pajamas everyday this season, instead of on the field. You used to see baseball socks, now these jags have pants tailored to drape over the back heel of their cleats. It really looks stupid. Also, I guess it’s for guys like Manny who rarely actually do more than stroll. Maybe I was wrong about the mispronunciation of the word athlete. These guys are ath-uh-leets; a hole ( sic ) new breed.

AS for Manny, he’s still not feeling the love of a decent contract offer. He started out by stating just after the 2008 season ended— ” gas is up, and so am I. . ..” Did anyone point out to him, the price of gasoline had dropped? A lot. Or that there was a major economic recession? I’m not worried about Manny’s wallet, his agent is Scott Boras. Everybody in baseball hates him. Yet he still gets most of his players amazing contracts. Boras is concerned about deflation dollars in 2010. Manny has always wanted to skip Spring Training. Stay tuned LA. [ Manny has now signed for 2K9 Dodger $]

The sports commentators need to learn to target the real problems like Bud Selig not Alex Rodriguez. Or the ruination of on field utilitarian clothing for fashion statements ( and illiterate ones at that )! No, they are too chicken shit to bite the hand that feeds them. They may laugh up their sleeves at patches which look like fast food logos to their ill-trained eyes. But slap some free pizzas down and they’ll be there faster than you can say it.

It. . ..

Homeless Box Office

February 23, 2009 Leave a comment

Little did I know when I woke up today, that a cross dressing no talent hump would save my life. According to him, this clown was once reduced to living in his car or some phoney Hollwood bullshit back story. He kept praying to the Lord, and Taylor ( not Tyler ) apparently. Because one day, while dumpster diving for dinner, there amidst the Mickey D boxes & wrappers, he found a size 26 floral housedress.

The rest is dreck history. The Lord obviously sending the message, if you all ready believe in me and that hasn’t worked out, the next stage is dress like a woman and make movies. Larry King is too stupid to ask why this ahole keeps at least one fine big black woman out of work, it’s their problem, huh. Maybe they’ll find a Sumo diaper, move to Japan and make it there. In a related story, Queen Latifah and Jennifer Hudson are duking it out for the lead in a biopic— Tyler Perry: Drag Yo Ass.

My antipathy towards drag flicks—not drag racing Biffaside, I do have him to thank. As soon as I am faced with my own eventual homelessness, I will not make my first stop a store to shoplift an air freshener for my car. I will go to Goodwill and get me a dress, sensible shoes, wig hat and a theatrical agent. Hedging my bets, I’ll drop by Sears and pick up a large Frigidaire box. I’ll probably never make a movie in a dress—just a guess.

I held an Oscar once—I don’t know about now—but 20 years ago, those boys were heavy. They should weigh even heavier on the consciences of the schmucks who didn’t vote for Mickey Rourke. In a year where they got almost everything else right, why? Anyone with a brain knows why. I never had a shot out there. But sometimes I’m glad I never did. I bet my old friend with the Oscar voted for Mickey though—that’s because the friend was a guy from Philadelphia. Ben Franklin & the Stallones would’ve given it to Mr. Rourke for sure. They’d know the difference between merely good acting and a huge heart.

AND since this is a bit random, I’d like to state once again ( and no doubt in a future post ) nothing says going backwards like boxing.* Nothing screams it louder than women boxing. Those idiots call boxing the ” sweet science “. Does the inclusion of women make it the sweeter science? Or maybe just butch-er. There’s a good chance most of them have no idea what science is—the last time beating people might’ve been considered scientific was just before the Paleolithic era.

Maybe I didn’t wake up at all and this is 1809. No wonder my fucking ISP is so slow!

_____________________________________

* Mickey Rourke was a professional boxer before his acting career & for a period of time, during which he left acting. So, I am open minded. Any guy who names a chihuahua after the Norse god of malevolent mischief, is OK with me.

A is for A non. . ..

February 8, 2009 2 comments

Alex Rodriguez aka A Rod aka A-Fraud aka A Roid * tested positive for anabolic steroids in 2003, according to a story in Sports Illustrated. He was a then member of the MLB franchise Texas Rangers ( now a New York Yankee ). Yankee haters have all ready jumped on the NY organization, as if they needed another excuse. This because Roger Clemens, Jason Giambi & Andy Pettitte, past & present NYY, are also tainted by purported juice use. Barry Bonds, who may actually walk on his charges, missed being a Yankee because he didn’t like the way they treated his father Bobby, who by all accounts swung to his own beat.

All these issues go much deeper than athletes doing drugs to enhance their performance. When the US passed the Volstead Act in 1919 and the Prohibition Era ruled American life, it was with the best of intentions. The negative effects of alcoholic beverage consumption on the family and society was the virtuous ( ? ) impetus. And it failed early and often, creating lots of crime, drunkenness & the Kennedys of Boston, Mass. After 13+ years & a lot of flapper pregnancies, it was repealed and Americans went back to getting a good old legal buzz. I don’t drink alcoholic beverages because I don’t like the taste of alcohol though I have been known to make a few women under the influence, sober magically, once they get a load of my act.

Anabolic steroids are illegal without a doctor’s prescription. This is due to long term effects, one of which is premature death. Even after steroids were against the law, sports entities lagged behind in the rule making department. So, part of many players defense is—it wasn’t against the rules. Then. For the record, the list of players who failed the drug test, was supposed to be sealed information. It’s not the first time the steroid issue provoked an illegal leak; an act much more sinister than a jock abusing a PED. Meanwhile, for many reasons ( mo$tly obviou$ )the National Football League rolls on, laughing up its sleeve while organized baseball weathers the firestorm.

OK enough history. It’s covered better, with more detail and annotation, elsewhere, ad nauseum. I just wanted to show I knew something about the subject, other than, it’s nothing new. Humans always want an edge. Literally, for example, as in the Stone Age case of Ogg v. Grrrn. Ogg objected to the fact Grrrn had honed the edge of his stone knife. Mr. Ogg was fighting fairly, using a blunt stone. The case was never adjudicated, as Mr. Grrrn stabbed everyone in the cave and ran. All survivors agreed Grrrn made his point—he didn’t need an edge. He was just competitive & possibly the first known sociopath.

Alex Rodriguez catches heat for everything. Choking in the clutch, dating strippers, being a numbers hanger & being seen with Madonna. All the former are moot, the Madonna thing might just prove he needs glasses and could explain the need for performance enhancement. . .. Regardless, he’s an easy target, a Golden Idol, who is turning out to be a gilded lily and getting more tarnished with each passing pigeon carrying bad news.

The Jockocracy hopped on a bandwagon ( they love to—for most of them, it’s their only form of exercise ) a few years ago. This one was called Athletes Are Rôle Models. Then some rebels ( ha ha ha ) got on the Athletes Are NOT Rôle Models float. Well, they are and they aren’t, so they got that part right. Uh, some did–never mind. Any way most of them had been hoping Mr. Rodriguez would erase Barry Bonds’ current but tainted homerun total, because in the sports world, A Rod passed for a good guy. Oops.

What I mean is, sports figures are certainly looked up to by young athletes. Guitar godz are looked to by kids with their first six-string. Rappers, by other no talents dreaming of bling & bad fashion statements. But are they models for morality & integrity? Nope. In fact, hardly anyone is. Certainly there are always exceptions. Mainly because they haven’t had their privacy invaded by a voracious media. Or been caught with their pants off in Thailand. Yet.

The true disconcerting thing is the so called Court of Public Opinion. Essentially this means guilty until proved innocent (it used to be the other way around in the US) and likely even after you’re proclaimed innocent, because idiots who go by the CoPO, are too ignorant to form a new opinion. You know what they say about opinions—every one who has one is one (that’s a W quote btw).

I wish athletes never cheated. Or spouses. Or me, and I really didn’t cheat, I just happened to see a copy of a Math test once in 7th grade. Didn’t help my career—QED. I can’t condone it and I do think our culture is going downhill faster than Spanky & Alfalfa in that barrel episode of Little Rascals. That said, it might be the time to reveal Santa isn’t real. The Easter Bunny is not a hot chick who visits good boys on Easter. Though the Tooth Fairy is a fairy ( and that makes his dad sad ).

Still, somebody needs to answer why Bud Selig, Commissioner Of Baseball, makes almost 20 million per annum. Federal fatheads won’t, he’s one of them. For now. As for A Rod? I think Madonna is punishment enough.

©2009 Jukeofurl Prod

There’s November like November – part ll

October 30, 2008 Leave a comment

” We love our god and our guns. . ..” this a direct quote from a political ad, approved by John McCain, running on a local radio station here in the New River Valley of Virginia. A political statement meant to exhort Virginians to vote against Barack Obama, because he apparently doesn’t love their god or their guns. Love means cleaning, oiling & fondling your grandaddy’s 30 aught 6.

They love guns here all right. They love to sell them too. That’s how a mental patient, who slipped through a loophole in the VA TECH student psych screening process, bought two guns here in Virginia. Then took them to school for Show & Kill. Who is their god? Glock? or the twin deities, Smith & Wesson?

Not too far from here, about 10 miles as the Jim Crow flies, there still stands the site of slave cabins. No doubt my own house is built above the unmarked graves of somebody who caught a free cruise to the land of the free. This area rarely has a sunny start to a day.* Often, it’s more a mist, I call it gray-light. Maybe it’s the angry gun god, all smoke and bitter ash for dirty deeds. Or possibly the arsenal also, just down the road apiece. . ..

I have said previously, the President of the United States is a spokes model. He/she(?) walks point for the daily patrol-an important job, yes. But the chief exec leads the team out front. There are those no longer so deep in the shadows, who run things. Those guys have no gods. This, because they think they are them. What they do best is send out people to do things for them, destabilize a Third World country or prop up a druglord in a slag heap ending with -stan. Then they trot the Pres out to meet the press for an atta boy and a tutorial in spin doctoring.

Doing that needs lots of guns and money. No doubt Mr. Obama would prefer to use what’s left of the American economy to keep us strong at home. Roofs over our heads and a chicken in every pot and/or microwave. But that kind of thing upsets the ‘ foreign policy ‘ of the power brokers who work behind the curtains of the Oval Office.

Hollywood has remade a classic flick, The Day the Earth Stood Still. The premise of which is, extraterrestrial is sent to Earth to terminate it. Mainly due to our warlike ways. Naturally this is greeted with loads of firepower, which makes the alien think it’s actually on Mars, named after the god of war. Right after the shameful name of the NFL franchise in our nation’s capitol is changed, I’m petitioning the new administration to switch from Earth to Mars. Or at least the Dirty 3rth. Hey, yo I’m street, dogg!

When a political party’s endgame endorsement has god & guns as the slam dunk argument for its candidate, you know it’s in trouble. If McCain really heard that ad and approved it, it’s troublesome. If a lackey rubber stamped it for him, it’s even more so. I knew we were backwards here, but this is straight out of the Johnny Reb Handbook. The South will rise again? well not before my dinner does.

So, while I continue to live in Bubbadoon,* where it’s always 1808 with football & cell phones—their god approves of some new fangled things! I get out my pork rinds & moonshine, ready to watch the election returns. Who will win—Hatfield or McCoy? er, um I mean Obama or McCain. Actually, I thought Obama was an Irish name- what? you never heard of the Black Irish!

* not to mention 24ºF on October 31—sunny south my @#%&*! ass

There’s November Like November. . ..

October 2, 2008 Leave a comment

Presidential TV debates are not really debates. They are more like those Apple v. Windows commercials. Only without the dude from the late great ED show. It’s speechifying, packaged oratorial ping pong, with enough spin to make Sandy Koufax green with envy.

So, imagine my opinion of Vice Presidential debates. They are showcases for the stand-ins. The shadow pols. Them who would be veep. They are bullshit. Certainly not cool enough to preempt 30 ROCK. Even if Sarah Palin & Tina Fey are total sisters in MILFness.

OK here’s what I want them to talk about. Joe Biden can explain his plagiarized speech from whenever that was, a decade ago. AND Palin can tell us all about why teen pregnancy in Alaska is God’s will. Riveting. In much the same way, actual riveting would be, with admittedly not the same decibels, but likely more grating.

The one thing I am excited about is, there is finally an American candidate for an executive office who won’t be togged out in a stupid suit & tie. Or will she? I don’t know. Wouldn’t put it past some ahole to tell her she’d look more Presidential. Wanna bet somebody floated the idea?

I nominally worked for a few campaigns in my misguided youth. NO happy endings there. Unless you count The Oval Office escapade with the blue dress. The one thing I took from my Presidential campaign trail experiences was I learned how to use a coffeemaker. A skill, I continue to employ, so it was worth something after all!

I can’t personally run for office. Well, I can run. But my dodgy ( lol ) past would be exposed immediately and that would be that for the once & future king. I might have a shot at Pope. If a former Hitlerjugend can make it, the field is wide open. Odd how they send up smoke to announce a new Pope. Hmmmm wonder if he had a flashback.

Anyone with the urge to get elected is suspect from my POV. It’s rife with deals within deals. Maybe I could get longer than a week on the stump, considering how they seem to miss vital details. Intriguing how the home team often misses them, leaving the loyal opposition to amazingly find out Mayoral hopeful John Doughboy, was once in a cult that dressed as nuns and ate human flesh. It was only that one time at Cannibal Camp, but once in this case. . ..

Anyone compos mentis over the age of seven, who thinks the President is more than a spokesmodel, needs to read a book. Doesn’t matter which book, just try one. Then take a look between the lines. See it? no? go on, keep looking. You will.

In related news. . . Yankee Stadium will be razed soon and next season there will be a new ballpark in the South Bronx, my old hometown. My biggest memory of the place is going there for the first time and as we walked across River Avenue, my dad said- ‘see that big building over there? that’s the Bronx Borough Court House. I got in trouble as a kid and had to go there once. Don’t let that happen to you.’

I’m pleased to say, I’ve yet to set foot in there. Though, you never know. Meanwhile, I can’t wait to see who will be President, Apple or Windows. Either way, I’ll still have this @#%&*! dial up and phone lines installed by the CSA. Now there was a president, Jefferson Davis. I’d give anything to know what he’d say about the 2008 Election. I’d bump 30 Rock for that, and I ain’t just whistlin’ Dixie y’all!