Archive
The Happy Halladay/Holliday Edition*
Having recently re-subscribed to the “Less is best” school of life grad program, here is my burn out—I mean — burnt offering for the coming holidays. These are the things which can still make me laugh out loud, long and so hard, I risk a ruptured gut. Pretty sure you’ll agree.
My life is finally one with the universe. Well, the universe as I perceive it anyhow. Spike Lee, peanut head film auteur & Knicks fan, spoke out recently—no breaking news there, he does it a lot. That he called the works of Tyler Perry buffoonery, suggesting it was setting the cause of African-Americans back faster than Oprah can load a dish at an all you can eat buffet, is the shocker. Not sure I can live in a world where Spike Lee and I agree, so I’ll add the following—Tyler Perry is setting the entire human race back. Now that’s a race problem!
Perry’s partner in a recent movie release, Winfrey, has announced she’ll be ending her TV show in 2011. This one made me laugh so hard I might have to sue her for the sutures my sides required. 2011?!… Hold on, maybe she knows something! [see below] Regardless, she’ll no doubt pull a Leno and turn up on a night time version. Let’s see, I bet it will be called O! What a Night. I like O! What a Load.
The 2009 Major League baseball season ended the way it always should, so no gloat-fest here. Two things do need addressing. One is the phrase “bought players.” Teams sign players to contracts—- often for huge money. Yes, they all have the option to do so. While the jaded fan may choose to esteem that process as “buying,” they are morons. Abe Lincoln freed the slaves with that old Emancipation Proclamation. Nobody ain’t buyin’ nobody no mo’. To claim the Yankees bought C.C. Sabathia is racist. BTW did I mention THE YANKEES WIN! THE_UHHHHHHHHH YANKEES WIN!!
As for Bud Selig, 80 year old used car salesman/baseball commissioner (@ $20 million per annum). He just noticed the time lag between playoff games is a bit extreme. Wow! 20 mil doesn’t buy the quality brains does it. Of course, LA of A Angels manager of the year Mike Scioscia complained about it. Mainly due to the Angels losing. If Yankees mgr. Joe Girardi had bitched, a fresh round of anti-NYY sentiment would have filled the airwaves in red hot parallel pinstripes to the yowls of “Yankees bought another World Series” bullshit. Those fellas need some new slogans. I have one for them — STFU.
Read some history you a-holes. Sports has always been this way. You can’t sit around smugly saying life ain’t fair – deal with it to people having a rough time of it now- and then cry when your team gets whupped. Mainly because they are cheapskates. Why doesn’t Selig donate 18 or 19 million of his take, to the team with the worst record each year, so they can S I G N a big time free agent. AS if that alone assures anyone of positive results. MLB needs a major league overhaul, with a tier & rewards system for team performance. They won’t do it, because suits like Pud & his cronies like it the way it is-stoopit. Don’t blame the Yankees, blame the owners of all the other teams. But you won’t.
Nobody cries but NYY fans when tyro low payroll teams like the Florida Marlins & Arizona Diamondbacks beat the Yankees on a fluke & their owners bank the cake for trophy wives and ocean front property in Palm Springs. Oh! then it’s David v. Goliath and if it’s like a story in the Bible, it’s good enough for Joe Redass. When did douche baggery start ruling the world?
Which dovetails, in an un-dove like way to a socio-religious aspect of the current flick 2012. Seems they are ecumenical in their destruction of world religious symbols. Oh wait, they forgot to blow up any Islamic sites. Wouldn’t want to offend those clowns. Now I think of it, they do a pretty good job of blowing up the world themselves, literally and figuratively. If somebody told them the truth about the virgins (actually it’s a box of raisins – you could look it up), do you think they’d do that reprehensible shameful Bombing for Allahs trick? Still, all that doesn’t excuse the P.C. pandering of the film makers. Weak. Very.
Continuing on in the weak dept., there is a sports talk host on WFAN, New York City. The guy is a man of the people type, he speaks English natively, but he mangles it grammatically. He can barely speak a sentence without stammering and repeating words. Was this a pity hire? Hey! that’s fine on some small radio station in the sticks, not on the seminal sports powerhouse, in the world’s largest and most influential media market. The worst part is, a typical sports talk show attracts limited intellect callers. This guy’s audience takes it to a new low, the mouth breather boxing fans are the most virulent. He’s on now like 8 nights a week. Can anyone say—video of suits with donkeys?
It’s obvious, I’m thankful for all the laughter this has all brought me. I’m looking forward to all the swell things 2010 will bring. After all, we’re at the 2 year warning—the Mayan Calendar ends in 2012. Anybody else notice it’s “the Calendar?” My @#%&*! calendar ends every year. My only hope is every year would end with-
THE YANKEES WIN! THE_UHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
YANKEES WIN!!!!!!
…and to all a good night.
* its a baseball thing, if you don’t know
Non Apologia. . ..
In the October 16 issue of Entertainment Weekly, there appears a short article in which Tyler Perry reveals he was the victim of extreme abuse as a child. Child molestation and its corollary abuses are criminal and repugnant on any level, to anyone. I hardly lack the compassion to not feel this was a terrible thing. However he and fellow spotlight whore, Oprah Winfrey are set to profit from this muy pronto by wide release of Winfrey’s latest cinematic cash cow.* I’m sure some of the take will go to charities they support. Anyone know how much? Odd they are so circumspect in that arena. Sweet restraint. If only they’d do it everywhere else.
I don’t like those two people. They exploit their pain in the name of helping others. Perry has been very successful wearing a dress & making movies of it. We all know what Oprah does. Though frankly, I’m not sure. She has a magazine which features her on the cover. Every issue. Excessive at best, egoistic certainly. Does she even know O is the title of a major erotic novel. She’s obviously aware it’s the Periodic Table symbol for oxygen, as she’s full of hot air. Regardless, Winfrey was also famously the victim of family horrors. Who knew it could be so profitable? Repeatedly. I’m guessing they did, every chance they got. It separates them from me, I know that for sure.
One has to question the motives of tossing this information out into the media, like chum to sharks. Does it help the sadly large numbers of others who have suffered and currently are suffering? Many of them in silence. Is it going to give the courage to some boy to put on a female family member’s clothing & upload it onto You Tube—in hopes he’ll hit number one, as opposed to being hit by someone. Most likely it will make him or her a target to a larger circle of creeps. Or worse. We’ll have another Tyler Perry. There will of course, never be another Oprah. Thank God & Steadman for that-amen.
They are not the only people to regurgitate their traumatic lives. MacKenzie Phillips just wrote a book and went on some shows to talk about her incestuous episodes with her father, John Phillips aka Papa John of The Mamas & the Papas, a successful folk-rock group in the Sixties. Papa John—not to be confused with the pizza magnate, though there is an awful joke there, I’ll skip it, was known to get doped up & was quite the ladies man. Apparently ( no pun-OK it is ) he had no governor on which lady, all were fair game. Maybe Mac will have a Lifetime movie. I’m guessing Valerie Bertinelli won’t be in it.
So, I’m sorry Tyler, I had no idea you were so fucked up. Listening to you speak, reading about your work, seeing how you want to own an island—I never guessed. But hey Oprah—try featuring something else on the cover of O magazine other than your fat face. You don’t see Malcolm Forbes on the cover of Forbes —what? he’s dead, machts nichts schnickelfritz, you think I don’t suspect you have a clause stating O runs your mug until the end of the universe?
And oh yeah, I was abused. But I don’t wear a mu mu for money in bad flicks. And I wouldn’t. I might use it to dodge a war. But hey, I ain’t stoopit.
* I know the title – I’m not helping them, even with my 3 readers
Pete, We Hardly Knew Ye
The state of the economy has taken its toll of many. I would never minimize how it has adversely affected people and the ramifications of it will extend into their lives for years to come. That said, it has finally & cruelly gone too far. This is just awful, sad news. I see the Apocalypse coming out of left field and it ain’t Manny Ramirez—OK, maybe it looks a lot like him.
PETE Abraham, Yankee beat writer and incredibly successful blogger for the NY area Lower Hudson Journal News is leaving the pinstripes to move closer to his family. He’s going to work for Boston Globe.com. It’s an upgrade for him and I wish him the best. But he’s going to be covering the Re… no! I can’t bring myself to say it. Or type it. Or whatever it is I’m doing. Other than feeling ill that is.
You know, when they tried to trade the legendary Jackie Robinson from the Brooklyn Dodgers to their hated cross town rivals the NY (Manhattan) Giants, he retired. It was a laudable and principled albeit extreme statement Mr. Robinson made. Of course, a hot dog at the ballpark & a Coke didn’t cost you $25 fifty years ago. And gas to fill the tank to take a drive to see the folks was 22¢ a gallon. Really.
Sure, Jackie wasn’t making 15 million a season either, he was lucky if he topped out at 40K ( the O’Malley’s were likely trying to salary dump, seeing as Robinson was in his mid 30’s). Pete isn’t getting millions to switch, but the Globe is getting a guy who did make a baseball blog in three years the most popular one on the net. Having the Yankees as the team didn’t hurt. That won’t happen in Boston—99% of Sawks fans can’t read. Oddly the other one per cent are writers of all levels and/or brilliant talents. Go figure.
I’d heard the newsstand copy of the Globe will become extinct in 2010, along with the NY Daily News, Miami Herald & 5 other major metro dailies. Online being the current format & one Pete has been extremely successful with, they are getting a proven winner. That said, here are the Top 5 Stories I hope he gets to file next season-
5. Ted Williams secretly longed to be a NYY & wore Yankee logo boxers
4. MIT will publish a Nobel Prize winning paper that Varitek is indeed a Cro Magnon
3. Larry Lucchino & Theo Epstein are married to each other
2. Every Red Sox player except Ted Williams & Dom DiMaggio has been juicing since 1919. They just didn’t get the good stuff until 2004
1. The entrance to Hell is that door in the Green Monster Manny used. . ..
Look out Gammons, there’s a new Pete in town.
Leaving the House. . ..
Avoiding the news is a preoccupation of mine. This will not be an exegesis, satirical, tedious or otherwise on that subject. But it is a quick factoid, explaining that the Internet has virtually made it impossible for me to not see the headlines in some side bar. Even when I’m only reading the @#%&*! comics! That’s how I read the news today (August 20). Oh boy. . ..
While I often allude to a boyhood in the Bronx, NY, where I was born ( the hospital a block from Manhattan—which made all the difference ), for purposes of being clear about one point in this piece, I admit I graduated high school in New Jersey. That’s why I will now tell you about Stevie Butler. I went to high school with him and his older brother Brian—Brian and I were born a few days apart in the same year. Their parents had a general store, maybe a football field’s distance away from the school. See, if it were in the Bronx, it would have been called a candy store.
Due to the vagaries of life & my incredible smarts ( mostly incredible for the fact each year I seemed to lose an IQ point ), even though Brian and I were identical in age, I was a Senior, he was a Junior & Stevie was a freshman, as was my sister. The year after I graduated, I was in a band & the times they were a changin’. Their mother was my boss for two summers I worked for the Parks & Recreation Dept. Sadly, there was no colleague the equal of Rashida Jones.
So, there was a connection. Two years after high school, Brian & I went to sign up at the US Armed Forces Draft Board in New Brunswick together. Despite the well intentioned advice from Arlo Guthrie, we did not walk in holding hands & sing a chorus of Alice’s Restaurant, and then walk out. One, because we didn’t want them to think we ” were both faggots ( sic )”. Two, I couldn’t sing harmony to save my ass. Literally. The thread which ties my life to others is so unbelievable, it’s more suited for the novel I never intend to write. I can’t do it here. Which spares us all. For now.
In that era, most guys I knew had grown their hair long, mustache and/or beard optional. For authority figures, it was believed to be a solid tipoff that person was doing some kind of drugs. It may strain credulity, but at 18 ( some of this ground covered in a previous episode ) I chose not to smoke, drink or do dope. Maybe it was the Catholic training or maybe it was I just wanted to save all my resources for girls & music. This was also the year I met another person who played a major part in my music history. His name was David Sutch–he was larger than life, and his did not end well.
I’d see Stevie at gigs & parties, he was affable, generous and blunt. He did have an annoying habit of busting me for not going out into the world & examining every possibility, in every corner. My retort was I didn’t need to, I had an imagination. The irony of my relationship with him will show up later in this. Despite what my so called other friends & acquaintances, family too, thought then, I was out doing other things. It just wasn’t with that old bunch. As a new decade opened, I jointly started a unisex clothing shop in Flemington N.J. with a college buddy, and I’d met several girls from that Hunterdon County area.
A life long habit of personal high impact-short lived jobs began with that store. About a year after leaving the store in a clash over business styles, I heard one of the girls Rita, had been hit by a car, while walking. Her injuries were extensive, but by the time I got the news, she was home and slowly mending. Rita had been a friendly and attractive girl, who came into the shop a lot and any ulterior motives aside, I went to visit her, hoping to cheer her up. She had some bad physical scars, all over. Though she was in decent spirits when I visited, one of her friends told me, she was good day, bad day. Something about her made me think Steve Butler could help bring back a healthy spark to her wounded psyche. He had a way with chicks.
I promised Rita I’d come back and I did. This time I took Stevie, he was up for it too, and because I was interested in one of her friends, Jaye, it was only natural for Steve to hang with Rita. I just knew Steve & Rita would like each other. I was right. Somehow I lost track of Steve after he got involved with her—my attachments to girls sometimes as short as my jobs. Their relationship lasted awhile, and I know he helped her recovery.
Next thing I knew about him, he was traveling with another girl, his hair down to his waist, and according to Brian, they were in Los Angeles. Everybody got excited when word was out, Stevie was going to appear on a popular television game show To Tell the Truth. The hook—lame, but tailor made for that era— He and the girl were placed, standing with their backs to the audience, the panel had to guess who was the boy or the girl. Yikes! We laughed, we cried–my pals got high, I didn’t. I was envious of Stevie being on TV. I can’t recall, but I think he & his gf made it onto the original Price Is Right that same week. It might even be on YouTube now—I don’t know and I don’t want to either.
Steve lived in a cave for a phase, on one of the Hawaiian Islands. Mostly he traveled the world. I’d get picture postcards from all over the planet, many with the same message— ” have you left the house yet?” I resented it after a while. But he wasn’t wrong. Experience had made me even more solitary, writing songs & collaborating with several others. My body lived locally—my mind traveled globally. Then I’d write a song. One made a sentimental reference to a friend like Stevie and a guy like me & a girl. I was sure it would be a hit. Just like me, it didn’t go too far. But it did leave the house, winding up no doubt in circular files from NYC to L.A. with a stop in Nashville.
In 1986 I was doing a thankless gig at a street fair in Frenchtown N.J. I’d invited an old friend, but he had not shown up. Much to my happy amazement, another, very unexpected person, did— Stevie. He’d just come back from Tibet (!), spoken with our friend Dennis ( the no-show ) & decided he’d try to sell some of the items ( no! not drugs ) he’d brought back from Asia. Doing my usual, “ I’d like to buy something, man , but I’m doing this gig free ” act, I shook his hand. Being Stevie, he said—“…just pick out a few things, they’re yours. It’ll be your pay for playing.” Chambers of Commerce could learn from guys like him. Ex-cave dwellers being more giving than say, fat white blowhards. I chose a great cap & a scarf, which I subsequently employed as gifts for two women. I’d told him I might do just that & he smiled. But the third thing, a small wooden slide whistle, resides just a foot away from this keyboard.
That was the last time I saw Steve Butler. Two years later, he boarded a plane in London for NYC. It was Pan Am Flight 103 and it blew up over Lockerbie, Scotland. The story doesn’t end there. That’s why I’m stopping this one. And for the moment, I won’t be leaving the house.
Michael the Vick
AS predicted, jocksniffer radio hosts, listener calls, emails, texts, et al are myopically fixed on Michael Vick’s return to the NFL. The Philadelphia Eagles officially announced the signing of Vick, the man who served hard time for crossing state lines to engage in illegal dog fights. The animal abuse, cruelty, torture & execution, were just incidental to going from Virginia to Georgia to do it. Though a case could be made for just going back to Virginia once you made it to Georgia, which I’ve done myself.
At the Eagles press conference Vick, whose criminal acts fit the FBI profile for serial killer, apparently memorized a list of cliches. Learned behavior is something a sociopath is very good at doing. He is being mentored by Tony Dungy, a former NFL coach & born again Bible scholar, who has his own tragic history. The etymology of both their names aside, I have never enjoyed puppet shows after age 5. The debate over whether or not Vick deserves a return to the NFL took up 99% of ESPN program content today ( August 14 ), running the gamut from the inane to the insane. Best of British luck, ya’ll. . ..
AND 99% of those people discussing Vick are not only ill equipped to do so, they can barely articulate the real issue– has he rehabilitated himself ( ty Arlo )? So, as he goes over to sit on the Group W Eagles bench, I’d like to pose a question the great unwashed can all have an opinion on, and even more to the point, it’s at their level of intellect. Here goes—
Do you think the Eagles will cut Vick if he dogs it?
Stay tuned.
Dogged
Update: August 13, 2009 Michael Vick has been signed by the Philadelphia Eagles. After complying with the conditions of an NFL imposed limbo status, he will have his second chance. That said: to repeat, any moron using the ” culture ” excuse for abusing animals— then your culture is criminally ill. AND as far as I know Vick’s culture is the United States of America. If you think that behavior is acceptable in the US, have someone read the penal code to you. Slowly.
The release of Michael Vick from Federal custody has provoked a fresh round of debate. Most of it concerns whether or not he should be allowed to resume his career in the National Football League. NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell has not yet announced a ruling on this matter, and when he does, the fire will really burn up sports talk radio lines.* Those freaks will trot out their legal experts & PETA deriding jokes. Topped off with the usual unhealthy dose of their Oprah informed grasp of psychology.
That’s not what’s burning me though. I just had to listen to a caller on WFAN claim it is ridiculous to not accept the practices of other cultures. This is a moronic argument for excusing dog fighting ( for which Vick was imprisoned, along with torturing & killing the animals ) & another favorite, cock fighting. For the uninitiated, which is to say, civilized humans, that would be roosters. UK actor Ricky Gervais was recently in the news for taking a stand against bull fighting. I am with him—I think Pamplona’s running of the bulls has also out run its course. Just ask the guy who got gored to death. My opinion is this kind of entertainment is not a part of a culture which gets grandfathered in & perpetuated, it is a clear lack of any semblance of culture.
The host of the program, suggested many of us don’t understand why these ” sports ” exist. Hey! listen genius I understand. It is born of desperate poverty, in which those with a pocket of power, prey on the weak minded & empathy bereft. It is based on betting & the need to feel a victory, employing animals as surrogates; animals who cannot give consent. It is deviant behavior on anyone’s dance card, and claiming your society has a right to do it, is frankly bull shit.
In segments of Africa the village male leaders remove the clitoris from their females. That’s their culture. Is that something we should all just accept? They have their reasons—and it’s their ballpark. And it is the product of the power mad and ignorance run rampant, kept in place by strong arm tactics & fear. Do I equate that with animal fighting? Yes. It is men, abusing their authority for the purpose of controlling another living things innate biological urge. I’ll pass on any twisted humor. It is simply the strong ( ? ) victimizing the weak.
I think Michael Vick can be given a second chance, for all the usual liberal reasons. He paid his debt blah blah blah. I also think if he steps in dog shit & even says one hard word, they should lock his ass up again. You know what I mean, so don’t get all jiggy. Play football, and stop getting off on animals. Vick was not a quality pro quarterback; he ran more than he passed ( he’s not very good at it ) & that led to injury. But he is a gifted athlete, so a change of position might work. When it comes to his recreational choices, he can slip into his Ron Mexico persona and have fun in Vegas, gambling with easily impressed dancers & hookers. They’ll be glad to do it doggy style.
AS for Vick’s apologists on both sides of the microphone. You can barely articulate a valid opinion on sports. Keep honing that meager skill and don’t start spouting off regarding culture. You probably wouldn’t know culture if somebody spilled yogurt on you. I’m pretty sure you’d sucker punch them, since it’s no doubt a proud part of your culture.
* Goodell has allowed Vick in the NFL pending a decision by game 6 of the 2009 season, reinstatement on hold based on the comissioner’s discretion. AND the talk is carpet bombing the airwaves now Vick has signed w/the Phila. Eagles.
Where Angels Fear to Tread w/ commentary by Chico Marx
“Hey! thatsa pretty fonny. You canta fool me boss. Thosa Transformahs ainta racists, theyah battlebots they donta race!” Chico Marx
Let me get this straight. There are some people upset about racism in the new movie Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. The pervasive destructive disregard for life, property and national treasures, that’s okay? Not to mention the dogged possibility of damage to Megan Fox. And the veritable lake size puddles of oil they leave behind. I’d be an idiot of the same stripe as they are, to read as if I’d ever condone racism. But the superficial, knee jerk reactions of such people do nothing but actually pour some of that bot fluid on the flames.
They learned a big word once—stereotype. But they learned it in the context of an explanation with negative connotations. Am I even allowed to use negative? Stereotypes, as with the verbal equivalent, the cliché, exist for one reason—they are experiential human shorthand. If it waddles like a duck, we then see a duck, not some poor kid in a mascot suit. Unless of course, it is some kid in a mascot suit. Personally, I have seen just about every stereotype in real life, these jerkoffs complain about. It would be fine with them to have a white trash moron, an Italian mob goombah, a Jewish anything, but not a person of color who isn’t in Mensa? Could’ve been worse, they could’ve had Tyler Perry in drag Transformer. . ..
Bullshit. They are the people with the problem. It is so intense of a problem, they see racist in the use of the word people. In the Sixties, I was a second generation Italian, a teenager with long hair, a beard, wore sunglasses & drove a Corvette. If you knew anything about life before you were born or say, Heaven forfend, read a book, you’d know that was a set of characteristics sure to get you special notice by authorities. Luckily, I never did get any harassment. Because I was lucky and behaved myself, and never got caught the few times I power shifted, burnt rubber and wore a hundred miles off my tires. The only time was when a guy on my softball team, a police sergeant, advised me to be careful of the company I kept. He was right too. And I did. However, if you don’t think I got a taste of prejudice back then, you are culturally bereft. Sure, I had the ability and the option to “clean up my act,” a popular phrase of that era. Oddly, even when I did, I was still the same iconoclastic individual. My attitudes and foibles were internal. Have some groups had unfortunate extra attention? the sad answer is yes. As always, I ain’t here to do an exegesis of race relations. Just to point stuff out. Did I look like a small time drug dealer though? you betcha. Was I? Nope and that rhymes with—okay, but just that one time. And I was drunk. . ..
But including a dumbass black character in a movie is anathema? What! there no stupid blacks? how do you explain Martin Lawrence? You obviously don’t listen to WFAN. While possibly not the only choice for a movie character, if it’s an urban scene, what fits more for the point it makes? an African American with GQ cover looks and two doctorates? or some street thug. All y’all are just hater players. BTW why are you even at that movie? oh—Megan Fox! Sexist ahole huh. Or just hetero and enjoying yourself. I’d say lighten up, but I’m no racialist, you get the picture. Maybe. . ..
“Ha hah ha. Shoo, everybody knows they gotta lottsa juice in Florida. They come frommah Noo Yawk for the sunny shine!” Chico Marx
Manny Ramirez, eagerly ( LOL ) awaiting his return to Mannywood and the Dodger lineup, has caught some new attention himself. This because he is a stereotype—of a ballplayer caught using performance enhancing drugs. Apparently someone he’s been associated with has a father who is a doctor. A doctor can write prescriptions for said PED. Voila! This conduit from outside the US, up into Florida and servicing predominantly Latino jocks, is now under scrutiny. Again may I state: Boston, you are hypocrites & phonies. Have a nice day.
Wowie zowie! God didn’t waste anytime with the dead celebrity trifecta. Banging them out like ARod in batting practice. Only God can do it in the actual games too. Yeah sure Alex has had some good at bats the last few days—90 games to go hombre. Sorry, got off track there. So, Farrah Fawcett, Ed MacMahon, and Michael Jackson are at the Pearly Gates. Saint Peter sees Farrah, looks at his big book and says—-” Angel! go right in.” Ed steps up. Peter says-” Heyo!—you have all ready won. Go on in.” Then he looks at Michael Jackson, looks at the book. Looks at Michael again, then back at the book,* he asks — ” Moonwalk, eh! you were an astronaut?” Michael squeaks, ” Uh yes. Yes I was. An astronaut.” St. Peter smiles, ” Welcome to Heaven.” St. Paul throws Peter a look. Peter looks at paul and says – “Hey have you ever heard him sing She’s Out of My Life? The way his voice breaks at the end. That’s Heaven.”
*Take 2: St. Peter looks down at his book, looks at Michael Jackson. ” Oh dear, it’s Jackson. Whew–I thought they said Michael JORDAN. . ..”
Now if he can only keep his hands off the cherubs. Good night everybody! drive safely and don’t forget to tip your waitrons.
The King James Babble
LeBron James is a great basketball player in the NBA (National Basketball Association) & a young man, the league uses as one of its premier representatives. Last night he walked off the court after his team the Cleveland Cavaliers was eliminated from the championship chase by the Orlando Magic. Mr. James is now catching heat from all the jock sniffing media for not speaking into the mics these jerkoffs stick in your face win or lose. Awwwwwww too bad for them.
WTF do they think he feels or would have to say? they don’t care–he & and all the players owe them. Sure they do. It’s part of their contract – they routinely spout. Sure it is. But every once in awhile how about some media freak makes the human choice too. The choice to not intrude in the name of a clichéd soundbyte. One thing I always loathed about all of the jockocracy, is their lack of grasping basic human emotions in the now. They’re great at it after the fact, telling the athletes they feed off of, how to act, on and off the basketball court. Where is the true immaturity here?
I am no fan of the NBA—those guys don’t even play basketball the way it was invented by James Naismith in 1891. When LeBron James decided to break free and join the professional ranks straight out of high school, I saw a person ready to cash in, skip the phoney college bs & get the bling. But he has been a phenomenon, not just in his skills on the court, but as a model of good behavior. Trust me, he’s a rare man for his age and role, which is 24. I’m glad he is. The history of the recent NBA is rife with thugs—bad dudes guilty of, well, you name it. LeBron was & is a breath of fresh air.
Now, by not shaking the hand of Orlando opponent Dwight Howard or “facing” the media music, it’s time for the media to rip another of their false idols off a pedestal. The carrion eaters are circling, cawing and nipping at James. Oh what a bad man—he’s angry, tired and beaten. But he needs to be a man. Some real men get pissed off at what other perfect (jerks) consider inappropriate times. For them. Most athletes are not exciting extemporaneous speakers. For all my antipathy toward them, I prefer to hear from the media when it comes to commentary on a sporting event.
Jock sniffers live to suck up to all things jock—to call old fools “coach.” To scream orgasmically over a play, then drool over it until something replaces it. In a what have you done for us lately world, LeBron James has made a fatal error, he didn’t do what is expected of him by the peanut gallery. Because he didn’t kiss their fat asses the way they kiss his. When the quid pro quo goes unbalanced, the media has the tools to lash out. And they are pretty much just that—tools. . ..
Give LeBron a break. You two faced vultures. Wasn’t there enough free food to eat in Disney World? When you can’t shoot the 3 from downtown at the buzzer, you can give a press conference and cheerfully explain how you lost the big one.
Joba the Whut?
For a guy who hasn’t lived in or even near NYC for two decades now (yikes!)—I am still a New York elitist. As much as my minimalist lifestyle allows, I pay attention to my old hometown via whatever media sources I can.
That’s why it pains me to say the New York Yankees & some NY sports hosts are idiots. Nothing says it more than the curious case of one young pitcher, Joba (pronounced Jah-bah, yes, like Jabba the Hutt) Chamberlain. Two seasons ago, Joba joined the Yankees at the major league level. He proceeded to become a cult hero as an emergency reliever, smoking out of the bullpen with a success rate of almost perfect, firing bb sized fastballs past batters & striking them out frequently, bats on their shoulder. However…
Chamberlain had been groomed as a starting pitcher in the Yankee farm system, one with a repertoire of four pitches, a valuable & desirable commodity. A lights out closer is a team’s dream. But strong starting pitching and a young pitcher at that, is rare, not to mention necessary. So, when the man, the myth, the legend Mo Sandman Rivera returned to his rightful place as the Yankees closer, Joba was tasked to begin his evolution into the Yankee starting rotation.
OK enough back story. Fluke injuries, gnats, heat for his fervor on the mound & a DUI/strip club related bust, oh yeah and some really bad first innings have reopened the debate. Joba starter or Joba reliever? But the Yankees have proven in the past (repeatedly), they have no clue how to bring along pitchers. In fact since Mel Stottlemyre was banished, a case could be made the franchise can’t even manage veteran hurlers. Injuries happen so often, Joba to the bully now might be a premature move waiting to happen if Chien-Ming Wang (in no pitcher’s land between rehab & redemption) can’t rebound & Phil Hughes remains a roller coaster of results.
One WFAN radio host— let’s call him Bullwinkle— challenges callers who want Joba in the pen by saying “are 21 starts for Joba enough” to determine his ability as a starting pitcher. Well, no one truly knows that answer. But the greatest closer in history, the aforementioned Mr. Rivera, only had ten — count ’em genius —10. So, why is this radio moron so adamant. Joba has had twice as many and he has proven all ready he can be amazing out of the bullpen. Rivera did not have such proven credentials when he was, at the time, demoted!
So, I love New York. But I lament the hubris of guys who can’t take in actual data and realize they might be barking up the wrong alley. Naturally, at this point no one even knows if Joba can return to his glory status as a reliever. Maybe he misses getting a beer buzz & seeing a few boobs. Because boobs they may be, those deciding his fate are not the same as cornfed mamas for a young man with a high hard one.*
* for non-baseball fans—a high hard one is a good major league fastball–or not…
Vex Absurditas © 