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The Happy Halladay/Holliday Edition*

November 20, 2009 Leave a comment

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

Pyrrhic Pressure

September 15, 2009 Leave a comment

It’s been a season of win-lose here in Gritropolis. This, so pointedly captured by this weekend—on the court, on stage & sigh, at the movies.

Having a Pyrrhic victory may be fine for some. Not for me. Sure, that fat head no talent Tyler Perry, finally let a woman wear the dress. But his dreck came in number one at the box office. The one solace I have is that all people buying tickets for that movie have been tagged by Homeland Security, as no threat whatsoever to US intelligence.

While Serena Williams blew up at the US Open ( tennis ) for what she felt was an umpire’s wrong call on a foot fault*, Kanye West retained his title as Biggest Loudmouth in Music. Homeboy still believe he can hit that Beyonce groove thang, soon as the girl see he prettier than Jay Z. Or delusional that Taylor Swift has jungle fever & digs stupid guys. Either way, he on crack. One thing I know for certain—Taylor Swift’s videos are better than Tyler Perry’s. Watching hers only get you tagged by the local Fish & Game Commission. And that’s so they can call you for a donation.

If Serena can be fined an amount the equivalent of her tennis shoe allowance for a Grand Slam tournament (just kidding-I know she gets them gratis), why can’t that ahole Kanye get fined by the FCC. Why? for being an ahole in prime time. I bet  Mr. Obama’s backhanded smack of Kanye got more play than anything he might’ve said publicly about Joe Wilson (R-Rep. South Carolina). He probably just got an atta boy from Rush Limbaugh—ha ha ha ad infinitum. Times like these I wish James Brown was still alive to advise some entertainers. Not the sports James Brown. Or the other sports James Brown. Or one of the Steve Smiths. The late great King of Soul. Of course!

There’s more, but I like to stick to the headlines. I do feel compelled to inject a future story—Prince Fielder, the really talented & large (+ packing a few more lbs. than needed ) first baseman of your Milwaukee Brewers, is likely to be trade bait over the Winter. Team very interested resides in Boston. Since they are allowed to make any move & be praised for it by buttboys at ESPN, I can’t fight the power. It is true, they have gone too long without a big fat guy to play first for them, since Mo Vaughn left. And Pig Papi Ortiz admitted his ” protein drinks ” only enable him to do one thing well—hit v. the Yankees.

Speaking of baseball, who won the World Series? The season must have ended while I was on my retreat in Nepal, searching for the home of Deechen Lachman.** I had no joy finding it, though I did run into the Dalai Lama.† When I asked him if he knew her, he said vexedly—” she’s Australian, you moron.” If I’d have known the MLB season wound up early so ESPN could go football 24/7, I’d have asked the Dalai Lama about the WS. Hey! he was all ready pissed off, I had nothing to lose there. 

All I can get from ESPN is football f*gs, enabling gamblers with point spreads & injury reports & sucking up to coach. They are stat diligent to the point of being anal. I’m amazed they don’t do the Pop Warner games. Must be a licensing fee conflict. Or maybe the authorities draw an age line for boys locker rooms those bozo can invade. Why don’t I just Google? have I mentioned the page-load times for me & this old dial up here on the Copper Line yet this post? Oh look! there’s some mail from the Dept. of Homeland Security. . ..

* it was a bad call

** actor Dollhouse Fox-TV series

† I know I know—the DL is in exile in India




Leaving the House. . ..

August 22, 2009 4 comments

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.


In the Year 2013. . .. or Larry King stole this style from me 40 years ago

July 1, 2009 2 comments

I just realized the reason the Mayan Calendar ended at 2012. Those freaks ritually sacrificed all the guys who could do the math! which is apparently where the phrase ” do the math ” has its origins. They literally ripped the heart out of their civilization. The dumbasses killed the smart guys just to appease their gods. BTW Apocalypto was a really good flick. I do know two men who were disappointed by it though. I overheard them outside the theatre after the show. One of them thought it was Apocalypso. Well, there was dancing. The Mayans were nutjobs, but we can thank them for adding jai lai to world sports.

Speaking of ancient religions & suicidal tendencies, old Jehu Cristos must have had a major death wish. He not only took on the the entire Roman Empire with his big mouth, he confronted the alte cockers of Jeruselam. Not content to piss them off, he insulted and criticized the hierarchy of Judaism on a daily basis. Having been evicted from the Home Land by pharoahs, they were in no mood to take it on the chin from some snotty kid. Especially one who never got Bar Mitzvahed. Hey! no applause. This stuff just comes to me in between listening to sportstalk hosts refer to Shakespeare’s “novels” and the Egyptian pyramids where “the Mayans did their calendar.” Stick to Lou Piniella and Milton Bradley’s hissyfit & the scores Jason.

I know it’s way too much to hope that last night’s Baltimore Oriole comeback win—they were losing 10-1, over the Rat Sox will mean a deep downward spiral for those creeps. But Manny is due back in LA LA Land Friday. It will be fireworks somewhere this weekend. Good one huh.

Phillies should trade for Carl Pavano. He doesn’t beat his wife. But a move back to the National League and he just might beat enough teams to help the Phils. Unlike the rest of this blog, I’m virtually 100% serious.

I can’t help it—I love ENTOURAGE. But I’d shitcan Ari Gold in a NY minute, too counter-intuitive & petty for me. And who knew Adrian Grenier could sing—well, I have to wait for the DVD release. Thanks NetFlix—don’t fuck me up w/SMALLVILLE though. Please.

The King James Babble

May 31, 2009 3 comments

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.

Apparently—I Love NY!

May 22, 2009 Leave a comment

Having just realized I rarely say anything about the sports media people I like, I hope to remedy that a bit here. One reason I neg out a lot is, the guys who provoke me seem do it when I’m nearest to a keyboard. The other is I’m bitter. Here are thumbnail mentions of a few who just happen to be from the NYC metro area. How’d that happen!

Michael Kay, who began his pro career as a sportswriter, currently straddles two media giants. One owns the New York Yankees, the other takes cheap shots. Long before the NYY launched the YES Network (Yankees Entertainment & Sports), Kay made the move from print to the broadcast booth, paired with legendary egoist John Sterling. I thought Kay was great—at a time when the beloved pair of Phil Rizzuto & Bill White (my former neighbor) were ending their run, Kay was a breath of fresh & knowledgeable air. Yankee brass agreed. Now he anchors the YES play by play team & does a daily afternoon drive radio show for ESPN’s New York affiliate. AND I like him a lot. Joe Torre, on the other hand, may not. That’s another story.

Howard Megdal is a regular & integral contributor to a podcast—The New York Baseball Digest (hosted by Mike Silva). He’s also an author The Baseball Talmud— a non-fiction work which chronicles the history of professional Jewish baseball players. However, his main gig is covering NYC baseball for a newspaper The New York Observer. Though an ardent Mets fan, his sharp wit & ability to extemporaneously turn a phrase on mic, make him a rare exception in the sports media—intelligent beyond the sports arena. I used to be pretty good at this: I’d place his IQ at 130, if not slightly higher. He’s one of the few I can actually listen to criticize the Yankees, typically because he’s right. His Achilles’ heel is WFAN megastar Mike Francesa—don’t get him started. . ..

The next man I have come to praise (and not bury) is another sportswriter & blogger Pete Abraham. His LoHud.com Yankees blog has so many hits each day, I can rarely leave a comment due to my slow dial up—because there are frequently too many other comments, often well over 300-400, sometimes many more! Pete is the Yankees beat writer for The Journal News & also makes many radio appearances, providing his insight to Yankee baseball. Even when he’s on a break, he often files a post, because he loves baseball. Sadly, the immense popularity of his blog doesn’t exclude him from the current economic downward trend in newspapers, and he’s actually on an unpaid furlough for a week! Sigh. BTW Pete was at the game anyway last night as a fan. Here’s hoping it all turns around for everybody. Except for Boston — I ain’t smoking any of Mary Lou’s bud.

Not in any way would I minimize the work, talent & efforts of the next two. I place them in tandem because Sweeny Murti & Ed Coleman cover the Yankees & Mets respectively, for WFAN AM New York, the King of sports talk radio. They are both routinely on air around the clock, doing phone reporting i.e. Sweeny was on today at 4:25 AM. Are the Yanks on the West Coast? did a game run extraordinarily late or something extremely awful happen? Nope—though Joba Chamberlain did take a batted ball off a kneecap (he’s OK—hmmmm). Sweeny is also very bright (Penn State grad). Mercifully(?) the Mets were on a travel day to Feng Shui Park for the weekend ugh, unless you like hubris with your chowdah. So, Eddie had a respite from the Mets woes.

See, I can say nice stuff. Especially when it’s true. Yankees v. Phillies this weekend, should be balls flying out of new Yankee Stadium. While I am naturally rooting for the Yanks to win more than they lose, I have a soft spot for the Phils from my 20 years of living & working in Bucks County PA.

Oh yeah — Lets GO METS!


Aks me no questions. . ..

May 21, 2009 Leave a comment

I’m well aware most of you @#%&*! jock sniffing morons, who somehow were hired to be professional media announcers only made it to sixth grade. So, one more time:

If a proper name ends in the letter s i.e. Phil Hughes and you need to make it a possessive, as in— Phil Hughes’ next start—that is how it is enunciated. Don’t add another s. Not only is it unnecessary, it creates sibilance, which is bad for audio, most importantly as spoken, it’s AWKWARD sounding. BTW no doubt you were asleep, dreaming of showering with the football team that day in class, because they teach that rule by sixth grade. Pete Rose’s name only sounds as if it ends with s. You’re on your own with Rodriguez, Gomez, Martinez & Aziz et al. That ain’t English.

Note to major know it all Colin Cowherd–the word is pictorial. Not pictoral.* As for some audience members who call in radio programs—how do you exist at least twenty plus years in a country where English is the primary language, and mispronounce the word ask? Laughable and depressing at the same time. Audio-verbal dyslexia—the new epidemic.

OK— recess you dumbasses. Go enjoy some repressed homosexuality. Don’t aks

* next time I heard that particular promo, the pronunciation had been corrected—incroyablé!

The Body of Her Work…

May 19, 2009 Leave a comment

Mary-Louise Parker is “bitter” because of a scene she shot for the show Weeds. In a magazine interview she states she was talked into doing a bath tub scene naked by a director. This chick previously did nude scenes and/or photo shoots at the drop of a hat, provided the hat was artistic, of course. One with a big plume, so she’d have the fan dance option.

One of the show’s honchos answered her complaint by saying he thought it was one of the five best scenes she’d done on the show. Huh? what a fucking moron. I side with M(i)L(f). She is an attractive woman with a quirky acting style. That is until this crappy show. In a previous post, I explained just how bad I think Weeds is. I seriously doubt there are five good scenes in all the episodes, of which there are about 40 too many.

If you don’t know, the premise is: widowed suburban wife faced with poverty takes up dope dealing in a bedroom community. It is about as realistic as me imagining this blog will get me a Pulitzer. Not that TV is realistic, i.e. the evening news. . .. But the writing is strictly that smarmy, inside joke, stereotype driven shit these hacks spew and get paid to write. The acting is from the “look at me, mom” school. Yack. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn this is Tyler Perry’s favorite show. For all I know, he’s appeared on it—no doubt cross dressers smoke weed and lots of it.

Not everybody likes nudity on TV. I don’t. It’s distracting from the plot. No matter what anybody says, naked is not integral to any exposition of a plot point. If it is, then so is milking a cow anytime a character has cereal. Oh she has to be naked, she’s taking a bath. What a load— Hollywood imagines every contemplative female lies in a tub filled with rose petals, sipping wine with Enya playing in the background. As opposed to slumped on the couch with a container of ice cream watching Casablanca? Casa cliché is more like it. Just ask the late Robert Altman, he loved getting female actors naked for no reason in his work. Of course he was an auteur and that was cinematic nu-diddity (sic/sick).

As usual I am much too lazy/ill to do an exegesis on the history of TV nudity. On over the air TV, its been virtually non-existent. Though some might not recall a time before subscription programming, the Federal Communications Commission (now there’s a bunch of creeps), ruled over even the tight network censorship. Once cable started raking in bucks though, nudity was available there. You paid for it—you got it.

Anyway—sigh—ML has had it rough. She has relationship issues. I have empathized with her in the past, and I’m sure her traumatic experiences with men led her in a moment of weakness to take the role in Weeds. Then she proceeded to get engaged, then un-engaged, then re-engaged, then not again to Jeffrey Dean Morgan (Watchmen), her occasional co-star on the show (he portrays her late husband in flashbacks). Has she watched those scenes he did? I have never seen a more cloying portrayal in my life, unless it was him in the show Supernatural. Shit, I’d have killed him long before he died of natural causes. Hmmmmm or did he!

So Mary Louise has been compromised artistically and immortalized on You Tube. Oddly she once did a movie—Naked in New York— in which she was not naked. Undercutting her discontent though is the fact she’s had a few other dishabille moments on the show. I guess this one bugged her for some reason more than the others. Basically, the whole show bugs me. I knew a suburban divorced wife who was a pot dealer. If she had looked like ML Parker, I’m reasonably sure I’d have requested she do a nude scene too. One thing is for sure—the writing would have been better. As for Weeds, I suggest they change the title of the show to Dopes.

The Artless Dodger…

May 8, 2009 2 comments

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

Bias some peanuts & crackerjack

March 22, 2009 4 comments

There will be quite a few major newspapers closing shop by the end of 2009. On the list is the first one I ever read—The New York Daily News. It is a tabloid and that is the size & shape of the page, not a value judgement. Though, through the years it was castigated for a bit of yellow journalism, it was essentially, along with The NY Post, the daily of the common man. Also on the list is the Boston Globe, its unfortunate location aside, another legendary newspaper.

For those of you who may not know, the place where a reporter’s name is found, is called the byline. In the last few years of the 20th Century, it became more and more a biasline as regards sports. Whether in the print media on real paper, the online version or even the audio/video format, it was the journalistic signature. It took and gave sole responsibility for that piece of work to that individual (sometimes more than one). Well, with help and/or hindrance from the editorial staff & the headline editor. Again, for some of you who wouldn’t know this, the byline reporter does not write the headline for the story. Does not.

In the advent of self-centric existence, proving more than just cream rises to the top, contemporary journalists let their colors fly. Like some gangbanger in East LA. Or a gay man cruising Greenwich Village 4 AM Sunday. It once was ethical to not do this, journalists prided themselves as impartial. “Just the facts, ma’am. . ..” hmmm well, that was Dragnet ( a 1950’s TV show ), when being biased was bad. Though the words drag and net oddly suit. Now, most do it because, no one cares. They barely seem to spell check. As I point out ad nauseum, the TV and the radio guys especially make Mrs. Malaprop sound as if she’s William Safire. Suggesting they stick to words of one syllable would only pour gas on the flame. I wonder if they ever listened to radio before they got jobs. AND who the fuck is hiring these idiots.

I’m not a cultural anthropologist, I just play one on the web o’net. The illiteracy is acceptable to management because the offenders are paid to comment on sports, not be exemplars of elocution. Sure, I get that aspect—hardly rocket science. Yet, it is sad to hear words repeatedly misused and with such casual certitude. Any way I came to attack bias, and went off on my own. It just pains me to hear otherwise, almost intelligent people from bloggers to Hall of Fame writers, continually have to dump on the Yankees while building up the team they not so secretly support. The media people who are hovering under the 30 year old mark, only seem to go back to 1994. They also routinely refer to 2 or 3 years ago, as ” a long time.” Historical perspective is also taking a hit. I guess when one is myopic, it’s a problem seeing much clearly, let alone the ancient past of say, the 70’s.

One word the jockocracy loves and managed to use correctly is apologist. I suspect Keith Olbermann is responsible for this anomaly, he has read several non-sports books. He’s graduated from the playing fields to the smokey backroom, from Rick Reilly’s pal to Bill O’Riley’s archnemesis. This is as rare in the media as an actor getting elected President. Or governor, and still getting a movie rôle after leaving office. The world is so creepy now, I had to look up apologist, because they were getting it right. Proving the adage, even a blind pig finds it’s still a blind pig in the morning.

I am a New York Yankees apologist; I know it is difficult to root out bias in one’s self. Once I respected some of these sports media people. Until they were virtually the only radio I could listen to, in my special circumstances. In high school I was co-opted by punk ass authority figures into doing sports reporting. I’m not sure I’ll ever tell that whole story—not enough readers. I need a big audience for that one. I played baseball & then tennis, tennis after I realized I could neither hit nor throw a high school curveball. My antipathy towards sports is aimed at the suits & jocksniffers and not at the unis. Admittedly, I have very little in common with the players—I even love the game more than most of them too. I know why: they are in it for their paycheck—and rightly so. Guys like me are in it to get a small win in life & sometimes a big one, i.e. a World Series.

When I am Supreme Ruler of Existence, no announcer will wear a suit & tie, ever—that one is pure bullshit. Naturally, that mostly happens on network TV. The real guys in the trenches doing 150 plus games know better. A TV clown doing maybe 18 games, dresses up like the man tells him. Try talking for 4 hours wearing a tie—it’s not a coalmine for 18 hours, but it makes no sense. On the other hand, if you are an ahole who is ripping the Yankees—let me adjust that knot for you, maybe show you something in a Colombian? I abhor violence and never advocate it as a solution. But if every Yankee hater died right now, believe me I’d still have plenty to rail against.

Radio guys are always going to use the word continuously when they really mean continually. Or say comparable as compare-able. They just don’t care. I heard a guy, who seemed to be otherwise articulate and knowledgeable, say stigmatism ( no such word ). He meant stigma. Would I fire a guy for that? no. I would however, expect him to learn the right word. My sad consolation is, if you get simple words wrong when you are bashing the Yankees, you likely have some other holes in your game. Why does it grind me? because 97% of the audience doesn’t know this. Or much.

So, root root root for your home team and not against mine. If you do at least pronounce the words correctly and know what they mean. Practitioners of schadenfreude can all lech mich am arsch. If you know what I mean.

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PS while reading some movie news, I happened across some vidcaps of that Tyler Perry in drag. In no way does he resemble a human female. He really needs to buy a good mirror.