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Friday, May 29, 2009

How Tweet It Is...

Well, my friends. It's come to this. After years of resisting social networking sites like MySpace and Facebook, I've now taken the final step towards truly becoming one with my generation. A person that's no longer simply concerned with themselves or their friends and family, but concerned that their friends and family know exactly what they're doing and what they're thinking at every waking moment, of every single day...

That's right, Teds. I'm on Twitter. Ready to Tweet my face off, kids! Wonderin' what I'm thinkin' about right now? Head to Twitter, and let it serve as the crack pipe to the big fat rock that is my knowledge. Light that sucker up, start suckin', and don't move your lips until your lungs are full, your brain is enhanced, and you've begun looking at your possessions more as items you can barter for more rock than things you actually own....

That is, once I actually learn how to utilize the damn thing...

You may find it shocking, but as computer savvy as I pretend to be, I'm not really sure how Twitter works, or how to use it. But when Frosco told me it's the best thing to do for my fledgling career as some sort of know-it-all, comedian/sports journalist, I figured it was worth doing. After all, he's the one that provided the beautiful Rooch Nation logo. And just because he flaked out as my editor, doesn't mean I should stop listening to his advice, does it?

Yeah, I didn't think so either. Plus he says he's gonna pimp my Twitter homepage out, and give me the optimal setup to start Tweeting my thoughts all across Al Gore's glorious landscape. So I got that goin' for me, which is nice. And seeing as the graphical aspect of my career is the one place where Sco has come through in spades, I expect nothing but big things to come from my Twitter career. But again, that's only when I finally figure out how to use it...

In the meantime, I've decided to practice my Twitter-ing right here with this week's edition of the Nation. From what I've been led to believe, Twitter is basically a string of "status updates" like you'd see on FaceBook. They're short, breif, to-the-point, one-line gems that are either designed to tell people what you're doing, to request or give help in a forum type setting, or to give your followers access to your thoughts and ideas on just about anything and everything that may pop into your head...

Me? I'll be using it to dish out the funk. A few lines at a time. Current events smack? I'll be all over it. Random names that I come up with that I think would make for a good race horse? Bam! Tweetin' it up. Links to places where you can see Australian meth documentaries or a certain number of girls and a certain number of cups? W-W-W-Dot, I'm gonna be Tweetin' that shit like a mother-fucker-Dot Com...

That is, once I actually learn how to use it...


Until that day comes, and trust me I'll make sure to let you know when it does, I've decided to test out my one-liners on some of the events that have been taking place over the last week. Now as we all know, brevity isn't exactly my strong suit. Sure I have impeccable one-line ability, but I'd much rather rip you with said one-liner, and then go on to tell you for five minutes how it was actually way funnier than everyone originally thought. Hopefully, through practice, I'll be able to hone that style as to where you will read my Tweet, and be able to know exactly where my stream of consciousness was going to go to next. It's a fine science, I know, and one I'm attempting to master, so please bare with me. I swear by the time I hit the Tweetosphere with all I've got, Ashton Kutcher is gonna be scratchin' his latest trucker hat, and wishin' he took FOX's offer to do play Kevin Pittsnogle on "That West Virginia Show"...

For now, get your 'Test-Tweet' on right here, and make sure to let me know how bad they suck. I know ripping me up is one of your favorite past times anyway, and what kind of host would I be if I didn't encourage you to have a good time while visiting my information superhighway home away from home?

Have at it kids, and don't let Osama get you down on your way out...



Tweet #1

Comedian and roast-master, Jeffrey Ross came up with a great one liner while judging the finale of Dancing With the Stars. When commenting on the no-name participants in the final, Ross Said "I Googled you people and it said 'Ehhhhhhh....ask Yahoo!'" Ha! Freaking brilliant, man. Now if only you had the sense to not actually participate in the show in the first place, and gotten the boot on the first episode, then I could actually respect you. Coming this Fall "Dancing With the Teds", featuring Joba Chamberlain dancing with that old midget lady in the green suit that Frosco and I saw outside the OTB...

For those who don't remember, she was basically a leprechaun woman with some sort of whispy beard goin' on and the worst teeth this side of Cincinnati...


Tweet #2

1978 - The Who said "fuck" in the song "Who Are You", and nobody cared...

1985 - The Dire Straits said "faggot" 3 times in 30 seconds on their smash hit "Money For Nothing", and nobody cared...

2009 - Dennis Eckersley said "shit" on a live NESN broadcast of a Boston Red Sox game, and nobody cared...

One day I hope to have that kind of power. And then you're all screwed...


PS - Heidi Watney is still a smokin' hot little minx...Chlorophyll? More like Heidi Hot-Ney!...wait, that didn't come out right...

PPS - You can't see up her skirt in that picture, so stop trying... Trust me...

Tweet #3

I despise people that use the word "monies". Feb-RU-ary is chill, but monies as to go. It's money people, and you seeing as you can't provide a legit instance in which "monies" has to be used, then I think it should be stricken from the language altogether. And who do I go about speaking to in order to get that remedied, anyway? I mean I called Al Gore's house, but between the restraining order and the fact that I don't even think it's his real number, I'm getting the distinct feeling I'm gonna need another source...



Tweet #4

If you still don't believe my fantasy team controls the baseball universe, peep the latest evidence...

In order to solidify my man crush with Yankees OF Melky Cabrera, I went online and purchase a shirt with the phrase "The Melkman Delivers!" on it. It's a nice shirt, with a milkman carrying come milk and a bat, and as I see it, wearing it will help me prove 2 points. 1) I love baseball so much that I can wear a shirt representing a New York Yankee and you still can't question my Red Sox loyalty AND 2) I love Yankee play-by-play man, John Sterling, and I love the Melkman. I love it when he delivers, I can't get enough of Sterling's call when he actually does deliver. And all in all, I really like the way the guy plays the game...

The day I got the email that my shirt had shipped out? Melky went head first into the center field wall, and is now out for at least a week...

Still doubting my power? Yeah, I didn't think so...


Tweet #5

Campaigns have sprung up on the Intraweb aimed at getting Manny Ramirez elected to this year's All Star team, and I for one could not be more in favor. The game has long since been exposed as a joke. Or if you asks the old-timers, "turned into" a joke over the last 10-15 years by the "play everyone" mentality and the "every team has to represented" rule...

And the voting system is an even bigger joke. With people voting online there's no way to limit how many votes they can cast. And we all know how eccentric those Internet shut-ins can be when they set their minds to something. Can you say, Sanjaya?...

So I say vote for Manny, get him in the damn game. At least it will force baseball to make some sort of decision one way or another, and could ultimately pave the way for a more appropriate way of deciding who plays...

Oh and just for the record. Voting for Manny for any other reason than the one I stated above, means you don't really like baseball. You might think you do, but I'd give another look at the color of your hat if I were you...and then throw it in the trash and submit to me as your sports master and mentor...



Tweet #6

The Sox and Yanks are in a virtual tie for 1st place in the AL East. It is also May 29th...

That's what I think about that...





Tweet #7

Tom Brady may be back practicing with the Pats, but it's the absence of DT Vince Wilfork that has me concerned. They can't run the 3-4 the way they want to without him, and the two sides don't seem remotely close on numbers for a new deal. "It is also May 29th" applies here too, but it's just something to keep an eye on...

Welcome back, Tommy boy! And good looks on baby #2! The 50% bastard percentage is probably a little low for you, being a perfectionist 'n all, but somethin' tells me you'll have it upwards of 80% before it's all said and done...80% on the "non-bastard" side, that is...


Tweet #8

Watching LeBron hit that fade away game winner against Orlando on Saturday night was almost enough to draw me back into the NBA Playoffs. I've made no bones about how I love LeBron, but not the league, and it looked as if his performances were gonna be enough to at least force me to give the games a look when they're on TV...

Almost. It took about 5 minutes of watching the next game, between Denver and LA, until I remembered that it was never the level of play that made me anti-NBA Playoff basketball. I hate the regular season because the games are flat out boring, 1-on-1 dunk fests. But in the Playoffs, they actually play a good brand of defensive basketball. The problem, is that the refs apparently aren't ready for that style of play, and nearly every game is decided by one or more of their questionable calls. Combine that with the fact that most NBA fans feel the league conspires to see certain teams match up, and a ref recently convicted of being on the take, and the whole thing looks as dirty as sin. And a sin like murder, not like pre-marital sex...



Maybe the league should, I don't know, invest some money in some refs that say weren't around during the Kennedy administration? I mean I'm sure tenure and experience have their place and play their part, but come on. Give me some younger guys that can keep pace with the "world's best athletes", not some geezer that tries to pay his bookie with his AARP card...

Get a clue, Stern. Either take these old bastards off the books, or watch your game's credibility go the way of ESPN the phone, or Serena Williams' ass on the Atkins diet...




Tweet #9

If you didn't see the ending to the Syracuse/Cornell National Lacrosse final, you really need to check it out. I know, I know. Lacrosse is a fringe sport at best, and the only reason I care is because Syracuse is the sport's greatest program. But trust me, it was an exciting finish...

That, and lacrosse would be a much more popular game if it were marketed correctly. They still have the NHL's problems of not getting a good look at player's faces through the masks and confusing rules, but the action is great.

I mean, it's guys hitting other guys with sticks and chucking a hard ball at a virtually defenseless goalkeeper. What's not to love?...Oh, and they're even Americans whose last names you can pronounce! Bonus!...



Tweet #10

I watched a documentary on former US Congressman, Charlie Wilson, immediately followed by NatGeo's latest 9/11 documentary, a 2 part, 4 hour event entitled "Inside 9/11". Conclusion? The CIA couldn't tie their shoes if you spotted 'em a pair of those spiral laces that they give to 3-year olds. The evidence that he and his peeps were up to something was right in front of their face, they had multiple opportunities to kill him, yet he has always able to evade them. The whole intelligence community was really asleep at the switch for quite some time, and it's really sad and frightening to see it laid out before you in such a "matter of fact" fashion. Naturally you have to take these things with a grain of salt, but it's still disconcerting nonetheless...

And oddly enough, from a tactical standpoint, I've come to admire bin Laden's use of strategies laid out in Sun Tzu's, "The Art of War". He knew he couldn't beat the US by coming over here, so by striking on 9/11 like he did, he was able to bait us into going to fight him on his own turf. It's the typical, "when you're enemy is big and you are small" scheme that fucked us in Vietnam, is fucking us in Iraq, and will most assuredly lead to us leaving Afghanistan have not accomplished any of our objectives...

Fact of the matter, is that throughout history, those that win battles have followed Sun Tzu's advice, and those that have lost, have gone completely against it. Check it out, it's tried and true. And actually, it's so cut and dry that it should give anyone with a decent head on their shoulders serious pause for concern...



Sorry to leave you on such a downer, but as we say in the Tweeting world, "If you don't like it, then you can go 'Tweet' yourself". OK maybe they don't say that, but once I figure this thing out, you never know!

Hope you enjoyed my fore into Tweeting, and while I know I still have to work on editing my stream on conscious, I hope you'll take the ride with me, and help guide me through the first pot-holes and blinker-hating Asian women that I come across on my road to success...

And who knows, maybe one of these days, I'll be Tweeting about you! Probably not, but it's fun to have dreams...


Vote Pittsnoggle/Ferruccio in 2016: We do the Meth, so you don't have to!

I'm outta here...

100...

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

It's My World, So Where's My Damn Rent Money?!



It's funny. While I've never been one to think that the world revolves around me, this past week in sports, and my latest jaunt to New York City have me thinking that for all these years I've simply been trying to deny the obvious. The world does in fact revolve around Brett Ferruccio, and all you see and all you hear is just the natural order, the karma of the universe if you will, reacting to me and adjusting to me and my thoughts. Astonishing, I know, but take a look at a few of the stories below, and try and tell me that you still think I'm crazy.


Making appearances in this week's edition of the Nation will be none other than Olympian Michael Phelps, actor Barry Pepper, my buddies Frosco and Sean P, and a Ted from the 'Cuse that could very well replace "Teddy Cranston" as the worst thing to happen to that University since the hiring of Greg Robinson...


Oh yea. And a gay Kanye West impersonator, and what he "might" have said to me and my boys while we swilled booze with townies under a rotary on the West Side Highway...

Yeah, it's been that kind of week. So let's get to it...




First and foremost, to address my original point of how my brain controls the universe, I want to revisit my attempt on ESPN to "Streak For the Cash". For those that don't recall, I've been participating in this contest in which you pick games with the goal of putting together the longest streak of correct picks possible. ESPN.com provides the matchups, and I make the picks. Simple as that...

So in the playoffs, the Bruins and Celtics combined for a record of 14-11. When I picked them during the streak, including both game 7's this past weekend? I went 0-11. They were 14-0 when I didn't pick them, and 0-11 when I did pick them. Coincidence? Yeah, I think not. Maybe at 0-5 you could have convinced me it was a coincidence, but by the time the streak reached 8, I realized both teams' fate was in my hand, and took the only action I deemed appropriate. I continued picking them to win, in hopes that they would continue to lose...

Was it selfish? With all my friends caught up in Bruins and Celtics fever, should I have maybe directed my negative energy towards the opposition?

Nah, man. That's just not my style. I say bring on baseball, baby. Get all this poser fan talk off of my radio, out of my office, and let it stop infesting every semi-enjoyable social setting. It's time to focus on the Sox, and begin the countdown to the Patriots opening up the NFL season on Monday Night Football. I know this means the pink hats will now realize that the Sox have actually already started playing this year, but I've gotten used to them by now, and I'm at least prepared to deal with their ignorance and front running tendencies...

It's just too bad for them that their pre-op tran job of a chauffeur got suspended for crashing the T while text messaging. Knowing that a he-she was transporting them to and from the park on a daily basis would have really made my summer...

And for the record, and just to prove I'm not insensitive to gender confusion issues: Tranny Arquette was one of the best participants the Surreal Life ever had. There, I said it...




Next up, while it would be appropriate to segue to the Red Sox, or just baseball in general, allow me to take a detour for a minute or two to discuss my trip this weekend to New York City...



Upon our arrival, my good friend and former Rooch Nation editor, Kevin "Frosco" Tomasso, met up with my boy Sean P at his place on the Upper West Side, and headed down to a place called The Basin Bar. On our journey, 2 things happened...


1) On our walk through the park that runs along the Henry Hudson Parkway (or the Double H, if you will), we walked through 3-4 small tunnels that reminded me of a scene from Spike Lee's 25th Hour. You know, the scene where Ed Norton doesn't want to go to prison looking all pretty, so he asks his good friend, played by Barry Pepper, to blast him the face a few times for good measure? No? You haven't seen it? Well you should. Not only does Pepper just wreck the shit out of Norton's grill piece, but Philip Seymour Hoffman spends the whole scene doubled over against the side of the tunnel with Norton's dog, half dry heaving and half crying like a little girl...


And speaking of Hoffman, if you haven't seen Charlie Wilson's War, it's worth checking out if for no other reason than he gives an amazing performance. Whenever the phrase "Go fuck yourself, you fucking child" is followed by a man with thick glasses and a puffy mustache breaking a plate glass window with a wrench, you know you've just witnessed an Oscar caliber performance. And it's roles like that, that can finally erase the label of "The fat, gay guy from Boogie Nights"...



2) After we arrived at The Basin Bar, which was literally right below the 79th St. rotary exit off the Henry Hudson, things continued to get interesting. Once we got our barrings at the open air bar, a group of 5 of us gathered in what I would describe as a traditional guy drinking circle. And in traditional Rooch fashion, I started in with a story about one of our friends from home, and a particularly funny story about how we once stumbled upon him after hours in the Attleboro High School parking lot with a female acquaintance...


Halfway through the story, the term "blow-job" came up, as it often does when re-telling tails from our youth, and it seemed to catch the attention of a passer by. Who was it you ask? No, not Barry Pepper, although that would be amazingly appropriate. The one who was attracted to our conversation, and decided to bust up our circle to drop in his two cents, was none other than a guy that looked exactly like a homosexual version of the one and only Kanye West. Gay Kanye, if you will, penetrated our cipher and piped up to say something about how "that sounded like his kind of story". What he really said, we might never accurately recall, because thanks to my genius wit, what will be remembered is that he said "I sure wish it was one of you fine gentlemen who was doing the fellatio in that story". And then he tugged on his white-t, adjusted his white plastic glasses, gave a patented Michael Jackson "Ah-he-he!", and moonwalked his way away from our circle...


OK that's not at all what actually happened, but since the world reacts to my whims, and I'm the only one that ever remembers how things like that actually happened, that's the story that I'm gonna make sure is the one we remember when we retell it 10-15 years from now. No one else will remember, so that's how it's gonna go down in the history books...

Cuz you ain't messin with no broke, broke....Ah-he-he!...




Next up in the city adventure, was the next day's trip to the Shake Shack for lunch, where we were waited on by none other than Michael Phelps. OK maybe it was just a kid that looked like the 8 time gold medalist, but you can't tell me it's just another coincidence that after we ate those delicious burgers, we return to Sean's place to a TV story about none other than....Michael Phelps!

No, it wasn't the story about how he had a 3some with some Vegas strippers in a 3 hour marathon session, although from the way NBC's Jimmy Roberts was reporting it, you might have thought he wished he was one of those hookers. To quote Roberts "Phelps won the races despite not shaving any of his body hair, and wearing an old bathing suit". OK, maybe not a totally homosexual comment, but when your a small man, wearing a pink tie, one can't help but start making assumptions...

Now where the conversation went from there was rather interesting. I mean, would we have ever even noticed something was amiss with Phelps having a goatee had Roberts' not brought it up? And what kind of arrogance is that? In a sport where guys do their best Powder impression in order to get as aerodynamic (or is it aquadynamic?) as possible, isn't it rather "F-U" of Phelps to step out there wearing no doubt the first beard he's ever been able to grow? We certainly thought so. Then again, he did win, didn't he? So I guess there's no harm in it at all. What I wanna see next, is Michael Phelps step onto the blocks in a hoodie and baggy jeans, take a rip from a 4 foot bong, and them proceed to win the race. Think about it. Most of us would drown due to the bong rip, and the other half of us would drown due to the clothes, right? But not this guy. He's so damn slick, he can wear an old mankini, get higher than Cheech, and win the 200 backstroke dressed in what would be equivalent to Jamie Kennedy's outfit from that Vanilla Ice biopic he did circa 2001...

Oh wait. Scratch that. The next two events Phelps raced in, he finished second. Beard 'n all...


Go back to flippin' those delicious burgers, you Ashton Kutcher wannabe. And take a cue from the Celtics and Bruins by staying off my TV until the next time your "sport" actually becomes relevant. Remember, people. There's a reason you haven't been clamoring for a pro swimming league all these years. And that reason, is that swimming is for Teds. You know. I know it. And Michael Phelps is doing his very best to prove it to us on a daily basis. Even if Jimmy Roberts thinks he's cute...



Speaking of gay midgets, next on the agenda is a long awaited reunion of sorts. You see, for years now, Sean, Frosco and I have all played phone tag in order to have Sean place our bets for all of the Triple Crown races at his local Off Track Betting parlor. This time, with all of us in the city together for the Preakness, we all made the journey down to the OTB together in order to put down our money on favorites Rachel Alexandra and Pioneerofthe Nile. Now I know what you're thinkin'. You're thinkin' "Oh well at least you had money on the winning horse", right? Wrong. We may have had that philly to take the thing down, but thanks to our limited bankrolls, we only had her in a few different exotic bets, and for 6th straight Triple Crown race, we came up empty handed...



Oh, well. At least we were finally able to make the journey to the OTB together, which provided moments such as these...


Me: "Where is this place anyway?"

Sean: "You'll be able to spot it a block away by all the fat degenerates out in front smoking butts"

Also, Sean almost got murdered inside the joint when he came up $2 short on the amount we wanted to bet a mere 20 minutes before post time. Oh and did I mention that there was a tiny elderly woman in there, who apparently was a regular, that was not only dressed head to toe in some sort of leprechaun suit, but also had whiskers on her chin reminiscent of that kung-fu master from Kill Bill 2? Yeah, that happened. And not only did she exist, but she asked Frosco and I for the time, and shuffled her way back inside through a sea of butts to presumably continue bothering the tellers and bettors inside until someone threw her a dollar or two...

Remind me if I ever get that old to have someone A) shoot me in the head, or B) dress me up in a little green suit, and park me outside the OTB. I figure they're basically the same thing, except in the little green suit at least I'll have a shot at scorin' some cigs...



Now to wrap up the story of my NYC adventure, I could spend time telling you about all the dog shit on Sean's block, the Emo bar he took us too, or the delicious wings we dined on at a Mets bar, but I won't (even though those wings are bomb, and yet another example of wings better than Wendell's). Instead I'd like to inform you that my campaign to convince everyone that will listen that Yankee play-by-play man, John Sterling, is the greatest radio guy around, and his broadcasts with Suzyn Waldman are hysterical, has gained yet another another supporter in my traveling companion, Kevin Tomasso.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know we're supposed to "hate" the Yankees and whatnot, but having produced about a million of their games for the radio station I work at, AM 790, I haven't been able to help but become enamored with his style. His newest homerun call of "Ohhh what a Text message! You're on the Mark, Teixeira!", has me rolling in the aisle every time. Team it up with such classics as "Robby Cano! Don't Ya Know!", "A Thrilla by Godzilla!" and of course, everybody's favorite "The Melk-Man Delivers!", and I'm baffled as to what anyone could find not to love. Add in the fact that Sterling treats Waldman as if she were a middle school newspaper reporter who's only there because she won some contest, and by God you've got yourself some radio gold...



Take a listen yourself, at the legendary back and forth that ensued the day after the 2007 season, Joe Torre's final game as head coach of the Yankees. Suzyn is crying her eyes out, and John basically responds as if he doesn't give a shit, and that she needs to calm down. Maybe because he's a pro, maybe it's because he's half in the bag, or maybe it's just because after years of working with Michale Kay and Charlie Steiner, they stuck him with Suzyn "Georgie Girl" Waldman, a Boston native with a background in Broadway. I feel your pain, Johnny Boy, but keep up the good work...


Oh and if the Melk-Man could deliver a few more times this week, my fantasy team would really appreciate it...


And speaking of my fantasy team, they are going to serve as the proverbial red bow on this week's column. If you can check out these trends, and you're still not convinced the world revolves around me, then I'm gonna go head and say you're some sort of evil, heartless witch, and perhaps even the witch that decided to curse me with this power to begin with. Feel my pain when you read these numbers...


*This season, my pitching has lost 5 games in which they have surrendered 0-1 earned runs. That's right. LOST. Not "got a no decision". LOST. And what makes it all that much more enjoyable, is that the two main culprits, Johan Santana and Cliff Lee, have their team's offensive struggles during their starts chronicled nearly every day on SportsCenter and Baseball Tonight...

Oh, and I shit you not. As I was writing this, Cliff Lee was tossing a 2 run, 8 inning gem against the Royals. He left the game with a 5-2 lead, only to watch Kerry Wood give up 4 runs in the 9th, allowing the Royals to win the game 6-5. And to make matters worse, the crucial blow in the 9th was a 2R HR my Mark Teahen...who was on my bench yesterday because I didn't want him going up against Lee...


*This season I have had 9 different guys I am playing against have 2 HR's in one game. NINE! Now I don't know how many times that's happened this year in the major league's, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it's happened to me at least 6 more times than it's happened to anyone else in my league...and probably anyone else in fantasy baseball, period...


*One guy that's actually gone yard for me twice in one game this year is Reds 1B, Joey Votto. He's not playing right now, though, because he's hurt. Yeah I know, injuries are a part of any sport right? Especially baseball. But get this. Votto has been out for more than a week with...ya ready...dizziness. That's right, dizziness. Odd, huh? Well not if you're my team, who's already lost 7 games this year to the flu, and has seen 2 guys with no history of arm trouble hit the DL with Tommy John surgery...


*You need look no further than last week to see how my team brings out the best in the oppositions players. Going into last week, Rockies starter Ubaldo Jimenez was 2-4 with a 5.45 ERA and a 30/20 strike out to walk ratio. Against me? Over 2 starts he went 1-0 with a 1.38 ERA and an 11/3 strike out to walk ratio. Oh, and it gets better. His teammate, 2B Ian Stewart, was forced into action for my opponent for 1 game when Dustin Pedroia went down. Pedroia was out for more than one game, but seeing as my buddy Keith had already waived Stewart earlier that day, this would be the only game Stewart could play for him. That one game, Stewart, who on the season was hitting a Ruthian .164, went 2-4 with 2 HR's and 5 RBI.


...Oh and when I said "look no further than last week", I meant that Mark Teixeira is playing against me this week, and if he could keep this pace up for an entire season, he would finish the year with 273 homeruns..


Granted my team wouldn't be in first place anyway, but in a game of inches, I'm beginning to feel like a white midget taking a shower at the Compton YMCA...

That's it for me kids. If I failed at convincing you that I somehow control the world's karma, or failed in my attempt to entertain you, I don't care. I do control the universe, and I am funny. Grammatically incorrect at times? Sure. Lacking proper syntax at others? Of course. But this is the Intraweb, after all. And until Al Gore says we aren't allowed to rush through our columns in the interest of actually accomplishing something in our daily lives, then I'm just gonna plod right along, adding soldiers to my army one John Sterling homerun call at a time...

So come back next week. I'll actually have time to get to my hatred for Greg Paulus, the struggles of Big Papi (roids?), news about Michael Vick possibly joining the Patriots, and a Cheeto that may or may not be the second coming of the Lord Jesus Christ...OK here's the Cheeto right now. They call him, "Cheesus"...



Apparently it's much harder being "Cheezy" than we thought, huh? Well thank you, Chester, for dying for our sins. Really appreciate it...

Peace in the Middle, kids, and remember. It's my world. And by my count, your rent is long overdue...

100...

Friday, May 08, 2009

Manny Suspension Just Baseball Being Baseball...


I'm truly sorry, kids. But if you're surprised by the latest news of Manny Ramirez getting a 50 game suspension for failing a drug test, then the real joke is on you...

Greg Maddux.

That's the name I throw out there on a regular basis. As in, "When Greg Maddux tests positive for roids, or it's revealed that he used them, then, and only then, will I be surprised."

Other than the Mad Dog, I pretty much expect every player, from the utility man to the biggest home run king, was experimenting with steroids during the pharmaceuticly enhanced era that was the mid 80's up until just a few years ago. Is it sad that I have to take such a stance? Of course it is, and it's why I can understand where guys like Bill Simmons are coming from. But for anyone to be "surprised" at this point, in my opinion, just speaks to their ignorance, and more importantly, their naivete...

Bill Simmons: Confronting My Worst Nightmare

Fact is. Out of the top 10 home run hitters over the past 25 years, only Ken Griffey Jr., Jim Thome and Frank Thomas have yet to be accused of taking the spike. That's Bonds, McGwire, Sosa, Palmeiro, Sheffield, A-Rod and Manny. All roid users. Then you have everyone outed in the Mitchell Report, and the 103 guys that allegedly tested positive in the same test that nabbed A-Rod. So by my count, we're talkin' about 120 guys that have been busted for using, and in most cases, we're only talking about stars. Throw in the hundreds of guys that have tested positive since the minor leagues started strict testing in 1997, and we're pushing the number awfully close to pandemic status. Screw the Swine Flu. From what the numbers tell us, you're more likely to run into a roided out MLB player than you are to get that shit! Then again, that logic would also tell you that the room you're currently in has at least 2 Chinese people, 1 Indian person, and 1/5 of a Jewish person in it. But let's not let facts get in the way...

Truth is, if you're shocked at this point, then you only have yourself to blame. Can you be disappointed? Of course you can. I know I am. For years I've marveled at Manny's ability to hit the ball, and while I'm quick not to attribute all that ability to steroids, I can't help but now look at his stats in a different light. And what's worse, is that Manny has always had the innate ability to make contact with the ball. So much like Bonds, it appears he just couldn't stand being forced to play as a lesser version of his old self. As a competitor I can understand that desire, but by no means does that make it OK. Not matter how you want to justify the reasons you used, I just don't wanna hear it. You knew it was wrong, and not only did you do it anyway, but you tried to cover it up. And just like I said in the case of Andy Pettitte, trying to tell me you got caught the first time you were doing something just isn't gonna fly. Even if that turns out to be true, it still means you thought about doing it about a million times before you actually pushed the plunger, and that premeditation speaks just as loudly as the actual use...

And let's just get this straight, too. No, Manny didn't test positive for steroids. He tested positive for HGC, a substance listed as banned by the MLB. From what I've been able to gather, HGC would only be used by a dude if he A) was coming off a steroid cycle and needed some extra testosterone or B) needed it to mask in a blood or urine test the fact that he was using anabolic steroids. That's it. From what I've read, it's NOT used to help you out in the bedroom. I liken that to the Roger Clemens statement in which he thought Brian McNamee was simply shooting him up with something that later turned out to be a local numbing agent. Right, cuz that makes sense. We're supposed to believe another athlete, that gets paid millions upon millions of dollars dependent on their body, is yet again shooting something into them with no idea of the effects it could have. Yeah, right. We didn't buy it with Bonds and Palmeiro when the talked about B-12 and flax-seed oil. We didn't believe Clemens when he talked about vitamins and Novocaine. And I for one and certainly not gonna believe that Manny randomly had a banned substance in his system because he had trouble getting little Manny to come out of the Green Monster...

Besides. Either you took it legitimately and didn't bother to see if it was on the banned substance list. Which makes you dumb, and deserving of a suspension. Or you took it illegitimately in order to improve your performance or to mask another drug. Which makes you guilty of cheating, and deserving a suspension. It's a classic "either way you're an idiot" situation. Either you're dumb for not knowing, or you're dumb for doing it to begin with...
And what innocent person would waive their right to an appeal and immediately accept their suspension? Well, maybe if anyone were to do it Manny is the guy. But taking a roid rap just to get 50 days off would b a little bizarre for even him. Maybe if he got to keep the $7.7 mil they're docking him I could believe that, but after fighting so hard for this contract I find that situation hard to believe. Fact is, he's not appealing because he's guilty, he's seen it the quickest road to redemption, and in particular, because Manny's not that great at dealing with the media. The second he goes up in front of the mic's in an A-Rod style press conference, he's screwed. So for his part, at least on a PR front, he appears to be taking the the right steps toward getting back on the field...

Now, like the rest of the players that have been accused of using performance enhancers, Manny needs to try and make good with the fans, make good with his teammates, and prepare to live the rest of his life mired in questions. His ticket to the Hall of Fame, once an afterthought, is now up in air. And while Manny will probably tell you that doesn't matter to him, I gotta think that a guy that's worked his whole career for recognition, and even cheated to keep his place in the game, will eventually come to see his omission as a slight to his character and an insult to the game...

But that's where we are in baseball. That's the world we've come to live in. For all you Red Sox fans out there that feel cheated and betrayed, don't. If Manny used roids in Boston, it doesn't tarnish the titles. Besides, to again reference Simmons, most of us would have gone right along with him had we known he was using at the time because we were so hungry for a title. So don't feel cheated by Manny and his steroid using ways. Feel cheated that you yourself were duped by your heart, and by Major League Baseball, into thinking that what you've been watching these past 15-20 years was a pure sport, with a fair playing field...


Once you've realized that, nothing will surprise you. Except of course, a positive test from the Mad Dog...

Hey, if just pitching gives you so much pleasure that you would often get a boner on the mound, then I'm gonna go head and assume you love the game too much to cheat it...


Consider Manny Ramirez just another domino in the scandal that, in hind sight, will have saved baseball by ripping a lot of it's recent history into shreds...

And don't be surprised at the big name that comes out next...


100...


"If knowledge is the key then just show me the lock" - Q-Tip

Tuesday, May 05, 2009

And It's Fred Durst By A Nose!



Suddenly, it's all become crystal clear...

What's become crystal clear, you ask? Well I think the results of these two ESPN.com poll's should speak to my epiphany...





Poll Question 1:

Was the Celtics/Bulls 1st round series the greatest NBA Playoff Series of all time?

Results

Yes - 43 %

No - 57%

Just because "NO" technically was the winner, doesn't mean this poll still doesn't display some of the grossest fan negligence since those Teds in Philly booed Santa Claus. And what's better, is that some of the media have actually reigned in their opinion of the series, taking time to at least clarify that they consider it "one" of the best "1st round" series in NBA history. Not Celtics play by play guy, Sean Grande. He's sticking to his guns. But at least some of the frauds out there have realized how idiotic they sounded calling a series missing it's best player, and lacking any legitimate defense one the "best series ever"...


And to those of you out there that wish to argue my no defense argument by pointing to all the "contested shots" and technical/flagrant fouls, you're just gonna have to do some research, and we're gonna have to go ahead and agree to disagree...

Good news though, as I spent most of game 7 with a bunch of Celtics fans...outside at a party. Again, don't come to me saying I don't know what I'm talking about, and calling yourself a true fan, when you're not watching Game 7 of what your pink-jerseyed brethren are calling one of the sports' greatest series...


I may be a hater, but at least I'm no fraud...

Moving on...

Poll Question #2:

Which series is more likely to go 7 games?

Results

Lakers/Rockets - 62%

Cavs/Heat - 38%

38%...


Just a mere 5% lower than the people that thought the Celts and Bulls played the greatest series ever...

Only problem? Well wouldn't you know it, the Cavs aren't even playing the Heat in the 2nd round! The Heat got bounced by the Hawks in 7 games! And to make matter's worse, I'm not even sure what's the most embarrassing part. The fact ESPN.com put that poll up like that, that they have someone working for them that would be so ignorant to do it. Or the fact that a bunch of Teds around the country either can't read, or took about as much time to read the poll question as they did when aiming their flesh spear while in the local public bathroom. I mean, I gotta figure the people voting for a team that's been eliminated are the same people that fire urine all over the place and for some reason leave a trail of half-wet paper towels in their wake, don't I? That just seems like a given to me...

But hey, what else should I really expect, right? The world of sports is flat out nutty, and there's no reason I should figure their followers would be any different. And that's where I'm comin' from this week, and after this past week's events, who could blame me. I mean just take a look at some of these stories from over the past several days, and tell me you don't see a direct correlation between the world of sports and entertainment, and a peyote induced all nighter in the Nevada desert. That is to say, there is no correlation, and to ever think we can predict what's gonna happen, is just about as ridiculous as the thought that a white man would ever be considered the best pound for pound boxer in the world. And I don't care that he's British. White is white, people...

So get your freak on with this bizarre list of recent events. And just remember "Whether you think you can effect the outcome of a sporting event, or you think you can't, you're right!. See you tomorrow!"...

How's this for triple reverse karma? In the "picks" contest on ESPN.com dubbed "The Streak", I've been pluggin' alone quite well of late, but haven't been able to put together a better streak than 8 since the start of April. Why? Well I can tell you one thing that hasn't been helpin'. The past 8, yes count 'em 8, times I've picked either the Boston Bruins or the Boston Bruins over the last month+, I've lost. That's two playoff teams, who just both won first round playoff series, but I've managed to only pick them when they lose...

Now I won't lie to ya, I've taken a certain joy with each L, even though it's always ended my streak. But what the fuck, man?! Do these teams really want me to just rip them apart on a weekly basis or what? Throw a dog a freakin' bone once in a while and maybe I wouldn't have to crack jokes about how nobody watches your sport or how the referees are completely incompetent. I mean, those things would still be accurate as all Hell, but maybe I'd ease of a bit and actually throw some support your way...

On second thought, no I wouldn't. And to be even more blunt, I'm going to take one for team "Hubert Pubis + The Dudes" (my streak entry name) and vote for the Celtics and Bruins every time they play with the hopes of somehow crushing the spirits of all the bandwagon jumpers that still can't remember off the top of their heads which channel VS is on their cable box...

Hey, I'm a hater, what can I say? Maybe if you people hadn't driven me to this I'd be a lot cheerier and actually able to enjoy some of this playoff action. But no. You had to be you. Which is why I have to be me. So suck it. I hope they lose. I hope I lose. I hope we all lose. Then at least, we can focus on more important things, like...








...Torry Holt's gross finger! This is just a quick aside, but tell me it's not freaky, not to mention physically insane, that this guy can not only live like that, but has used that mozzarella-less stick of a finger to become one the decade's most prolific wideouts. It's as glorious as it is gross, and I just wanted to pass that along before you wrote me off as a humorless hater filled with some sort of sketchy anti-Boston winter sports thing goin' on...

But moving on...

Nothing is as bizarre in my mind than the outcome of the 135th Kentucky Derby. First and foremost, no horse died on the track, which cost me $10. Secondly, the favorite, Freisan Fire, came in second...to last! And thirdly, the horse that one the damn thing, Mine That Bird, was essentially a 60-1 long shot that most handicappers immediately wrote off. I read one review of this horse that read as follows...

"The only way Mine That Bird will win the Kentucky Derby, is if that same disease that hit that Polo match hits the Derby field, and he only has to hurdle over 19 other horse corpses to capture the title"

OK so I completely made that up, but you get my point. With the winner being the 58 to 1 longshot, or whatever the final line was, how can you ever again in your right mind believe any odds ever posted before a race? You just can't. It's what makes it fun to bet on, but it's what also makes it really frustrating for a pink-horse like myself...

Ah well, I'll get 'em next year. And hey, it's not all bad. OF the $36 I put down on the Derby, I sold $18 of the action to Frosco before the race, and that night won $20 from a previous wager involving the Pacqio/Hatton fight. Some rules of thumb never change. When it comes to boxing, you never bet on the white guy. Up $2, son. So I guess it ain't all bad...



Oh and while I'm patting myself on the back for my tremendous financial gain, allow me to give myself props for correctly predicting, before the season began, that LeBron James would be the NBA's MVP of the '08-'09 campaign. Yes, thank you, thank you. I know, I know, I'm ill, but thank you...

Now if only he and his Cavs can really make me look good and win the whole thing in 6 games against the New Orleans Hornets. SportsNation thinks I can do it. I just saw a poll on ESPN.com, and it says that result is currently running at 18%. So I got that goin' for me, which is nice. They definitely know what they're talkin' about...

Oh and just for the record, leading the pack with 41% was Michael Phelps and Lance Armstrong over The Dan Cortese Rock 'N Jock All Stars in 5 games. But of course we all knew that would be the #1 choice. Those teams are just really good...



Speaking of sick individuals, you really should be taping and watching this week's Poker After Dark on NBC. It airs at like 2 AM, and what's normally a tournament is this week a cash game with some of the sickest individuals I've ever seen on the felt. Namely Tom Dwan, Antonio Esfandiari, Kenny Tran, and Phil Laak. Oh, and the one person you would all probably recognize, Phil Helmuth, owner of 11 World Series bracelets, is there as well. Episode 1 of the week already saw Dwan pull a massive bluff, and a triple reverse psychology hand between Laak and Dwan that will make even a non poker fan laugh fairly hard...

These guys are good, they're fun to watch, and there's a ton of money on the line. Minimum buy in was $100,000, and Dwan bought in for $250,000. Check it out if you haven't seen it already. Cash games aren't like tournaments, and just by watching a few minutes, you'll see the different set of skills it takes to be a winner in a game like that. Like when a guy has AQ on a queen high board with no real draws, and he's been the aggressor the whole time, but he gets bluffed by someone with 8 high? There's a lot of thinking and second guessing going on there. IT sounds like the guy was an idiot when you read about it, but you try having to call a $130,000 bet on the river with just a pair of queens. Then we'll really see who the idiot is...

And just for the record, it's gonna be you. Didn't mean to ruin the surprise, but I know how some of you can't stand to wait...

Oh and if you really wanna have some fun, look up or ask me about the game invented by Laak and Esfandiari called "Lodden Thinks". It's a prop betting game named after PokerStars pro, Johnny Lodden, and it's about as much fun as you can have in any sort of gambling friendly setting...

To round out this bizarre week I was gonna talk about how the Sox are 4-0 against the Yankees this year or that my fantasy team is only decent Tuesday through Saturday, but I figured this would serve as a more appropriate ending...



Fred Durst directed a movie. It's out in selected theaters, and apparently, it's really good. It's called The Education of Charlie Banks, and you can check out the trailer right here. Durst made the movie in '07, and it did well on the festival circuit. Should be heading to DVD sooner rather than later. Not sure why, but I'll be sure to check it out, and you'd be wise to do the same. At least from the looks of it...









Who knew, right? One minute you're on top of the white rap-rock movement, the next you're a sex tape away from a reality show called "For the Nookie of Fred" on VH1, and now you're what appears to e a legit film maker. Good work, Fred. And thank you for making it pseudo chic to like your music again in a "maybe it was more artsy than we gave it credit for at the time", way. Ya know, like that jam with Method Man where he just kept saying "shut the fuck up"? After seeing the movie I'm sure that line will take on much deeper meaning...

Fred Durst. The legitimate artist. If that doesn't sum up how unpredictable this shit can be, than I don't know what does...


I'm outta here, kids. If I don't work, I don't eat. And I love to eat...

100...

Friday, May 01, 2009

Meat Me At The Derby...



It's that time again, pimps 'n chimps...

Time to sound the trumpets, don your biggest, gayest, hat, and watch a bunch of silk clad midgets go a mile and a 1/4 on the world's fastest future sperm donors. Or in the case of the unlucky ones, future exotic jerky and bargain basement glue sticks...

That's right, kids. It's time for the 135th running of the Kentucky Derby, meaning it's time for my picks that are sure to leave you at least $20 lighter in your Eight Belles limited edition wallet...

But before I get to that, allow me one more time to explain to you something that apparently still continues to fall between the cracks...


There are two things that people seem to be doing a lot of lately that have really been getting under my skin. One of them has to do with sports and the other is just me, again, pointing out how annoying some of you can be...

1) When someone says "what?" when it's painfully obvious that they heard what you said...


Example:

Me: "How was work today?"

Friend: "What?"

Me: (silence)

Friend: "Oh, work was good."

Pisses me off, man. I know you heard me, you know you heard me, so why are you saying what?! Are you really that dumb that you need to gather your thoughts when answering such a simple question? Unlikely. I just fear that "what?" has become the new "like" or "umm". Just throw it out there whenever you don't know what to say, and buy yourself some time to come up with a legitimate response. Truly pathetic, if you ask me, but then again some of you aren't quite as endowed with the gift of gab as yours truly, so it's something I'm learning to deal with...all be it reluctantly...


This beef is more on topic...


2) When people assume that just because I am from Massachusetts, and I like sports, that I am for some reason a fan of the Boston Celtics and the Boston Bruins...Yeah, and next time I see you eating Chinese food, I'm just gonna go ahead and assume you're a Communist...


Despite going out of my way for the past decade plus to point out that I'm NOT a Bruins or Celtics fan, I continuously get texts and emails from friends all over the country taunting me in regards to the two teams respective playoff runs. So for one final time, boys and girls. I DON'T CARE! I don't like the Celtics, I don't like the NBA. I don't like the Bruins, I don't like the NHL. It's not like I have another team in these sports that I rout for, and it's not like I wish ill will on either of those teams. I just don't care. I follow just enough to make sure I can adequately participate in any conversation, but other than that, I could truly NOT care less. Last night when the C's were in that "epic" game with the Bulls? I was watching King of the Hill reruns. Am I disappointed that I missed what analysts are calling what of the greatest playoff games of all time? Not in the least. Matter of fact, I'm rather disgusted that the game and the series are being referred to as "all time" in the first place. What? Because a game goes into 3 overtimes that makes it a great game? Since when? How about the C's and the Bulls try playing some defense first, and then maybe these "we score then you score" displays wouldn't have to go into OT at all!


But hey, what should I expect. I've long ago realized that my definition of "fan", you know, the word that stems from "fanatic", is drastically different than most of the viewing public. I mean, if I'm a fan, I don't plan a golf outing during my team's playoff game and I certainly don't need to be told, by a non-fan, when my team plays next. Face it. Most of you aren't fans. You just get swept up in the winning, pretend to live and die with the team for a month or two, and then throw your jersey at that bottom of the hamper when they lose, with the hopes that next season they'll give you another reason to run that bad boy through the washer and again toss it on with pride. Not that there's anything wrong with that, I just ask that in the future you don't call yourself a "fan". It really ruins it for the rest of us that really are. What you really are is bandwagon jumpers, but I'm sure those of you out there that disagree could come up with a much more eloquent moniker for yourselves. I recommend maybe "recreational viewer", or perhaps "massive Ted". I think those are adequate substitutes...


And I'm not saying you can't enjoy the games just because you haven't watched all the games up to this point either. Of course you can. Just don't then rip on me for not liking a team or a sport just because that team happens to be from the state I live in, and they happen to be in the playoffs!..


So again. For the record. Celtics. Don't care. Bruins. Don't care. Celtics/Bulls series? I've seen better competition from Joey Chestnut and Kobayashi on the 4th of July. Any sport where the refs change the rules in the playoffs? I'm just not down. Call me old fashioned, but to me it just doesn't make any sense. Rule of thumb. When the start of the playoffs signal the change of the rules, and changes who shows up in the stands, then something just ain't right. Call me pessimistic if you wish. But I just prefer to call myself a fan...

Now on to the Derb-Show...



In year's past I've given you my picks, and in years past I've been essentially 100% wrong. Will my luck change this year? Probably not. But you know and I know that there's no way that's gonna stop me from tossing out some predictions. So here goes. Three bets, sure to lose you money, but just as sure to keep you interested as those tiny men crack the whips and lead those million dollar ponies down the back stretch...


Bet 1: The Superfecta

Goal: To pick, in correct order, the 1st 4 horses to cross the finish line. The payout on these suckers is usually huge, meaning you can lay a little bit of money (say $2-$5) and expect a nice chunk of change in return. Then again, there's a reason the odds are so stacked against you...


My Derby Superfectas

(6) Friesan Fire - (16) Pioneerof The Nile - (14) Atomic Rain - (13) I Want Revenge

(13) I Want Revenge - (16) Pioneerof The Nile - (1) West Side Bernie - (15) Dunkirk

(15) Dunkirk - (3) Mr. Hot Stuff - (6) Friesan Fire - (9) Join In The Dance


Bet 2: The Trifecta

Goal: Same as the Super, except you bet on the 1st 3 horses, not the 1st 4. Odds are slightly better, but the payoff will still be pretty good if you hit...


My Derby Trifectas

(6) Friesan Fire - (13) I Want Revenge - (11) Chocolate Candy

(13) I Want Revenge - (6) Friesan Fire - (1) West Side Bernie

(16) Pioneerof The Nile - (13) I Want Revenge - (7) Papa Clem

(13) I Want Revenge - (14) Atomic Rain - (6) Friesan Fire


I have 10 of the 20 horses in the field represented in those 7 bets, and if it's anything like last year, none of those horses will probably finish in the money. Can't say I'll be surprised either way, but the fact is I know about as much about horse racing, as the average person with a Garnett jersey knows about the Boston Celtics. Just like I look at all these bandwagon pink hats and laugh, I'm sure any handicapper worth his salts would do the same when looking at my Derby picks. But alas, I'm just a sucker, lookin' for an exciting race and a quick buck...


And if you're looking to just pick a winner, I wouldn't even bother unless you're putting you're money on a horse who's odds are at the very least 20-1. Right now the top 4 favorites (I Want Revenge 3-1, Pioneerof The Nile 4-1, Dunkirk 4-1 and Friesan Fire 6-1) all have too steep of odds for small time bettors like us to make any money betting them straight up. In my opinion, you're better off swinging for the fences in this thing and striking out, than taking a favorite and ending up standing on first base with a $5 bill in your pocket. $5 is good, don't get me wrong, but in a thing like this, I'd rather lose $30 with the chance to win hundreds, than win $5 because I took something really safe. Maybe if I knew more and had more money I would feel comfortable slapping some serious cake on one of the favorites, but like I said, that's just not the case...


Should be a great, show though. And I hope all of you that don't bet still sit down and watch as one horse will run himself into history, 18 will come up just short, and 1 horse will more than likely end up being hourdervs at the Yum Brands after party...



My 2009 Kentucky Derby Champion: (6) Friesan Fire

His trainers also drained the now dead, Eight Belles, and this horse will truly be the one with revenge on it's mind...You want revenge?!?! You can't handle revenge!!!!

OK, that was gay. And I apologize...




Oh and just one more thing real quick. So I'm in Cumberland Farms the other night, waiting in line to buy a Gatorade behind some meat head that I just saw get out of a car filled with like 6 people. He goes to buy a blunt, when the cashier, in broken English, asks him to see some ID. The kid doesn't understand him at first, but eventually complies. The transaction goes through, and the kid steps to the side with his items and allows me access to the counter to put down my Gatorade...

Then, in true meat head fashion, the kid taps the blunt tube on the counter and makes a comment about how he's about the go "crack this sucker". My logic is that he assumed the cashier wouldn't understand him, and that I, as a chill looking 20-something, would be impressed with the fact that he was about to go smoke some weed. The meat head exits, and I'm left shaking my head and smirking in the general direction of the cashier, more or less just laughing on the inside that this kid somehow thought he was either A) impressing anyone or B) was some sort of rebel for telling this foreign cashier, who doesn't understand him, what he was about to go and do...

So as I'm shaking my head, the cashier looks up at me from his drawer, and in perfect English says to me "What a tool, huh?"...

Hahaha. Amen to that brotha. Not only did the kid speak English and was from Massachusetts, but he explained to me that there were certain customers that came in where he would pretend not to be from this country simply to avoid any sort of interaction with them...

Well played, sir. Well played...

Perhaps it's a tactic I'll use the next time one of you pink hat Celtics fans tries to chat me up...."La Verdad? Yo no se, 'La Verdad', pero me gusta futbol mucho!"...ha!...suckers...


Good luck in the Derby, kids, and don't forget. Sometimes you're the Roses, and sometimes you're the glue. Here's to hoping that this weekend, you all come up roses...


Catch you on the Flipper Anderson...

100...