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Sunday, August 22, 2010

Rocket Man

Roger Clemens, former MLB pitcher, was indicted on federal charges for lying to a grand jury about his steroid use throughout his career.

Clemens has vehemently denied ever using steroids despite testimony from the guy that gave him steroids, and Andy Pettitte, another MLB pitcher that took steroids and admitted to it and is Roger Clemens best friend.

The Rocket made a fatal flaw in his web of lies. He was able to convince himself that he never took steroids. So, when his web began to fall apart around him, he should have taken the same route as Pettitte, or Alex Rodriguez, or Brian Cushing, or Manny Ramirez, and that is to LIE about why you took steroids in the first place.

Say it was because some lousy trainer told you it was herbal supplements, or you were taking fertility drugs to have sympathy symptoms with your wife, or you accidentally fell on the needle.

This is the proper progression of lying. When caught in your first lie, you make up a new one that is even more preposterous than that!

Instead, Rocket is in deeper shit than he was before, because now he faces possible jail time for LYING to a federal court. They don't take too kindly to that.

Look, we all know why he was lying. He was trying to save himself that Hall of Fame spot.

Yet again, he was so deep in his own muck that he didn't recognize what was happening to Mark McGwire. Big Mac didn't even LIE! He didn't say anything! Still, no Hall of Fame for the guy that "brought back baseball". (Speaking of which, have you seen Sammy Sosa lately? Jesus Christ!)

What's next for Roger? Well, he's gotta go to prison. He has to, because I'm sick of this.

He needs to go to prison for his reality check. He's just like the rest of us. We do something wrong, we lie about it, we get caught, and then we suffer the CONSEQUENCES.

Clemens is a man who needs to suffer some consequences.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

The Luckiest Man In The World

I've got news from across the pond today! Hah! Most international blog ever? I think so.

Fabio Capello, current England soccer coach, has said that David Beckham, title guy from 2002's Keira Knightly film, "Bend it like Beckham," is too old for the English team and will not be picked again.

Cue sound of a million crumbling macaroons.

Naturally, the English media has lost their minds and demand satisfaction for such remarks. The Daily Mirror and the Telegraph (harsh media names, bro) have even gone so far as to call the debacle "Dumb and Dumber" and "Another Fine Mess".

Scathing.

Well let's hope that some of the British population subscribes to the Studly Pastures because I'm about to rock your boats.

David Beckham is 35-years old and is coming off Achilles surgery. Remember how every time a goal was scored against England in South Africa's World Cup the camera would pan to Becks writhing in agony in a tailored suit? That's why. He tore his Achilles. Becks doesn't play soccer in a tailored suit, contrary to popular belief.

(I'm not going to refer to him as "Becks" anymore though. I have to pay royalties every time I do that and he's just not worth the money anymore.)

So, being 35-years old and coming off major surgery might as well make you 65-years old in the world of soccer.

I thought England was supposed to know soccer?

Look, Beckham has a very storied international career with England. He's played 115 times for England, that's second in their history. He married my childhood idol, Posh Spice. His hair is crafted by Zeus, the Greek God of lightning.

And it goes without saying, he has tremendous "Sexy Room" ability.

What's that? You need clarification on the "Sexy Room" theory? Sure thing.

I've mentioned this before with Tiger Woods. (By the way, of course I noticed he shaved his goatee after my last post. And YOU thought I was just always talking out my ass!)

Back to the "Sexy Room" thing. I walk into a room full of people, nobody cares. Tiger Woods, David Beckham, and uh, for these purposes, let's say George Clooney. They walk into a room, at least HALF of the room says, "Oh I'm having sex with one of these guys tonight based simply on their looks." Some of those people are men, too.

It's science. That's why I'm a writer. Eventually some girl out there is going to read this and think, "Oh I'm going to force this guy to do shit he doesn't want to do because I'm way better looking than him." Science.

So David Beckham isn't going to play soccer for England anymore. Hopefully he won't play for the MLS anymore either because that shit's embarrassing.

So, England, throw him a parade when he 'officially retires,' build him a statue, and name some small village 'Beckingham.'

Oh, what's that? You already have that? Well, I'm tapped.

Beckingham Palace

Close enough.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Tiger, Tiger Woods, Y'all.

The persecution of Tiger Woods, as set by the court of the all-powerful MEDIA.

I wish I had the power to bring someone, not from this world, here one day and then let them do what we consider pretty much the normal everyday activities.

Wake up. Get the paper. Make breakfast. Go to work. Come home. Watch the news. Make dinner. Go to sleep.

Then I would like to ask them what they thought of Tiger Woods.

I'm pretty sure it would go something like this. "Oh, he's the guy that started the holocaust and killed all those nice Dutch people at Pearl Harbor."

After all, they've only been here for one day. They can't get ALL the details right.

Somehow the media, the entire collective media, got confused and thought that Tiger's putter is somehow an extension of his penis.

Now, I'm not a champion golfer. I know some things. I know that in order to ensure a great swing, you first have to say, "dollar bills." Bingo. Great golf swing.

I also know that at any given time I decided to swing the wrenches, it had nothing to do with my penis. It's a sport. The only sport that involves the penis is "sword-fighting." No, not that kind of sword-fighting. You're thinking of fencing.

So Tiger goes out this weekend and, wouldn't you know it, has the worst professional tournament of his career.

Duh. Of course he does. Didn't you see him on Thursday? He had a goatee, it was Evil Tiger. Evil Tiger doesn't play golf, he plays WOMEN.

Somehow the media, has forgotten this. They like to think that Evil Tiger plays golf. They like to make us think that Evil Tiger plays golf.

He doesn't.

Regular Tiger does and he's the best at it. As soon as Regular Tiger kills Evil Tiger, or at least shaves off that awful goatee, he'll be back to being the best at golf.

It's like the real-life version of those Priceline commercials with William Shatner. In fact, it's exactly like that. Only he's trying to make you spend more money on hotels.

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