N Is For Nutrition

You know who has a really cushy job?  Sandra Lee.

Never heard of her?  That's because you probably don't watch the Food Network as religiously as I do.  Or you might be one of those normal people that requires them to work on a Thursday afternoon.  Either way, I'll explain why she's got it made:

She hosts a show (obviously on the Food Network) called Semi-Homemade Cooking where she cooks in front of a camera a bunch of pre-packaged crap that the rest of us buy every night for dinner only she's getting paid to teach our stupid degenerate asses how to work a blender.  As if it wasn't bad enough she ends every show by making a cocktail that she then proceeds to chug down and laugh her drunken self all the way to the bank.  I'm pretty sure the show is meant to be catered to housewives but it ends up just being an open mockery of American life and I find it to be pretty hilarious, so I tune in every Thursday.

Needless to say, it's questionable at best, like a lot of what the Food Network has been doing lately.  Paula Deen for years has been advocating eating full sticks of butter in a nation with a youth obesity problem but we let that slide.  But an older southern woman admits to using the N-word in her past and we yank her off the air and shun her like she's picking up where Hitler left off?  I don't get it, James Woods.

Why the big crack down all of a sudden?  Why all of a sudden is the Food Network pretending to care about social issues like racism?  I can picture the big Food Network executives sitting in some high-rise office building with big ol' smug grins on their faces just saying, "You're welcome, black people!"

Look, I'm not defending Paula Deen, in fact I'm kinda glad she's off the air because like I said, she was trying to kill our children.  I'm just a little suspicious about what's really going on around here.  I understand the history behind words, trust me, I do.  But are we really living in a world where we care what Paula Deen subscribes to?  Are we really going to Paula Deen for more information than how to deep fry bacon in fat back?  As far as ambassadors for goodwill go, Paula Deen isn't and has never been on my list, why is she on yours?  I don't get it, James Woods!

Enough about that crap though.  Let's talk about some other crap.  How about some baseball crap?

ESPN brought to my attention last night something that at first hand seemed like a record but upon closer inspection is really no big freakin' deal at all.  Apparently David Ortiz of the Boston Red Sox has now achieved the most career hits by a designated hitter.

Well, wa-freakin'-hoo for you, Ortiz!  You've done exactly what we've DESIGNATED you to do and that's hit the damn ball.  First of all, he plays a position that the American League just went and made up in the '70s because, well, probably just to see if they could!  Second of all, all he does is bat!  Do you  know how many DH's have been league MVPs or Hall of Famers?  I'll give you a hint...zero!  Nobody likes a guy who plays half of the game.  Get yourself a glove and get your ass out there!

What's the deal?  Are you too out of shape to go shank ground balls?  Bullshit, Prince Fielder drags his rotund ass out to first base for every Tiger's game because his momma raised him on the Paula Deen diet and now he's a superstar so don't tell me you can't do it!

If a person is given one specific task for the entirety of their job description and they can't do it then they are a FAILURE.  But when they do achieve that one specific task there is no cause for celebration because all they have done is their job, which is something millions of Americans do every day!  David Ortiz might be a feared hitter but he won't buck the trend of DH's not making the Hall of Fame.

There's just something about him that's so...shifty.  He sucked for Minnesota, went to Boston in a bargain deal, and then all of a sudden became lights out.  Then people started dropping like flies in the steroids scandal and he sucked again.  And now a resurgence?  I just don't get it, James Woods.

Well, kids, I've referenced Paula Deen, David Ortiz, and somehow James Woods.  I need to go lie down.

Warning: Contains Expletives

Well kids, the dreaded month of June is almost over and I simply cannot wait.

As a wee lad roaming the luscious green fields and prairies of America's heartland and blah blah blah...I hate the summer time.  Get ready for two months of strictly baseball highlights and hot dog eating contests.  While I do like baseball, I really only like MY team and could give two craps about the awesome play some other team made, Sportscenter.  Oh, Manny Machado made a cool grab on a blooper?  I'm just upset that his wrist didn't snap.  Hey, Ichiro Suzuki hit a walk-off home run?  Even Yankee fans find that appalling.

The College World Series might as well be daytime television.  It's confusing, boring, and the named characters always prevail.  I'm pretty sure UCLA won and I say pretty sure because the format on how they determine a winner is pretty much how the BCS rankings work: it's purely random.  Kudos to UCLA but I'm sure the congratulatory card from John Wooden would have read, "Congrats on your first title, UCLA baseball, I think it's really cute."

Hockey is over and I say this with full respect but THANK GOODNESS.  I'm sorry, I'm not a hockey fan, but I love hockey fans.  I understand your admiration and genuine love so I get pissed off when Gary Bettman decides to dick around with that.  I don't hate hockey, I hate Bettman, and I hate the system that he's currently utilizing.  When a great event like the Stanley Cup finals rolls around, and Bettman is presiding, and fans are going nuts, and television ratings are high, I can't help but think, "You FOOLS!  This is what he wanted all along!"

However, if you find yourself locked in a room with David Stern, Gary Bettman, and Satan with a loaded pistol with two bullets (I will probably find myself in this scenario), what you do is shoot Bettman twice and try to convince Satan that Stern is after his job.  That's right, the NBA is done now too.  Kudos to San Antonio for collectively shitting the bed and letting, er, um, excuse me, "letting" LeBron hold claim to his second title.  But most importantly is that Stern now goes into his "nesting" period to prepare for next year's harvest.  I'm still not convinced that he's retiring.  Taking David Stern away from the NBA commissioner job is like taking Paula Deen away from a man that shits butter...they aren't going anywhere until your ass is chewed off.  I won't even be satisfied when he does step down because he's probably just manipulating someone more powerful than him to upset the balance in the force.  And if you didn't get that blatant Star Wars reference here's the gist: I think that David Stern is the Sith Lord.

Now back to the MLB.  It's June.  The Tampa Bay Rays play in the AL East (the best division in baseball) and I'm supposed to care over the peanut squabbling?  Come talk to me in the fall when shit gets real and I start drinking because the Dolphins are doing so terribly and the Rays are on the cusp but juuuuuuusssst can't seem to reach it.

So what do we do until the NFL comes back?  Hell if I know.  All I know is that the Studly Pastures anniversary is coming up in a couple weeks and I feel like the fat girl on the couch, wearing sweat pants, and crying into a gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream (I chose that flavor because if you don't like it, you're a weirdo).

Maybe we should get a hobby.  I mean, working here on the unicorn stud farms tends to take up most of my day, but there's always the quiet aftermath.  What then?  I heard dream catchers are a fun project.  But that's kind of lame and then after you make them, what are you going to do?  Hang them on your wall?  Get a booth at the flea market?  You can't do that and expect people to still talk to you.

Alright kids, just grab a cold one, hunker down and watch some Netflix (they aren't paying me, I swear) and I will be back in July to celebrate myself.  Take care.