Hey kids, guess what?! It's the three year anniversary of the Studly Pastures!!!
I know exactly what you're thinking too. You're thinking, wow, for something that's been around for three years it's pretty antiquated and not very popular.
And you would be right.
I tried to sell out, I really did. I put advertisements on here that have earned me almost fifty cents.
My most-read post was about Charlie Sheen during the height of his craziness. In fact, being a blogger for three years has pretty much taught me the ropes. Any time I mention someone like Sheen, or LeBron James, or Justin Bieber, or Katie Holmes, or Fidel Castro, or the Beatles, or Scooby Doo, or Santa Claus, or Steve Buschemi, or McDonalds, Google will pretty much put me at the top of the list for anybody that's searching for anything remotely close to any of those people.
It's pretty interesting to know that I can write entire posts without any sort of substance in it and all I have to do is name drop a few times and then BAM I'm front page.
That's the glory of today's communication process. People haven't gotten smarter or more profound--or hell, even literate--they're just easier to hear.
I have a very simple answer for why I operate the SP. I'm narcissistic and love to go back and read about what I thought about certain events in life. True story. I really could give two craps about what you think. I don't even know you. To me, you're just some faceless statistic that I check every now and again to see exactly how many faceless entities are actually reading my soap box declarations.
If I want to write about how Steve Nash going to the Lakers is what makes me hate the NBA and why just about every other major sport is run better than this one and I blather on and on just like I would sitting in a room by myself, I find it really bizarre that someone from Moldova would read that and be like, "Yeah, you tell them!" (Or however that would translate in Moldovian. I'm not even really sure if they speak Moldovian, I'm not doing any research.) (Sorry, Moldova.)
I'm huge in Eastern Europe by the way. I'm their David Hasselhoff.
I guess what I'm getting at is that the system is wonderfully flawed. There is absolutely no reason why a blog based on a fictional stud farm for unicorns, run by someone who boldly refers to himself as The Creator, should have ever pandered on for three years...let alone be actually read by people.
It's ludicrous. Shame on you.
But I love you and I try my best for you, faceless entities. I wish I could tell you I put my blood, sweat, and tears into this thing but I have air conditioning and a fear of blood. Plus, men don't cry.
Thanks for three great years and here's to at least fifty million more!
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Sunday, June 24, 2012
The Road To Glory
Former Penn State defensive coordinator and child molester, Jerry Sandusky, has been found guilty on 45 of 48 charges ranging everywhere from corrupting minors to being an all-around scum bag.
The guilty charges carry such a weight that Sandusky will be spending the rest of his natural life in prison. However, the best course of action for him at this point would probably be to grab the sharpest thing he can get his grubby little mitts on and drag it across his jugular. Something tells me that prison isn't going to be all puppy dogs and rainbows for him.
As the verdict rang out, I had one thought in my ever expansive mind: phase one complete. Paterno is dead, Sandusky will be soon, and now you go after the institution. Brick for brick this place was evil and brick for brick it will be taken down. There is too much in the shadows of every corner for the whole 'we didn't know' schtick to work anymore.
People knew and they covered it up. This whole thing has been shady since 1998 when they tried to get Sandusky for the first time. The Pennsylvanian District Attorney who was originally piecing a case against Sandusky disappeared for Christ sakes! He just up and went missing and they found his laptop in a river. That doesn't scream cover up, does it?
I had to stop myself but when Penn State released their statement on the verdict and how they were committed to finding out the truth about the former staff, I started laughing. They sounded like big tobacco trying to get me to smoke because there wasn't any parallel between cancer and smoking cigarettes.
George Costanza once said that if you truly believe something then it isn't a lie. These people had their heads up their asses for so long that they don't know any better. They have become so naive that they think they can say whatever they want and we'll just blindly nod our heads in approval.
I think the best way to handle this situation from this point on is exactly what you would do if you had a house with a history of murder in it. You would bulldoze it. That's exactly what should happen to Penn State. Erase it off the map. It has a taint to it that no statement or amount of bleach would be able to fix.
Raze it to the ground. Hey, build it again for all I care, just don't build your foundation on ruining young boy's lives and then covering it up. It tends to scare away the recruits for your football team.
There's going to be a lot more to this firestorm in the coming days and months. Sandusky's lawyers are going to do their best to make sure their client doesn't get skull crushed in the first thirty seconds that he's been administered to the state. And the good state of Pennsylvania is going to do their very best to find and prosecute everybody who had a dirty hand in this mess.
The thing that cannot be lost though is that some things can never be fixed. No matter what happens from this point on is just retribution and not redemption. There are lives, for better or for worse, that will never be the same or ever have the potential that most of us get. And that fucking sucks.
The guilty charges carry such a weight that Sandusky will be spending the rest of his natural life in prison. However, the best course of action for him at this point would probably be to grab the sharpest thing he can get his grubby little mitts on and drag it across his jugular. Something tells me that prison isn't going to be all puppy dogs and rainbows for him.
As the verdict rang out, I had one thought in my ever expansive mind: phase one complete. Paterno is dead, Sandusky will be soon, and now you go after the institution. Brick for brick this place was evil and brick for brick it will be taken down. There is too much in the shadows of every corner for the whole 'we didn't know' schtick to work anymore.
People knew and they covered it up. This whole thing has been shady since 1998 when they tried to get Sandusky for the first time. The Pennsylvanian District Attorney who was originally piecing a case against Sandusky disappeared for Christ sakes! He just up and went missing and they found his laptop in a river. That doesn't scream cover up, does it?
I had to stop myself but when Penn State released their statement on the verdict and how they were committed to finding out the truth about the former staff, I started laughing. They sounded like big tobacco trying to get me to smoke because there wasn't any parallel between cancer and smoking cigarettes.
George Costanza once said that if you truly believe something then it isn't a lie. These people had their heads up their asses for so long that they don't know any better. They have become so naive that they think they can say whatever they want and we'll just blindly nod our heads in approval.
I think the best way to handle this situation from this point on is exactly what you would do if you had a house with a history of murder in it. You would bulldoze it. That's exactly what should happen to Penn State. Erase it off the map. It has a taint to it that no statement or amount of bleach would be able to fix.
Raze it to the ground. Hey, build it again for all I care, just don't build your foundation on ruining young boy's lives and then covering it up. It tends to scare away the recruits for your football team.
There's going to be a lot more to this firestorm in the coming days and months. Sandusky's lawyers are going to do their best to make sure their client doesn't get skull crushed in the first thirty seconds that he's been administered to the state. And the good state of Pennsylvania is going to do their very best to find and prosecute everybody who had a dirty hand in this mess.
The thing that cannot be lost though is that some things can never be fixed. No matter what happens from this point on is just retribution and not redemption. There are lives, for better or for worse, that will never be the same or ever have the potential that most of us get. And that fucking sucks.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
The Magic Man
Rumors are swirling out of Orlando that former Magic player and movie genie, Shaquille O'Neal, wants to be the new general manager of the Orlando Magic.
Before we get too far ahead of ourselves here, let's keep in mind a couple of things: one, the report was made by Chris Broussard who I wouldn't trust to sell me a sack of oranges. Secondly, Shaq has zero official front office experience and this is a really crucial time for the Magic to not make any mistakes when assembling their front office team.
But the beautiful thing is that the Studly Pastures doesn't need to be the pinnacle of journalism integrity and I get to do fun things like assume that Shaq not only interviews for the GM job but is also hired for the position.
First off, Dwight Howard would be a veritable moron if he didn't think Shaq would be perfect for bringing talent of a superstar nature to Orlando. This is the same guy that once convinced Gary Payton and Karl Malone to come and play for the Lakers for twenty bucks and a ham sandwich.
And if Dwight does decide that, yes, he is indeed a moron, then Shaq would execute a trade that wouldn't put the Magic in purgatory for the next five years.
But the thing that might be even more important than either one of those things is that Shaq brings about a grandiose about him that would keep the Magic in relevancy as long as he was here. They would always be in the news.
Shaq has always been the class clown of the NBA and his presence outside of basketball has been equally strong to his on court persona. He made movies, most of them shitty, he made rap albums, most of those shitty too, but his video game was semi-okay. His permeation into mainstream culture would keep people curious about the Orlando Magic.
However, there are also a few eyebrow raisers that would point to Shaq's career and wonder if he would treat his front office job the same way. You see, Shaq went about his NBA life as the most dominant force of his time and never really seemed to care that he was. There was never any Jordan Killer in him, or hell, any Kobe Killer for that matter.
There is no indication that he would be different as a GM than he was as a player. Shaq's concerns were always with turning Shaq the person into Shaq the brand. And it worked for him but would it work as the man in charge of a franchise?
What the Magic need to decide is if they have the chops to handle the circus. If they do, then Shaq is their man. If they don't, then they throw a bunch of cash at Doc Rivers and pray.
The future of basketball in Orlando is currently hanging in the balance.
I just can't believe I wrote this entire thing without referencing Kazaam even once!
Before we get too far ahead of ourselves here, let's keep in mind a couple of things: one, the report was made by Chris Broussard who I wouldn't trust to sell me a sack of oranges. Secondly, Shaq has zero official front office experience and this is a really crucial time for the Magic to not make any mistakes when assembling their front office team.
But the beautiful thing is that the Studly Pastures doesn't need to be the pinnacle of journalism integrity and I get to do fun things like assume that Shaq not only interviews for the GM job but is also hired for the position.
First off, Dwight Howard would be a veritable moron if he didn't think Shaq would be perfect for bringing talent of a superstar nature to Orlando. This is the same guy that once convinced Gary Payton and Karl Malone to come and play for the Lakers for twenty bucks and a ham sandwich.
And if Dwight does decide that, yes, he is indeed a moron, then Shaq would execute a trade that wouldn't put the Magic in purgatory for the next five years.
But the thing that might be even more important than either one of those things is that Shaq brings about a grandiose about him that would keep the Magic in relevancy as long as he was here. They would always be in the news.
Shaq has always been the class clown of the NBA and his presence outside of basketball has been equally strong to his on court persona. He made movies, most of them shitty, he made rap albums, most of those shitty too, but his video game was semi-okay. His permeation into mainstream culture would keep people curious about the Orlando Magic.
However, there are also a few eyebrow raisers that would point to Shaq's career and wonder if he would treat his front office job the same way. You see, Shaq went about his NBA life as the most dominant force of his time and never really seemed to care that he was. There was never any Jordan Killer in him, or hell, any Kobe Killer for that matter.
There is no indication that he would be different as a GM than he was as a player. Shaq's concerns were always with turning Shaq the person into Shaq the brand. And it worked for him but would it work as the man in charge of a franchise?
What the Magic need to decide is if they have the chops to handle the circus. If they do, then Shaq is their man. If they don't, then they throw a bunch of cash at Doc Rivers and pray.
The future of basketball in Orlando is currently hanging in the balance.
I just can't believe I wrote this entire thing without referencing Kazaam even once!
Monday, May 7, 2012
Cole Hamels, Douchebag M.D.
The Washington Nationals played the Philadelphia Phillies last night in a baseball game.
I shouldn't give enough care about this to even know that they played each other, let alone write about it on the Studly Pastures, but something interesting happened in the game.
Go figure.
The Nationals have what most baseball critics consider the best prospect in baseball in Bryce Harper. Yep, his name is Bryce Harper. I know he sounds like some guy with bleach blonde hair working at Pacific Sun trying to sell you flower patterned board shorts but he's actually pretty legit.
Well, at least he will be, for right now he's only 19.
When I was 19, my major achievement was failing a statistics class. I showed up to class and the professor said, "today we are going to learn about discrete random variables." I threw my hands up in the air and said, "that's it, I'm done!" and promptly walked out of the class.
So Bryce is getting some playing time in the majors this season due to injury to regular left-fielder Ryan Zimmerman and last night he faced against Phillies pitcher Cole Hamels.
I think I need to warn you before you read the rest of this post. I am completely biased from this point on. I hate Cole Hamels. I think he's a douchebag. He had one good season, back in 2008, and played good enough to make sure that my Tampa Bay Rays didn't win the World Series. Screw Hamels. I hope he gets penis rot and trampled by a stampede of wild boars.
Anyways, Harper stands in the batter's box in the first inning of a baseball game in May and Hamels pops him square in the back with the ball.
What? It's May. It's the first inning. It's the Nationals, they were a Canadian baseball team ten years ago for crying out loud.
Side note: By the way, how torturous was it being an Expos fan? They were never good, not even close to being good, got threatened with bankruptcy, got threatened with being moved to Puerto Rico, and then eventually they just imploded the whole thing and started a new team in Washington D.C. Yikes.
After the game, Hamels tells the press that, yep, he hit Harper on purpose.
What? You admit it? How big of a dumb ass are you exactly? Have you never heard of deny till you die?
What a colossal douchebag Cole Hamels is. Now you're going to be suspended and nobody is exactly sure why. You intentionally hit a 19-year old square in the back with a baseball in the first inning of a meaningless game...for intimidation purposes?
I'm not defending Bryce Harper because, well, if I was a pitcher I would be intentionally hitting batters left and right, so I get it. For example, Alex Rodriguez would never see a pitch from me. I would hit him with the ball every time he stood against me until they threw me out of the game.
But I would never admit to intentionally doing it. That's only something morons do.
The only thing that I can think of is that Cole Hamels woke up yesterday and realized that he was only relevant for a brief period of time four years ago and decided he would do something bold to try and bring himself back to relevancy.
Well Cole, you've made it. You're on the Studly Pastures, congratulations.
Then Harper stole home on you. Congratulations. Only a douchebag intentionally hits somebody and then lets them steal home on them. I really wish that after Harper slid into home and was ruled safe that he jumped up, looked at Hamels, and yelled, "Suck it!" and did the hand gesture where you chop yourself in the crotch.
I really don't know how to describe it better than that. I hope you all know what I'm talking about and don't consider me some sort of weirdo for that whole crotch chopping thing.
Suck it, Hamels.
I shouldn't give enough care about this to even know that they played each other, let alone write about it on the Studly Pastures, but something interesting happened in the game.
Go figure.
The Nationals have what most baseball critics consider the best prospect in baseball in Bryce Harper. Yep, his name is Bryce Harper. I know he sounds like some guy with bleach blonde hair working at Pacific Sun trying to sell you flower patterned board shorts but he's actually pretty legit.
Well, at least he will be, for right now he's only 19.
When I was 19, my major achievement was failing a statistics class. I showed up to class and the professor said, "today we are going to learn about discrete random variables." I threw my hands up in the air and said, "that's it, I'm done!" and promptly walked out of the class.
So Bryce is getting some playing time in the majors this season due to injury to regular left-fielder Ryan Zimmerman and last night he faced against Phillies pitcher Cole Hamels.
I think I need to warn you before you read the rest of this post. I am completely biased from this point on. I hate Cole Hamels. I think he's a douchebag. He had one good season, back in 2008, and played good enough to make sure that my Tampa Bay Rays didn't win the World Series. Screw Hamels. I hope he gets penis rot and trampled by a stampede of wild boars.
Anyways, Harper stands in the batter's box in the first inning of a baseball game in May and Hamels pops him square in the back with the ball.
What? It's May. It's the first inning. It's the Nationals, they were a Canadian baseball team ten years ago for crying out loud.
Side note: By the way, how torturous was it being an Expos fan? They were never good, not even close to being good, got threatened with bankruptcy, got threatened with being moved to Puerto Rico, and then eventually they just imploded the whole thing and started a new team in Washington D.C. Yikes.
After the game, Hamels tells the press that, yep, he hit Harper on purpose.
What? You admit it? How big of a dumb ass are you exactly? Have you never heard of deny till you die?
What a colossal douchebag Cole Hamels is. Now you're going to be suspended and nobody is exactly sure why. You intentionally hit a 19-year old square in the back with a baseball in the first inning of a meaningless game...for intimidation purposes?
I'm not defending Bryce Harper because, well, if I was a pitcher I would be intentionally hitting batters left and right, so I get it. For example, Alex Rodriguez would never see a pitch from me. I would hit him with the ball every time he stood against me until they threw me out of the game.
But I would never admit to intentionally doing it. That's only something morons do.
The only thing that I can think of is that Cole Hamels woke up yesterday and realized that he was only relevant for a brief period of time four years ago and decided he would do something bold to try and bring himself back to relevancy.
Well Cole, you've made it. You're on the Studly Pastures, congratulations.
Then Harper stole home on you. Congratulations. Only a douchebag intentionally hits somebody and then lets them steal home on them. I really wish that after Harper slid into home and was ruled safe that he jumped up, looked at Hamels, and yelled, "Suck it!" and did the hand gesture where you chop yourself in the crotch.
I really don't know how to describe it better than that. I hope you all know what I'm talking about and don't consider me some sort of weirdo for that whole crotch chopping thing.
Suck it, Hamels.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Draft Dodger
Alright kids, the NFL Draft is pretty much over now that we're midway through the fourth round and I have the analysis that you've all been waiting for.
Most professionals would probably take the time to break down each pick by each team, you know, to keep things fair.
Well, screw that.
I'm talking about ONE pick from ONE team.
Come on, I'm sure by now that you're probably used to this sort of treatment.
The Miami Dolphins had just a shitty enough year last season to hold the rights to the eighth pick in this year's draft. Being in the unique position of having a completely horrible team, the draft provides a lot of options for you. When you couple that with the amount of talent that has since departed the team, well, you could pretty much take anybody and have it be a good pick.
The Dolphins hate to love to disappoint and took a guy who appeared on draft boards about a month and a half ago.
I don't know Ryan Tannehill. I've never watched a Texas A&M game in my life. I've followed sports my whole life and I still don't know squat.
I, however, do recognize a trap. It's a trap!
Remember when the whole world was going nuts over Furby? Furby was the little toy creature that would open it's eyes and speak in some gibberish whenever you approached it. I didn't really understand it but I knew that everybody else was eating this thing up. When the cool kids at school decide to get a Furby, even if you don't understand it, you know that you need a Furby now too.
So you go to your mom and tell her, "Hey mom, I need a Furby." And her response? The obligatory "Well, Christmas is coming up soon, maybe Santa will bring you one."
And to that you say, "Mom, I'm 26-years old, just buy me a damn Furby."
Nevertheless, Christmas morning finally arrives and you're bursting with excitement. Finally, your time has come! You'll have a Furby just like all the cool kids.
You search for the right shaped box, tear open the wrapping paper, and come face to face with your brand new...Fuzzby?
A Fuzzby?! Are you freaking kidding me? I specifically asked for a Furby!
Mom says, "Well, the store didn't have any more Furbies but the man said that this was just about the same and could even be more popular than a Furby in a couple years!"
Mom never seems to understand. It's just not the same. It never is.
Fuzzby goes deep into your closet and is never spoken of again. That's my summation of the Ryan Tannehill pick. He's a Fuzzby when all you really wanted was just a damn Furby. But hey, there's a silver lining! He's got a really, really attractive wife. Seriously, she's got the goods.
What's she doing with a Fuzzby?
Most professionals would probably take the time to break down each pick by each team, you know, to keep things fair.
Well, screw that.
I'm talking about ONE pick from ONE team.
Come on, I'm sure by now that you're probably used to this sort of treatment.
The Miami Dolphins had just a shitty enough year last season to hold the rights to the eighth pick in this year's draft. Being in the unique position of having a completely horrible team, the draft provides a lot of options for you. When you couple that with the amount of talent that has since departed the team, well, you could pretty much take anybody and have it be a good pick.
The Dolphins hate to love to disappoint and took a guy who appeared on draft boards about a month and a half ago.
I don't know Ryan Tannehill. I've never watched a Texas A&M game in my life. I've followed sports my whole life and I still don't know squat.
I, however, do recognize a trap. It's a trap!
Remember when the whole world was going nuts over Furby? Furby was the little toy creature that would open it's eyes and speak in some gibberish whenever you approached it. I didn't really understand it but I knew that everybody else was eating this thing up. When the cool kids at school decide to get a Furby, even if you don't understand it, you know that you need a Furby now too.
So you go to your mom and tell her, "Hey mom, I need a Furby." And her response? The obligatory "Well, Christmas is coming up soon, maybe Santa will bring you one."
And to that you say, "Mom, I'm 26-years old, just buy me a damn Furby."
Nevertheless, Christmas morning finally arrives and you're bursting with excitement. Finally, your time has come! You'll have a Furby just like all the cool kids.
You search for the right shaped box, tear open the wrapping paper, and come face to face with your brand new...Fuzzby?
A Fuzzby?! Are you freaking kidding me? I specifically asked for a Furby!
Mom says, "Well, the store didn't have any more Furbies but the man said that this was just about the same and could even be more popular than a Furby in a couple years!"
Mom never seems to understand. It's just not the same. It never is.
Fuzzby goes deep into your closet and is never spoken of again. That's my summation of the Ryan Tannehill pick. He's a Fuzzby when all you really wanted was just a damn Furby. But hey, there's a silver lining! He's got a really, really attractive wife. Seriously, she's got the goods.
What's she doing with a Fuzzby?
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
The Dictator and the Douche Bag
Ladies, please, let me be the voice of generally sane male individuals aged 10-40, and let me tell you that I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
This world has churned more than high tides on full moons (which is a saying that nobody has used ever but I'm hoping it catches on to make me some sweet cash) and the end result has been men that simply do not get the joke.
The joke, is of course, life. You can choose to accept it and live out your merry days as a blogger for a prominent sports blog that's popular in Russia or you can be a complete douche bag. The point is, the choice is yours, and yours alone.
So, when Ozzie Guillen and Bobby Petrino jump fully clothed into the douche bag pool, I am not surprised, but I am sorry.
You never should have to put up with this.
These are the guys your father has conniptions about you dating. I don't trust this guy, he says weird things, and he never addresses me as sir. I have yet to date a girl that I want to refer to her father as 'Dad' but I have still upheld the simplest form of respect and that's a handshake and a 'sir'. It's not hard to show respect, unless you are disrespectful.
Ozzie basically says he sympathizes with Fidel Castro.
You work in MIAMI!!!
Are you kidding me? Stop it with the "I said it in Spanish but I thought it in English" bullshit. I'll save you the time. That doesn't make any sense. What you did was say something that you thought was straight up, crazy, pure Ozzie, and lo and behold it bit you in the ass. Hard.
Ozzie, you probably don't read this since you are not in Russia, but you should have lost your job. The five game suspension is a laughable punishment. If the Marlins were serious about embracing their strong Latin community, you would be gone. Your presence there dictates otherwise.
And I feel really bad for the Miami community, considering most of them are refugees from Castro's dictatorship, they were excited for the new 'Miami' team and the new 'Miami' stadium, and for a manager they thought would sympathize with them. So sorry.
And then we have the stand up guy that is Bobby Petrino. This guy has been a snake for years.
When he straight up abandoned the Atlanta Falcons, mid-season, he became the coach of the Arkansas Razor Backs.
When you coach for Arkansas, pretty much all of Georgia hates you anyways, let alone the one time you abandoned their star football team. Nice going, douche bag.
Well, Bobby "Trusty" Petrino crashed his motorcycle earlier this month. Turns out the married man, with children, lied about being alone. He had a female half his age on the bike with him.
Stop right there.
We've already established that Bobby Petrino is a douche bag. He is. A big one.
What I need to establish, at this present place and time, is that there is still a lot of good out there. There are plenty of people like me that don't condone the actions of Ozzie Guillen and Bobby Petrino and hope and pray that two assholes don't control the flow of the universe.
There's already enough out there to adjust for the good that it just makes sense that people have given up.
Well, fear not, we are still here. We battle tooth and nail for the righteousness of man and we will not give up or give in. The good ones are still out there and I implore you to keep looking.
Guillen and Petrino are just two public figures that have yet to figure out the joke.
A co-worker of mine has a young son that I love talking to because he's a fucking gem. He talks better than you, trust me.
He looked at me dead nuts and said, "Thank you for walking with me to my home, I hope you come back and visit really soon."
If a toddler can get it right, why is it so hard for you? Take some notes.
I'm sorry.
This world has churned more than high tides on full moons (which is a saying that nobody has used ever but I'm hoping it catches on to make me some sweet cash) and the end result has been men that simply do not get the joke.
The joke, is of course, life. You can choose to accept it and live out your merry days as a blogger for a prominent sports blog that's popular in Russia or you can be a complete douche bag. The point is, the choice is yours, and yours alone.
So, when Ozzie Guillen and Bobby Petrino jump fully clothed into the douche bag pool, I am not surprised, but I am sorry.
You never should have to put up with this.
These are the guys your father has conniptions about you dating. I don't trust this guy, he says weird things, and he never addresses me as sir. I have yet to date a girl that I want to refer to her father as 'Dad' but I have still upheld the simplest form of respect and that's a handshake and a 'sir'. It's not hard to show respect, unless you are disrespectful.
Ozzie basically says he sympathizes with Fidel Castro.
You work in MIAMI!!!
Are you kidding me? Stop it with the "I said it in Spanish but I thought it in English" bullshit. I'll save you the time. That doesn't make any sense. What you did was say something that you thought was straight up, crazy, pure Ozzie, and lo and behold it bit you in the ass. Hard.
Ozzie, you probably don't read this since you are not in Russia, but you should have lost your job. The five game suspension is a laughable punishment. If the Marlins were serious about embracing their strong Latin community, you would be gone. Your presence there dictates otherwise.
And I feel really bad for the Miami community, considering most of them are refugees from Castro's dictatorship, they were excited for the new 'Miami' team and the new 'Miami' stadium, and for a manager they thought would sympathize with them. So sorry.
And then we have the stand up guy that is Bobby Petrino. This guy has been a snake for years.
When he straight up abandoned the Atlanta Falcons, mid-season, he became the coach of the Arkansas Razor Backs.
When you coach for Arkansas, pretty much all of Georgia hates you anyways, let alone the one time you abandoned their star football team. Nice going, douche bag.
Well, Bobby "Trusty" Petrino crashed his motorcycle earlier this month. Turns out the married man, with children, lied about being alone. He had a female half his age on the bike with him.
Stop right there.
We've already established that Bobby Petrino is a douche bag. He is. A big one.
What I need to establish, at this present place and time, is that there is still a lot of good out there. There are plenty of people like me that don't condone the actions of Ozzie Guillen and Bobby Petrino and hope and pray that two assholes don't control the flow of the universe.
There's already enough out there to adjust for the good that it just makes sense that people have given up.
Well, fear not, we are still here. We battle tooth and nail for the righteousness of man and we will not give up or give in. The good ones are still out there and I implore you to keep looking.
Guillen and Petrino are just two public figures that have yet to figure out the joke.
A co-worker of mine has a young son that I love talking to because he's a fucking gem. He talks better than you, trust me.
He looked at me dead nuts and said, "Thank you for walking with me to my home, I hope you come back and visit really soon."
If a toddler can get it right, why is it so hard for you? Take some notes.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Return To Glory!
Loyal readers of the Studly Pastures probably noticed that I have been absent from posting.
I'm talking to you, Latvia.
Relax, I haven't been comatose, or traveling the world, or even been remotely busy with anything else that would have kept me from my SP duties.
Quite simply, it's been a rough sports month for me.
OK, quick recap, the Miami Dolphins missed out on Peyton Manning, they missed out on Matt Flynn, they traded Brandon Marshall, they signed David Garrard, they don't seem to have any plausible draft strategy for the end of this month, and nobody in the front office seems to give at least two shits.
Side note: That's all I'm going to say about the Miami Dolphins for right now. They don't deserve their own post and only talking about it further is just going to raise my blood pressure to unnatural levels. I'm almost out of scotch because of those ignorant morons.
The University of Nathan Curtis had a decent tournament run until our point guard, Kendall Marshall, broke his wrist. He's only the guy that runs the offense and sets the plays, you know, no big deal. With him gone, the Tar Heels were simply treading water until those grain-eating flat-heads from Kansas put them out. They aren't smart enough to not build their houses in a tornado hotbed but they sure are purdy good at puttin' the ball in the hoop! I'm just kidding, people of Kansas, but it's only natural for me to be hateful. Oh, and, just to make sure there is little to root for next year, four of our five starters are going to the NBA. Last time that happened? UNC lost to Dayton in the NIT final. I need to invent some new expletives. The old ones aren't cutting it anymore.
I WAS getting excited for baseball season to start with the arsenal of pitching the Rays are set to deploy this season. Then our outfield started dropping faster than Brandon Marshall in clutch time. Who has an outfield collision in spring training?! I didn't even know that was physically possible. I love the tenacity behind it but when it means you are now going to miss time playing REAL baseball because of the injury you sustained in FAKE baseball, maybe take a dive next time. We're already going to score the least amount of runs in the game, we need you out there chasing down fly balls, BJ Upton and Sam Fuld!
So where have I been? I've been sitting in the corner of a dark room, rocking back and forth, wondering about why everything I care about sports-wise is circling the drain. Sometimes it really sucks living in the Twilight Zone.
Then I realized that I was being really selfish. The people need to hear my words of wisdom to get them through their idle lives. It was my fault that I gave them a little taste and then rudely denied them for so long. I pledge to be here more often to fulfill your lives of depravity.
Still looking at you, Latvia.
By the way, kids, I'm working on developing a podcast so that instead of just imagining my voice of gravitas in your heads, you will actually be able to experience it first hand! Then all you'll have to do is picture my svelte body in your heads! Convenient!
There's just a small technological hiccup that I have to get ironed out first. By 'small technological hiccup', I mean that I don't understand the technology involved and when I try to set it up I end up just mashing the keyboard with my palms and yelling incoherent gibberish.
Once I get some more scotch though I should be able to figure it out. Stay tuned!
I'm talking to you, Latvia.
Relax, I haven't been comatose, or traveling the world, or even been remotely busy with anything else that would have kept me from my SP duties.
Quite simply, it's been a rough sports month for me.
OK, quick recap, the Miami Dolphins missed out on Peyton Manning, they missed out on Matt Flynn, they traded Brandon Marshall, they signed David Garrard, they don't seem to have any plausible draft strategy for the end of this month, and nobody in the front office seems to give at least two shits.
Side note: That's all I'm going to say about the Miami Dolphins for right now. They don't deserve their own post and only talking about it further is just going to raise my blood pressure to unnatural levels. I'm almost out of scotch because of those ignorant morons.
The University of Nathan Curtis had a decent tournament run until our point guard, Kendall Marshall, broke his wrist. He's only the guy that runs the offense and sets the plays, you know, no big deal. With him gone, the Tar Heels were simply treading water until those grain-eating flat-heads from Kansas put them out. They aren't smart enough to not build their houses in a tornado hotbed but they sure are purdy good at puttin' the ball in the hoop! I'm just kidding, people of Kansas, but it's only natural for me to be hateful. Oh, and, just to make sure there is little to root for next year, four of our five starters are going to the NBA. Last time that happened? UNC lost to Dayton in the NIT final. I need to invent some new expletives. The old ones aren't cutting it anymore.
I WAS getting excited for baseball season to start with the arsenal of pitching the Rays are set to deploy this season. Then our outfield started dropping faster than Brandon Marshall in clutch time. Who has an outfield collision in spring training?! I didn't even know that was physically possible. I love the tenacity behind it but when it means you are now going to miss time playing REAL baseball because of the injury you sustained in FAKE baseball, maybe take a dive next time. We're already going to score the least amount of runs in the game, we need you out there chasing down fly balls, BJ Upton and Sam Fuld!
So where have I been? I've been sitting in the corner of a dark room, rocking back and forth, wondering about why everything I care about sports-wise is circling the drain. Sometimes it really sucks living in the Twilight Zone.
Then I realized that I was being really selfish. The people need to hear my words of wisdom to get them through their idle lives. It was my fault that I gave them a little taste and then rudely denied them for so long. I pledge to be here more often to fulfill your lives of depravity.
Still looking at you, Latvia.
By the way, kids, I'm working on developing a podcast so that instead of just imagining my voice of gravitas in your heads, you will actually be able to experience it first hand! Then all you'll have to do is picture my svelte body in your heads! Convenient!
There's just a small technological hiccup that I have to get ironed out first. By 'small technological hiccup', I mean that I don't understand the technology involved and when I try to set it up I end up just mashing the keyboard with my palms and yelling incoherent gibberish.
Once I get some more scotch though I should be able to figure it out. Stay tuned!
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