It's back, kids!
The NFL kicks off it's regular season this evening in a rematch of divisional playoff teams from a year ago: the Baltimore Ravens and the Denver Broncos. While this game probably won't live up to the instant classic that it was last year (nor does it have nearly as many implications) it's still good to see the boys back on the field.
By the way, Baltimore is playing AT Denver, becoming the first reigning Super Bowl champion to start on the road since the 2003 Tampa Bay Buccaneers and that was mostly because less people give a crap about the Tampa Bay Buccaneers than they do about probiotics. Stop peddling me your dirty bacteria pills, Erin Andrews, they might affect the tapeworm I purposely swallowed. It's bikini season.
The Ravens have the luxury of starting on the road because the Baltimore Orioles are supreme assholes and think that their precious regular season baseball game is more important than the reigning Super Bowl champions returning to the field. The Orioles last won the World Series in 1983 which was thirty friggin' years ago. That means people like Miley Cyrus, Justin Bieber, Selena Gomez, and every girl I've ever dated has never seen the Baltimore Orioles win the World Series. But you know what they have seen? The Baltimore Ravens win TWO Super Bowls! I wish the two commissioners would get together and make the Orioles play their game at four in the morning, with no lights on, and the infield is made of cow manure. It's only fair.
Last year I made some bold predictions like how Andrew Luck would win Rookie of the Year and that it would be the New Orleans Saints and the Baltimore Ravens in the Super Bowl and I was exactly right about one of those things. If only I had actually said they would win it too...not sure why I stopped short of going all the way. I guess I take this thing way too seriously.
Well that's not going to be the case this year! I'm not taking this seriously at all! You have my solemn promise!
So let's go division by division and sort this whole thing out, shall we? What? Don't you have the stones to follow me?!
AFC NORTH: Hmmm...this is the division that the reigning champs are in but their roster looks a lot different than it did last year. Ray Lewis retired, Ed Reed went to the Texans, and Joe Flacco stole everybody else's salaries. So unless Flacco can lead the team in passing yards, touchdowns, receptions, tackles and punt returns, I don't see the Ravens winning the division. My pick is awarded to the Cincinnati Bengals! That's right, kids, the Bungles! Andy Dalton and AJ Green have a legitimate connection and now with James Harrison on defense, who is a veritable psychotic, I think the tigers have what it takes to claim the AFC North.
AFC SOUTH: This is going to be the Houston Texans division, for sure. Oh I'm sure Andrew Luck and the Indianapolis Colts will play their little oil-fueled hearts out but the cows are taking this one. Matt Schaub has very little hair left, they have a black guy named Arian, and Andre Johnson is about a year away from being "too old for this shit."
AFC EAST: Well this is the division that the Miami Dolphins play in and as a life-long fan and a true believer in them I have no choice but to pick against them. When you've loved something long enough you'll always go with the option to be surprised than to be disappointed because you really just can't go any lower. So if the Dolphins are out and the Bills and Jets are fielding starting quarterbacks that would be better suited making iced coffees at Starbucks then I have no choice but to hand it over to the freakin' New England Patriots...again. You win one more time Brady but heed my warning: this shall be the last year.
AFC WEST: I'm not going to go so far as to say that Denver will be the first team to lock up their division but I will go so far as to say that if they don't then something terrible has happened to Peyton "Forrest" Manning. The only way that the Broncos don't win this division is if Ol' Slack Jaw has his bionic neck short-circuit causing him not to be able to eat Oreos properly. Relax Mile High, this won't happen for Manning is my mortal enemy and he will continue to mock me at every turn. However, if it does by some miracle of Satan, then this division is up for grabs. Literally. They should toss a coin.
NFC NORTH: I don't trust the Bears without Urlacher...I really don't. Remember in Remember the Titans how the star linebacker finally learned acceptance of black people and then he went and got in a car accident and it paralyzed him but the team still went out and won the game regardless? Yeah it's not gonna be like that for Chicago. This division lies in the godforsaken wasteland of humanity in the northern end of Wisconsin in Green Bay! The Packers have Aaron Rodgers which is enough to say just like saying the Patriots have Tom Brady circa 2004-2005. They added a cool running back and still get to play the Detroit Lions and Minnesota Vikings twice a year. Go pack, go!
NFC SOUTH: I picked the Saints to go to the Super Bowl last year and they made me look like a tremendous ass. To make matters worse, Drew Brees broke Dan Marino's single season passing record all while on the road to missing the playoffs completely. I wish I could afford the kind of pillow that Drew Brees can that lets him sleep at night but it's probably made out of dodo bird feathers, the softest down known to man as far as you know. So, by reason of angst, I am taking the Atlanta Falcons because who gives a crap about the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and whatever other team is in this division.
NFC EAST: Oh sweet baby Jesus...the NFC East?! Sean Bean has a better shot at staying alive in things he is cast for than I do at picking the winner of the 'who barely makes it over .500 wins it' division. I can't pick the Cowboys because Tony Romo. I can't pick the Eagles because Michael Vick. So it's down between the Redskins and Giants. Well if recent history has taught me anything about coming back with a bionic knee then you are going to be a better player than you were before and the Redskins were the winners last year. Robert Griffin 3.0 will lead his team again to victory.
NFC WEST: This is tricky too but only because there are two teams that are actually capable of winning the division and I am of course talking about the Seattle Seahawks and the San Francisco 49ers. The Niners made it to the Super Bowl last year and almost pulled it out before they got Flacco'ed. I like the idea that the Niners have put forth and I like their coach. Jim Harbaugh is Rex Ryan if Rex Ryan never woke up one morning with some misplaced sense of self-worth. But I do not like Colin Kaepernick. He is quickly becoming one of those quarterbacks that just leave a bad taste in your mouth and it's probably because they haven't showered. I am going to go with Seattle for the West. They put forth a team a lot like the Niners but I think their defense is better suited to go against the other team and that will be the difference in this division.
AFC WILD CARDS: Baltimore and Indianapolis.
NFC WILD CARDS: New Orleans and San Francisco.
AFC CHAMPIONSHIP: Okay so now you know how I laid out exactly how the playoffs are going to shape out and now I am going to tell you who makes it to the championship game in each league. Do you like how I lead you by the hand there, you big dummy? If I was a good writer I would go back and delete all of this. I am taking the chalk in that I think Denver will reach the AFC Championship game. But I think that the Houston Texans are going to beat them. There's a damn good chance that this game will be played in Denver and that suits the Texans just fine because Baltimore showed the world last year that the Broncos are not invulnerable at home even in a cold ass game. I am making this pick for the same reason I picked Baltimore last year and that's because I think this is the last feasible year for them to get it done. Texans win over Denver 24-21
NFC CHAMPIONSHIP: I have Seattle already locked into this game. I think they beat out the Niners and I think they bury the Falcons. Now because I'm a sucker for high drama I think the team they will meet in the NFC Championship is the Green Bay Packers. How great would it be to have a rematch of the 'Hail Mary that never was' then right here in the Super Bowl deciding game? I think Russell Wilson and Aaron Rodgers go at it harder than a couple of pit bulls in Rosie O'Donnell's underwear drawer and you can do with that what you please. In the end, however, the birds prevail over the cheese heads. Seattle wins 34-31.
SUPER BOWL: Seattle beats Houston 28-17. How's that for predictions? I came down a long and twisted road to get to this point and if I'm right I am moving to Vegas. And per usual, if I am found to be wrong...well...at least I put myself out there, dammit!
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Thursday, August 8, 2013
A For Effort, A-Fraud
I have mentioned Alex Rodriguez exactly twice in the entire four years that I've been blogging on a unicorn stud farm. The latest time was two months ago when the Biogenesis case first broke open and I declared that the hammer was about to fall. And, of course, the first time was just out of being completely done with Rodriguez as a person in your heroes suck.
And today I learned how to link to my own posts.
Well the hammer has fallen on ARod and MLB has suspended him for 211 games, effective today. Unfortunately this is one of those cases where due process sucks balls because the guy you are dealing with is such an incredible asshole that he doesn't even recognize when it's finally time to go quietly into the night. He's appealed the suspension and I guess because the arbitrator in the case has a firm stick up his ass because the appeal might not be decided until DECEMBER. Meanwhile, the jerk gets to play baseball games.
Okay, I get it, there's a lot to soak in. You have to find Tony Bosch, resident weasel and leak to the Biogenesis lab, a credible and worthy witness. That's going to be tough to do considering I wouldn't trust Bosch to make me a ham sandwich and have it not contain some sort of incriminating evidence. Then after all of that you have to wade through a mile of paperwork that may or may not be fabricated.
With that said, the man in question is Alex Rodriguez. You know that old childhood riddle where your mom, your best friend, and the girl you love are stranded on the road and you are driving a car that only has room for two people? Well ARod's answer is to just keep driving and only slow down long enough so that all three of them can see his middle finger.
I've heard that ARod refuses to pee in the shower because he would rather bottle it up and drink it later because unlike Snapple, it's made from the greatest stuff on Earth.
When John Wayne Gacy, convicted of sexually assaulting and killing young boys, was put to death by lethal injection his final words were, "Hey, at least I'm not Alex Rodriguez!"
Okay, okay, this got out of control rather quickly. MOST of these things didn't happen but the basic principle remains the same and that's Alex Rodriguez is a terrible human being.
Thanks to the New York Yankees being awesome contract negotiators ARod only has to hit 13 more home runs to make a $6 million bonus. You can see his initiative for appealing and trying to play this year. Oh he's come out and said how he's trying to fight for his life and be a good role model for his daughters but it's all bullshit. He wants that money.
Here's what's going to happen: ARod's suspension will hold, MLB will make sure of it. This is Bud Selig's swan song and pinnacle moment of his legacy and after they got Ryan Braun, Alex Rodriguez became the poster child of this whole ordeal. This one's not getting away.
So after the suspension he'll be over 40 with a bum hip and out of baseball for almost two full years. He'll probably come back and try to play but it will end up really sad and pathetic, just like Derek Jeter, except nobody will feel bad for him like they do Jeter because ARod has always been the scum of the Earth.
This is how it ends, kids, and the way that he's swinging these days he'll be hard pressed to hit 13 homers in the 49 or so games that the Yankees have left because they ain't making the post season this year. This is the end of Alex Rodriguez, and like so many public sports figures, he can try and delay the inevitable by appealing and fighting in court but the one thing he cannot stop is time. That will be his, yours, and my death blow. Time.
Time is a mean son of a bitch and not even a slippery ass bag like Alex Rodriguez can escape it. Good luck hitting 13, douche.
And today I learned how to link to my own posts.
Well the hammer has fallen on ARod and MLB has suspended him for 211 games, effective today. Unfortunately this is one of those cases where due process sucks balls because the guy you are dealing with is such an incredible asshole that he doesn't even recognize when it's finally time to go quietly into the night. He's appealed the suspension and I guess because the arbitrator in the case has a firm stick up his ass because the appeal might not be decided until DECEMBER. Meanwhile, the jerk gets to play baseball games.
Okay, I get it, there's a lot to soak in. You have to find Tony Bosch, resident weasel and leak to the Biogenesis lab, a credible and worthy witness. That's going to be tough to do considering I wouldn't trust Bosch to make me a ham sandwich and have it not contain some sort of incriminating evidence. Then after all of that you have to wade through a mile of paperwork that may or may not be fabricated.
With that said, the man in question is Alex Rodriguez. You know that old childhood riddle where your mom, your best friend, and the girl you love are stranded on the road and you are driving a car that only has room for two people? Well ARod's answer is to just keep driving and only slow down long enough so that all three of them can see his middle finger.
I've heard that ARod refuses to pee in the shower because he would rather bottle it up and drink it later because unlike Snapple, it's made from the greatest stuff on Earth.
When John Wayne Gacy, convicted of sexually assaulting and killing young boys, was put to death by lethal injection his final words were, "Hey, at least I'm not Alex Rodriguez!"
Okay, okay, this got out of control rather quickly. MOST of these things didn't happen but the basic principle remains the same and that's Alex Rodriguez is a terrible human being.
Thanks to the New York Yankees being awesome contract negotiators ARod only has to hit 13 more home runs to make a $6 million bonus. You can see his initiative for appealing and trying to play this year. Oh he's come out and said how he's trying to fight for his life and be a good role model for his daughters but it's all bullshit. He wants that money.
Here's what's going to happen: ARod's suspension will hold, MLB will make sure of it. This is Bud Selig's swan song and pinnacle moment of his legacy and after they got Ryan Braun, Alex Rodriguez became the poster child of this whole ordeal. This one's not getting away.
So after the suspension he'll be over 40 with a bum hip and out of baseball for almost two full years. He'll probably come back and try to play but it will end up really sad and pathetic, just like Derek Jeter, except nobody will feel bad for him like they do Jeter because ARod has always been the scum of the Earth.
This is how it ends, kids, and the way that he's swinging these days he'll be hard pressed to hit 13 homers in the 49 or so games that the Yankees have left because they ain't making the post season this year. This is the end of Alex Rodriguez, and like so many public sports figures, he can try and delay the inevitable by appealing and fighting in court but the one thing he cannot stop is time. That will be his, yours, and my death blow. Time.
Time is a mean son of a bitch and not even a slippery ass bag like Alex Rodriguez can escape it. Good luck hitting 13, douche.
Monday, August 5, 2013
Johnny Be Good
Well kids, it's August, and I'm back in full form and ready to educate the masses on life, sports, and hell, whatever else you want to know about. Including Hell...which is where Johnny Manziel has found himself the past four or five months.
I felt bad for Johnny Football. I really did. The kid wins the Heisman as a freshman, first person to ever do so, and is immediately thrown under the same scrutiny as the rest of the Heisman winners. How is that fair? He doesn't even get the chance to rail through a few sorority skanks, maybe brush elbows with some boosters, and get absolutely hammered on grain alcohol in the freezing snow with just a Speedo on. That's college, folks, that's how we learn.
And A.J. McCarron? You officially need to shut up. Nobody likes you, you aren't cool. You're a boring figure-head on a team that's carried you on their collective NFL-ready shoulders. You should get your masters at Alabama because third-string on the San Diego Chargers pays you in churros. You're not better than Manziel because he has a Heisman and you have a "Best Timing in the NCAA" award.
I really wish the Heisman Trust people would stop pretending that they are the Illuminati and this ever-expanding cult that controls everything and realize all they do is vote on who the best player is in COLLEGE football each year. It's the NCAA, which is terribly flawed, and it's college kids, which believe it or not, are flawed!
Johnny Manziel is a 20-year old kid. Now that I've said it maybe he'll stop reminding us. But because he's won the Heisman we're supposed to shake our heads every time he grabs a beer or sleeps in a little late and misses Peyton Manning's football camp? Did you just read what I wrote? Peyton Manning's football camp!? Getting excused from that is like getting promoted to Advanced Reading from Remedial Book Learning With Colors. Johnny was too hungover to make macaroni necklaces that day, Peyton, let's get over it.
Then he got booted out of a University of Texas frat party. Johnny, recognize when your guardian angel is looking out for you. If I accidentally stumbled my way into a University of Texas frat party I can only imagine what kinds of terrible S&M livestock activities are going on in those dark hallways. I just shuddered...I'm not kidding. They're the longhorns for Christ sakes, get outta there!
Aaaaand now we have reports that he's been profiting off of autographs which is a BIG no-no in the NCAA. Basically if you work for the NCAA you better not make any money...but I digress, that's my argument for another day.
First of all, how big of a scum bag can you be (or rather how popular can you get) that you charge people for signing your own name on something. That's incredible to me. "Oh this football is worth seven dollars, hold on a second, BLAM, now it's gonna be expensive in 30 years."
Second of all, why are we getting the autograph of a 20-year old? I'd be less upset about this if I found out that he was only signing sorority girls' boobs...and still charging! That's pretty boss.
The worst part, even though I saw Manziel circling the drain a couple of months ago, is that all it will take the crazy ass NCAA to take away his eligibility is ONE spurned person. That's it. No questions asked, this is what you get and I wouldn't be surprised if they go after the Heisman.
But then I also had this thought: Hey, maybe if the Heisman Trust was truly about not only on-field play but also how the person conducts himself in the community then I guess a freshman wasn't exactly the best pick because he was in freakin' high school a year ago! When I was a freshman I would skip classes not because I was drunk or on drugs but just because I could and nobody would yell at me. Take that, general society!
Here's the thing: the Heisman Trust is owned by the NCAA and the NCAA is owned by the same thing that birthed David Stern and Gary Bettman. It's all evil and it doesn't matter what you do because you're going down regardless.
I recognize the rational part of American society and a Tits for Tat program is ingenious, especially if you're popular enough to get away with it, which Johnny Manziel is. Which 20-year old hot shit in this room is turning down that kind of action? That's what I thought.
Can't we all just reach back and remember what it was like to have everything in the palm of our hand and then go right ahead and piss it all away on trivial things? Doesn't anybody remember what it means to be young? Leave the kid alone. I'm sure he's gotten a chick pregnant by now anyways. Let the autograph thing go away.
I felt bad for Johnny Football. I really did. The kid wins the Heisman as a freshman, first person to ever do so, and is immediately thrown under the same scrutiny as the rest of the Heisman winners. How is that fair? He doesn't even get the chance to rail through a few sorority skanks, maybe brush elbows with some boosters, and get absolutely hammered on grain alcohol in the freezing snow with just a Speedo on. That's college, folks, that's how we learn.
And A.J. McCarron? You officially need to shut up. Nobody likes you, you aren't cool. You're a boring figure-head on a team that's carried you on their collective NFL-ready shoulders. You should get your masters at Alabama because third-string on the San Diego Chargers pays you in churros. You're not better than Manziel because he has a Heisman and you have a "Best Timing in the NCAA" award.
I really wish the Heisman Trust people would stop pretending that they are the Illuminati and this ever-expanding cult that controls everything and realize all they do is vote on who the best player is in COLLEGE football each year. It's the NCAA, which is terribly flawed, and it's college kids, which believe it or not, are flawed!
Johnny Manziel is a 20-year old kid. Now that I've said it maybe he'll stop reminding us. But because he's won the Heisman we're supposed to shake our heads every time he grabs a beer or sleeps in a little late and misses Peyton Manning's football camp? Did you just read what I wrote? Peyton Manning's football camp!? Getting excused from that is like getting promoted to Advanced Reading from Remedial Book Learning With Colors. Johnny was too hungover to make macaroni necklaces that day, Peyton, let's get over it.
Then he got booted out of a University of Texas frat party. Johnny, recognize when your guardian angel is looking out for you. If I accidentally stumbled my way into a University of Texas frat party I can only imagine what kinds of terrible S&M livestock activities are going on in those dark hallways. I just shuddered...I'm not kidding. They're the longhorns for Christ sakes, get outta there!
Aaaaand now we have reports that he's been profiting off of autographs which is a BIG no-no in the NCAA. Basically if you work for the NCAA you better not make any money...but I digress, that's my argument for another day.
First of all, how big of a scum bag can you be (or rather how popular can you get) that you charge people for signing your own name on something. That's incredible to me. "Oh this football is worth seven dollars, hold on a second, BLAM, now it's gonna be expensive in 30 years."
Second of all, why are we getting the autograph of a 20-year old? I'd be less upset about this if I found out that he was only signing sorority girls' boobs...and still charging! That's pretty boss.
The worst part, even though I saw Manziel circling the drain a couple of months ago, is that all it will take the crazy ass NCAA to take away his eligibility is ONE spurned person. That's it. No questions asked, this is what you get and I wouldn't be surprised if they go after the Heisman.
But then I also had this thought: Hey, maybe if the Heisman Trust was truly about not only on-field play but also how the person conducts himself in the community then I guess a freshman wasn't exactly the best pick because he was in freakin' high school a year ago! When I was a freshman I would skip classes not because I was drunk or on drugs but just because I could and nobody would yell at me. Take that, general society!
Here's the thing: the Heisman Trust is owned by the NCAA and the NCAA is owned by the same thing that birthed David Stern and Gary Bettman. It's all evil and it doesn't matter what you do because you're going down regardless.
I recognize the rational part of American society and a Tits for Tat program is ingenious, especially if you're popular enough to get away with it, which Johnny Manziel is. Which 20-year old hot shit in this room is turning down that kind of action? That's what I thought.
Can't we all just reach back and remember what it was like to have everything in the palm of our hand and then go right ahead and piss it all away on trivial things? Doesn't anybody remember what it means to be young? Leave the kid alone. I'm sure he's gotten a chick pregnant by now anyways. Let the autograph thing go away.
Monday, July 22, 2013
Growing Old
Next month, well, exactly one month from today I will be turning 28.
That sucks.
But it sucks for weird reasons. I don't lose sleep over turning 28, I really don't. I might bitch and moan and complain that I'm getting old. And if it were medieval times, I'd be in trouble. But in modern times, and in the grand scheme of things, I still have seven years before I can run for President of the United States. So I got that going for me.
I guess what really concerns me, when we boil it down, is that I used to sleep soundly knowing that Dad had it. Strange noise at night? No worries, Dad will take care of it. I have trouble sleeping? Dad stays up later than me. I watched a scary movie? Dad will take advantage and exploit my fear. And he'd get his laugh in and then point out that it was only him and how gullible I was. And I hated that! I knew how ridiculous it was but yet he still got me...and I hated him for that!
My father did his own way, as I hope most fathers do, and there was no manual needed. And here I stand. I like to joke that my sarcasm and one-up-manship comes from my father and my need to help and hope the good guy wins comes from my mother and then it all comes together and forms my vary basic essence. And we all come from our own backgrounds. And my journalism background tells me to never start a sentence with and, yet I do it constantly, because I use a lot of commas too, and you shouldn't do that as well.
I guess becoming old just means that you miss all the shit you could pass off on your father. Now when there is a strange noise in my house, it either falls on my girlfriend, or our two under-ten pound dogs, or me. As much as I would love to throw the dogs out there and investigate, it falls to me. And it sounds weird but I sleep better knowing that I have my family's safety. I won't let any harm come to them and that makes me step up as a man.
But like I said, my parents came together in triumphant fashion to make me: a smart-talking, world-weary, freedom-fighting, good-natured, and just all around sad sonuvabitch, to sit here and talk to you guys. And I ask you guys tonight to not take advantage of anything your family gives you. Don't ever for a second think anything is eternal. Never sit there and assume you'll see them next year.
Take advantage of time. Relish all those times your father embarrassed you. Remember all those times your mother had your back when she really shouldn't have because you were a little shit. And never forget where you came from because that should be all you really care about.
No sports today, kiddos, just hold whatever family you have close.
That sucks.
But it sucks for weird reasons. I don't lose sleep over turning 28, I really don't. I might bitch and moan and complain that I'm getting old. And if it were medieval times, I'd be in trouble. But in modern times, and in the grand scheme of things, I still have seven years before I can run for President of the United States. So I got that going for me.
I guess what really concerns me, when we boil it down, is that I used to sleep soundly knowing that Dad had it. Strange noise at night? No worries, Dad will take care of it. I have trouble sleeping? Dad stays up later than me. I watched a scary movie? Dad will take advantage and exploit my fear. And he'd get his laugh in and then point out that it was only him and how gullible I was. And I hated that! I knew how ridiculous it was but yet he still got me...and I hated him for that!
My father did his own way, as I hope most fathers do, and there was no manual needed. And here I stand. I like to joke that my sarcasm and one-up-manship comes from my father and my need to help and hope the good guy wins comes from my mother and then it all comes together and forms my vary basic essence. And we all come from our own backgrounds. And my journalism background tells me to never start a sentence with and, yet I do it constantly, because I use a lot of commas too, and you shouldn't do that as well.
I guess becoming old just means that you miss all the shit you could pass off on your father. Now when there is a strange noise in my house, it either falls on my girlfriend, or our two under-ten pound dogs, or me. As much as I would love to throw the dogs out there and investigate, it falls to me. And it sounds weird but I sleep better knowing that I have my family's safety. I won't let any harm come to them and that makes me step up as a man.
But like I said, my parents came together in triumphant fashion to make me: a smart-talking, world-weary, freedom-fighting, good-natured, and just all around sad sonuvabitch, to sit here and talk to you guys. And I ask you guys tonight to not take advantage of anything your family gives you. Don't ever for a second think anything is eternal. Never sit there and assume you'll see them next year.
Take advantage of time. Relish all those times your father embarrassed you. Remember all those times your mother had your back when she really shouldn't have because you were a little shit. And never forget where you came from because that should be all you really care about.
No sports today, kiddos, just hold whatever family you have close.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
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.
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.
Monday, July 8, 2013
Now We Are Four
Kids, this month marks the four year anniversary of the Studly Pastures.
That's a long time to be breeding unicorns and making water cooler comments about life and if you've been reading, clearly my sanity has been affected. Sacrifices have been made and feelings have been hurt over the years but, hey, anything for you, my loyal, faceless entities. I'm definitely not the type to benefit from hearing himself talk. I get absolutely nothing from this and it's most definitely NOT a log of my own hubris.
You know that song, "You're So Vain"? Carly Simon wrote that about me. I'm sure of it.
But hey, I'm no dummy. I know I'm not perfect! I still breathe oxygen like the rest of you (except for the fish people). I've gotten rid of the need for consuming food and excreting waste but the oxygen thing still eludes me. It might take me another four years but eventually I'll get that oxygen thing figured out too! (then I'll finally be just like you high and mighty fish people).
Anyways, enough about me, let's get to what's made me so famous over the last four years: judging people solely based off of my own crazy perception of reality!
Dwight Howard has decided he wants to go and play for the Houston Rockets and we can all finally remove the tape from our eyelids and blink again. Why the Houston Rockets? He thinks that they can be contenders with him on the team. While everybody outside of Houston has just shit their pants from laughing too hard (I've seen it happen) let's try and look at this a little seriously--but there's a small problem. Dwight Howard doesn't take anything seriously. Remember when he first started playing for Orlando and he kept smiling all the time and everybody thought, "Hey, here's a nice guy who truly enjoys playing the game!" Well, you are all idiots. Dwight Howard was smiling because somebody made a fart joke or said the word 'titty' or something. Dwight Howard is a child. He doesn't care about trophies or legacy or anything remotely important in the game of basketball. He cares about everybody talking about Dwight Howard and he's getting it! Every single day! Even from me! ARGHHHHHHH!
I'm not going to make some lame 'Houston, we have a problem' joke because I kinda just did anyways but it's not going to work out! In today's NBA you need at least a third player, maybe even a decent fourth, and Houston doesn't have it. It was thrown around that maybe they would try and get Josh Smith but he just signed with the Detroit Pistons. Uh oh.
Which, by the way, I would love to have seen THAT business deal. "Hey Josh, ummm, we don't have anything." Whoever negotiated this deal needs to come and be my lawyer because he's probably the Hypno-toad from Futurama.
Oh but hey everything is shifting into place for 2014 when all the big names will be free agents again and all these teams will have cap space and...and...OH MY GOD MY EYES ARE BLEEDING! I absolutely hate that mentality. I hate to get all kindergarten on you but be the best you can be...today!
Enough basketball, it's July for crying out loud. Let's give the people what they want on this joyous of occasions and talk tennis.
Andy Murray has won Wimbledon this year to be the first Brit to hoist the trophy since 1936. I'm amazed. Not that he won but that it has taken over 70 years for Great Britain to win their own freakin' tournament. Relax, kids, I'm not ignorant, I know that tennis was invented by the French and not the British (you're welcome) but Wimbledon has been a British institution since 1877 and is the OLDEST tennis tournament in the world.
70 years? 70 years?! Could you imagine an American not winning the Daytona 500 for 70 years? The repercussions from something like that would be catastrophic. There's one thing you don't do and that's piss off rednecks. If they decided to revolt I'd be screwed. Not because I'd look terrible in a mullet but that Bud heavy tastes like copper wiring that's been soaked in moose piss. But if it's the only beer left in the fridge...
70 years. I hope this isn't a 'Portrait of Dorian Gray' type of thing where now that the curse is broken the Queen will lose her immortality. (Relax, I don't have that many British readers)
Well, here we are, kids. Four years later. In all seriousness, as much as I love hearing my own voice through my writing...if you've read a single line, or even a whole post, if you've giggled, chuckled or just slightly smirked just once...then it's been worth it. Thanks for making me feel like I'm not talking to the wall, my dear faceless entities.
That's a long time to be breeding unicorns and making water cooler comments about life and if you've been reading, clearly my sanity has been affected. Sacrifices have been made and feelings have been hurt over the years but, hey, anything for you, my loyal, faceless entities. I'm definitely not the type to benefit from hearing himself talk. I get absolutely nothing from this and it's most definitely NOT a log of my own hubris.
You know that song, "You're So Vain"? Carly Simon wrote that about me. I'm sure of it.
But hey, I'm no dummy. I know I'm not perfect! I still breathe oxygen like the rest of you (except for the fish people). I've gotten rid of the need for consuming food and excreting waste but the oxygen thing still eludes me. It might take me another four years but eventually I'll get that oxygen thing figured out too! (then I'll finally be just like you high and mighty fish people).
Anyways, enough about me, let's get to what's made me so famous over the last four years: judging people solely based off of my own crazy perception of reality!
Dwight Howard has decided he wants to go and play for the Houston Rockets and we can all finally remove the tape from our eyelids and blink again. Why the Houston Rockets? He thinks that they can be contenders with him on the team. While everybody outside of Houston has just shit their pants from laughing too hard (I've seen it happen) let's try and look at this a little seriously--but there's a small problem. Dwight Howard doesn't take anything seriously. Remember when he first started playing for Orlando and he kept smiling all the time and everybody thought, "Hey, here's a nice guy who truly enjoys playing the game!" Well, you are all idiots. Dwight Howard was smiling because somebody made a fart joke or said the word 'titty' or something. Dwight Howard is a child. He doesn't care about trophies or legacy or anything remotely important in the game of basketball. He cares about everybody talking about Dwight Howard and he's getting it! Every single day! Even from me! ARGHHHHHHH!
I'm not going to make some lame 'Houston, we have a problem' joke because I kinda just did anyways but it's not going to work out! In today's NBA you need at least a third player, maybe even a decent fourth, and Houston doesn't have it. It was thrown around that maybe they would try and get Josh Smith but he just signed with the Detroit Pistons. Uh oh.
Which, by the way, I would love to have seen THAT business deal. "Hey Josh, ummm, we don't have anything." Whoever negotiated this deal needs to come and be my lawyer because he's probably the Hypno-toad from Futurama.
Oh but hey everything is shifting into place for 2014 when all the big names will be free agents again and all these teams will have cap space and...and...OH MY GOD MY EYES ARE BLEEDING! I absolutely hate that mentality. I hate to get all kindergarten on you but be the best you can be...today!
Enough basketball, it's July for crying out loud. Let's give the people what they want on this joyous of occasions and talk tennis.
Andy Murray has won Wimbledon this year to be the first Brit to hoist the trophy since 1936. I'm amazed. Not that he won but that it has taken over 70 years for Great Britain to win their own freakin' tournament. Relax, kids, I'm not ignorant, I know that tennis was invented by the French and not the British (you're welcome) but Wimbledon has been a British institution since 1877 and is the OLDEST tennis tournament in the world.
70 years? 70 years?! Could you imagine an American not winning the Daytona 500 for 70 years? The repercussions from something like that would be catastrophic. There's one thing you don't do and that's piss off rednecks. If they decided to revolt I'd be screwed. Not because I'd look terrible in a mullet but that Bud heavy tastes like copper wiring that's been soaked in moose piss. But if it's the only beer left in the fridge...
70 years. I hope this isn't a 'Portrait of Dorian Gray' type of thing where now that the curse is broken the Queen will lose her immortality. (Relax, I don't have that many British readers)
Well, here we are, kids. Four years later. In all seriousness, as much as I love hearing my own voice through my writing...if you've read a single line, or even a whole post, if you've giggled, chuckled or just slightly smirked just once...then it's been worth it. Thanks for making me feel like I'm not talking to the wall, my dear faceless entities.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
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.
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.
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