Saturday, February 28, 2009

Patriot Removal Act of 2009

So, it looks like the Native Americans were finally able to get the upper-hand in negotiations with the white man, albeit a few centuries late. Specifics of the treaty included the Patriots ceding the rights to Mike Vrabel and Matt Cassel in return for a paltry second-round draft pick in April's draft.

Not sure if this is a parting gift to Big Chief Pioli for his near decade-long tenure with the Patriots, but one thing is for certain, Andrew Jackson just rolled over in his grave. And isn't this the same team that destroyed the Patriots 2008 season when they knee-capped Tom Brady?












And the trail of tears for Pats fans continues...

Friday, February 27, 2009

Why Hockey is Better than Your Favorite Sport

Because of George Parros...

The Greek God of Glove-dropping as I like to call him. And doesn't he look like Bill "the Butcher" from Gangs of New York? Yes. Yes, he does.

He's considered a "goon" in the parlance of the NHL, but the mother fucker graduated with a degree in Economics from Princeton, so don't take it too literally. By the way, he is 6-5, 230. Anyway he's not much for scoring (9 points all season), but he has been in approximately 17 fights this season (who can keep count?), so he's got that going for him. During last night's pounding, I mean, game against the Bruins he dropped the gloves with Shawn Thornton after dropping Marc Savard with a juicy hit along the boards. I wanted to hate him, but how could you hate a face like that? And that's not the fight I want to show you. It's this one here:



Ohohohohoh MAN! Somebody strip Shawn Merriman of that ridiculous moniker and slide it on over to George Parros, because the man earned it.

So not only would George Parros knock you the fuck out, but he'd also beat you in a game of Monopoly.

Headlines. . . !


A-Rod proves he is steroids-free by homering in opening Spring Training game...


Marquette's Dominic James a Warrior... I mean, a Golden Eagle...


2009 Draft Class to Detroit Lions: Please don't pick us...


Alexander Ovechkin says that he is clearly tougher than the biggest pussy in the NHL...


Boston fans honor the 10 year anniversary of Stephon Marbury's last regular season appearance...


Albert Haynesworth to receive initial portion of Obama stimulus package...


Due to Rangers recent struggles, NHL fans fear the prospect of not getting to see Sean Avery behave like an asshole in the playoffs...


Lendale White found guilty of driving on an empty stomach...

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Conscientious Objections with Benny DC


Every month or so we will be receiving a contribution from my friend and fellow bleeding heart, Benny DC. He'll be acting as the angel on your shoulder, questioning your moral character, the import of your actions, and generally just pissing you off. However, we here at Five Second Delay feel the need to provide contrasting opinions, so long as we get to decide when and how that opinion is transmitted. Do it to us, Benny:
---
Let me say: I know nothing about this blog except that is about sports. Of course, that is sufficient information to hate this digital space, its so-called creators, its contributors, and anyone who happens to read any articles placed here.

That includes you. I hate you.

Now, listen: Humanity faces serious problems. The economy is going boom-bust. We are letting each other die. No one is planning for an asteroid attack, our high schools are less relevant than Guitar Hero, and everyone – including Jessica Simpson – is now fat.
And you (presumably educated people) are wasting your breath on sports. Which would be fine, because everyone is entitled to a little escapism, except that it’s a little more than just that, isn’t it?

It’s obsessing and goddamn fantasizing. It’s getting your kicks from giant dudes on performance enhancing drugs tossing around small objects in the name of athleticism, courage, and God. One gentleman I know recently told me that he spends approximately 3 hours every evening watching games, managing his fantasy teams, and reading about athletes. This number hits about 6 hours a day on the weekends and can stretch into 10-plus hours on Sundays during football season. That is obscene. It is simply indefensible for anyone with a self-concept that includes moral principles to spend that much time on a thing that produces so little utility.

So, to all of you out there: stop. Go outside. Make something. Romance your lady friend. Do something that enriches you. Find a lady friend. Look at art. Drink heavily. Save a child.

Whatever you do, don’t read this blog anymore. Whatever you do, don’t sit in front of a screen watching sports and pretending that what you’re doing is important, or relevant, or anything at all.

All right. I am assuming that will be good enough to shut it down.

If not, I’ll be back.

---

Thanks, Benny boy. I think I speak for everyone when I say how great it's going to be having you around for this monthly shaming.

I See Ball People...

So, there's something to be said for the start of spring training. There's something to be said for the hope it inspires; warm weather is on the way, cook outs, something to watch on television EVERY night that isn't on Cinemax after 11pm, and of course, fantasy baseball.

What is not to be said about spring training, is that baseball is back. Baseball is not back. Yes, people are playing catch, swinging bats, and adjusting their wedding tackle, but this is like me sticking feathers up my butt, and then clucking like a chicken...

Quick name the most exciting thing from Spring Training last year... If you said the melee between the Yankees and the G Rays, then you would be correct? So, if Spring Training really were a good indicator of things to come, then these two teams should have been at each other's throats throughout the season, right? Oh, but wasn't it the Red Sox that were brawling with the G Rays come mid-season?

My point is that the only thing "important" about Spring Training last season was the people that got injured (Boof Bonser is already down! Just give up now, Twins!) and the people that fought. Last year, Lastings Milledge had a HUGE spring. Then he went on to bat .268 in the regular season. So, how good someone performs in Spring Training does not really mean anything (except that maybe you draft them in the 9th round of your fantasy draft instead of Xavier Nady, only to drop them 5 weeks later... When Xavier Nady has already been gobbled up).


Really what I am getting at here is that the next time I am at a bar and some baseball "fan" refuses to change the station from the Red Sox-Twins split squad showdown live from Ft. Alzheimer's, to college basketball, I reserve the right not only to smash his face, but also the right to smash the brand new LCD television that is airing said snoozefest (If you are not going to use it right, then you shouldn't be using it at all). Dude, you're not missing anything. Oh and there will be 162 other games this season that you can feast upon all while trying to figure out the philosophical virtues of "small ball." This will also be the same guy who refuses to watch pre-season football because it's... "boring." You're right, I don't see a contradiction either.

No matter the the competition, if a game or match is being broadcasted and the result actually matters, then you should always take that over the alternative. This is the point of sport. It's not to have fun, it's to have a result. I sure as shit didn't hang onto my Pre-SAT scores, just like I sure as shit am not going to harp on Ian Kinsler's .250 pre-season batting average. Because it doesn't mean anything and your ability to enjoy the arbitrary ends when fate is at stake and we happen to be sharing a bar top. Good day!

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Better Know a Hockey Team

Over the next few weeks, we hope to string together a few team profiles for this year's Stanley Cup "contenders", A) because what else are we supposed to do with our time and B) you need to know this information so that when the Stanley Cup playoffs do start you can enjoy them even more. First up!



The Bad News Bears


Last season the Bruins went 0-8 against Les Habitantes in the 2007-2008 season. When they matched up in the first round of the Stanley Cup playoffs, similar results were expected. However, the scrappy B's took the cashed Canadiens to game 7, where they were unfortunately, yet convincingly dumped from playoff contention. But needless to say, the folks in Boston had already started looking forward to 2008-2009 season before the puck was even dropped in that fateful game 7.

Currently, the Bruins have the second most points in the NHL, are tied for the most wins in the league, and have the best record in the Eastern Conference. Boston has warmed back up to the B's after nearly two full decades of mediocrity, squandered opportunities, and miserly management. But this isn't the first time the Bruins have shown some promise.


In the 2001-2002 season, the Bruins finished in first place in the Eastern Conference, but were promptly defeated by the 8th-seeded Habs in the first round.


In the 2003-2004 season, the Bruins would drop a 3-1 series lead over, who else but, the Canadiens, eventually losing in 7 games.


So, to say that B's fans are entertaining this current squad with "guarded optimism" would be an understatement. After all, most B's fans are still Red Sox fans at heart.


Why they are Contenders:
Aside from their current record, the B's have been dispatching many playoff contenders convincingly. Currently they're 4-1 against the Canadiens, they beat the Red Wings early on, and have handled the lower seeds in the conference with very little resistance. And the Bruins are arguably 3 full lines deep, chock full of savvy veterans and playmakers. Oh, and they have the best goalie in the league in Tim Thomas.

Why B's fans should be nervous:
They're currently 2-1 against the Capitals and Devils. And lately they've been less than impressive going 2-6 in their last 8, with only 6 points to show over that period, leading critics to wonder if the Bruins may have peaked too early and if their physical style of play has begun to wear them down. And while their youth movement has been a great source of strength early in the season, one can't help but wonder if the lack of experience could hurt them in a 7 game series.

Players to watch:


Zdeno Chara
- Big Z is arguably one of the best offensive defensemen in the league. He's also 8-feet tall and can't be messed with. As long as he keeps his errant passes to a minimum, the Bruins stout, layered defense should be able to keep them in low-scoring games.


David Krejci
- One of the most underrated players in the league is currently second on the team in points with 59 (behind Marc Savard who has 67). His ability to slow the game down and find the open man is truly extraordinary. Oh, and he's only 22 years old, but plays like a 10-year veteran.


Milan Lucic
- If you're walking around Boston and see some trashball with a "Lucic Crew" shirt on, please don't be dissuaded from loving this young man. He has cooled down after a hot start, was dropped to the third line, but has since been placed back into his role as first-line enforcer. He is often compared to Cam Neely, and while B's fans should probably consider this blasphemy, Lucic is just do damn likable that they can't help but go along with it. If Lucic can stay tough and keep fore-checking like he knows how, then the Bruins pressure offense could very well pay off come playoff time.


Clips of the season:


Lucic hates Canadiens


Blake Wheeler is pretty... So, pretty

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Countdown to 2010... Prohibition Edition



As your may or may not know, the extraodinarily dangerous (oh, and beautiful) country of South Africa will be hosting the World Cup in the summer of 2010. This asshole plans on attending so long as this site starts bringing the appropriate level of advertising revenue. So far we're off to a bad start, but a man can dream, right? Tickets are already on sale as we speak (well, the lottery for tickets is underway), but if you plan on getting a head start on your packing, just make sure you leave the following items at home...

Prohibited Items

Unless otherwise authorized by the FIFA World Cup Authorities in writing, Stadium Visitors and Accredited Persons are not permitted to use, possess, hold or bring into the Stadium the following Prohibited Items:

  • a) weapons of any kind;
  • b) anything that could be used as a weapon or to cut, thrust or stab, or as a projectile, in particular long umbrellas and other unwieldy implements;
  • c) bottles, cups, jugs or cans of any kind as well as other objects made from PET, glass or any other fragile, non-shatterproof or especially tough material or Tetrapak packaging, hard cooler boxes;
  • d) fireworks, flares, smoke powder, smoke canisters, smoke bombs or other pyrotechnics;
  • e) alcoholic beverages of any kind, narcotics or stimulants;
  • f) racist, xenophobic cause, charity or ideological concern related materials, including but not limited to banners, signs, symbols and leaflets, objects or clothing, which could impair the enjoyment of the Event by other spectators, or detract from the sporting focus of the Event;
  • g) flagpoles or banner poles of any kind. Only flexible plastic poles and so-called double-poles that do not exceed 1 metre in length and 1 cm in diameter and which are not made of inflammable material are permitted;
  • h) banners or flags larger than 2m x 1m50. Smaller flags and banners are permitted provided that they are made from material which is deemed "of low flammability" and complies with national regulations and standards;
  • i) any sort of animals;
  • j) any promotional or commercial, materials, including but not limited to banners, signs, symbols and leaflets, or any kind of promotional or commercial objects, material and clothing;
  • k) gas spray cans, corrosive, flammable substances, dyes or receptacles containing substances which are harmful to health or are highly flammable. Standard pocket cigarette lighters are permitted;
  • l) unwieldy objects such as ladders, stools, (folding) chairs, boxes, paperboard containers, large bags, rucksacks, suitcases and sports bags. "Unwieldy" is given to mean all objects which are larger than 25cmx25cmx25cm and which cannot be stowed under the seat in the Stadium;
  • m) large quantities of paper and/or rolls of paper;
  • n) mechanically-operated instruments which produce an excessive volume of noise such as megaphones, hooters or gas-powered horns. Unbranded vuvuzelas are not considered Prohibited Items;
  • o) laser pointers;
  • p) cameras (except for private use and then only with one set of replacement or rechargeable batteries), video cameras or other sound or video recording equipment;
  • q) computers or other devices used for the purposes of transmitting or disseminating sound, pictures, descriptions or results of the events via the internet or other forms of media; and
  • r) other objects which could compromise public safety and/or harm the reputation of the Event as assessed at the sole discretion of the FIFA World Cup Authorities.
Looks like they are being particularly careful this go-round due to the fact that, oh I don't know, the event is being held in a society that could be most accurately described as "sort of stable." Let's hope they change their mind about the "hooters" since, as my boy EB noted, "I don't really see the point of going unless we can see some hooters." I'm excited. I've always wondered what it would be like to attend a sporting event during a race riot. Come June 2010, I think I am going to find out.

And what the shit is a vuvuzela?

Would the Kind, Ignorant Gentleman Please be so Kind as to Sit Down and Never Talk Again?



Okay, one more non-sports-related blog before we try and get back into it. Oh, and if you're wondering; there really are other writers on this site... They're just lazy and mentally unstable. I'm actually going to talk about them below.
--
So, my philistine friends feel the need to get all haughty and righteously retarded after the Oscars by saying things like:

"Congratulations, Slumdog, you just won an award that no one cares about!"
And...
"If a movie is played at a cinema and no one goes to see it, do I still get to watch Grey's Anatomy?"
And...
"How come My finger smells like my asshole?"
So you get the idea as to what I'm dealing with on a daily basis.

Now folks, maybe you never saw the movie "Milk" or "The Wrestler", and maybe you never intend to. That's fine, you don't have to. They'll probably just make your small brain hurt anyway. But please, given that you've never seen the movie, and due to the fact that the last movie you saw in the cinema starred a guy in a mask, or featured four old women pretending to be hot and interesting, you should probably just bite your lip on this one.

The Academy surely has it's agendas. Sometimes they're overridden by fear (eg. why a flaming, platitude-laced, shitbrick like "Crash" can beat out "Brokeback Mountain"). Sometimes Tom Hanks exerts mind control over them like when Forrest Gump beat Shawshank Redemption for Best Picture back in '94. But I'd still prefer to leave the decisions to them, rather than handing the reigns over to a borderline adolescent like yourself.

But let's play a little game. What if, the "average guy", or the "regular gal", or the "simple folk" (my personal favorite), got to make the decisions? What if, "they" got to choose what was best and who gets the "pat on the back?" Let's just see how this would unfold:

2009 Academy Awards Best Picture:

Tyler Perry's Madea Goes to Jail
Bride Wars
Yes Man
Wall-E
Dark Knight

I'm actually impressed that they even selected Dark Knight. Quick! Name the director... Oh... Right.

2009 Best Restaurant:

Papa John's
McDonald's
Long John Silver's
KFC
Krispy Kreme

My money is on Krispy Kreme since I, myself eat it for both breakfast and dinner every day.

2009 Car of the Year:

Chevy Silverado
Ford F-150
Toyota Tundra
Chevy Impala
Hummer H3

Mmmmm, so many good choices. I'm glad to see that NFL advertisements have had such a profound effect on our purchasing habits .

The point is, you don't know shit and no one is better off with Joe the Plumber at the helm. After all, you're the same people that voted for Allen Iverson more than 4x as much as Joe Johnson (the GZA... JZA?) for the NBA All-star game, voted 4 of Les Habitantes to the starting lineup of the NHL All-star game (leaving the best player in the league OUT of the starting lineup), selected Brett Favre to the Pro Bowl,
and have been served billions and billions of times by McDonald's. Forgive me for disrespecting your sorry opinions. Viva La Academy!

Monday, February 23, 2009

My Weekend was Better than Yours

Sorry, I was unable to get a picture of an RBV, a G & T, or a tall boy Pabst into the picture, but now you know...

Product Placement

- Although I'm independently wealthy, it still can be a struggle to pay the bills around here. Therefore, we sold some page space to our advertisers to help offset some costs. Enjoy.

Do you suffer from chronic sinus problems? Do you get sinus headaches in the morning? Post-nasal drip? Do you have trouble breathing through your nose while the dentist hacks at your teeth? Do your sinus issues seem to suck the life out of you, or at least, is that the excuse you are using? If so, then we've got the answer to your problems!

Introducing, the NETI POT!



Simply pour warm water into the pot, add the contents from the sodium mixture, shake, tilt your head over the sink, stick the spout up your nose and be prepared to breath freely!

Originally a Guantanamo Bay torture technique, the Neti Pot method has been tested on over 500 illegal detainees held captive under US supervision on the Cuban island. Proving to be only moderately effective in obtaining sensitive terrorist information, the Neti Pot was however an enormous success in clearing out the nasal passageways of the detainees. The general effect was that the detainees experienced less snoring were more alert and less disgruntled.

As Donald Rumsfeld notes:

"We were trying to torture the bastards. We didn't even care if we got the information we were looking for, we just wanted to see them squirm. And for a while it worked. But then, with all that damned fresh air pouring into their moistened, unblocked nasal tubing, it turns out we had the unintended effect of actually improving their lifestyle. I hate that fucking Neti Pot."
Thanks, Don!

The results are clear! So if you're sick of sleeping poorly, breathing exclusively through your mouth, or maybe if you just have to get that dirty secret off of your chest, then the Neti Pot is right for you!

The Neti Pot! Like waterboarding, but not as inhumane! Just don't call it torture!

Neti Pot is not responsible for any unwanted information that is disclosed while undergoing the Neti Pot method. Also, Neti Pot, INC. will not be held responsible for any nightmares that occur as a result of the Neti Pot process. If you are a poor swimmer and/or hold your nose when diving into a swimming pool, then the Neti Pot may not be right for you. Consult your local lifeguard prior to using the Neti Pot

Friday, February 20, 2009

The Kick to the Balls that is Tiger Woods

Fuuuuuuuck...


God damn it, Tiger's coming back...

The economy is in shambles (although I AM a golfer, so) and I was just getting used to this whole 'not being embarrassed week in and week out,' thing. And now he comes back and brings all those old nightmares with him.

What's that Steve Williams? My bitch tits are what actually embarrass me? Hey man, lay off all right. Just because you have the best job in the world doesn't mean you get to insult me all the time. No, I am not jealous of you. Well fine, maybe a little, but so what? Your job is stress-free. You try not choking on the 18th hole in the presence of Tiger. I'm choking on what? Oh that's just disgusting.

Well, good talk, Steve, but I gotta go tell the wife that we won't be building that ski lodge in Aspen this summer, since Tiger's gonna be taking food LITERALLY off of my table. Now, what has my wife ever done to you? No, she's not as hot as Tiger's wife, but she is blond and beautiful all the same. She is NOT that old! How dare you. No you can't have her number. Now how on earth do you have it already? She GAVE it to you?!

God damn you, Tiger Woods. Why can't you just stay at home and make more babies for the rest of your life? I hardly think it is ANY of your business, Steve. Yes, they are ALL mine. Because I just know! No, I do not think that Amanda shares a resemblance with... Although her complexion is a little... No, that's not possible... Oh god, I'm gonna be sick.

/
vomits

I hate my life.


Psychoanalytic Musings from Dr. b. Lee

On Respect; Comparing apples to apples, pt. 2

Some may charge that I'm kidding myself in comparing TO and KB. KB doesn't have the same problems with teammates as TO. But, did we forget about the whole Shaq debacle? Did you forget about what he said leading up to the 2007-8 season regarding his teammates and the team's owner? Does Kobe not "act out" on the court?

I would charge that the only difference between the two is their access to the limelight. KB gets the ball whenever he wants. Therefore, he doesn't need to whine about it… Because he would. TO on the other hand is subject to play-calling, route-running, the safety blitz, and the Cowboys shitty offensive line. These are constraints that KB does not know. If KB were only allowed to touch the ball on every 4th possession, how do you think he would respond? One can suspect that if this were the case, KB would be mailing it in a lot more often (than he already does).

But the substantive similarity is undeniable. These men are two of the best performers in their respective sports. However, they behave as if they were two up-and-comers that needed to separate themselves from the pack. Histrionics and masturbatory celebrations are not fun, they don’t add any additional entertainment value to the game, they certainly aren’t boosting any profiles, and don't you dare call them clever. They’re a cry for help from those who are emotionally underdeveloped and insatiably egocentric. These accessories to a player's “repertoire” only serve to detract from their legacy and from their standing in the eyes of the average fan.

So Kobe and Terrell I say unto you, keep it quiet, keep it cool, and just fucking relax. Then you'll realize and keep the respect. Even if you still don't think you're getting enough of it.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Hockey is STILL Better than Your Favorite Sport


So, Deadspin kind of forced my hand here a little bit, but it was my fucking idea first! Since I'm one of the 6 or so people in the United States that actually watched the game last night (outside of those in attendance), I'm going to take credit for discovering it.

Yes, this is going to be a recurring segment, and yes you will learn to love it. Just like you will learn to love the game of hockey, too. I'm already salivating over the playoffs... Is that weird? Anyway, enjoy the game's best player being well, the game's best player.

Psychoanalytic Musings with Dr. b. Lee

On respect; comparing apples to apples, pt. 1

There's a phenomenon that occurs to people who are highly visible to the public eye. Some cannot properly "handle" such a life, either due to our own perceptions (they're merely fuck ups, but we blame their being fuck ups on the fact that they're wealthy and famous) or just because the pressure is too great and they fold under it (like a star basketball player that can score 30 points a game, but misses the last two free throws which would clinch the game).

However, there are some highly recognizable figures, let's call them "athletes", that never seem to settle into their role properly. They never appear to be secure, there are frequent "issues" that emerge and seem to follow them wherever they go. The perfect example of this phenomenon is Terrell Owens. Terrell Owens is an extraordinary football player. Over the course of his 13 seasons in the NFL, he is averaging over 1,000 yards receiving per season, 10 touchdowns per season, and 14 new, irreconcilable relationships per season. Even at the ripe old age of 35 the man is still producing, and at the moment, due to his physical conditioning, he is showing no signs of slowing down. He essentially has the body of a 25 year old man, with the maturity of a 15 year old boy.

TO has arguably been the best wide receiver in football over the last decade. Everyone seems to know how great he is (as much as we hate to admit it). Even TO seems to know how great he is, which is why one would think he is always clamoring on the sidelines when he is not getting the ball thrown his way (I’m good! Fucking use it!). However, the only thing that TO doesn't seem to know, is that everyone already knows he is a great receiver. He appears to be so uncomfortable with his standing in the pantheon of wide receivers, that he feels the need to supplement his game, and the perception thereof, with his mouth. He catches a touchdown pass, which we may have even marveled at, and then performs some kind of "celebration" as if to say, "Look at me, I caught a touchdown pass!" Yes, honey, we all saw it, you did a great job. Now get off the field.

Everyone knows who TO is. Everyone knows how good he is.

So why does he always feel the need to act out? Does being an elite wide receiver in the NFL not get him the attention that he feels he deserves? If he didn't perform touchdown celebrations, or if he didn't call out his teammates and his coaches on the sideline or at press conferences, would he be considered a lesser player as a result? In reality, it seems the opposite is true. If he kept his mouth shut, if he left the clown nose in his locker, then I get the feeling the public would have even greater respect for him and appreciate his performance even more.

Another example of this phenomenon, although in what some might call a less "extreme" version, is Kobe Bryant. Kobe Bryant is arguably the best basketball player in the NBA at the moment, and could very easily be considered one of the 10 best players of all-time at the end of his career. KB (for the purpose of consistency) after winning 3 titles early in his career has seemingly struggled to step out of Shaq's enormous shadow simply because he has not won a title in LA's post-Shaq era.

Or has he? Was KB ever truly consumed by Shaq's shadow? Or was this just the machinations of the (“liberal fucking”) media? Or even worse, was this all made up in KB's head?

Today Shaq is merely a personality. More to be gawked at in public, than concerned about on the court (non-sense All-Star selection aside). KB is the show, even if he sometimes shares the stage with Lebron (LJ... shoot, LBJ?). He is a brilliant basketball player that can alter games all by himself. KB ultimately decides if the game is won or lost.

Everyone knows that KB has this ability. Everyone knows how good he is.

So after making a big shot why does he give us the "Elephant" dance? After a win, why does he pop his shirt at the opposing fans? Yes, sweetie, we know you can make big shots and that you play for the Lakers. Now get off the floor before you are assaulted by the recently bankrupt gentleman in Row G.

Wouldn't we be more impressed if after making a game-changing shot, if KB just jogged down the floor, straight-faced and cool? Or if after a win in hostile territory, he simply strolled off the floor with a deep calm in his eyes? I don’t know, maybe as if just to say, “I know. Now you do, too.“

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Why Hockey is Better than Your Favorite Sport



And this fight occurred approximately one minute after Strachan and Orr dropped the gloves. These two teams aren't even in the same conference and they're going at it like this?!? And the NHL is talking about strengthening the rules and/or eliminating fights from the sport? Grow up. There's nothing more exciting or exhilarating, in all of sports, than the goal in hockey. The second most exciting thing is the fight. Leave it be.

All right guys, Blog Meeting


“Deuce?”

Deuce: “Present.”

Jables?

Jables?

Gonna mark him down as “Not Present.” Slacker.

Le Ginge?

Le Ginge?

Deuce: Tort... Cock... Red Hair.

What’s that, Deuce? He’s got a… “Mid-term?” Unacceptable. Well, we’re not in any legal trouble yet so looks like he’s not necessary at the moment.

b. Lee... “Present.”

Okay, Item 1: Blogs.

Says here, “Need more blogs.”

Off to a good start here gentlemen. But we can do better. We can start by having Jables getting his shitty ass of the pot and writing up the funny for the good people of the Internet, but we’ll see what happens. He has been busy trying to collect welfare checks for the past few months. Life's tough on the streets.

Item 2: A Touch of Madness

We got something special planned for the people this March and I just know everyone is excited about it. I know I am VERY excited about it. Shoot, you might as well call me the "bone wolf" for the next few weeks (and beyond if you’d like). Because we just launched the blog post-NFL season, the idea will seem foreign to our substantial readership, but we will be providing you with a sneak peak of our flagship gimmick during the March festivities provided by the NCAA. Stay tuned.

And to my faithful staff and co-workers, get your puns and borderline offensive, well, let’s just be honest and call them offensive, allusions together. We're going to need all of them. We’re calling it The Sickness (or the Illness… we’ll put it to a vote).

Item 3: Commenters

Can I get some fucking comments on this thing? God damn! Might help if google actually picked up our blog when searched for, but who am I kidding? If any of y’all like what you see, spread the word, because this party is just getting started, and I would hate to see anyone (especially your more attractive friends), miss out of on this shindig.

Item 4: What the fuck, Deuce?

I know that your fear of black people kept you in the comfy confines of your Phoenician mobile home this weekend, but I did need some All-Star shit! Give it!

Tell the people about the game of sexual H.O.R.S.E. you played with OJ Mayo and that homeless guy from down on Lower Buckeye. The people want to know who won! I trust your "Reverse Yankee Fist-Pump" was not reproducible, but that's only one letter. Did GEICO sponsor this one as well? Or was it Bang Bros? If so, was it as long and painful as the game of H.OR.S.E that OJ played in earlier that day against Kevin Durant and the JZA (Yes, Joe Johnson, and yes, you heard it here first)? Or, was it as long and painful as that other... "thing"? The people want to know!

Okay guys, good to see you all. Let's reconvene in a few weeks. I'm feeling Austin should be the site of our next meeting. Not that my closet of an office isn't nice and all, but there's not enough leggy blondes walking around for my taste.

Meeting adjourned.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Valley of the Suck


Also, Deuce will be blogging LIVE from the Kidnapping Capital of America, where the NBA All-Star festivities will be taking place this weekend. Which is to say he will be blogging from the parking lot outside of US Airways Arena by day, and going bar to bar in Scottsdale by night, attempting to snuggle up to Mo Williams in the process.

Love in the Time of Salmonella

Baby girl, you know that I love you. You know this... Howevuh, a man like me cannot simply be satisfied with just one. I need them ALL. To taste them, to feel them, to stimulate them. So on this February the 13th, this day of impending LOVE, I would like to send a shout out to all my partners, past, present... and of course, future.



CP3 - We had something special you and I. You had your quick... release. I had my swarming defense, that you were somehow always able to... penetrate. Like so many other things, you stole what was mine. Keep it. You'll be back.









Larry Fitzgerald - Dearest Fitzy, we had our time together didn't we? I would dangle from the headboard and you would come up and"get me" as they like to say about you. But alas, my time in the desert needed to end. That burning sensation could only be attributed to the summer swelter. Although the sting still lingers...

 
Rondo - Oh those hands. When are you gonna wrap those monster mittens around my hips? Just don't give me the ol' fake reach around. Let's make sure it's for real. You'll never be underrated in my book, cutie pie.









Evan Longoria
- You catch everything, and release nothing. I always loved that in a man. Your stroke is always smooth, yet firm. It's all I ever needed. You are my Ray of sunshine, amidst the dark clouds of Internet pornography.





 

LDT - You always knew how to find the holes. But you just got too old for me. One hour-long session and you were out of commission for the next 3 weeks. I need satisfaction. I need consistency. Maybe you will find love at your next destination. Which most likely will be Cleveland.







And to the 2008-2009 Pittsburgh Penguins...


I'm coming for you... All.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

The Hyperbolic Chamber

Mike Patrick here with DICKIE V! to bring you tonight's epic battle between the Tar Heels of North Carolina and representing the Kingdom of our lord Jesus, The Blue Devils of Duke!

FIRST HALF -

19:46: Hansbrough gets the jumper to draw first blood. THAT is going to make these Blue Devils angry, Dick. (2-0 Heels)

19:23: Henderson with a HUGE dunk! That shook the stadium right to it's core, Dick! I don't know if the Heels are going to be able to recover from that MONSTER bucket! (2-2)

15:50: Dick I am filing an appeal if this game doesn't get turned around and soon. This just doesn't make any sense and foul play is the ONLY explanation (14-6 Heels)

8:07: ANOTHER foul on Tyler Hansbrough! Dick they MUST have heard my warning because HERE COME THE BLUE ANGELS NOW! (31-26 Heels)

5:55: OH GOD! OH GOD! I'VE ALWAYS WONDERED WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE TO BROADCAST DURING AN ORGASM AND NOW I KNOW! IS THIS THE RAPTURE, LORD? DUKE TAKES THE LEAD! (36-34 Angels)

0:02: LANCE THOMAS WITH THE CLINCHER! That's all she wrote, Dick. I just don't know if the evil Tar Heels are going to be able to come back from that first half BEATDOWN. (52-44 Army of Jesus).

SECOND HALF -

20:00: To be honest, Dick, I am absolutely SHOCKED that the Tar Heels are even returning to the floor after that demoralizing first half. Roy Williams must have had to BRIBE these poor bastards into coming back onto the floor against the unstoppable force which we call Duke. In fact, can we get an NCAA review of what just occurred in the North Carolina locker room?

14:54: Tyler Hansbrough scores AGAIN! Where did the refs go, Dick? This just doesn't seem possible. FUCK. (58-58)

14:16: Oh praise Jesus! Kyle Singler, the white knight himself, NAILS a three-pointer to send the good guys SURGING back into the lead! (61-58 God's Children)

10:24: Come on Ref! Get the game under control! I can't believe this Dick. This is APPALLING.

DV!: Ah, Mike you know I think we should try and be a little bit objec...

MP: OH STOP IT, Dick! The good book teaches us that when we encounter injustice we must point it out, and on this court, SATAN is pulling the strings. (69-65 Heels)

6:03: You know, Dick. Sometimes I have to question my faith. Sometimes down is up and up is down. Is there a God, Dick? ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION. (83-71 Heels)

3:05: There is no God. I can't watch any longer. I am COMPLETELY flaccid. Fuck this. She's all yours Dick...

/Storms off the floor

(90-74 Heels)

/Dickie V! steps to the mic

3:04: Loud noises... Non-sense... Etc...

Darkness reigns at Cameron Indoor.

The NFL: post-Operation Overlord.

BOOM!

I guess this was more pertinent about 365 days ago...but no less brilliant now.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

BRAKING NEWS?

(via ESPN) Brett Favre desires to play in Green Bay once again.

Or something like that. Maybe he wants to stay in New York, or maybe he wants to stay in back country Mississippi, playing touch football with small children.

You know what, this is the first and last time you will ever see us braking and/or faking news regarding Brett Favre. He's dead to us. Unless he commits suicide, of course, and then he'll really be dead to us. And to everyone else for that matter. At that time we'll have to post invitations to the celebration we throw in honor of that momentous, cream-inducing occasion. It's gonna be awesome.

But suicide is nothing to joke about. And besides, Brett Favre would never commit suicide. Because well, it's something you actually have to commit to.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

A-Rod Is A Bottom

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FTczZHcoN4
Does that mean he qualifies as a Catcher in my fantasy league next year? If so, I've got a Ramon Hernandez on the block, any takers?

Okay, that part was just too easy. I'll also pass on making fun of Rodriguez's tangerine-tinted skin and his DSLs (for now). This isn't amateur hour, and the man's delicate, doll-like features.

What I am concerned about, is the long-term, and long-range, effect Rodriguez' "admission of guilt" will have on baseball. I finally watched the interview with Peter Gammons' last night after 48 hours of trying desperately to avoid anything and everything steroid-related. Now, was it just me...or did Baseball's Savior somehow manage to spin doctor himself into some sort of sympathetic martyr-type figure?

First and foremost, Alex Rodriguez is not sorry he stuck a needle in his ass. Let's be clear, he's sorry that he got caught. If he were truly remorseful about using PEDs, then he would have a.) admitted to it before he had been caught and b.) not lied about it the first time. Additionally, I can't get over his, ahem, justification for why he used in the first place:

I felt an enormous amount of pressure. I felt like I had all the weight of the world on top of me, and I needed to perform, and perform at a high level every day. Back then, it was a different culture. It was very loose...

And I wanted to prove to everyone that, you know, I was worth being one of the greatest players of all time. And I did take a banned substance. You know, for that I'm very sorry and deeply regretful...

The culture back then, and Major League Baseball overall, was very -- I just feel that, you know, I'm just sorry.


So kids, what did we learn? (Other than A-Rod felt a lot of pressure on the prostrate, had something very heavy on top of him, had trouble performing, despite being very loose). The blame is on Major League Baseball (which we knew), the Texas Rangers for giving him such a ridiculous (at the time) contract, and the inventors of the syringe (for making it feel so damn good when it pricks you in the ass); all of which Rodriguez groups together in the word "culture." Someone give his handlers the decency of a reach-around. What a great, nondescript, abstract place to mark as a scapegoat for what he did. He cheated, and he lied. And nobody and nothing made the decision to do that but him. Yet, A-Rod has the nuts to play the victim here? MLB is the evil overlord, demanding production, performance and statistics at any cost, eh?

What blew me right out of the water though, was the lack of...moral contempt by Peter Gammons, a true baseball purist. Gammons loves baseball like Le Ginge loves an evening game of butt darts outside the local grammar school. Maybe it was because I couldn't see Gammons' eyes (The nuclear radiation of A-Rod's skin must have triggered Gammons' sunlight-only-shades), but it seemed like he genuinely empathized with him, and understood his plight. He didn't go after him like I expect Peter Gammons to do. He treated him the same way the media has always treated Rodriguez; with kid gloves and an attitude that he is bigger than the game, bigger than the sport. Gammons didn't demand answers, he simply solicited Rodriguez' canned, prepared statements.

Is this indicative of a growing mentality amongst baseball insiders, players and fans that the "Steroid Era", instead of being a black-eye on the sports, is just that; an era of the game unique to all other times? When/if those other 103 names are released, what happens if a lot of the names are those of players formerly considered "clean", or "saviors"? How does Bud Selig and the sport of baseball repair itself if names like Griffey, Biggio, Thomas, Maddux and Schilling appear on that list?

If recent events, and A-Rod's interview with Gammons are any indication, there won't be any repairs to make. The notion that these players boldly and knowingly cheated will slowly dissipate; to be replaced by what will be considered the status quo of that time. Players will be exonerated and praised for their honesty and contrition, for their johnny-come-lately attempts to "fix" the game and save the children, when truly their goal is to protect their own legacy.

Maybe this was a witch hunt against A-Rod. It's irrelevant. He cheated, and knew it. And he lied, and knew it. Just like many others. The fact that he was a guaranteed Hall of Famer, media darling and a man dubbed to save the sport should not result in any special treatment, in any favors, in any lax attitude to what he did. Baseball is at a crossroads, driven there by the combined efforts of the Giambis', Clemens', McGwire's and Rodriguez' of the world.
The league must either reveal all its dirty skeletons, and rebuild from the ground up, OR consider the following question and continue to make excuses to justify what it allowed to happen:
"If EVERYONE was cheating, did ANYONE really have an advantage? "

Major League Baseball, the gauntlet has been laid. Alex Rodriguez would like the world to believe he is nothing more than a victim of your abusive parenting, that he felt compelled to cheat. I'm more inclined to think he got caught at the back end (not the first time) of a drug epidemic in your sport; one you didn't initiate, but were certainly willing to ignore because of the results.

Now is your chance to clear the air, to make a statement, to become America's past time again, and to convince your greatest player to stop wearing blush. Do it.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Bed's Too Big Without You, NFL

The nights are growing shorter, but somehow the darkness is pervasive. A thin veil dims the hours of my waking life like the shadow of a rain cloud unwillingly orbiting my corporeal being. My interest in the mundane sinks into an expanding gap alienating me from my former life, pushing me deeper into nothingness. Across the void is a life to which I cannot return. But would I want to, after what you have done to me? If all you know is the black of night, would your eyes even be able to handle the white of day?

Oh NFL, my one true love. Annually you come to my door, invade my space, offering me all kinds of joyous wonders. And for a time, you fulfill them. But continuously the only promise you can keep is that of gravity. You lift my spirits, carrying me blindly, blissfully into the throes of the dead season, only to drop me fearfully and deep into the decaying brush where I will be covered by the angelically vengeful snow.

Oh NFL, you sultry minx, with your long legs and dashing appearance. Week to week I descend further into debt. Believing that the more resources I set aside in your honor, the more capable I will be of keeping you around all year long. I bet on you, I give you my emotional and financial support, I put all my money into your collection plate. I see no returns, I see no appreciation, I see only embezzlement.

Oh NFL, you haunting spectre. Vague reminders scattered about the landscape in the form of Mel Kiper, the Scouting Combine, and various pundits. The "stink", strong and decadent at first, wanes even before such trinkets are cast aside in a huff, like a dog shedding his collar. If it is a yoke with which you seek to bind me, then you will need a whole lot more Erin Andrews, and a whole lot less Marshall Faulk.

Oh NFL, you gluttonous cougar. You say that you enjoy the finer things in life, but it is I who on the second Sunday of February is left lonesome, with a case of PBR, and a fifth of Jaeger. The bratwurst sitting atop soggy, kraut-infused bun. The cheese curls soft, stale, now unsatisfying. The chili putrid and diarrheal, but somehow, still inviting. Much like you.

Oh NFL, you cold-hearted man-eater. Upon leaving you are always sure to call, keeping me on the line long after you have disconnected. Faint recollections of our conversation include topics such as a "Pro Bowl", and how we may even be a good fit. Have you still not come to see the quality of my taste? I am here not for friendly, meaningless games. I am here only for fateful outcome and genuine gain. I am here because I am lazy and unimaginative. Have you forgotten? You provide the spark that lifts me from my armchair for one brief, impenetrable moment before falling back under the weight of my own bloated belly. You are the artist that portrays the most wondrous playoff scenarios on the pallet that is my own underused, oft abused brain pan.

Oh NFL, you twisted whore. You treat me as if I am the only one. Yet for 5 months of Sundays.And Mondays. And a handful of Thursdays and Saturdays; you sell yourself to any man, woman, or even child. Some for the right price, some for no price at all. You claim that I am jealous, and of this charge I am unapologetically guilty. For jealousy, in this case, is warranted. For all the other imposters seek only to gawk at you, use you, bore you, and manipulate you for their own purposes. But it is I alone that wants to hold you forever. All I ask is that you be there for me. Be there all year long.

But NFL, you eternal cocktease, this is something that you refuse to provide. I offer you love, devotion, and perpetual homage. But all you have to offer me, is a 6th title for the Allegheny Whitefish, months of Brett Favre aggravation, and Trey Wingo.

Keep it.

All of it.

For I just saw NHL walking around here somewhere, and she is looking FOYNE!



Spitefully yours,
B. Lee



PS. I'll be waiting for you in September... Come back to me.