Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Keith Hernandez is one of my favorite athletes of all time. Although I was merely 5 years old in 1986 when the Mets won the World Series, I distinctively remember Keith and his mustache. Mustaches are often a sign of concern, as it is commonly believed that one should never trust a man with a mustache. But Keith was the exception. He was a stellar baseball player, and despite his coincidental facial features with Joseph Stalin, I would trust him more than any other communist leader at bat with a full count, 2 outs, and the bases juiced.
"With the 4th overall pick in the 2003 NFL Draft, the New York Jets select Dewayne 'Fathead' Robertson"
Fewer moments in my life caught me by such surprise as the first time I layed eyes on the size of Fathead's noggin. The man's head can barely fit inside a football helmet and resembles that of a meatball. His giant meatball-like head was a giant dissapointment on the field for the NY Jets and their fans. Fortunately, the NY Jets have traded Fathead to Denver for a conditional 2009 draft pick. Rumor has it that the condition is 'if the man's head doesn't explode and beef tomato sauce does not pour out, then the Jets obtain a 4th round pick'.
Throughout the years, Carlos Baerga was actually a decent professional baseball player. He had a number of good years with the Cleveland Indians before getting traded to the New York Mets. So why the post? Why the hate? Few remember that Carlos 'the Prancer' Baerga was traded to the Mets with 76 year old Alvaro Espinoza for Jeff Kent and Jose Viscaino. Jeff Kent went on the win MVP awards with the San Francisco Giants while Jose Viscaino had an integral part in beating the Mets when he was on the Yankees during the 2000 World Series. The next season Alvaro quit baseball and opened a CarpetWorld. The skills that the Mets thought would be worthy of a traded MVP in Kent now sells carpet to middle class suburbanites. Good call on that one. And why do I call him, 'The Prancer'? Because Carlos, who has a healthy grin similar to that of Cheech Marin, ran like a little fat weirdo. Once he made contact with the ball, the fattest, weirdest, creepiest run to first base would ensue. I call it 'prancing' because it does not quite resemble running. I did once hear it called a fat sideways jiggle, but prancing gets the nod.
I haven't thrown up a post about the NFL draft yet because I've been busy lying in the fetal position near the Two Boots Pizza stand in Grand Central Station since Saturday. But I'm feeling morbidly negative about the Yankees playoff chances this year after Purple Lips and Jorgie landed on the DL, so I think I'll spend some time with my other half, the Jets. But it's going to be tough, because every time I mentally relive Saturday, I want to walk outside and attack an overweight tourist from Arkansas taking 87 pictures of where the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree would be if it wasn't fucking April (Me = hates touring retards).
Before I start, does anyone else find it super-ironic that the draft is held in Radio City Music Hall? I mean, the place is usually crammed wall-to-wall with fancy gentlemen who meticulously groom themselves and spend Sunday afternoons in the winter thumbing through lifestyle magazines, but on this day it's filled with borderline retarded guys who fart while they eat and wear sweat pants to family functions. I don't know, maybe I'm over thinking this a bit, or maybe it's because I just ripped one while I was finishing off my sandwich...
Anyway, here's what really pissed me off about the draft. Al Davis. Al Fucking Davis. I hate this old brittle vampire more than Hitler. At least Hitler did everyone a favor and blew his brains out when he realized he was fighting a losing war. But no, not Al. He's the only reason Darren McFadden isn't wearing green and white right now. I'm not kidding when I say it makes me want to shove a stapler down my throat and puke.
Everyone knows Davis has been losing it over the past few years, but what drives me crazy is Davis probably woke up from a doctor induced coma on Saturday, changed his shit filled diaper, throw on his faggy white jump suit and old librarian glasses, and head down to Oakland's War Room to push the brass around and force them to take another running back. Meanwhile, they already have 4 on the roster. But I'm just bitter, and I can't really blame him for taking a game breaker like McFadden, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to pick his frail body up over my head and toss him down a flight of cement stairs. Man, that would be fucking fun...
So the Jets are stuck with Vernon Gholsten, a guy known for taking plays off. Gee, who does that sound like? John Abraham? Good scouting, cocksuckers. The only satisfaction I will get out of watching Gholsten have an unsuccessful career in the Meadowlands is knowing that I predicted it, because I'm a self-absorbed asshole.
To make matters worse, the Jets traded up to get Dustin Keller, a smallish Tight End from Purdue (Home of Drew Brees and Mike Alstott!) who has good hands but can't block. Hmm, a tight end with hands who can't block? Don't the Jets already have Chris Baker, probably the most underrated TE in the AFC? Drafting Keller probably won't piss Baker off at all. Maybe Mike Tannenbaum should've driven to Baker's house and burned a cross on his front lawn to show his support instead. Good job guys, again, great ideas, input and drafting.
Next up the Jets addressed what they should have addressed with some of their off season money - the secondary. I don't know a lot about CB Dwight Lowery, but from what I've read, he's an average sized CB who is slow, but is also a ball hawk. Slowness usually translates as well into NFL defensive backfields as "I want to drill you behind the Laundromat" does from English to Russian.
Erik Ainge is a fucking wigger. Another wasted pick.
Marcus Henry is the WR the Jets took in the 6th round. I don't know much about this guy, but I do know that most receivers taken after the 4th round don't do dick, so I'm not putting much stock into this guy turning into the next Marcus Colsten, or even the next Wayner Chrebet.
And the last pick was some fat fucking tackle that nobody cares about and probably won't make it through training camp. I'm being negative because I'm being realistic, so shut the fuck up.
There you go, the Gang Green class of '08. I don't think I can sum it up better than it was a real blue balls session. Every scout and their mom had McFadden going to the Jets. Even the New York Post and all their journalistic integrity (none) profiled him in anticipation that they would have a chance to suck him off soon. Didn't happen. And now Jet fans are stuck with another underachieving defensive lineman who will probably end up being benched behind some New England castoff Mangini starts for no other reason than he once played in Foxboro.
Come to think of it, the Yankees chances are looking mighty good to me right now.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Well, we've predictied it here numerous times (along with the rest of America and Puerto Rico, coincidently), and it's finally happened - Zito is in the pen.
When I heard the news last night, I almost felt bad for Mr. 12-6. Seriously, I don't wish the tagline, "Worst Free Agent Bust in the History of Major League Baseball, Without a Close Second" on anyone. Now Zito's stuck pulling mop up duty, a crime for any ex-Cy Young Award winner. Remember when Pat Hentgen was thrown to the wolves a few years after he won the Cy with Toronto? He looked like he was going to take a chair leg to Peter Angelos's shiny bald head. And it's always pitiful to see a guy who's still young, still bodily able, who just loses "it"...
...And then I remembered he's due $127 million, and he still has the remnants of Alyssa Milano on his Howard Johnson (Wucka-Wucka!) - So you know what - Fuck Barry Zito. And fuck the Giants too. That's what you get for not hiring me as your GM, not that I would take the job anyway, you fucking rainbow daisy-dukes wearing queens.
But hey, it could be worse, Barry could be in this guys's shoes right now...
Monday, April 28, 2008
Joba, Joba, Joba. You've come a long way, baby! It's not just a catch phrase for the women's lib movement from the '70's, ohh no. Look at you. Look at all that surrounds you. Look at what you've become. You are the focal point of the NEW-YORK-YANKEES (caps/dashes meant for emphasis while reading aloud, which I assume all of you do while reading WMHG?). The entire team/fans/media of New York all thinking about you. No aspect of a game is talked about without a followup conversation soon after on how Joba's role with the team would affect that situation if his role changed.
Just a few short months ago you were "pushing sheep through a fence" on the family farm and hurling for Nebraska in your spare time. Good to see that you were as fiery then as you are now (pictured at left). Also good to see that your stupid hat brim was just as flat as it is now. Does anyone else hate this more than anything in the world? Stop ironing your hat brim flat, everyone that does it. And for that matter, stop wearing the brim 7 degrees to the side, everyone that does it. Baseball is your job. The second you got a paycheck playing this game, the game became your job. I don't get to wear a Brooks Brothers cut-off sleeves button down shirt, or roll 1 pant leg up at my office. Why? Because I have a job. Just like you, baseball players. And aside from the lack of respect it shows for the history of the game and those that played before you, it looks freakin' dumb and the little kids that look up to you see it and think it's cool. So all that means is I'm going to have to look at it more and more, and I just can't take that. Aaaaaaaanyway....
What's a boy to do? Look at the big fella over to the right, he's understandably very confused. Here's the scenario:
Friday, April 25, 2008
First up (thanks to Ffej), the evil Xerxes from 300, and the evil face of the Miami Dolphins, Jason Taylor. I don't know how much longer Taylor will be riding topless on his Rollerblades around South Beach, but what I do know is I hope he meets a more gruesome fate than his movie counterpart. And by fate I mean that he's traded to Arizona so he can make plays that nobody cares about, therefore crushing his stupid ego. And hopefully he won't have anymore reality show appearances lined up in the near future, either. Saying you are competitive does not clear you of being a queen, Jay. Now go act like every other NFL player and twist out some strippers, fancy pants.
Being a Yankee fan, I don't like ripping on my own, but Hank Steinbrenner is one guy I fucking despise. His stupid comments, his lack of knowledge, his brash threats, even his inability to follow in his asshole father's footsteps makes me seethe. And he looks like a fat fucking pig, so here you go. Can't wait 'til Hank insults Andy Pettite and the fanatics from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints comes around and burns his house down. Please just shut up and go fuck your hand to "I Know What You Did Last Summer", fat boy.
What, JT's on here? JT? Wooooo, yeah, he's so hot (cue up both fat middle-aged women, and slutty college coeds fantasies about having JT do them on the bar of their favorite local watering hole). And who's that next to him? None other than the little bitch who pushes players from behind during mild skirmishes and then tries to act tough after he's ejected from the game - Mr. Jonny Gomes. You're on Tampa Bay, you fucking nerd, act accordingly.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
It's always funny when you look at an MLB player on TV, and after a few ponderous moments you ask yourself, "How the fuck is this guy considered an athlete? And if he's considered one, than why aren't I?"
Here are answers to both of the above questions:
Answer #1 - These fat disasters are athletes because of their intangibles, not their muscle tone. They might have a heart attack trying to run a couple wind sprints, but they can hit to the opposite field and/or drive a slider into the bleachers.
Answer #2 - You are not an athlete because you cannot hit a major league fastball. No, you can't. Seriously, you can't...get over it. And you work in an office. And you smoke Winston's occasionally at TGI Friday's after-work happy hours.
But it's still entertaining to make fun of the guys who definitely look more at home slamming down some Buds in their softball getup, rather than being interviewed by 74 reporters while they apply Gold Bond's (thank you, Dan) medicated powder to their chafed balls. So I decided to put together a team - and here it is.
Team Name: The Springfieldvillewood Spiders
Team Sponsor: Harris Fencing and Supply
Team Game Time and Location: 6:30pm Tuesdays and Thursdays on Field B.
Nick Johnson - IF
Johnson's the guy who is always more preoccupied with some stupid gadget he bought at Radio Shack than the game. His main goal is to hook up the best surround sound possible in the basement apartment he shares with his unemployed brother. He also seems to lose interest whenever a sweet muscle car cruises by the designated softball field.
Jim Thome - IF
Everyone loves Big T-Bone, and I mean everyone. The opposing players swoon when Thome shows up for a game. A beer seems to land in his hand the minute he finishes lacing up his cleats. Thome's all smiles, all day, 24/7. The wives of his teammates all dream about getting plowed by Big T-Bone on the hood of his '85 Camaro, with Guns 'N Roses providing the soundtrack. He's easily the most popular guy on the field at all times.
Rich Aurilia - IF
Aurilia is the hot head of the bunch. He's that douche-bag that argues with the volunteer umpires. Aurilia will fly off the handle if a batter decides to take a walk instead of swing away. He's been kicked out of more league games than anyone in the town's history. One time he broke a well-respected local deli owner's jaw with a telegraphed right hook because, according to the police report, the guy called him a "faggot". He's currently experiencing problems at home with his wife - who's cheating on him behind his back with T-Bone - and his 5 kids.
Jason Varitek - IF
V-Tek is the self-proclaimed captain of the team. He wears eye black, wristbands, an elbow guard (even though it's a slow pitch league), refuses to drink alcohol during game play, claps it up when a drunk player from the other team dusts himself off after a collision, and generally annoys everyone around him. He just got promoted to Manager at the local Home Depot and is currently engaged to his girlfriend of 7 years. They plan on having a small intimate ceremony next Spring.
Dennys Reyes - P
Reyes has been on the team as long as anyone can remember, mainly because he's worked at the Harris Fencing and Supply for close to ten years. He sweats more than anyone else on the team too. He generally keeps to himself, but is known for the deceptive spin he puts on his pitches, his cheerful ethnic laugh, and his nickname, "El Cantante Gordo ".
Matt Stairs - C
Stairs was once the best fielder on the team. People often compared his speed to Rickey Henderson's. But that all changed one day back in '02 at the construction yard, when a copper pipe broke loose and dropped directly onto his cock. Since then, Stairs has been unable to leg out a double, and he can barely make it to first base without limping on a single. So instead he swings for the fences every time, and often gets into shoving matches with V-Tek in the dugout or at the bar later on.
Troy Glaus - OF (Not Pictured)
Glaus is the "ladies man" on the team. He has a tribal band tattoo on his right arm and a knife with a snake wrapped around it on his calf. All he talks about is "getting pussy" and "hitting skins" and "crushing box", even though nobody has ever seen him with a member of the opposite sex. Most players on the team are convinced that Glaus is a repressed homosexual. He owns a boutique by the highway.
Tony Clark - OF (Not Pictured)
Clark's a cop one town over and he likes to show up with his gun still holstered. He also hands out PBA cards to all the fine ladies sitting in the stands. Clark drives a tinted out 1998 Infiniti with a subwoofer, and on game days he drives into the park blasting The Ruff Ryders "Bottom Down".
Lance Berkman - OF (Not Pictured)
"Killer B" is the best player on the team. He does everything - hit, field, throw - he even runs out choppers to the opposing shortstop. Berkman doesn't talk much - he lets his hitting do it for him. He keeps a secret stat book of his at-bats in his rear pocket and then goes home and plays MVP Baseball 2004 until he has to go to work as a high school gym coach in the morning.
David Wells - Bench (Not Pictured)
He works for the town sanitation department, coaches little league even though his kids are in their 20's, and usually has too much to drink during the games. He calls the cooler his "throne" and before the first pitch he's already sucked back around 5 beers. He chain smokes Marlboro Mediums and by the end of the game is so drunk he can barely stand. In most cases, V-Tek and Matt Stairs have to wrestle his car keys away from him, leaving Wells panting on the ground, covered in field dirt and old grass clippings.
Shelly Duncan - Bench (Not Pictured)
Duncan is Wells's right hand man on the bench. They rip into everyone, tell concerned family members to "fuck off", and sometimes even end up wrestling drunkenly in the middle of a game with each other - nobody tries to stop them. Duncan is more confrontational than Wells, and he drinks his face off early and usually waves off V-Tek if he's called into the game. Duncan is also known to throw empty beer cans at the Canadian Geese and sometimes even the immigrant day workers watching the games from behind the park fence. On more than one occasion he has scuffled with the Mexicans in the parking lot. He continues his drinking at the bar down the block and is usually escorted out by the bouncers. He owns and operates a contractual house painting company for a living.
David Eckstein - Bench (Not Pictured)
Eck's only on the team because he works with Varitek. He is always at the field first and he keeps the bases and bats in the back of his pick-up truck. Everyone else thinks he's a fucking nerd. He has a weird obsession with T-Bone. Eck's the guy who pays for the tab when the team goes out to toss a few cold ones back, regardless of the fact that he can barely afford to pay his rent or pay for his pet iguana's food. He is a virgin, not by choice.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Birth Name: Daniel Josef Lucifer Hitler Emperor Hirohito Genghis Cocksucker Snyder
* His name was quickly shortened to just "Daniel Snyder", partly because of the repercussions at school, but mostly because of his celebrated Judaism.
Favorite Color: Poverty Red
Favorite Food: Slow-Cooked Peasant Brain, Albino Alligator Tail, Silver-back Gorilla Assholes
Favorite Television Show: The Facts of Life, Roots
Favorite Movie: Far and Away, Vanilla Sky, Days of Thunder, Eyes Wide Shut, The Alamo(The version with John Wayne, not that shitty Hollywood cumdumpster remake with that fucking hick Billy Bob Thornton), The Last of The Mohicans, anything else detailing the mass genocide of millions of Native Americans
Arch-Nemesis: Jesus, Jerry Jones
Favorite Commodity: Acquiring players well past their primes and expecting them to recapture early career glories to acquire Super Bowl ring, IE: Deion Sanders, Bruce Smith, Larry Centers, Terry Allen, Andre Reed, Dana Stubblefield
Would Trade All 2008 Draft Picks For the Chance to Sign Shaun Alexander: Yes
Boxers or Briefs: Neither - Custom Fit Skin of Taylor Jacobs
Favorite Story: Tie - The time he bludgeoned Skip Hicks to death with a Black-Jack, or the time he watched Jeff George get raped by Kent Graham
Favorite Quote: Anything by Jermaine Dupri that doesn't have to do with being black
Supports Michael Westbrook in His Quest for the All Valley Championship: No
Wishing Dan Snyder Dies in a Head on Collision with Deion Sanders and Michael Irvin: Correct
Monday, April 21, 2008
Friday, April 18, 2008
First, one from the sporting world, that's Aaron Boone. Remember when he was an up-and-comer with the Reds? The next big thing? And of course, who got him? The Yankees. Same with Jeff Weaver and Javier Vasquez. One of the bright young stars in the game and they wind up in the Bronx. I died a little inside when it happend. Then he hit that homer off Wakefield in the playoffs and I full on projectile vomited. Then he tore his ACL playing backetball at a YMCA in the offseason and all was right with the world. Adjacent to him is has-been (probably more like never was) actor/stuntman Johnny Knoxville. Hey, that movie about the special olympics wasn't THAT bad.
Aaaaaaand, for the long awaited winner of the people's choice Creepy Comparison, the mysterious poster that went by the name of 'Ice' has won with his suggestion of "The D-Train" Dontrelle Willis and Mushmouth from Fat Albert's gang. Let me tell ya, that's really creepy, well done. And, how nice, they both fit right into the heading of this post. That's right, Willis at age 26 is apparently already a washed up has-been. Good work Detroit on giving this guy who was a 1 trick pony an extention that will wind up doing more harm than good in the long run. Honestly though, I shouldn't be so hard on Mushmouth, he had a good run and nothing lasts forever.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Die Chad Johnson.
Yes, die a slow painful death. You are just another Prima Donna with a tendancy to sound stupid in public situations.
Why demand a trade? To where? For what reason? Didn't he just sign a 6 year extension two years ago? Better yet, does he really have any sort of clout in the matter? No sir, he does not. And that's why someone in the Bengals front office - anyone, even the fucking cleaning lady - should just step back and let Chad rant and rave until he falls fast asleep in the cradled arms of Michael Irvin.
There aren't many aspects of the NFL that I find absurdly stupid, but the leverage a player has when trying to oust himself from a situation he doesn't prefer is the one that exceeds the rest.
Don't like the new QB? Demand a trade.
Don't like the new coach? Demand a trade.
Don't like the cheerleader who decided to put out this season? Demand a trade.
It's happened so many times in the past, the whole scenario is becoming redundant. Name after name after name has gone through this process, but there's still one that will forever stand out in my mind - an awfully bittersweet one in fact. But not the type of bittersweet situation where you laugh at a man falling down the stairs to the subway platform, only to realize he's blind and crippled. No, this one was different.
It was March, 2004. I was in my second senior year of college, about to finish up my illustrious career as a full-time dirtbag/student/functioning alcoholic, with a monstrous 2.5 GPA to boot, when I heard the news.
My hick friend, the same one who drove a Dodge Ram, had a dog named "Truck", and had a 2000 Super Bowl Champion Ravens flag still stuck into the passenger side window of said truck, dropped the bomb on me(all the previous info is 100% true).
Terrell Owens was about to become a Raven.
And granted, at first, I was jealous over his newly acquired star player. It's not often that a gambreaking wide receiver changes hands from team to team for what amounts to the price of nothing, and it especially hurt then because he was about to go spread his annoying gayness and egocentric bullshit amongst an already douched-up fan base. Now, if you don't know Baltimore, then good, you should keep it that way. But if you do know any fans from that dumpster, then you understand my hatred, because you understand the retardedness of their fans.
- 3 yard gain? Let's scream and clap like Savants.
- 2 yard loss? Same thing.
- What should we wear to the game today, Hosses? How about purple camouflage pants and a dick hat? Sounds fucking awesome!
- Does your dick get as hard as mine when you see Ray Lewis do his seizure dance and then stab someone on a sidewalk and walk away free? I hope so!
Anyway, my Ravens-fan-friend was excited, brodering on emotional, and a bit creepy. He started calling for another championship, he started talking more shit than ever before. But he spoke too loud, and the Karma gods heard him. And happened next pertains to the story at hand, Chad Johnson's bullshit that is. Terrell Owens demanded ANOTHER trade, because the original one didn't suit him.
Are you kidding?
I'm not going to lie, at the time, I was rolling around as happy as a fat girl moving from LA to Cleveland, because Baltimore's depression was thicker than smoke. Eventually, my wits got to me, and I realized that Owens is much more than a repressed homosexual who probably takes it more than he gives it - He's actually a real pioneer. A pioneer that found a new way to fuck over fans, owners and coaches. And that's what Chad is doing now. He wants out, because he's a dick. Nothing more, nothing less.
I think Marvin Lewis and the Bengals' fat owner should take a page from the story of Dan Williams. Williams, a defensive end and former first round pick by The Denver Broncos, spent his first four seasons sucking and battling injuries. After Denver released him from his rookie contract, he caught on with Kansas City and produced solid numbers in his first season with the team, piling up 35 tackles and 10.5 sacks.
So what did Williams do after the season?
He told everyone and anyone that would listen that he was going to sit out the next season unless he got a new contract. Forget the fact that K.C. gave him a shot and signed him, even though he was slowly falling into the "bust" category - Williams wanted to get paid. And he followed up with his decision. And K.C. refused to budge. And this is how the story should've ended. Let the motherfucker sit out until his contract expires.
But no. The K.C. brass blinked. Williams got his money, blew cock, and retired an asshole, probably peddling his autograph somewhere in the Midwest, laughing in the face of each and every Chiefs fan. I know I would.
So hold strong Cincy, make Johnson eat his fucking words. For once, have the balls to make this guy miss the season, even if it is only to prove a worthless point.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
I'm infatuated by nicknames, both bad and good ones alike. Whenever I hear someone call someone else something other than their birth name, I immediately need to know why they are called said name. I can't fucking wait to hear the story, I piss my pants with anticipation. And nothing satisfies me more than hearing a good back story to a unique nickname.
But there's a flip side to it - isn't there always?
I hate the nicknames that have the first letter followed by the first three or four letters of a last name. A-Rod, K-Rod, fuck both of them. You've heard a million of them. I'm sure your stupid boss calls someone by one of these monikers, and if you're like me, you contemplate shitting on his desk and wiping your ass with his tie. And same goes for the reversal - like Dice-K. Learn to spell his fucking name and pronounce it you fat, lazy, ignorant writers/fans/fuckfaces.
Below are some of the ones I came across that forced to spend an hour googling them, trying to figure out where the fuck they came from.
Lance Berkman - "Big Puma"
I'm a huge fan of any nickname starting with "Big" - "Big Cheese", "Big Hurt", "Big Unit", they all work for me(Except Big Papi, because it sounds like a male hooker from the Dominican Republic). But Big Puma? Didn't they used to call Berkman "Fat Elvis"(seriously) and shower him with packets of Twinkie's when he played left field? I like that name better for him, because nothing makes me laugh harder than people who point out a stranger's weight problem and make fun of them until they either lose some weight or jump off a cliff (me = going to hell soon).
Doug Mientkiewicz – "Eye Chart"
This was pretty easy to figure out, albeit dumb. And I bet whoever thought of it was so proud and so happy and couldn't wait to starting calling D.M.(me = refuse to write name again). by this idiotic name. Probably that little bitch Doug Mirabelli. I'm so glad he got fired last week. I hope his wife cheats on him soon.
Mike Lieberthal - "Super Jew"
This one made me so excited when I saw it, I'm just hoping he didn't nickname himself. I wonder who thought of this one - maybe Pete Incaviglia? He looks like the kind of closet bigot who probably criticized Lieberthal every time he left a waitress a short tip. Amazing.
Nomar Garciaparra - "Spiderman"
Na-ah, not going to work for me. Don't care about the background either. I think it should be "Mean-Spirited Prick Who Gets Strap-On Fucked by his Transvestite Wife". Any questions? No? Good.
Vladimir Guerrero - "Vlad the Impaler"
I only like this one because Guerrero doesn't speak a word of English, and I can almost guarentee he has zero idea who Vlad the Impaler really was, because if he did, he would change it. I know if I were named after a bisexual psycho who routinely inserted sharp objects into young boys and girls, raping them, sodomizing them and then killing them, I would probably be against keeping the nickname. But, hey, fuck Vlad, that's what he gets for refusing to learn to speak English. Maybe everyone should start calling him "Super Gay Man". Maybe that would change his mind about learning to speak the langauge of the man who signs his paycheck.
Placido Polanco - "Polly"
This is one of those Hoffman, Hoff things, but seriously, would you want to have the same name as a waitress at a truck stop who smells like cigarettes with a faint hint of death?
Bobby Abreu - "El Comedulce"
This roughly translates to the uber-gay sounding, "The Candy Eater". CREEPY.
Larry Walker - "Booger"
Everyone knows a Booger. Seriously, if you don't, you're a shut-in. Booger's the guy who gets smashed at a party, has stains all over his shirt, is a little over-weight, and is trying to fight some girl's boyfriend from out of town by the end of the night. Booggggerrrrrr!
Dmitri Young - "Da Meat Hook"
Okay, so using "Da" is corny and aggravating to me. It's promoting this wigger MTV bullshit that everyone should be shunning instead of embracing. But when you get down to the real nitty-gritty details of this nickname, it's great, because Young has a habit of beating the shit out of his women, so maybe this is what he calls his right hand right before he punches them in the face...another role model for the kids.
Joel Zumaya - "Zoom Zoom"
This ones sounds like a nickname for a handicapped kid. And that's why it fits perfectly, because Zumaya is a fucking retard.
Friday, April 11, 2008
I've never been a fan of citing my sources. Professors in college found this quite annoying, and often times penalized me for it. I still refused to do it. What's the fucking point? We all know I didn't write the words, that's why they are in quotation marks, asshole-with-a-beard-who's-breath-smells-like-he-just-polished-off-a-dog-shit-sandwich. What difference does it make who originally wrote what I'm quoting anyway? Is my stupid Lit paper going into the Journal of Modern English? Are you going to go look each one of them up, nod your head in approval, and check it off in your douchey leather binder? No, it's going to get stuffed into said binder, dropped on the floor of your car, and then later on that night, you're going to puke on it after you drunk-drive your nerdy ass home from a jazz club.
The reason for the above rant is, the other morning I had ESPN on while I ate my burnt toast. Yes, I know, I said I want ESPN to die, but what am I going to watch in the morning - Regis? Good Morning America? Am I a 40 fat mom wearing sweatpants? No, I'm a man, goddamit! Anyway...I heard someone say something along the lines of, "Almost every starting pitcher in Major League Baseball today is a faggot". Maybe they didn't say, "faggot", per say, but deep down, that's what they wanted to say.
Well you know what guy-I-can't-source-because-I-had-my-back-turned-towards-the-TV-but-wouldn't-source-anyway-because-I-fucking-hate-sourcing? You are Fucking-A right about this. Every pitcher is in fact, a fag.
Durability? Gone. Toughness? Long gone. Want a guy to pitch through injuries? No shot, homeboy, he's gotta nurse that booboo on his elbow because his contract states that if he makes it all the way to October, he gets to plow the owner's Russian wife on top of the trainers table.
This is a problem. What happened to the old days when guys like Bob Gibson would pitch 37 complete games a year and kill anyone who tried to stop him? What happened to the old days for me (the 1980's) when pitchers would go more than 6 innings in a start? Didn't Dave Stewart once pitch with a bullet lodged in the back of his head? I'm sure he did. That shit doesn't happen anymore, and it really pisses me off. When are scouts and managers going to start rewarding the small handful of guys that can work through 8 innings without crying softly in the trainers room while he applies a cold-pack to their vagina?
Take Rich Harden for example. He's hurt again. And this is after he told his critics he would "show them all something" this year. Well, you did show them something, Rich, you showed them you're a little baby who can't push himself. You showed them that you're better off quitting now, retiring, and going back to Cali so you can smoke up your loser friennds and talk shit about how you were forced out of the game.
Let's all be honest here - it's not like pitchers are putting their lives on the line to go out there and take the mound. It's not like they're quarterbacks getting behind the center with a torn ACL and risking their head being smashed in by a 300 lb linebacker who hates white boys. They're just pitching. You have a blister? Man the fuck up. You're getting paid millions of dollars, will the blister really inhibit your pitching that much(I have no idea what it's like but it sounds too gay to be that hard to fight through)? If you say 'yes' then fall off a fire escape. You split a nail AJ Burnett and you can't pitch? What a cocksucking surprise. Get out there and throw underhand if you have to, or figure out a way to pitch around your 13 year-old girl injury. If I get a blister at work, my boss will tell me get over it or start sitting down when I go piss, plain and simple.
But this isn't going to end. There's no hope avoiding the imminent extinction of the tough starting pitcher in baseball. As long as they're being paid like movie-stars then there's no reason they're going to risk their neck to go out there and act like a man, instead of a preschooler with a skinned knee. People laugh at Livian Hernandez. I laugh at Livian Hernandez. But you know what? At least he goes out there and pounds the fuck away at the catchers glove. And he's 78 years old. The rest of them? Fucking crybabies.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Remember when Eddie Murphy was funny? You know, before he starting fucking guys in his car on Santa Monica Boulevard? I sure do. And Beverly Hills Cop was one of his early gems. And who could forget Sergeant Taggert and that tough guy demeanor masking his heart of gold? I know I sure haven't. And look, he resembles David Wells. Unfortunately Wells is a fat fuck who thinks it's funny to pick on short Italian men in diners because he's a so-called "bad ass" and then get knocked out because in reality being fat does not make you tough.
I don't know what it was about Orel Hershiser when I was growing up, but something about him creeped the ever-loving shit out of me. Was it his mad-dog stare? Dunno. Maybe because of the one time he called my house and threatened my life(never happened)? Possibly. But most likely it's because of the overwhelmingly huge German teeth he has packed into that tiny fucking mouth. Yes, that's gotta be it. The guy next to him is Clayton Kershaw, coincidentally the Dodgers #1 pitching prospect. What's not a coincidence is if either one of these tall doofs calls me again I'm going to brain both of them with a dirty lamp(not going to happen).
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
"Shaughnessy? It's Epstein, Theo Epstein. You're my main dick-fluffer so I think you should know: I've killed a lot of people...
Some Worchester girls in the apartment uptown...uh...some homeless people from Dorchester...maybe 5 or 10...um...an NYU girl I met at Yankee Stadium. I left her and her Tino Martinez t-shirt jersey in a parking lot behind Stan's...
I killed Doug Mientkiewicz my old girlfriend, with a nail gun, for refusing to give up the World Series ball and I replaced him with a hobo I found sleeping under a bridge...
And some man...uh...I killed some old faggot with a dog last week. I think it might've been Jason Varitek's biker buddy, but I'm not too sure...
I killed another girl with a chainsaw, I had to, she was making fun of my glasses, and...uh...someone else there I can't remember maybe the bullpen catcher, but he's dead too...
And Doug Mirabelli. I killed Doug Mirabelli with an axe in the face, his body is dissolving in a bathtub in Medford. I don't want to leave anything out here. I guess I've killed maybe 20 people, maybe 40. I have tapes of a lot of it...uh...some of the girls have seen the tapes. I even...um...I ate some of their brains, and I tried to cook a little. Tonight I...uh...I just had to kill a LOT of people. And I'm not sure I'm gonna get away with it this time. I guess I'll...uh...I mean, ah, I guess I'm a pretty...uh...I mean I guess I'm a pretty sick guy. So, if you get back tomorrow, I may show up on Yawkey Way, so you know, keep your eyes open. Oh, and I might go kill Paps for making me look like an asshole, but I haven't decided on that one yet..."
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Monday, April 7, 2008
I've officially turned on the world wide leader in sports, and this time it's permanent.
Yeah, I'll still check out the site every once in a while, but I plan on holding a grudge like a step-child meeting the new guy nailing his momma, and I will never advocate one of their breaking news reports again (winter meetings reports = hurtful lies). You're fucking dead to me, ESPN.
I know this might be a touchy subject, because someone on this site receives his paychecks from that Nazi Walt Disney and his bloodsucking Himmler counterpart, ESPN, but I don't give a fuck. I'm pissed.
The hatred started with the way I was bent me over by this whole 'Insider' nonsense. To start off, 'Insider' is a fucking crock. It's the complete rape and pillage of their own fan base. Want to read something written by a respectable columnist such as Buster Olney? Nope, suck a dick none-paying-visitor, you need to pony up some cash. Here, why don't you read something detailing the World Championship of Pillow Fighting and count the number of brain cells you hear disintegrating, retard. Would you like to see a mock draft by Mel Kiper, and get a glance at his beautiful black mane of man-hair? I'm sorry, dickhead, not happening. Go read a suddenly dated and unfunny Bill Simmons' article about how good he thinks he is at poker or how good he is at not picking the correct team to bet on during football season.
And here are a few other things that annoy me...
Your eye? The fucking creepy one? That's what you get for being a self-absorbed prick who won't give up his past glories. You're like a high school hero who can't live down the six interceptions he had his JV year(me). Start acting like a middle-aged man and not an unfunny comedian who references shit that wasn't really funny twelve years ago. And by the way, your page in the Magazine - the one where you constantly defend black athletes who commit inexcusable crimes - it makes you look like a fucking asshole.
Who the fuck wants to watch amateur karate and drag racing? Who in their right mind would sit down and watch more than 1 minute of a pool game they are not participating in. If you're not drunk, or betting on a game of billiards, and you find yourself watching a full half-hour of a game, than I think you should off yourself immediately, because you're not doing society any favors by existing. And if you really insist on watching amateur karate, than drag your fat ass off the couch and go down to the closest mini-mall. There's a spot next to the local child molester on the school's plate-glass window, feel free to peer in and watch with him.
Why don't you just call it, "The Mainstream Athletes Un-Hip Corporate Sponsors Will Recognize When We Hand Them a Stupid Trophy". You ignore anyone who isn't relevant to pop-sports. You should just replace this with a three hour video of Tom Brady and LeBron James giving each other reach-arounds.
You would think by now ESPN would get the hint and start showing old games that people care about. Nope, not even close. They will continue to show crap because it doesn't cost them anything. The channel is a cash cow. There is zero production cost to hire a widower to sit in an empty room and pop Beta tapes into a shitty old VCR and hit 'play'. Fuck you ESPN for understanding capitalism.
You single-handedly ruined poker. RUINED IT. Whoever didn't jump on the Hold 'Em wagon after seeing Rounders(me) definitely jumped on it after you televised the World Series of Poker like it was the brainwashing video in A Clockwork Orange.
NFL Films on ESPN
First off, I have a bone to pick with Steve Sabol. How is it possible that this tan prick can decide who gets to see old broadcasts of NFL games? Isn't America anti-monopoly? This is fucking bullshit. And it's not like Sabol even sells his old footage to ESPN and lets them air the original game. No, we get an edited version with some bullshit voiceover that fucks up the whole game. What's the point of condensing a great game into two minutes of footage? What are you doing with the rest of that video, Steve? Are you using it to apply moisturizer to your sunburned balls? Die. Yes, I understand there are probably legal terms that prevent you from showing the original game with the original announcers, but so what, live a little, because you're going to die soon anyway.
So that's it for me. No more of this bullshit. If I want sports news, I'm going directly to the source, ie: MLB.com, NFL.com, etc,(lie). Unless of course, I'm given a free Insider account, and then we can be friends again.
Does anyone have a username/password I can use?
Me = Unappreciative asshole.
Friday, April 4, 2008
5:45pm - Warms up for Tampa Bay game by choking out bullpen catcher with Neck Crank move he learned on MMA.com.
5:49pm - Answers NYPD's questions. Calls them "gays".
6:23pm - Listens to Megadeath's "Run to the Hills". Tuck boner into belt.
6:26pm - Listens to Pantera's "Mouth For War". Attacks Billy Traber with pitching machine. Bill Traber dies. Yankees replace him with Jose Mesa's southpaw twin brother, who's outside the stadium selling t-shirts. Jose Mesa is there too, but Yankees ignore his Spanglish pleas for a job.
6:49pm - Scales the wall of the bullpen to attack fan wearing Blues Traveler Concert Series 1998 t-shirt. Fan dies.
7:14pm- Listens to "Hells Bells" on loop. Ignores game.
9:35pm - Gets up to relieve Ian Kennedy. Throws four warm up pitches at 101 mph over recovered bullpen catcher's head. They slam through the padded wall. Tells coaches he's ready.
9:37pm - Walks Carl Crawford.
9:38pm - Hits Carlos Pena.
9:39pm - Walks BJ Upton.
9:40pm - Walks Cliff Floyd
9:41pm - Walks Willy Aybar
9:42pm - Leaves game, goes into clubhouse to watch "Maniac Cop 3: Badge of Silence". Revels at the grotesque size of Robert Z'Dar's chin.
10:34pm - Drinks 16 Keystone Light cans. Throws cans into Jose Molina's locker. Throws other cans at Morgan Ensberg's head.
10:54pm - Pisses in A-Rod's locker. Calls him a "queen". Pisses in shower.
11:18pm - Calls cab. Goes to bar on Lower East Side.
11:56pm - Starts bar fight. Smashs nerd with glasses in the face with beer bottle.
12:12am - Answers NYPD's questions. Calls them "faggots".
12:34am - Stumbles to another bar. Throws up in trash can on street corner.
12:45am - Bar owner invites Kyle to bartend. Kyle jumps over bar, begins drinking directly from tap. Bar owner intervenes, Kyle smashes bar owner over the head with a bottle of Tanqueray.
12:46am - Smashes college nerd in the face with wood plank ripped up from booth.
12:57am - Goes to jail.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
So the first few days of the 2008 baseball season are out of the way, and as usual, a number of significant events/feats/injuries have happened already. And, because they are fucking morons, a lot of sportscasters and writers alike are assuming the worst for everyone. So here are a few examples of the opinions I've heard over the last few days(don't quote me, but I did hear each one of these stated, in so many words).
- Pedro Martinez hurt his hamstring? Oh...shit...Without his 85 mph fastball and iron-man attitude, the Mets are finished. Might as well pencil them in for last place in the NL East. What? You're trying to tell me that even though they lost Pedro they'll be okay beacuse they have three of the best hitters in baseball in Reyes, Beltran and Wright? And they have Johan Santana? So what? Didn't you fucking hear what I fucking said? They lost Pedro! THEY LOST PEDRO! We're all going to fucking die! Who will I willingly fellate now that Pedro is hurt??
- Rich Harden is going to start 33 games and win 23. I'm sure of it. No really, he is. Injuries? Nope, he's past them. Harden's due for a Cy Young season. Did you see his one start against Boston last week? No? You say you were sleeping because the game was on at 6 in the fucking morning? Oh, like most of America, right (me = obviously still bitter about this opening day a week early bullshit)...Well he struck out nine Sox - yeah, nine. And he ravaged four Japanese Anime characters during the 7th inning stretch. And he ended jihad. So anyway, I'm going to go out back and inhale some more dust-off.
- If you're into fantasy baseball, make sure you pick up Xavier Nady, Nate McLouth, Frankie Gutierrez and Emil Brown. You should definitely overreact 2+ games into the season. Hopefully you'll drop someone that I can grab and then continually shove into your face until my team's untimely collapse just in time for the playoffs and I then blame the commisioner for cheating and bitch and moan until people stop returning my text messages and tell me to 'grow up'...fuckin cheating bastard.
- Don't get caught up in the hype - this is the year that Mariano Rivera finally collapses. Trust me, I'm a fat fuck who lives above his mom's garage and plays Halo 3...I know for a fact that he's cooked. What's my proof? Well, he's old. And he's on the Yankees, and I hate the Yankees. Yes I know he was still good last year, but this is it for him. Same with Jeter, A-Rod, Pettite, Posada, Cano, Cabrera, Matsui, Hughes, Joba, Giambi, Duncan, Morgan Ensberg, Jeff Nelson, Jose Molina, Steve Balboni, Jesse Barfield, Roberto Kelly, Don Mattingly, Mickey Mantle...
- The White Sox are good! No really, they are. Jim Thome hit 2 HR's in 2 games! Isn't that the most awe-inspiring stat you've ever heard of? Ozzie Guillen got his mojo back. Isn't he so funny? Doesn't it make you sick that us writers are too pussy to say anything to him because we are scared white faggots and we are afraid we might insult him because he's a minority? Sighhhh...Yeah, we deserve to give advice instead of walking into oncoming freeway traffic and dying.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
That's right America! We want to hear from you! Do you have a Creepy Comparison that your just dying to see on WMHG? but those 2 stupid jerks that make posts just haven't opened up their lazy eyes enough to see it? Well here's your chance! Throw up a comment in the comments section of this post and a pannel of experts (me and doc holiday) will decide who is the creepiest and deserves to grace the front page of WMHG?