The Most-Powerful 010203040506070809 Ever!

Normally, birthdays are so trite and passe -- except for today.

Because today's symbolism of Biblical import has made it more than merely a birthday which I share w/ luminaries such as JACK LAMBERT (tied w/ Willie Lanier as NFL's best MLB ever ... sorry, Mr. Butkus -- and "get bent," Ray Lewis), KEVIN BACON (star of the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon phenomenon), LERRIN LaGROW (known more for being the target of the bat which Campy Campaneris helicoptered his way during the '72 playoffs rather than the 8-19 record for the Tigers in '74 or 7-14 mark for the Tigers in '75, not to mention the 0-2 blight on the '80 World Champion Phillies' record) and JOAN OSBORNE (although we were born on the same day in 1962, I don't listen to her music and she doesn't read this weblog, so there!).

Anyway, at exactly 3.040506 seconds past 1:02 A.M. on this day -- and, I do mean at EGG-ZAKK-LEE (as in "precisely") 3.040506 seconds -- as well as at exactly 3.04050506 seconds past 1:02 P.M., the actual Earth Time on the actual Earth Scoreboard will read: 01:02.03.040506 on 07/08/09.

That's not a typo or an optical illusion ... it's a binary equation (whatever a binary equation is) which reads a mind-blowing 010203040506070809 -- and that's a helluva lot more-powerful cosmic force than what'll happen next year when it's 10.10 seconds past 10-after-10 on Oct. 10th.

101010101010 ...

How trivial.

What's happening today kinda makes ya wanna go out and buy a giant HAPPY 010203040506070809, EARTH!! balloon and carry it proudly as you walk about the dusty streets of this neighborhood which God has forsaken, doesn't it?

As it stands, 010203040506070809 is the only thing that some of us have to hang onto ever since the Mrs. refused to wait 11 mos. to get married, thus denying us the symbolic (and probably Biblical) 9/9/99 wedding day with the accompanying 09/09/09 10th wedding anniversary.

Some wives never understand -- and, besides, 010203040506070809 looks/sounds/feels a lot more cool than what'll occur two months from now (at 9.0909090909 seconds past 9:09 AM and 9:09 PM on Sept. 9 when the EarthClock/EarthCalendar will coincide with a significant 090909090909090909090909090909.

Whaddya mean, "big deal"???

When it's 2 1/4 yrs from now and it's 11.111111 seconds past 11:11 in the morning and/or evening, there'll be dozens of 111111111111111111111111111'ers out there (and 9999999999999'ers) who'll be WISHIN' they were as cool as 010203040506070809.

Which is why we're celebratin' today -- 'cuz we can't remember if we were this jubilant or cosmos-aware at 4-and-a-half seconds past 1:23 in the morning and/or afternoon on June 7, 1989 when the Giant EARTH Register logged an official 0123456789. Which won't happen again until June 7, 2089 when it's 0123456789 all over again.

As we're all waitin' for the next 010203040506070809, which'll occur a little more than 30 yrs. (in 2109) after that next 123456789.

If Earth can survive that long ...

++++

Draft Dodging '09

This could be almost as enjoyable as The GRT recap of what happens every time that chronic bedwetter (presumably) McShay or Kiper's Bouffant Hairdo opens his mouth [ 1) "This is what I learned in business school ... when I read about business school ... in a book ..." >>> 2) "George, you must exercise the gaskets!" >>> 3) "You talkin' to me? YOU ... talkin' ... to me?" (smiles ... looks at camera) "Pacino ... Raging Bull ..." ]

Goddamn, those were great moments in NFL Drafts past.

Now -- in the Stafford/Sanchez deluxe yawnfest -- every time McShay opens his mouth, all that comes out is, "I personally believe that U.S. Americans are unable to do so because, uh, somma people out there in our nation that don't have maps and, uh, I believe that our education like such as South Africa and, uh, The Iraq everywhere like such as and I believe that they should, uh, our education OVER HERE in the U.S. should help the U.S. or er should help South Africa and should help The Iraq and the Asian countries so we will be able to build up our future for our [INAUDIBLE >>>] children ..."

Seriously, how is McShay's analysis any more coherent, not to mention "on target"?

ANSWER: "It ain't." (Although it's not the same w/o Mario Lopez pulling the mike away and saying, "Thank you, South Carolina," as he steps back into the shadows.

For the umpteenth time, McShay's a fuckin' idiot who was hired to be one of the fuckin' morons in that Disneyland Sports Channel circus sideshow.

If McShay used a Donald Duck voice to offer his analysis, it would be the same as what we see/hear currently.

[NOTE: It seems like a fairly-educated guesstimate that McShay's only up-close-and-personal experience with "football" (presumably) was when he saw a naked football player in the locker room during high school and he didn't feel THAT guilty for staring -- and then there was that time in college when that cheerleader from two doors down was studying with a friend on the east wing of the dorm and, since she left her door unlocked, guess who wandered in and jacked off on her bedspread?]

Really ... aside from the fact that most waiters at Outback Steakhouse are 20 times more athletic and know more about the NFL (and tonight's specials!) than McShay, he's probably a really mediocre guy.

So, when Americans with a functioning brain wonder about The New Messiah, they might pull out their cue cards and ask, "Did this ordinary fuck ever make a big throw in a big game for Jo-Ja? Do we have to go all the way back to Tarkenton to find any Jo-Ja QB who ever did anything in the NFL? Didja know that a fourth-string Jo-Ja QB named Hines Ward had more yards passing in a bowl game -- 450, by the way -- than Stafford?"

All yer gonna git is, "I personally believe that U.S. Americans are unable to do so because, uh, somma people out there in our nation that don't have maps and, uh, I believe that our education like such as South Africa and, uh, The Iraq everywhere like such as and I believe that they should, uh, our education OVER HERE in the U.S. should help the U.S. or er should help South Africa and should help The Iraq and the Asian countries so we will be able to build up our future for our [INAUDIBLE >>>] children ..."

That's 'cuz The Shay don't know football.

Never did.

That's no reason for the guy with the sci-fi-movie hairdo (Kiper) to have a smirk on his face.

Just once, it might be fun if he reduced his cliches-per-answer to 38 (the best ever came a few years ago when he uttered, "Once the running game solidifies itself" -- which could not have been more-vague or more-tangetally obscure >>> meaning it was simply buzzword bullshit).

Since Mel is virtually impossible for Disneyland to fire (meaning that he haas this gig FOR LIFE), what would be wrong with some material which is a little more edgy.

Y'know, talkin' 'bout Sanchez in terms such as, "You look at a guy like Mark Sanchez ..." -- (EVERY Kiper thumbnail HAS to begin that way ... it's THE LAW!) -- and he reminds you of something in between an Elvis Grbac or a Mike Tomczak ... or, for you oldtimers out there, maybe something along the lines of a Milt Plum or a Gary Cuozzo ... it's gonna be fun to see what it's like the first time a linebacker rips off Sanchez's head and pisses down Mark's neck ... You think this guy is gonna do more in Jets green than Richard Todd? No fuckin' way. ... And, what about the last two Jets QBs to wear number 6? That's right ... Bubby Fuckin' Brister and Ray Lucas, kids ... Ohhh, but I'm sure QB guru Steve Clarkson did a bang-up job with Sanchez's mechanics ... some pussy who couldn't cut it with Saskatchewan in the CFL 25 years ago is gonna tell Sanch what it takes to succeed in the NFL, that makes a lotta fuckin' sense, doesn't it? ... either way, Sanch is gonna be extra mediocre in New York until Terrelle Pryor arrives, saves the organization and breaks most of Vince Young's NFL records ... oh, and, 'yeah' ... Sanch is likely to win a playoff game or two for Tampa Bay in '13 or '14 ... if he beats out Jimmy Clausen for the starting job ... and if H-back Tim Tebow can ever get healthy ..."

That duo is like a two-headed Fuck Herbstreit, THE all-time cliche ejaculator.

"Kirk, tell us about receivers who catch the ball AT ITS HIGHEST POINT ... 'cuz we really really really wanna know which receiver has a vertical leap of 80-100 inches, thereby allowing him to catch a pass which, AT ITS HIGHEST POINT, might be 16-18 feet above the playing field ... "

The correct term is "at the apex of one's leap" ...

The Niners got Crabtree?

Awesome!

J.J. Stokes, Part II!

It's some mighty severe dumbfuckology we've got goin' on there.
Not enough learning about the NFL ... by reading about it in a book ...
Not enough exercising of the gaskets ...
Maybe too much watchin' "Raging Bull" and wunderin' where Pacino is ...

b

Play-In Satisfaction: MORE HEAD!

Lousyville head coach Pricktino -- the Imperial Wizard of the #1 team in The Land -- ordered his players to watch the play-in game -- and, when it was over, he instructed them to get their minds right for Morehead.

A little later, many of those players spent a school night (unless it's Spring Break, I dunno) gettin' themselves more head.

'Cuz that's what play-yuhz on a new #1 team be doin'.

Gettin' more head.

Yes-indeedee ... Phil Simms U. dispatched that program (Alabama State) which we hope we never hear from again -- unless, of course, instead of a player named Grlenntys Chief Kickingtstallionsims, 'Bama State lands a recruit named Lieutenantcolonel Thrashinghammerheadjones, III.

As it was, Chief BirminghamstallionsofthedefunctUSFL didn't do much with his 7-foot-1 frame (0-3 FG, 2 rebs., 3 blk., 0 pts.) -- and Menji Mundadi wasn't much help (2 shots, both 3's, missed 'em both) in one of the worst rec-league games ever televised (despite Pusburger's 40 yrs. in broadcasting and Erin Andrews' 36-C's).

It might've been worth a hearty chuckle if a dozen MSU fans had circled Erin and began a chant of "MORE HEAD! MORE HEAD!" -- justifying their behaviour as "completely appropriate" when those who aren't hip to MSU school spirit questioned the "ritual" (read: public humiliation and/or human sacrifice).

As per the NCAA Intramural Invitational: The teams combined to shoot 36 of 108 ... 6 of 30 "from distance" ... w/ 21 turnovers for Morehead ... and 5-12 FT for 'Bama State.

"Onions!"

If ya spent more than 3 mins. watching, you either burned your retinas -- or you were thinking that more head from Lavin (in hi-def!) would've been better than quote-unquote "that shit."

Of course, if someone was bold enough to spend a minute or three over on Disneyland Sports 2 (watchin' the NIT w/ ND-UAB), he/she might've noticed that the crowd at N.D.'s Joyce Center was deader than Myles Brand's pancreas.

Yeah ... we understand that it's spring break and that the students who didn't go home are probably all huffing bars of Irish Spring and getting wasted at the Irish pub of their choosing in South BendOver.

Still, ya woulda figured that the crowd would've been a little more amped re: the dribbling acumen of Kyle McAlarney.

McAlarney is a very good dribbler.
Sooooo stylish ...
Bounce-bounce-bounce goes the ball ...
That kid's electric ...

"Onions!"

(OH, AND BY THE WAY ... THE NOTRE DUMB FARTING IRISH WERE, HANDS DOWN, THE BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT IN COLLEGE B-BALL IN '08/'09. A TOTAL FUCKING MYSTERY -- LOOK, NOBODY'S SAYIN' THAT ST. PATTY'S STATE IS A BUNCH OF PUSSIES (well, okay ... maybe we are ... "the proof is in the pudding" ... which is about as "soft" as N.D. was this season ... pudding ...) >>> OR MAYBE THE BLAME FALLS DIRECTLY ON MIKE BREY'S CLASSIC-AND-EXPENSIVE MOCK T's WHICH HE WEARS UNDER THAT BLAZER ... AND THERE GOES McALARNEY! ... BOUNCE-BOUNCE-BOUNCE GOES THE BALL ... LOOKIT THAT KID DRIBBLE DRIBBLE DRIBBLE ... WILL THAT STYLISH DRIBBLING BEST SUIT HIM NEXT YEAR IN MADRID OR ALBANIA?)

We're in for a doozy of offensive pyrotechnics in the days ahead ("on the offensive side of the ball" say Herb Kirkstreit and/or Todd McShame and/or Mel Kiper's Bouffant).

It's a pity that a coach can't pull Chef Killingpalaminosmith aside and quietly tell him, "It'd be nice if you got yer fuckin' 7-foot frame to actually care about what the fuck yer doin' out there," but, alas ... this is P.C.merica, so it's, "Swell job, big fella!"

Not around here, though.
Mild Marchness is quashed in its entirety as another Steeler DVD goes into the DVD player.

It's how we wash our hands of any personal involvement (particularly when that USA-Puerto Rico WBC epic finish is on the MLB Network, rather than DisneyTime TV).

Sorry 'bout that, Colonel Kissingscallionsims ...

Now, gotta get outta here before Digger's flourescent necktie and flourescent highlighter pen show up and pretend-to-know/begin-to-explain something/anything about more head ...

b

Bracket Racket: "Jribble Jrive, Jrue!"

Any time we see NCAA b-ball brackets which look this totally awesome, it usually means that the stage is set for the funnest tournament ever. *

(* -- "funnest," in this case, might actually be a euphemism for "biggest pile of shit," but your mileage may vary ...)

Of course, for this to be the funnest tourney of the Y2Ks for FUCLA (Final 4 appearances the previous three seasons), we'll need to see if Jrue Holiday is up to the challenge.

How so?

BY TAKIN' IT TO THE RACK ... WITH THE JRIBBLE JRIVE!!!

God-frickin'-dammit-all ... this is gonna be the most off-the-hook tournament in the history of the universe ... what, with Chief Kickingstallionsims in the play-in game on Tues. and then Jrue Holiday jrainin' the jumper!

In fact, the only way this tourney could be any more awesomer than it'll already be would be if they used the same prop that the ol' MTV Rock N' Jock b-ball contests had back in the day -- a regular hoop-and-backboard paradigm, but with a ANOTHER HOOP (and net!) anchored to the top of the backboard.

For anyone who put a shot through ... 5 POINTS!

Digger: "Team X can get back in this game -- but only if they spread the court and hit those quintuples!"

Lavin: "Diagonal passing ..."

Raftery: "Send it in, Jerome!"

Wait ... when the flock did we start talking about "Jerome"?
This is 'sposed to be about Jrue.
And the jribble jrive ...
And jrainin' the jumper ...
Or jrawin' the foul ...
In jramatic fashion ..
While jrenched with sweat ...
In the huge win against Jrexel ...
Before the jrunk jrivin' arrest the night before the NBA Jraft ...
And gettin' jropped from the Grizzlies' wish list ...

By the way, what ever happened to the common spelling of the name "Jrue"?
Y'know ... "J-R-E-W"?
Ring any bells?

And, by the way (again), if Jribble-Jrive Jrue can't get it done with his jribble-jrivin' and his J-jrainin', dare we put all of our eggs into the basket of Steffphon Pettigrew of Western Kentucky?

That would be the logical move -- but only if Sttefffphhonn Petttigrrew was goin' one-on-one vs. Blaise Ffrench (now that we don't have Chief Kickingstallionsims to kick around any more).

WTF? Somebody somewhere said that Blaise Ffrench and his UTEP Miner teammates are playing in something called "the College Basketball Invitational Tournament" (which, from what they tell us, is approx. three notches below the I.M. hoops at most campuses).

Seriously ... Blaise Ffrench has two F's on the frontside of his last name.

Some people might opine that Jrue and Steffphon and Ffrench have names which are ffuckking idiotic -- but, those people are close-minded to the concept of The MTV 5-Point Shot.

And, maybe in those folks' office pools, they can't decide which way to lean on that breathtaking first-rounder.

ZAGS vs. ZIPS!

The first place to turn re: handicapping this barnburner (before we get jrowsy and jrift off to sleep) is Disneyland's B-Ball Channel ... and that 6-headed braintrust.

WHEN ______ MAKES THEIR SHOTS, THEY'RE AS GOOD AS ANY TEAM IN THE COUNTRY.

________ NEEDS TO REBOUND.

______ CAN'T TURN THE BALL OVER OR THEY'LL BE IN TROUBLE.

IT'LL BE INTERESTING TO SEE IF _______ CAN MATCH _______'S PHYSICALITY.

_________ HAS TO MAKE THEIR FREE THROWS OR THEY'LL BE IN TROUBLE.

________ HAS TREMENDOUS LENGTH (this one belongs to Atty. Bilas -- and since "height" is how we measure how tall a team is and "physicality" is how we measure a team's athleticism and toughness, it seems as though "length" is how we measure the size of the players' dongs ... nice work, Jay ... "permission to treat as hostile, Your Honour?")

IF ______ MAKES THEIR THREES, THEY'LL GO FAR.

________ PLAYS WITH A LOT OF COURAGE.

________ PLAYS WITH A LOT OF PASSION.

_______ HAS TO MAKE THEIR THREES ... AND NOT TURN THE BALL OVER ... AND REBOUND ...

________ IS A TERRIFIC COACH.

Gotta love the hoop-speak Mad Lib ...

Since Digger and Vitale are bigger spin doctors than most politician's PR staffs, we're never going to real opinions such as "_______ PLAYS LIKE A BIG PUSSY" ("I never said he IS a pussy ... he just plays like one") or "______ IS WORTHLESS AS A COACH" ("I never said he was worthless as an individual ... he just can't coach, that's all"), we're resigned to saying, "It is what it is" and then clicking the TV remote to something other than the soft-serve, creamy nonsense in a waffle cone which coll. BB dishes out.

Dickie V. maybe doesn't remember the MTV 5-point shot, but he'll sell ya lollipops and balloons, anyway.

Love that egghead. He reads from his Mad Libs sheet and says roughly the same 10 things each game.

(Note: The all-time best-ever description of a college b-ball star was offered almost 20 yrs. ago when Stanford's Aussie import Andrew Vlahov -- a thick, tough-as-nails power forward w/ a handshake like a vise-grip which he used to help the Cardinal win the '91 NIT title -- told my Mrs. that one of his teammates "squats when he pees" ... a quote which works best when used w/ either a real or fake Aussie accent)

We've got a lot of fellas in this tournament who squat when they pee (punchline: "... and when they're ready to take a dump, they stand upright and shit their shorts at the free-throw line.")

Some people figured that when President Oprah came into power, he'd clean up this frickin' mess.

Alas, President Oprah's father is a Kenyan dude -- and Kenyans have never had any pull in this tournament ... not the way that Sudanese refugees (such as Duany Duany and Kueth Duany) and Cameroonian tribesmen (such as Luc Richard Mbah a Moute or Frank Tchuisi) or Senegalese warlords (such as Bamba Fall, Samba Fall and Papa Dia) or Tanzanian superstars (such as Hasheem Thabeet) or the Nigerians (such as Olajuwon, Okafor and that guy Okalija) have.

Kenya might have had some teams which have won the Jungle Ball Invitational or the Congo Holiday Classic, but they can't hang w/ the American game.

Hence, the only way to dress up this pom-pom bore-a-thon is to bring back the Sheraton commercials from last season's tourney.

When Sorrycuse fan uses his forefinger to dab at the bleu cheese splotch on Georgeclown fan's moustache ... CHUBBY ALERT!

That is ... if you're gay.

If you're straight and interested in legit competition, you're gettin' your mind right because the Stanley Cup playoffs are right around the corner.

There's a red line and a blue line, but no 3-point line.

Gotta fix that.
Better use a jrill and a screwjriver.
Oh, and don't forget the jropcloth.
Or it's gonna be a real jrag ...

###

Overtime Crime (Times 6)

Ordinarily, when a game is tied following 40 minutes of regulation and five 5-minute OT sessions as the clock inches past 1 a.m., it's not difficult to imagine the typical American male lying in bed, checkin' out the action, glancing over at his lover (or life partner) and whispering, "Howzabout lettin' me nail you the way that Devendork is nailin' those J's."

It's almost impossible for that girl --- be it your spouse, someone else's spouse, a hooker (high-priced or crackhead) -- or that fella (be it closet gay, street hustler, NAMBLA text-message teen) to resist such a zinger of a hook and NOT slip off those scivvies and oblige.

Just goes to show -- a Thursday Night With Devendork tastes better when it turns into a Friday Morning With Devendork.

(Hint: So as nuthin' ends up "prematire," it's always best when you're "almost there" to close yer eyes and envision Boeheim ... sorta like the way he gives it to America up the poop chute every time his team takes the court)

It is ironic, isn't it? When an MLB game goes 17 or 18 innings, not too many Americans would ever call that "epic" or "Biblical" (although the same can't be said of the NFL or NHL because of the important element we know as "sudden death").

However, when an abortion of a ballgame betwixt Sorrycuse and AirCon goes deep into the night and when the afterbirth finally plops onto the asphalt in the wee hours (1:25 or thereabouts) of a Friday morning, it can often elicit powerful emotions from ESPN's play-by-play guy who called that game -- Pom-Pom Sean.

McDonough recapped the messiness in the following manner:
"We were especially privileged to be a part this et cetera et cetera et cetera, blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda ..."

And, don't forget:
"We throw around words like 'courage' and 'heroic,' et cetera, et cetera and so forth and so on ... "

Seems as though Sean might've forgotten the word "bravery."
And "valour" ...
And "honour" ...
And "dignity" ...
And "fortitude" ...
And "passion" ...
And "zero grams trans-fat" ...

At first, it seemed as though Sean McDonough and much of America had completely lost their marbles, given that this was only a basketball game and nuthin' more.

Not mesothelioma research ...
Not mine-sweeping in Afghanistan ...

But, upon closer inspection, maybe America actually IS ready to embrace Devendork as its new B-Ball Messiah, just as it has embraced a Kenyan-American as its White House main squeeze.

40-Minute Devendork is nice ... but, Sextuple-OT Devendork ... that's a major chubby (although, when ya get right down to it, we can always DVR Devendork any time we want and then create a DVR Devendork Weekend Marathon ... as in "Devendork On Demand").

That kid's larger than life.
A little like Van Damme and Vin Deisel rolled into one.

Eric DeeVanDamme ...
Eric DeeVinDiesel.

And, isn't that what makes America (In Crisis) great?
Like Van Damme and Vin Diesel, DeeVanDamme isn't very talented, but, what makes him cuddly is the pasty-skin, the incomplete beard, the sleepy-eyed facial expression w/ mouth slightly agape and -- "wait for it" ... those tatts!

Yummy, yummy, yummy ...

When he leaped onto the courtside media table after he presumed that his end-of-regulation J had just made him King Of The Universe ... that was pure magic from The Deev.

Like the night before when he was talkin' shit, drainin' J's and then posin' with vanilla gangstuh gestures ...

"All y'all ... "

God bless, America ... and this (once-proud) nation under God is powerful because WE THE PEOPLE have forgiven Devendork for past indiscretions ... which is how Boeheim got Devendork's punching-in-the-face of a chick downgraded to (maybe) a slap ...

Before it was downgraded to (maybe) some mean words ...
Before it was downgraded to, yeah, it probably happened, but, c'mon, she's a chick and he's The Deeve -- and the beeee-yotch was probably askin' for it, y'know?

Oh ... and, in case anyone asks, the charisma of Boeheim is best-described in song, such as "who can take a rainbow / wrap it in a sigh / soak it in the sun / and make a groovy lemon pie / Jim Boeheim, man / Jim Boeheim, man, can ... "

Boeheim and Bernie Fine have created a legendary (who said anything about "outlaw"?) program (albeit one which, unlike the days of Tarkanian, doesn't usually win squat).

Anyway, the Sorrycuse Onganaets won because AirCon's clean program was 3 of 20 on 3-balls in the 6 OTs (Kemba Walker was 0 of 5).

While Jonny Flynn's 16-16 FT was very respectable and The Deev's 1 turnover in 61 minutes was impressive, this "one for the ages" concept needs to be stuffed into a Hefty trash bag and tossed into the dumpster.

Of course, if it's anyone from either roster doin' the tossin', get ready to chant "Airrrrrr-ballllll, airrrrr-ballll ..."

Now, go take your NCAA Sweet Sixteen losses like the brave little warriors Sean McDonough said you are ...

b

Marked For Death

According to Mark, the recent sequence of landmark events went like so: //// He capped another summer playing softball with the same guys he's played with for 15-20 yrs. and he went something like 17 for 19 in their final tournament of '08. //// Then, he turned 50 in November. //// Then, he underwent a CAT Scan to determine the cause of his frequent headaches -- andwas diagnosed with glioblastoma. ///// If we're compiling corresponding responses, it's: A) "Seriously? 17 for 19?" B) "50? Nice job, man ... " C) "Glioblastoma? That's a death sentence from which there is no escape." ///// Glioblastoma ... that shit takes ya down quick. ///// It's the same type of brain cancer which killed Johnny Oates (not to mention millions of others). ///// Just hearin' those words -- "brain tumor" or "brain cancer" -- it shakes ya up and reminds ya of what Pops went through. ///// They gave him 2 mos. to live and he extended it to 3. //// In the end, though, The Big C -- an arbitrary predator -- always wins. ///// And, glioblastoma is as bad as it gets. ///// In Mark's case, more tests are scheduled, but, according to those in the cancer community we've come to know in the past year, glioblastoma is ruthless ... serving up turbo-charged punishment. //// It's a guarantee that Mark'll be dead within 2 yrs. ///// Ya simply cannot outrun The Big C. ///// It definitely hits home when you yourself are saddled w/ three gigantic risk factors -- 1) Your Zodiac sign is Cancer 2) Your wife is recovering from breast cancer 3) You're sucking down another Marlboro (as you've done for 26 yrs. in a row) ... not necessarily in that order. //// What else hits home: Mark's face when he stopped by today. He used to look a little like Ed Harris with hair ... but, not so anymore. ///// Dude was unrecognizable. ///// He looked nothing like the guy we've known for yrs. ... the friend who brought Zo-Zo to the D.P. and then was a patient receiving treatment for neck pain two years ago. //// Today? That WAS NOT Mark. //// It didn't look anything like him. ///// Cancer drugs'll do that to a fella ... it matters not if you've got a large family ... or if you're a single guy who happens to sell insurance ... and enjoys takin' his rescue Golden to the D.P. //// He can still do that ... but, softball must seem like a memory. ///// For those of us who played against him, it was easy to classify him as a classic softball rat. //// Not a He-man super-mashing ball-smasher, but constant in his constant line-drive production and goo enough wheels to scoot around the bases and cover some ground in LF. ///// He was playin' second base when I cranked that double down the RF line and as I arrived at second, he remarked that I should be doin' that EVERY at-bat. ///// Maybe he noticed that I wasn't especially motivated playing with a bunch of strangers who didn't seem to give a crap (which, invariably, always affects my focus). ///// Softball and cancer ... it's reminiscent of the time when non-Hodgkins lymphoma sidelined Johnny A. -- the ultimate No. 3 hitter -- for almost the entire '95 season. ///// When ya see something like that, you can either offer up platitudes -- or you can shave yer head for a fallen brother before affixing a "34" decal (no larger than a postage stamp) to the lower left sleeve of your softball shirt. ///// Not everybody understands such gestures ... because not everybody acknowledges the line between talking about something and doing something about it. ///// It's true: 100 yrs. ago, when somebody had cancer, that person was said to have tuberculosis and/or dementia ... and when the morphine ran out, that somebody was dead at age 34. ///// Now that I'm in my third year of softball retirement (not so much by choice), there's not softball shirt on which to apply an "MK" decal. ///// Was it really 5 yrs. ago when the Fightin' Phils Phamily lost three guys to aggressive brain cancers within a year? //// Ken Brett (at age 55) in Nov. '03 ... followed by Tug McGraw five days into '04 (at age 59) ... and then Oates (at age 58) seven days before the end of '04. //// Two years ago, John Vukovich checked out during spring training two years ago (age 59). ///// Those guys were lost their battles -- and Mark's gonna lose his. //// And, I don't know if memories of 17 for 19 in a softball tournament is enough to sustain a fella through such difficulty. ///// It's a fuckin' rip-off, that's what it is ... ///// + + +

Blake Griffin's Saving-The-Ball Replay (Times 10)

Blake Griffin saved the ball from going out of bounds.

Then, Blake Griffin saved it again ...

And again ....

And again ....

Then again (from a different angle) ....

And, again (from the same angle as Saves #1 thru #4) ...

Then, Blake Griffin saved the ball again ...

And then Blake Griffin saved the ball again (same camera angle as before, only, this time, the Disneyland Basketball Channel superimposed a mini graphic of Steve Phillips' head and spliced in a telephone interview about how Blake Griffin demonstrated amazing leadership blah blah blah ...

And, then, finally, Blake Griffin saved the ball again (same camera angle as before, only, this time, the Disneyland Basketball Channel super-imposed a mini graphic of Mark Schlereth's head accompanied by the audio of a telephone interview in which Schlereth explained how Blake Griffin displayed incredible desire and leadership yadda yadda yadda ...

Is ESPN really THAT fucking stupid -- or does ESPN think you are THAT fucking stupid?

Blake Griffin's headlong dive over the scorer's table to save a ball headed out of bounds was about as moronic as it gets.

ESPN's All-Star Tribute To Blake Griffin Saving The Ball Heading Out Of Bounds was equally ridiculous.

Completely mind-boggling ...

THIS WAS NOT BLAKE GRIFFIN diving into the crowd where 3 or 4 fans could've cushioned his fall.

No, this time, he had a very REAL chance to land in the walkway behind the table and injure his wrist, elbow or shoulder.

But, since every on-camera joker at ESPN is a queen-sized pussy, nobody's going to have the guts to tell America how idiotic that play was.

So, we must ask, the next time that Blake Griffin runs into the middle of traffic on the busy interstate to save a bag of Goldfish crackers that a little girl in the car ahead of him accidentally dropped out the window, maybe ESPN can place the Steve Phillips mugshot on our TV screen and have him offer a sound-byte from his sex-addict daze ... when he maybe banged a teenager (boy or girl, it don't really matter ... he's a recovering addict, remember?) or two on the way home from Shea Stadium.

Now, THAT'S quality TV!

The visual: Griffin scooping up the Goldfish while diving out of the way of an 18-wheeler ...

The audio: Steve Phillips educating America re: curtains-matching-carpet ...

b

Gym Dandies (An Ode To "Strap")

THOSE B-BALL GAMES ON TV TODAY ... in a word: "ShamWow!"

What heart-stoppers.

First, we saw Coach Dale get himself kicked out of the game against Dugger, so it was up to Shooter to draw up the winning play -- the Picket Fence, which Merle (#12) drained because he didn't "get caught watching the paint dry ..."

OHMIGOD ... then in the regional brawl vs. Terhune (at Deerlick), wouldn't ya know that Strap (#53) would come off the bench and make some nifty moves for a pair of critical baskets late (after Coach Dale had instructed him specifically to shoot only if he was all alone under the basket ... well, that's the Lord's strength for ya ... you can feel it ... ).

Then, Hickory survived the sectional tussle vs. Linton at Jasper (home of Scott Rolen, FYI) when Ollie came off the bench and nailed those two Granny-shot free throws.

Just as people tend to forget how close Linton's desperation halfcourt heave at the buzzer came to going in (that ball caught PLENTY of rim), they also forget that in the state championship game vs. South Bend Central the play in which Jimmy Chitwood buried the straight-away, 20-footer at the final horn was originally designed to be the Picket Fence play w/ Merle taking the decisive shot.

Jimmy: "I'll make it."

DELETED SCENE: The moment when the Hickory Huskers break from the sideline huddle and Merle says to Jimmy, "You fuckin' miss this and I'm gonna take yer fuckin' skull and smash it through the fuckin' bus windshield."

NUTHIN' BUT NET! (cue triumphant music w/ the bold horn section & drum accompaniment)

What can ya say? Encore had "Hoosiers" on the playlist this morning ... and, well ... when you're married to a gal who lived in that state when the movie had its nationwide release 25 yrs. ago (although she's never been a fan of the actress who played Myra Fleener), well ... it was either Encore or it was a trip downstairs to the DVR to re-connect with one of three champions from '08 (Hockeytown, The Fightin's, Terrible Towel Triumph ... difficult choices, to be sure ... ).

College b-ball 2009?
Don't go there, girlfriend!

Seriously ... does that look like Hickory vs. Cedar Knob to you?
Do you see Hickory playin' Oolitic?

All they give us nowadays is some Wronghorn player baby-tappin' Blake Griffin in the face -- and then Blake's gotta sit for the remainder of the game ... and then all we get is A.J. Abrams camping along the 3-point line ... camping, camping, camping ... then, he knocks down a 3-ball or two and he's hailed as some sorta new messiah (FYI: He's 21 of 80 on 3-balls in UT's eight losses ... fuckin'-A, that's 26 percent ... you could have a blood-alcohol level of .15 and still knock down 3 of every 11 3-balls, which is 27 percent ...).

Aside from the fact that he mostly sucks, A.J. Abrams is truly a swell player ...

That is, aside from the fact that his game is VERY limited.

Other than that, yup ... he's a real gym dandy ...

His white-boy counterpart is Devendork of Sorrycuse, who, last time we checked, had 5 off. rebs. this season.

You could fall out of your dorm-room window and get at least two off. rebs.

The thing is, Abrams and Devendork are complete pussies -- and here's yer proof: Abrams is an 87 percent career FT shooter; Devendork is somewhere around 80 percent.

Alas, the only times those guys sniff the foul line is if somebody with a blood-alcohol level of .15 crashes into them while they're camping, camping, camping along the 3-point line.

Soft ...
Weak ...
Incomplete ...

Ya'd think that with the great recruiting that Barnes and Boeheim do ("$$$$$hhhhh ... nobody said anything about cheating or pathetic graduation rate$ ..."), they'd put together something a lot better than this.

$ure ain't like the ol' day$ when UCLA booster, $am Gilbert, wa$ a$$isting Wooden in the building of a dyna$ty ...

bbbbbb

3 Times Glory To The 51st Power

It's always amusing when you're flippin' through your expansive collection of STEELERS' trading cards which required 35 or 36 yrs. to reach this awesome level of awesomeness (okay ... so what if it isn't as massive and comprehensive as the two monster boxes of Strictly PHILLIES, although it is bigger than the collection of "Red Wings: From Abdelkader to Zombo") and you shake yer head and smirk when you're reminded that during your first year of rootin' for the Black N' Gold, the top two WRs were Ron Shanklin (#25) and Frank Lewis (#43).

#25 and #43 ... numbers which WRs are banned from wearing nowadays, thanks to some powerful anti-legislation from the NFL years ago.

#25 and #43 ... the numbers currently worn by Steeler safeties Ryan Clark and Troy Polamalu.

A lethal combo? Well, sure ... although they'd probably be just as effective if they were wearing #6 and #96 (jot this down, though: college football continues to reign supreme fpr one basic reason -- single-digit-wearin' safeties. What's cooler than a SS or FS wearin' #4 or #9? Answer: "Nuthin'.").

We've spent the week sifting through a week's worth of Super Bowl data and determined that among the useful and fascinating in a tidal wave of repetition, redundancy and unnecessary is the 51 FACTOR.

Well, at least it is here in the Tater Tot Quadrant of the La-Z-Boy Lounge. ///// It's "a must" ...

The Sooner Schooner never plugged the 51 Factor into their equation, so they won't be the fourth jewel here in the Quadruple Crown.

The Sooners simply weren't 51 Friendly (which we discussed in Oct., so no big surprise, really). /////// Just as Hockeytown rode the unsung heroism of 51 VALTTERI FILPPULA to the Stanley Cup and the Fightin' Phillies benefitted from a big bucket of intangibles from 51 CARLOS RUIZ, Steeler Nation is tuned into 51 on its radio dial.

While James Harrison and LaMarr Woodley have jacked up everybody in their path for the past two seasons ... and while Polamalu has done his thing as the backbone of the secondary, diehards haven't forgotten that leading tackler, 51 JAMES FARRIOR, is the skull-crushin', rib-crackin' Alpha dog of the D.

This is numerology which mustn't be trifled with -- given that, in the past three days, some of us STEELER fans have seen a brilliantly-feathered cardinal on a branch less than 100 ft. from the front door.

Before we were waiting for the stoplight to turn green and noticed that the vehicle in front of us had a Colts trailer-hitch cover ...

Before we arrived at the next stoplight and were flanked by a red truck with two big Raider decals and a blue SUV with a large Cowboys sticker ...

Before standing in line at the post office, two people behind those two guys wearing Redskins jackets ...

Before we saw that black guy w/ the janitorial crew (who cleans Suite 201 upstairs) wearing a white 54 URLACHER jersey (if only he'd had a 51 BUTKUS jersey, tsk tsk) ...

All of these were ominous signs until we saw that monster truck heading in the opposite direction ... emerging from the I-95 underpass on Route 103 ... surging forward with two Steeler flags (driver's-side window, passenger-side window) flapping in the breeze.

Our concern has abated.

Thanks to those fabulous, fightin' 51s to neutralize omens ...

b

Big, Bold, Bad-Ass Birds?

Wasn't it only a few years ago during the Super Bowl Dead Week (maybe before SB XXXVIII or SB XXXIX) when we were told that the Arizona Cardinals were planning a cosmetic change to their logo -- that a tougher, more-agressive-looking, less-cartoonish bird would be on the helmet when the Cards took the field the following season?

Naturally, we all laughed our asses off -- primarily because the press release involved a team which, for the 478th year in a row, was not participating in the playoffs, but also because we had the perfect punchline at the ready.

"The only way to make the Cardinals' logo look tougher and more-aggressive would be if somebody drew a full-length cartoon bird holding a cartoon machine gun and a cartoon stick of dynamite."

Ohhhh ... did we laugh.
Long into the night ...

That's the funny thing about animation -- a cartoon face is made to look more human ... "wings" are drawn to look more like "hands" ... hands which can be drawn in the shape of fists which can hold machine guns and sticks of dynamite.

Funny shit ...

Well, who's laughing now?
Urlacher: "Me ... "

The STEELERS aren't laughing, we presume ... although nobody's scared of a team which was losing 34-0 to the Jets at halftime of a 56-35 pummeling or a team which was gettin' de-boned and fileted by the Pats, 44-0, through 3 qtrs. of a 47-7 shellacking.

Right, right, right, right ... "it's a totally different team now, blah blah blah ... " Because of the Ken Whisenhunt/Russ Grimm "toughness" which was instilled, it "changed the culture," yadda yadda yadda ...

As if Denny Green DIDN'T want to win ...

CHANGING THE CULTURE ... that's a trendy catch-phrase that football writers from Peter King to Jason Cole to John Clayton to Bill Williamson use as NFL-speak to further an agenda, rather than joining forces and pooling their prolific talents to create one unifying voice which says, "When the Hall of Fame voting takes place on Saturday, we'll do the responsible thing and elect Ed Sabol and Steve Sabol (the pioneering NFL Films father-n'-son masterminds) and Dick LeBeau and/or Dermontti Dawson."

When the above DOESN'T HAPPEN on Sat., we can chalk up another victory for what was articulated so articulately in "U-Shaped Logic" (2/4/06) ... and it'll only add to the list of crimes committed against the Sabols and Dick LeBeau, who, in all likelihood, will be enshrined in Canton probably 10-15 years following their deaths (see: Gene Hickerson's induction a few years ago ... 30 years after he retired, Alzheimer's had so racked his body that his failing health rendered him unable to give us an induction speech ... complete bullshit authored by those jerk-offs who call themselves "a selection committee" ... it was immoral how Gene Hickerson was violated ... and his death at the outset of this season, well, that's blood on the hands of selection committees past, present and future ... ).

Lest we forget, former Cardinal safety Roger Wehrli -- the secondary stalwart who picked up where Hall of Famer Larry Wilson left off -- was in Gene Hickerson's induction class. And, that "R.W." is likely to be joined in a few days by ex-Steeler Rod Woodson (although, sad to say, the R.W. who'll never get to Canton is R.W. McQuarters).

Equally unfortunately is the fact that in the days ahead, the nostalgia of Wilson and Wehrli will yield to Warner ... as in cutting-edge journalism repackaged endlessly as "Kurt Warner: Hall of Famer?"

Whaddya expect from writers who never played the game?
Fresh angles?
Interesting viewpoints?
Their brains are on the PUP ("physically unable to perform") list, so do the math, America ...

This is the era of the ShamWow and the Snuggie ... and the "journalism" of the era reflects these priorities.

The easy-way-out "news" hooks are: "Didja know that the Cardinals and the Steelers combined their rosters in 1944 (as WWII raged) and the 0-10 team became known as 'the Car-Pitts' because everyone walked all over 'em?" and/or "The Cardinals have allowed everyone to QB this team from the mid-'40s 'til now, be it Gary Cuozzo or Gary Hogeboom or Stoney Case or Tom Tupa, blah blah blah ..."

[NOTE: Practically everybody alive loves to play that game of "Crossover QB" in which we name all the QBs which have played for both teams. In this scenario, we've got an "active" aspect in Brian St. Pierre, who has exchanged his familiar #2 Steelers jersey for a red #2 which more closely matches the jersey color that he wore at B.C. >>> Other than BSP, however, all we can remember off the top of our heads is that Cliff Stoudt and (get this) Ted Marchibroda -- both wearers of #18 as Steeler QBs -- rounded out their careers as Card QBs. >>> The only case we can think of for Car-Pitt QB is (oh, shit) Kent Graham, the Arizona QB in '96 and '97 who Cowher chose as the starter for the 2000 opener and, oh sweet Jesus, did the Ravens treat him like a pinata or what?]

TIMEOUT!
Let's have a moment of silence as we and bow our heads for greatest soldier that Team U-S-A! U-S-A! ever produced ... the late, great Pat Tilley.
Before the black WR made the white WR obsolete, Pat Tilley was a quality WR who ran precise routes and, oooops ... it's Pat Tillman, not Pat Tilley!
(Whatever ... y'know?)

Sometimes we forget that being a proud American means that "America" includes American Samoan.

And, it might make better copy if only somebody had the onions to elaborate on what many of us read on the back of Niko Noga's 1989 ProSet trading card (#334 in the series ... the one where he's pictured on the front wearing his traditional red-w/-no-frills, Cardinal-red jersey w/ white 57 while tackling Roger Craig ... the card where we first learned that he was born in March '62 and was an 8th-rnd. selection out of Hawaii in the '84 draft).

On this card of this Card, we learned:

"Late round draft choice who defied odds and has become top-flight linebacker ... won starting assignment in 1985 ... had 13 tackles against Philadelphia in first NFL start ... first freshman ever named All-WAC ... wants to pursue career as underwater welder after football ... "

It seems insane -- an underwater welder ...
If he's not in it for the money, could it possibly be the glory?
Or is he looking to avenge the deaths of the faceless underwater welders who went before him?

Where is America's expose on the American underwater welder from American Samoa?

In many circles, Niko Noga will remain a forgotten Cardinal (except to those of us who rank Niko Noga with Garth Jax and Freddie Joe Nunn as our Cardinal LB Dream Team threesome ... and to those of us who will never forget that his full first name is "Falaniko" ... and that he was in the same NFL draft as three Texas Longhorn DBs named Mossy Cade, Jitter Fields and Freddie Acorn).

(YEAH ... that WAS a ploy to get the names of Mossy, Jitter and The Acorn into the mix ... )

Before we immerse ourselves in "The Underwater Welding World of Niko Noga," let's be clear that the Steelers are probably not fazed about facing Whiz N' Grimm, not to mention whatever secrets Brian St. Pierre, Sean Morey and Jerame Tuman are sharing.

After all, there are greater areas of concern .. such as the Hall of Fame worthiness of Hines Ward, who, if we're reading this right, might one day join Rod Woodson and Jerome Bettis (their enshrinements are pending) and Dermontti Dawson and Alan Faneca in a Canton population which some might feel is already overrun with too many Steelers.
Dick LeBeau: NOT scheduled for election any time before Super Bowl L in 2016.

It's more-likely to occur the day before Super Bowl LXXXVIII in 2054.

Which'll make for one helluvan induction speech for Dick LeBeau a few weeks shy of his 117th birthday ...

b

Nobody Named "KLOCHAK" (A Fictional Steeler)

That's how some of us spent the Super Bowl Dead Week -- bumping into someone possibly named "Klochak" -- and then later admitting to everybody:

"Klochak is not a real person ..."
"Klochak simply doesn't exist ..."
"And he never did ..."

This might be very upsetting news to 1960s weak-hitting, journeyman infielder Lou Klimchock ("sorry, Klimchock ... there's no Klochak") -- a sad conclusion which we reached when we totally-by-accident accessed http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1991_Pittsburgh_Steelers_season and made the unfortunate discovery that the lone INT TD of Bryan Hinkle's career was credited to a fictitious character named "Klochak."

Damn you, Weaniepickia ... why must you lie?

Why must you misinform not only our children, but also our step-children?

It is unforntunate-bordering-on-tragic when our sons and step-daughters are diligently doing research for their social studies report on the '91 Steelers and/or "Bryan Hinkle: My 13 Years As A Steeler Linebacker" and they access Wikipedia and notice that line from the boxscore from Game 2 of that season (Chuck Noll's final one as head coach).

In the individual scoring summary from that Sept. 8 contest vs. the Bills in Orchard Park (a 52-34 Steelers defeat), there's a factual error of Biblical proportions ... right there between Don Beebe's two TD catches in the 2nd qtr. which made the score 24-3 and and his two TD catches in the 4th qtr. which put the Bills up, 45-27, the Steelers had an INT TD (a "pick 6") by somebody named KLOCHAK.

That's how it reads: "PIT -- Klochak 57 interception return (Anderson kick)"

Honest-to-God's truth: Don Beebe actually DID have 4 TD receptions that day. That's verifiable by more than one source.

Pure fiction: Somebody named KLOCHAK played for the Steelers.

Incontrovertible fact: The Steelers had only two INT TDs in '91 ... one by Bryan Hinkle and one by that scrub CB named Richard Shelton, whose pick-6 we all vividly recall because it occurred in Noll's final game (a 17-10 win over the Browns) when Shelton picked off Bernie Koleslaw and ran it back 57 yards, slowing down inside the 5, stopping inches shy of the goal line, turning to face the field of play, outstretching his arms and then free-falling backwards, a la "the Nestea Plunge," into the end zone.

What ever happened to the Nestea Plunge?
(Answer: "Nuthin' " ... in fact, some us still use that move to get into bed every night)

We could ask Baltimore Ravens placekicker Matt Stover if he remembers Shelton's version of the Nestea Plunge/TD since, after all, he was a rookie w/ the Browns that year ... the first of his (so far) 18 yrs. in the NFL ... although such queries won't get us any closer to the reason as to why Wikipedia found it necessary to deny Bryan Hinkle his rightful TD while giving it to Nobody Named KLOCHAK.

Fortunately, the source which usually provides us with the most-accurate, NFL old-school data -- pro-football-reference.com -- credited Bryan Hinkle with his lone INT TD.

It's funny, though: When we ponder this injustice on a deeper level, we're reminded that what Wikipedia did to Bryan Hinkle is considerably worse than what happened when George tagged along with Jerry to the Saab dealership -- and then George had his Twix candy bar pilfered (or so was his accusation) by the mechanic ("Ned" or "Clem" or "Kip" ... "short name!" George barked before demanding from the customer-service employee an apology from Ned, Clem or Kip ... and that Ned, Clem or Kip be fired).

Yes ... this is much more serious.

Like when Lt. Ed Exley, son of the famed Preston Exley, assigned a fake name of "Rolo Tomassi" to create an identity for the purse snatcher who shot and killed Ed's dad.

Lt. Exley: "It's just a name I made up to give him some personality."

As we came to learn, Rolo Tomassi is the name of the guy "who gets away with it" -- at least, that's how Lt. Exley explained it to Jack Vincenes (the Big V) in Vice ... before Jack took the midnight train to the Big Adios when Capt. Smith shot him in the chest as Jack sat at Dudley's kitchen table and used his dying breath to utter, "Rohh-lohhh Toe-mosss-seee ..."

Unidentified purse-snatchers who murder off-duty cops and off-duty police captains who murder on-duty detectives might not fit the profile of the fictitious KLOCHAK ... a name which closely resembles those Steeler QBs w/ European names from a bygone era (Mike KRUCZEK in the '70s and Mike TOMCZAK in the '90s) and, in the minds of some, isn't that far different than Matt KRANCHICK (one career reception ... in 1995 ... vs. the Browns ... the inspiration for the first entry in the annals of the G.R.T. Lounge ... back when it was "Planet Haystack" ... ).

Klimchock! Kruczek! Tomczak! Kranchick! Klochak!
Carl Kolchak?
TV's "Night Stalker"???

Weaniepickia employee Jamie Klochak or Madison Klochak (or whatever his/her name is) is either pissed off at the world or just pissed that Mom gave him/her that non-gender-specific first name.

But, that should never be grounds for inserting his/her own name into the scoring summary w/o also adding the necessary [edit] or the [citation needed] tags.

Weaniepickia owes it to Bryan Hinkle, to the entire Hinkle Family and to those of us who appreciated his 13 years of service, wearin' #53 for the Black N' Gold.

Then, after we've tendered that apology in writing, it'll be necessary to burn down the house of databasefootball.com for its crimes against humanity -- specifically, for noting that, in the NFL Draft of '84, the Steelers selected not only WR Louis Lipps of Southern Miss with the 23rd selection in the first round, but also WR Duane Gunn of Indiana w/ the 23rd pick of the first round.

Sure, there exists some "unofficial" evidence that, back in the days of the mighty USFL, NFL teams had supplemental selections ... but, data is almost completely lacking as to whether Duane Gunn ever spent more than 15 minutes on a taxi squad, a practice squad or anything more than a WR confused for "The Peter Gunn Theme" by Duane Eddy.

Peter Gunn?
Duane Eddy?
[Edit]???
[Citation needed]???

C'mon people ...

AND WHILE WE'RE takin' those to task for takin' liberties ... that troublemakin' Rick Chandler showed some huevos for publishing that nude photo of Bones McJones on DEADSPIN yesterday -- although what's the deal with the guy in the background flippin' the bird when the photo was snapped?

Was it really the G.R.T. founder -- and does anyone believe his excuse that he couldn't find his a giant, foam-rubber, No. 1 hand like the one that Deadspin founder Will Leitch fashioned on the cover of "God Save The Fan"?

Was it actually Klochak in the background?
Was he signaling that "The Peter Gunn Theme" by Duane Eddy is No. 1?

Either way, let's sing it together:

"gimme a break! ... gimme a break! ... break me off a piece of that Klochak bar! ... "

b

The Audacity of Hype

"Hey, President Oprah, nice belly-flop ... "

Of course, nobody's allowed to heckle Our New Version of HIS MAJESTY on this holy, albeit frigid, In Awkward Nation Day.

Yet, with the way that he butchered the opening lines of the oath of office (when it came to putting his hand on "the good book"), it makes ya wonder if those college football playoffs that he supported on Election Eve will get off the ground -- or, if at his first few Ceremonial First Pitch occasions, he's going to short-hop the throw to the ceremonial catcher.

He is, after all, Mr. Smoooooth.

Kinda makes ya feel like he should be wearin' Ray-Bans and playin' upright bass in a jazz quartet in an ad for Camel Filters ... sorta like that previous coooool prez we had who liked to blow his sax before he got blown during sex by somebody who wasn't his wife ("shhhhhhh ... don't be dissin' our groovy ex-Prez Clinton ...").

Anyway, in the re-enactment of the Million Man March, the voice of every black person (and many Whiteys) in these United States rose up as one during the dawning of a new era as the new Kenyan-Caucasian prez achieved knighthood (soul-brutha handshake sold separately).

We were informed that this day marked a greater triumph that what happened a few years ago when Sylvester Croom became the first head coach in the SEC and this will open doors for black men and (ooops. Croom resigned amid zero fanfare two months ago ... with no tangible proof that he'd changed anything one iota in the Heart of Dixie).

Speaking of tangibility, you could actually sense the whole wide world offering a big sigh of relief and powering up a North Pole-to-South Pole smile.

Everybody everywhere was feelin' the Prez. Oprah, good-time vibe ... from the rebel soldiers in the Congo, who set down their automatic weapons and stopped gang-raping that 14-year-old ... to the Palestinian girl with explosives strapped to herself waiting an hour before climbing onto that bus filled with Israelis ... to that loser in Alabama who usually spends the morning punching the mother of his kids (who is not his wife) in the face.

This was definitely almost as exciting as the day when Orenthal was initially acquitted of decapitating his ex-wife and her Jewish buddy -- although, it's reminiscent of when Sen. Gracchus looked out over the throng and said, with voice dripping with skepticism, to Sen. Falco, "He enters Rome like a conquering hero" before asking rhetorically, "But, what has he conquered?"

It does seem weird, doesn't it? Today's a day when we should be hailing pilot Chesley Sullenberger for saving those 155 lives by landing that jumbo jet neatly atop the water of the Hudson River (and not under it).

Alas, this is U-S-A! U-S-A! and we're so much better at "parades for potential" than we are at hailing actual accomplishment.

We salute "promise" as though we're getting out of 3rd-period algebra to join hands during the rally in the gym.

The bandwagon is racing through town, but we're supposed to climb aboard not because we respect his voting record in the Illinois legislature, but simply because he's some black dude.

We were supposed to vote for him because he ISN'T the anti-Christ named Dubya, but, if Hillary wins confirmation as Sec. of State, we just elected a 2-headed Clinton anti-Christ to high office.

(NOTE: The reason some of us never vote is because Hillary spent x-number of mos. badmouthing Barack Hussein ... then, we he's elected, he tabs her as a key Cabinet member. Since it's fruitless to grasp as logical that which is illogical, let's all get together with our ex-girlfriends tonight for some quality spooning).

In addition to that which is anti-Christian, there's the matter of that which is anti-MLK.

Dr. King reasoned that we should judge people by the content of their character and not the colour of their skin.

Democrats flip-flopping sounds so un-American, does it not?

As it was, our newly-crowned President Pepsodent began Day One of the Rhetoric Regime with bold pronouncements of the remaking of America.

The "remaking of America"?

Unless he means that we need to buy more presents for Kwanzaa or that we need to learn how to do the broom dance at weddings, the only way that this "remaking" can go into the books as something "official" is if The Bruthuz and Whitey team up and fork over more $$$, as restitution, to the great-grandchildren of Geronimo and Crazy Horse for the land which we raped in return for firewater, casinos and colossal football stadiums which we built on the land which we raped.

That might prove problematic down the road -- Remade America gettin' itself all confused over which side of President Oprah's brain is on duty that day: the Kenyan absentee-father half or the white-mama half.

On the plus side, there'll be the creepy white folks (Joe Biden, Hillary Clinton) ridin' shotgun for President Oprah -- which means that, in Remade Amerca, there'll be no more foolishness, such as NFL RBs like Travis Henry banging nine different women and ending up with nine kids (who Prez. Oprah will shield with loose welfare guidelines, 'cuz one of dem babies might be presidentin' one day ... while his baby-daddy be in prison).

In Remade America, we ain't gonna be havin' no more black-on-black crime where big-city black mayors in Detroit (Kwame Kilpatrick) and Baltimore (Sheila Dixon) be sellin' out their brothers and sisters.

Thanks to President Oprah (and The R.B.I. Initiative -- y'know, Reviving Baseball in the Inner-city), there'll be no more black junkies gunning down the black guy behind the counter of the 7-Eleven ... because being President of the Remade United States of America is a much more-viable option.

That is, if the black junkie can win the run-off election vs. that kid in the Sudan right now who's thinkin', "Fuck workin' in the diamond mines just so some white bitch in Laguna Beach has a bigger rock than her girlfriend in Redondo! If a Kenyan can become President of the United States of America, then so can a Sudanista!"

Unless U-S-A! U-S-A! votes for the next Zimbabwean on the ballot.

Or unless Cleveland Indians outfielder Shin-Soo Choo throws his Cleveland Indians' cap "into the ring," as they say.

Perhaps powerful political figures such as Eldrick Woods (he with the first name "Tiger" and the Thai mama) or Muhammad Ali (he of the Muslim persuasion and the Parkinson's which developed long after he made those classic TV commercials for D-Con roach killer) are tellin' everybody that U-S-A! U-S-A! is not ready for a Buddhist president.

Try again in 2028 ...

If Oprah sez it's OK ...

It's depressing to some of us that America was misinformed that a Republican named J.C. Watts was deemed too white to be our first black president, even if he is three shades more chocolate-skinned than Kenyan-fathered, Caucasian-mothered Barack Hussein.

No love for the former Sooner QB.

Speakin' of which, memories of J.C. Watts really take a fella back to the first two years of the '80s, doesn't it?

More specifically, 1981 ... when President Reagan was shot two months after he was sworn in ...

Before we all gathered 'round to watch the maiden voyage of something called "a space shuttle" ...

Before the MLB went on strike ...

Before Diana married Charles in the royal wedding (in what was THE premier global event before today) ...

Just before MTV was born ...

Now, look at us: Reagan's dead, two Space Shuttles have exploded, Lady Di's dead ... but The MLB and MTV have never been stronger!!!

We who are about to die salute you!

Long live our 45th President of the Remade USA -- Lauren Conrad!

(Unless it's Audrina. She is, like, such a bitch. And, she probably can't give us a college football-playoff package, so what the ... )

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