Monday, October 30, 2006
Draft #159
My 2006-07 fantasy basketball team currently includes 17 players. Of those 17 players, 11 of them are under the age of 25, three of them are 26, one is 27, and then there is Jason Kidd and Kevin Garnett. Three of them go by the last name of Williams, and six others never played college ball. Some of the last names on this squad are as simple as Smith, West, and Brown while one player's last name is more of a first name. As owner and general manager of the Cousy's Cagers franchise I can't promise that this team will finish in first place, but I can promise that this will be one of the scrappiest teams in the league. Here's a player-by-player rundown for my amusement only, I'm sure.Centers:
Channing Frye- With Larry Brown and his revolving circus of starting lineups out of town the Knicks appear to be set on a more permanent rotation, and Frye will be a big beneficiary of Isiah's takeover as head coach. Isiah loves Channing Frye and with Marbury, Francis, and Crawford running and gunning there should be plenty of misses to corral. Frye may not be the first, second, or even third scoring option for the Knicks but he is a smart player and a solid double-double threat.
Darko Milicic- The days of hurling jump shots off the side and/or top of the backboard during scrub time in Detroit are long gone for this 21-year-old. A new city, a new team, and a new role have given Darko a new outlook on life in the NBA. He may be coming off the bench to start the season, but with Tony Battie as his only competition it would be silly to think that Darko wouldn't be a permanent fixture in the Magic starting lineup sometime in the very, very, near future. Inconsistent play is expected but with this being a contract season for the young Serb, good times lay ahead.
Forwards:
Kevin Garnett- I don't care if Garnett never wins a championship, a playoff game, or even a game of checkers, as long as KG keeps spitting out eye-popping numbers like he has the last nine seasons. It's hard analyzing his selection since it was such a no brainer. You know you're good when Twenty-Ten-and Five is your calling card. But you're on Cousy's Cagers now Garnett and I'm looking for something more in the neighborhood of 25/13/6.
Josh Smith- There isn't a single thing this kid can't do on the basketball court and with Harrington in Indiana and Marvin Williams on the sidelines for a month or two, everyone is going to find out who this Smith guy is, and soon. In my book, he's a left-handed LeBron James. It's a lofty comparison, but at season's end the numbers may not be all that different.
Ron Artest- He appears comfortable in Sacramento and my fantasy team's success is praying that he is. Artest never seemed to have fully gotten his feet under him last season, so hopefully a full training camp will propel him to a fast start. As long as Ron-Ron doesn't go off the deep-end again, he should see an increase in numbers and a decrease in fans mutilated.
Al Harrington- He's the Andruw Jones of fantasy basketball. For years fantasy owners have expected big things from the youngster but he has yet to deliver. His production has been nothing to scoff at, but he's probably been drafted higher than he should be the last few years based on his untapped potential or high ceiling, if you will. I'd be satisfied with his numbers from last season, but hopefully a return to Indiana is the match that lights the spark to an Andruw Jones-like 2005 season.
Guards:
Tracy McGrady- "All the king's horses and all the king's men, couldn't put McGrady back together again." If I end up reading this headline at some point in the season, it wouldn't shock me all that much. But T-Mac says he's feeling good for the first time in a long time, so like an idiot, I believed him. If I get 60 games from this guy I'll consider myself lucky, anything over that is complete gravy. I felt that people were downgrading this perennial first round draft choice too much just because of one bad season. I admit he's a risk, but my gut's telling me he'll regain his form this season. He had to watch fellow peers Kobe Bryant and Vince Carter have big season's last year and he's out to prove that he still belongs in the same sentence.
Jason Kidd- The team elder at age 33, Kidd is still one of the best point guards the NBA has to offer. Chris Paul was the sexy pick this season and rightfully so, but Kidd's production is not all that different. He was even statistically on the same level as league MVP Steve Nash last season. Rookie Marcus Williams should keep Kidd fresh for the entire year, and a motivated (contract year) Vince Carter can only help Kidd's cause.
Raymond Felton & Deron Williams- A couple of young point guards who have proven they have what it takes to succeed in the college ranks. Felton came on really strong in the second half of last season and Williams showed improvement as well. I expect these two starting point guards from the 2005 NCAA championship to make huge strides in their improvement. Felton more so than Williams.
The Bench:
David West- Jamal Magloire's departure and P.J. Brown's move to center gave West his first chance to play in the NBA on a regular basis and he responded with a solid season. Current frontcourt mates, Cedric Simmons, Hilton Armstrong and Tyson Chandler are not the greatest of scoring options from the post so West should have plenty of space and opportunities to repeat, if not improve, his performance from last season.
Danny Granger- This Scottie Pippen clone will have an increased role this season thanks to the offseason departure of Peja Stojakovic. Sure Al Harrrington's arrival to Indiana doesn't appear to bode well for the 2nd year forward's statistical progress, but the Pacers are looking to go uptempo and plan on playing Jermaine O'Neal at center and placing Jeff Foster on the bench. All signs point to better numbers this season for Granger.
Mo Williams- The Bucks sent T.J. Ford to Toronto and now the door is open for Mo. He can't get too comfortable however with capable backups Charlie Bell and Steve Blake waiting in line for playing time, but at just 23 years of age, he possesses the highest ceiling of the three. If he can avoid the nagging injuries that plagued him last season, he'll be a quality fantasy backup pushing Deron Williams for a starting spot.
Jarrett Jack- He's the starting point guard for the Trailblazers, and I honestly don't know much more about him beyond that. Bill Simmons drafted him in his NBA.com celebrity fantasy basketball league and claimed that Jack will be good for 35 minutes a night. Sounds good to me.
Rajon Rondo- The Celtics made an announcement that Delonte West will not be playing point guard this season and will be coming off the bench as a shooting guard. I'm thinking Rondo was the main reason behind that lineup shuffle. Just take a look at his preseason numbers.
Injured Reserve:
Marvin Williams- A broken finger on his left hand will sideline Williams until mid-December.
Kwame Brown- Suffered a shoulder injury in preseason and is expected back before the end of November.
As I am finishing up this entry, it is only four and a half hours until the season opening tip-off between the Bulls and the Heat. Well with player introductions, the national anthem, and the ring ceremony, it's probably more like five hours, either way, the anticipation is killing me. And eventhough the Bucks don't play tonight and either do any of my fantasy players, that won't stop me from breaking out a soda pop and some popcorn to help enhance the experience of one of the greatest shows on earth. It's great, it's awesome, hell it's even fantastic. It's the NBA!
Happy Halloween and enjoy the games tonight on TNT!
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Draft #158
Packing up all of your belongings and moving to a new home can be a daunting task. Chances are you're a weakling, incapable of any to most forms of manual labor and the thought of lugging your refrigerator across town is enough to make you want to kick the cat. That grand piano doesn't seem so grand anymore does it? Looks more like a hernia in the making, don't it? Well fret no more, Hucklebuck Inc. has reviewed some of the top moving companies in the area and finding one that fits your needs will be as easy as stealing a purse from a one-legged elderly broad.Bonaducci's Moving Services:
-This Brooklyn based company has become so big that it has branched out to the Midwest. Bonaducci's "neighborly" approach to furniture transportation has given them one of the most recognizable names in the industry. And while it is the company's policy to not participate in the transportation of plants, couches, sports memorabilia, or laundry appliances, all customers do receive a free basket of fresh homemade cannoli's. Customers may not be present during moving hours. Any violators of this policy will most likely not make the mistake a second time (but yooz didn't he-ah dat from meee).
Three Blind Mice:
-The name says it all. Tom, Dick, and Harry are considered trailblazers to the industry and have surprisingly been in business for over four years. These three individuals met each other at a blind man's business expo in Raliegh, North Carolina back in 1999 and the rest is history. And while their first business venture didn't fair too well (TD & H's Discount Barber Shops), their newest endeavour is not only still around, it's thriving. Like Bonaducci's, the Three Blind Mice Inc. has a few requirements. They do not move furniture up and/or down stairs, anything they move must be boxed, and they do not service homes that contain bastard children. And don't even bother lying about the last one because they can tell, don't ask me how, but they can.
Move n' Style:
Ever wondered what it would be like to have your furniture moved by a host of celebrity look alikes? Well this Hollywood based company did and now your dreams have come true. Customize your move on-line by selecting 4 pseudo celebrities from their database of over 67 personalities that includes characters such as; Gomer Pyle, Ronald McDonald, Screech, Mitch Buchanan, Arthur Fonzarelli, Blossom, and the entire cast of Simon & Simon. For an additional fee, have your picture taken with your chosen celebrities and brag to your friends about how cool the move to your new home was. Shazam!!
X-Con Transportation Plus:
We know what you're thinking, "No way I'm letting violent criminals move my precious cargo!" But take a minute to consider the following. Our prisoners are supervised by trained riot control officers equipped with state of the art assault weaponry. We handpick the biggest mules from the slammer to ensure a smooth and speedy move. All of our employees are pre-screened to prevent your possessions from being handled by child molesters or thieves. And with our "money back (if you are stabbed)" guarantee, the choice is simple. Our success lies in the numbers with less than 2% of our cliental having been either raped or beaten. I like those odds! And so should you! Call 1-800- MYX-CONS today!
To all of us participating in the big Russell move to the MF this weekend, here's to a good time and not dropping or breaking anything. And remember to gird up them loins, cause it's go time!
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Draft #157
Weekend Review
Friday: The evening began with some dinner at Joey Buona's with Adam, Amy, and Todd. The nice Italian restaurant had plenty of options to choose from on their menu, but the four of us decided to go with the "pizza party" family style meal. On the menu it states that this "pizza party" serves four or more people, but what they failed to communicate, was that the four people had better be longtime members of the "stretchy pants-holy shit you are the size of a house" committee. If you are among the rest of us that do not eat their meals with a shovel, then I wouldn't be ordering this "pizza party" without at least 6 or 7 hungry people at the table. How we came to the conclusion that a meal complete with two appetizers, two salads, two pizzas, and two desserts was something we were probably going to need, is beyond me. Oh yeah, that's right, it was my idea. In my defense, I didn't know that everything besides the pizzas was going to be served on a plate that stretched from elbow to elbow. And for the record, I hate the term "pizza party".
Once the dust finally settled, we not only had to ask for a doggy bag, but also a dolly to haul out the, not one, not two, but three doggy bags. We managed to finish the calamari, half the Italina style nachos, one of the salads, one pizza, and one of the desserts. It was a moment of shame I won't soon forget. FYI- they have the greatest chocolate cake I have ever eaten in my entire life. I'd describe it to you but you wouldn't believe me.
After the dinner of shame, it was off to the Pabst Theater for an evening of Brian Regan. If you've never heard of Brian Regan then I'd have to say that I actually feel sorry for you. He is a very funny comedian and we enjoyed his act immensely (eventhough there was a bit of a lull in the middle where it became obvious that he was trying new material). Check out his site to see what he's all about at http://www.brianregan.com/.
After the show, we stopped back at my place to try and cram more food in our pieholes eventhough none of us were hungry.
Saturday: The co-ed football squad suffered our 2nd loss of the season, and it wasn't nice outside, and to make an uneventful story even shorter, Haus and I were passed out drunk by 6pm. We're pretty sure Kurt gave us a ride home, but neither of us remembers where he parked, who sat in the front or back of his jeep, and neither of us remembers what was said on the way home. It was officially my first blackout experience. Adam and I finished off the night by watching Saturday Night Live (the most basic of all measures for how bad your night may be going) and a Dave Chappelle standup act on Comedy Central. And according to 92% of the advertisements during this time slot, it was made abundantly clear that girls are going wild. They are going wild indoors, at the beach, and even in outer space. Luckily, I have a Girls Gone Wild filter installed in my front door so I won't ever have to worry about being attacked by one of these rowdy co-eds. If you don't have one of these filters I strongly suggest you have one installed today so you don't wind up in a shower, handcuffed, all soapy, crying, because a young college freshman named Angie won't stop going wild on you. Fortunately I've never found myself in that predicament, but I hear it can be quite traumatizing.
Sunday: Just a nice relaxing day. Haus and I got to hang out with Todd, Amy, and Landon for a day of football, drool, and manual labor. The Packers picked up the big win against the vaunted Miami Dolphins this particular delightful Sunday afternoon (put that in your pipe Mr. Crackityjonez) and what better way to celebrate the victory than by helping your sister rake some leaves? I have to say, that Landon (aka Patches- the nickname I gave him due to his spotty hair growth) is one of the cutest 4-month-year-old whipper snappers on this side of the prime meridian. His only downfall is the 24 gallons of drool this kid emits on a bi-hourly basis, but I'll take that any day of the week over having a nephew with 5 arms. Sure, you're probably one of those people who'd say that you'd be fine having a five-armed nephew, but when push came to shove, you'd probably shun him. And hey, I wouldn't blame you, that's why the Ringling Brothers invented the circus.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Draft #156
No time to freestyle, we have one important issue to tackle. So I'm watching this new reality show the other day called "House of Carters". For those of you who may not be aware, Nick Carter (a former member of the incredibly gay boy band known as the Backstreet Boys), and his four siblings are living under the same roof for the first time in ten years. I know this concept sounds fascinating and almost too good to be true, but it's real. That's why they call it reality TV. I don't understand why five brothers and sisters all over the age of 18 are living together, but I'm sure a top secret governmental inbreeding program has something to do with it.
Now when I say I watched the show, I'm referring to the five minute block of my life for which I'm probably not going to be refunded. In that span of time, Nick and brother Aaron were arguing (if not crying) over an incident where Aaron was found happily posing in a picture with Paris Hilton just days after Paris and Nick's breakup. Believe you me, it was quite the crisis. And these poor Carters face battles like this almost everyday. For instance, in a scenario I'm making up just now, young Aaron had to overcome the trials and tribulations associated with a Mercedes Benz that wouldn't start, only to settle on driving the family Porsche to the recording studio to lay down a track for his next humongously huge pile of shit for an album. Sure Aaron cursed out his mom, two of his sisters, and the gardener in an effort to get to the bottom of his broken Mercedes dilemna, but seriously, who amongst us hasn't been in that situation?
My brother and I used to fight over the remote control all the time. The battle for TV primacy was one that would usually lead to vicious blows to the kidneys and numerous unforgiving charlie horses. And while you may be thinking to yourself that a fight over a remote control and Paris Hilton are two totally different battles, I am here today to shed some light on why the two are more similar that you might think.
A) My family's old remote control had been used by numerous amounts of people. So many in fact, that it's hard to place a physical number on the actual total. Paris Hilton...
B) My family's old remote control was indeed used a bit. It was used so much, that the buttons on the remote had begun to fade and were practically dishelved, to the point were most of the buttons didn't do anything when you pressed them. Sure you could try pressing as hard as you wanted, but nothing was going to happen.
C) My family's old remote control had this sliding plastic shield on the bottom that used to cover some of the buttons for the VCR. When the remote was new, the shield used to click into place when it was positioned over the VCR buttons, but after a while the shield just sort of slide up and down at will and was eventually removed completely. So unless the remote was placed face down on the sofa, everyone could see the VCR buttons.
D) My family's old remote control didn't mind if you were wearing a glove or not.
E) My family's old remote control was once rumored to have given our neighbor a venereal disease.
F) My family's old remote control was dropped in the toilet on more than one occasion.
In conclusion, never ever watch "House of Carters" and never have sex with Paris Hilton or my family's old remote control.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Draft #155
So you're not sure if you're a fatty? Using Jeff Foxworthy as a springboard, I came up with a few warning signs.-If your kitchen has a deep fryer and numerous shelves in place specifically designed to hold large drums of lard...Then you might just be a fatty (or at least well on your way).
-If the only fruit you ever eat comes from the inside of a Pop Tart, a donut, or a pie...You might be a fatty.
-If you've ever written a letter to Nabisco inquiring as to if or when they will ever come out with "triple-stuffed" Oreos...You might be a fatty.
-If your sink has three knobs, one for cold, one for hot, and one for chocolate...You might be a fatty.
-If 1 of your 4 refrigerators doubles as a night stand...You might be a fatty.
-If you sweat profusely while eating cake (whether it's due to sheer excitement or overall fatigue)...You might be a fatty.
-If you have made it your goal for the weekend to try every one of Baskin Robbin's 31 flavors in both sugar and waffle cone...You might be a fatty.
-If you've ever plotted revenge against someone for eating the last brownie at a church outing...You might be a fatty.
-If the salt and pepper shakers on your kitchen table have recently been replaced by a can of Reddi Wip and a can of Easy Cheese...Then you might be a fatty.
-If you've ever spent more than $15 on yourself for lunch while dining at a Taco Bell...You might be a fatty.
-If you keep an emergency stash of beef jerky in the glove compartment of your car...You might be a fatty.
-If you've ever been invited to your pizza delivery man's birthday party...You might be a fatty.
-If you've ever uttered the phrase, "They just don't super-size it like they used to"...You might be a fatty.
-If you've ever been to a bowling alley and witnessed someone bowling a 300 game and the final box score reminded you of your shirt size...then you might be a big old fatty.
-If it takes a series of mirrors to see your own "equipment"...you probably already know.
-If you notice people cringing everytime you sit in a chair...you might be a fatty.
-If a picture of you can be found in the Ponderosa Hall of Fame...you might be a fatty.
-If you take your coffee with two sugars and mayonnaise...you might just be a fatty.
-If the mere sight of broccoli causes you to weep uncontrollably...you might be a fatty.
-If you find a half eaten turkey underneath the cushions of your couch and then proceed to dig around back there to try and find some gravy...you might just be a fatty.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Draft #154
Weekend Review
Friday: Not much to report about here. I ate some McDonald's, did some laundry, cooked some homemade mac n' cheese--Paula Dean style* (any recipe containing enough heart clogging ingredients to kill the sturdiest of horses), and watched about an hour's worth of Borat clips on youtube.com. Como se dice "lame" en espanol? I'm referring to my evening and not Borat.
A) I realize staying home on a Friday night to finish laundry and cook mass quantities of jumbo elbow macaroni is extremely 40-year-old virginish of me, but sometimes a guy just gets a craving for egg salad.....I mean macaroni.
B) Who is this Borat guy? Where is he from? Does he have his own show? Why haven't I heard of him before? Who wants to go with me to see his new movie? Looks like a riot.
C) men, from what I am told, has a lot of protein.
Saturday: Haus, Matty K, Los Gravens cuatro, Roberto, Scuba, Stackhouse, and I all hit up Zim's (Milwaukee's finest sports bar) to take in some of the action from the Wisconsin/Minnesota game. If you like sports and you like bars (and the liquid stored behind the bar), then head on down to Zim's. Conviently located on Milwaukee St. between Wells and Wisconsin Ave.
After Zim's, it was off to the lakefront for some intense co-ed, two hand touch football. The 3-0 Refugees (that's us) were taking on the 3-0 Wolfpack in a battle of the undefeateds, and when the dust finally settled, it was the Wolfpack, standing strong with their cleats pressed firmly on our throats as we were left squirming, crying for our mommies. Final score 20-6.
The team could have let the loss weigh heavy on the soul, but we didn't. The pain of defeat that is associated with co-ed two hand touch football isn't anything that can't be washed away with a pitcher of beer and a dozen cookies. Pretty much everybody that was at the game made it to the sponsor afterwards for the cookout and mini-booze-athon, which is saying something, since most of the team decided to reproduce in the offseason, thus making alcohol abuse a bi-weekly activity at best due to parental duties.
Some of the highlights of the evening included:
-various team members dancing on top of the bar during an Abba song
-Stackhouse yelling, "You know you want it" as he was dancing on top of the bar exposing his navel cavity
-Stackhouse telling everybody that he was horny
-any of the power plays during the Badger hockey game
-the Auburn last second fumble recovery for a touchdown which put Haus over the top on his total points wager
-the over $400 bar tab we put together as a team from 4pm to 10:30pm. This doesn't include the beer from home we snuck into the patio area while grilling, the pitchers we poured ourselves from the active tap behind the patio bar while the bartenders weren't looking, the drinks we bought ourselves with cash and didn't put on the tab, and all that didn't even include food, it was just alcohol. How the F didn't we get a free round or two? Isn't that part of the basics of bartending guidelines manual? Fitzgibbon's is a complete crap hole!! My vote is for Zim's next year!
And then there was the highlight of the season:
After half the team left at about 10:30pm, the rest of us stayed for a few more rounds. For a better part of the evening there was this sinister looking fellow in a cowboy hat and a black trenchcoat, just sitting by himself, drinking. Nobody said anything to him, nobody acknowledged his presence, he was a weirdo. At one point (although I didn't see it) someone said he licked the bar before he got up to go to the bathroom. Who does that?!?! His licking of the bar should have been all the foreshadowing we needed to predict what was going to happen, but life is full of surprises and this night was no exception.
As I was in the back of the bar gathering some of the utensils and supplies from the cookout, a bit of a scrum broke out at the opposite end and the weirdo in the cowboy hat was in the middle of it. I was told that a girl from our group had taken off his hat, an act that apparently triggers a tazmanian type reaction, thanks to the drum of crazy pills this pud must have eaten before he went out on the town.
This caused Bill (the boyfriend of the girl who removed the hat) to get equally batty (and rightfully so) since the weirdo was threatening to kick her and all of our asses. A couple of shoves and fu-q's later, the weirdo was given the boot, never to return.......
Until 5 minutes later when he came busting through the doors looking for more trouble. Haus met him first and told him to get out of the bar, but the weirdo wasn't going to hear it and he started shoving Haus. Unfortunately my brotherly instincts never really kicked in, but luckily three other guys (Bill, Stackhouse, and huge random guy) jumped in before Haus got his titties light up by Extasy McGee. My reaction took me back to my high school football days when a fumble occurred on the field, and I would just stand there and watch it. By the time my brain would process what was taking place, about nine other players would already be leaping for the loose ball.
Same deal here, by the time my brain processed what was happening, the cowboy had four bruisers whaling on his ass, haymakers flying in from all directions. Like any good movie, the tussle ended up outside where the cops eventually broke it up using their drawn guns as incentive to stop fighting. The cowboy ended up with a bloody face and a free ride to the cop shop. It was single handedly one of the coolest things I've ever seen in my life. It was as if everything was happening in slow motion. I'll never forget the image of the cowboy getting pounced on ala four cougars bearing in on a wounded gazelle. And eventhough I didn't participate (despite literally standing right next to all the action) it was my very first bar fight. And thankfully, I came away unscathed.
Sunday: I could have shit a golden egg and that still wouldn't have topped Saturday's main event, so I'm not even going to bother.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Draft #153
Friday Afternoon Chicken Scratch
-Someone recently told me never to eat at KFC because they don't even use real chickens. I don't care if they're breading/deep frying mutated squirrel, that stuff is good and I will continue to visit this establishment on my current "once every four months" clip. What's next? Should I not date a girl because she was adopted? Maybe these two scenarios are totally different and don't apply, but to me, they seem similiar.
-I don't know why, but I have a feeling that the 2006-07 New York Knicks will actually be pretty good this season. It has an eery "Win this one for the gipper" type feeling to it. An "Us against the world" mentality that could boost them as high as the 6th playoff spot come April. So long as all the NY strip clubs agree to hang "Do not serve these individuals" posters of all the Knicks players on or near the entrance of their establishment.
-Worst invention ever: Disposable mattresses made of sponge catered to those times when you and your lady friend are chomping at the bit to do the hibbady jibbady, but the little lady is having her special lady time. Like I said, worst invention ever.
-The 2nd worst invention ever: A sleeping bag that is actually just a giant tube sock designed for those times when............
-My friday night to do list:
Buy booze
Do laundry
Make an obscene amount of mac n' cheese
Try to refrain from eating an obscene amount of mac n' cheese
Eventually ask myself, "Was it really necessary to eat that much mac n' cheese"
Call a sleezy 1-900 number and have a normal conversation with whoever or whatever I get
-If you've eaten a licorice rope within the last 4 years, consider me jealous.
-Employee of the Month isn't that great of a movie.
-If my smoke detector ever went off, I wouldn't even know how to get it to stop beeping. In this event, here is a list of things I would probably do in addition to panicking:
Sing a Billy Joel song
Drop a couple hundred F-bombs
Assume the fetal position until help arrives
Count backwards
Throw a lamp
Run
Cry
Redirect smoke
-With Sara Evans soon to be on the market, I'm making my dishonorable intentions known right away. I'm young, energetic, and willing to do anything that doesn't involve a sanchez, a steamer (both Cleveland and Toledo), a vacuum, a swing, a rolling pin, a tub of Crisco, and Regis Philbin.
-Is it me, or has there been way too many movies involving a horse and a "can do" spirit within the last three years?
-Warm green tea smells like a dirty sock.
-Flatch. If my parents were to have given me this name upon my birth I guess I wouldn't have minded too much. As long as my middle name didn't begin with a "U" and my last name wasn't Lenz.
-I'll give you the product brand name and you guess the product: Armadillo brand........
(Hint: In the commercial for this product, a lady can be seen talking into the camera, declaring that she can never get an ounce of sleep without her Armadillo)
-In Nip Tuck, when that chick got hit by that bus.......that was awesome.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Draft #152
Miller Park
Now while you may be new and exciting, there are some areas in which you could use some improvement.
Mainly, I'm referring to the bleacher sections. What's up Miller Park? The bleachers are the section of a ballpark that should be reserved for the most raucous of fans and/or people who may not even be fans, but just like to drink the city's brew and shout obscenities for no apparent reason at all.
But what do I see out there whenever I decide to take in a ballgame from the bleachers? I see elderly ladies with canes eating 39-year-old bags of black licorice. I see families of five with their picnic baskets and drooling newborns. I see that retarded guy with the giant mustard stain on his brown trousers. Actually he's pretty cool. Stinky, as he is known to by his fanbase, can recite the original 13 colonies in reverse order while balancing on one leg. That may not sound very impressive, but bear in mind that Brewer games can be a bit monotonous and Stinky brings a lot to the table during those times when the opponents are beating the living tar out of the beloved Crew. I defy anyone to hold back a chuckle during the sparing moments when Stinky appears to have all but lost his balance, or during the occasions when an East or West Carolina brings the 13 colonies up to an unprecedented 14 or 15.
I see disgusting couples with their hands in each other's back pockets, whispering ugly nothings into each other's grotesquely shaped ears. I see entire 3rd grade classes that consists of kids who are more interested with what's coming out of their nose than what's happening on the field. For goober's sakes, I've even seen a collegiate-aged feller studying for an astronomy test while sitting in the bleachers.
Something has to give. I was never old enough to have the opportunity to drink in the bleachers at County Stadium, but I've heard the legend. The bleachers at County Stadium were a magical place where anything could happen, the possibilities were endless. Random kegs of beer sitting in the isles? As long as you were cheering for Ernie Riles. Would Rockin Robin ever throw you a wink? As long as when you barfed, you did it in the sink. Maybe even catch a dinger off the bat of the Ignitor? It's hard to catch with one hand while you're icing down your shiner. Any chance things could possibly get queer? Not while right field's being patrolled by the powerful Rob Deer. Was everyone really wasted and in a manic drunken stupor? Barely able to stand my friend, as they shouted, "Hooray for Cecil Cooper!!"
Rhyming aside, I long for the days when slaughtering a pig in the bleachers to make your own brats was socially acceptable. I long for the days when handing over your $5 for a confined one way bleacher ticket was the equivalent to putting your car keys in a fishbowl. I long for the days when an overly hairy chest and a fu manchu was a point of pride and something that helped you blend into a crowd. I long for the days when a section of fans could stand up in unison and simultaneously call the left fielder a douche bag without some old biddy telling them to mind their manners and take a seat. I long for the days when you could hurl a pretzel at an opposing team's outfielder, or hop the rail and go for a streak knowing your boys would bail you out of trouble.
I miss Bernie's beer mug. I miss the old PA announcer with the gravelly voice. I miss the ushers that didn't give a damn, so long as you didn't stab somebody with a screwdriver during his/her shift. I miss the feeling you'd get when you were walking on the path from the concourse to your section in the upper deck, you know, the one where you feel like a construction worker balancing on a high steel beam peering down at the lower grandstand. I miss the initial first peek of the field you'd get once you entered your section because you couldn't actually see it from the concourse. I miss the old uniforms and logo with the ball and mitt. I miss the old piece of crap scoreboard that hummed a thousand times louder than the sea green refrigerator sitting in your grandpa's basement. I miss ballplayers who were fueled by beer and burgers instead of growth hormones designed to strengthen horses. I miss the Marlboro man and guys named Moose Haas. But most importantly when looking at everything from a rational perspective, I missed the opportunity to write an article of this nature, about 4 or 5 years ago. But oh well, what are you going to do? Better late than never I guess. And hopefully someday the same can be said about the "real" fans eventual takeover of the bleachers.
Bleacher Creatures UNITE!!!
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Draft #151
Headlines-Local Kentucky farmer wonders why his application to pharmacy school was denied
-300 pound woman claims she is just "meat and potatoes" fat and not junk food fat
-Man booted from grocery store after 4th trip to Hillshire Farms free sausage sample table
-Entrepreneur looking for an inventor to get vodka popsicle idea up and running
-A-Rod picked 5th for stickball game at recess during visit to Kennedy Elementary
-Five dollar hooker contemplates lowering prices to create boost in sales
-An udder disaster, amateur farmer gets surprise after yanking wrong chain
-Local fan streaks during college hockey game wearing only a speedo, sunglasses, cowboy hat and foam finger.
-Yao Ming's bloody toe nail takes in 1 million yen on eBay auction
-Sting ray that killed Croc Hunter claims Steve started it
-Green Bay Packers looking into availability of former wideouts Andre Rison and Jeff Query to help right ship
-Teenager who threatened to give principal wedgie, given nine year prison sentence
-High schooler Billy Donovan hauled in 13 catches for 274 yards and 4 TD's on Friday night and still couldn't get laid
-Poll indicates worst Halloween costume for 06' is Tony Danza dressed as gay pirate
-After Stephen Jackson strip club incident, Bucks center Andrew Bogut ready to pack boomerang
-A sign of the apocalypse, Hulk Hogan and Mr. T given reality TV shows
-Office manager calls for a little more TCB and a little less PCP
-Drunk college student suffers heart attack after waking up next to Johnny Knoxville and Janet Reno
-Prime minister believes Condoleezza Rice should worry about bridging "other" gaps
-Former NFL QB decides to go long with penial implant
-Big Load celebrates 25th birthday in Big Load fashion by polishing off single serve quarter barrel of PBR then heading out to playground to dunk basketball
-Local town grub considers adding "shag" to shit, shower, and shave morning routine
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Draft #150
Soap Box
Now while I've never actually played in the NBA and have little knowledge about the ball that this league has been using throughout the past 35 years, I am in fact, apalled at the decision NBA higher-ups made recently to change from a leather ball to the microfiber composite model being pushed for this upcoming season.
This new ball is supposed to have better grip according to the douche wads that produced this pile of refuse. Grip is great when you're talking about footballs, but this is basketball. As any pure shooter can attest to, maximum grip doesn't make for optimal performance. Shooters are instructed to have a soft touch, and you want the ball to release off of your fingers will a smooth backspin. You won't find "make sure to squeeze the shit out of the ball" on any of the steps on how to shoot a jump shot.
Leather is better in almost any walk of life. Whether it's the interior of your car, your living room furniture, or even when it comes to the material used to make your assless chaps, leather is better. I'll choose a material that is six or less degrees away from pork rinds any day of the week over a cheap pathetic material like microfiber.
If I ever catch a group of kids using this shoddy $199.99 product in a playground, I will immediately walk up to them and stab their ball with a knife and lecture all of them on the benefits that leather has to offer as the air, from the ultra inferior product they chose to use, seeps out at an uncomfortably slow pace. If they start bitching and moaning at me, declaring that their daddy bought that ball for them, I will simply tell them that their father is an alcoholic and that they should thank me for doing them a favor because that ball is a piece of shit.
The early word on this product from NBA players is that the ball becomes very slippery once it gets wet. Laker forward Lamar Odom declared that this ball is the biggest abomination to hit the league since Kelly Tripucka's hairdo. Why would a ball praised for having superior grip become slippery after encountering a bit of moisture? I know of something else that gets slippery when wet and much like this new ball, it sometimes stinks, badly, as in someone forgot to the change the water in the dead fish aquarium. But unlike this "thing" I'm referring to, there's no amount of water and/or vinegar that can rid this new ball of its foul stench.
And while this may be the worst product in the history of western civilization, what pains me the most is all the kids who will be robbed of the dream that someday they will play in the NBA and have the privilege of toting the same rock that legends like Marty Conlon, Alton Lister, and Tree Rollins once handled. For those of us that fear change, the death of the leather basketball is an unwelcomed reality. And we can only pray that with its passing, the integrity of the game wasn't taken with it.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Draft #149
One Shining MomentCertain things in life are just a given. When Glenn Robinson dribbled the ball in traffic it was a given that the ball would be stolen by a defender or would be dribbled off his knees and out of bounds. You knew that whenever Vin Baker took to a basketball court that the faint smell of booze would soon fill the air. And finally, during any of the local broadcasts of a Bucks game, it's always comforting to know that Jon McGlocklin will be cackling like a hyena at one of his own jokes (not that there's anything wrong with that). And that later in the game, he will be insisting that the Bucks get another stop and a score to give them a chance to win the ball game.
It's comforting to know that certain things will occur at certain times. I believe the phrase is clockwork- perfect regularity or precision.
For instance, in case the three previous examples weren't enough, when Ahmad Carroll was forced to enter last night's game against the Eagles, it was comforting to know that Carroll was good for about three penalties and about a country mile's worth of big play yardage at his expense. Why was this comforting you ask? Well I'll tell you why. When you're going into that game down by 29 points in your fantasy football matchup and your only remaining player is Donovan McNabb, well........that's pretty much the equivalent of rolling out the cross-eyed kid to the plate with two outs in the bottom of the ninth during any summertime little league contest. McNabb was the 6'1'' twelve-year-old pitcher with the lazer rocket arm and Carroll was the gangly nine-year-old, pants full of piss, barely able to hold his own bat, sitting in the back of the box, praying to God that one of those fastballs doesn't catch him on one of his rail thin appendages.
So like clockwork, once McNabb and company realized that #28 for the green and gold was on the field, they did what anybody would have done in that situation and lit his ass up like a Christmas tree dipped in a nuclear, neon goo. The end result? McNabb threw for 288 yards and two scores all while rushing for 47 yards and two more TD's on the ground. Was I supposed to have any chance in hell of winning that fantasy football matchup? Probably not. Fantasy QB's usually don't put up 34 points all too often. But for a downtrodden fantasy owner who expected yet another notch in the L column this week, this most unusual of occurrences came as a very welcomed surprise.
So Pat Osowski, if you're out there, I'm not going to ask you who your daddy is or tell you how great Nitschke's Nimrods are and how they are destined for a Paradise Mobil Fantasy Football League Championship this season, using your roster of monkey-assed corn jaggers as a springboard. No, I won't do that. I've been on the receiving end of too many of those crushing defeats and know the stinging sensation associated with them all too well. Does this recent victory make me great though? Some will argue yes. I however, am just happy to have one more reason to like fantasy football again, and you Pat, have one more reason to hate the Packers.
