March 2010 Archives

ATLANTA BRAVES

2009 record: 86-76

Local weather: Hotter than the devil's drawers, suh! /sips mint julep

Namesake: Valiant Native American warriors like Chief Noc-a-homa

What will Bobby Cox do after he retires?: I don't know, but for his wife's sake, I hope he doesn't plan on spending a lot of time around the house.

Perpetually overused team-related headline: Anything involving 'chop'. The only thing that should be chopped on the Braves is their dumb, racist chant.

Best name on 40-man roster: Jonny Venters, who had a few regional rockabilly hits back in the 50s.

The That Guy's on This Team? Award: Scott Proctor, who was allowed to keep the tiny shreds of his throwing arm that Joe Torre didn't destroy

Spring standout: Jason Heyward, who is not only tearing the cover off the ball, but can make sportswriters cream their jeans with every swing of his bat.

Probable Opening Day starter: Derek Lowe, taking some time off between injuries to throw a baseball.

Biggest question for 2010: Will Chipper Jones badmouth his own teammates again, or save his dumb outburst for someone on another team?

Advantage to start the season: Low pressure--if Braves fans won't come out for the playoffs, they surely won't care if the team starts out slow.

Semi-serious assessment: Potentially great starting rotation, and a formerly suspect lineup has been shored up by the emergence of Heyward (THE CHOSEN ONE!). The bullpen took a step back--Mike Gonzalez and Rafael Soriano were replaced with Takashi Saito and Billy Wagner, neither of whom have any chance of staying healthy all season (mark it down). Regardless, the Braves will definitely compete this year. Fuck.

CHICAGO CUBS

2009 record: 83-78

Local weather: If you don't like it, just wait a minute!* (* joke stolen from your grampa)

Namesake: The smaller partner in a "bear" relationship

Has it really been 102 years since they won a World Series?: Yes, but some days it only feels like 75.

Perpetually overused team-related headline: Lovable Losers. How many losers have you known that were lovable? Most losers are bitter, sour human beings.

Best name on 40-man roster: Esmailin Caridad, because when you're Esmailin, the whole world esmailes with you.

The That Guy's on This Team? Award: Kevin Millar. Or as he used to be known by guys named Sully, MILLAHHHHHH!

Spring standout: Youngster Tyler Colvin, who's not only batting .468, but is also not a pitcher, so he can't have a Kerry Wood/Mark Prior-style flameout.

Probable Opening Day starter: Carlos Zambrano, provided he doesn't get into a scrape with a Gatorade cooler first.

Biggest question for 2010: In what ways will the fates cruelly toy with this team this season?

Advantage to start the season: Arctic conditions will adversely affect visiting teams who have not brought their own Sherpas.

Semi-serious assessment: Only the total shitshow that was the 2009 Mets prevented the Cubs from being the most disappointing team in baseball last season. I would expect them to improve, but they're also relying on a number of players who've been hurt off and on the past few seasons (Zambrano, Derrek Lee, Alfonso Soriano, Aramis Ramirez). I could see the Cubs finishing anywhere on the continuum of success. Except winning the World Series, of course. That will never, ever happen. Ever.

From: Human Resources (hr@technotek.com)

To: All_Staff (staff@technotek.com)

Re: Fridge Cleaning

 

Just a heads up that we've scheduled a fridge cleaning in the fourth floor kitchen this weekend. The cleaning staff will throw out any unmarked food, so if you want to keep something, please use the little yellow DO NOT DISCARD stickers we've posted in the kitchen.

 

If anyone has any questions about this at all, please let me know. Thanks!

 

* * *

 

From: Bill_Thompson (bthompson@technotek.com)

To: All_Staff (staff@technotek.com)

Re: Re: Fridge Cleaning

 

Hey Fred, does this mean they're gonna toss some of those science projects you got in there? They'll need a hazmat suit to touch that stuff! LOL

 

* * *

 

From: Angela_Williams (awilliams@technotek.com)

To: All_Staff (staff@technotek.com)

Re: Re: Re: Fridge Cleaning

 

Bill, if you want to send a jokey email to Fred on company time, that's your business. But don't hit "Reply All" when you do it and clog up everyone's Outlook inbox.

 

* * *

 

From: Bill_Thompson (bthompson@technotek.com)

To: All_Staff (staff@technotek.com)

Re: Re: Re: Re: Fridge Cleaning

 

Angela, I find it ironic you would send me a snotty email about pressing "Reply All" that is itself a "Reply All" message.

 

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ARIZONA DIAMONDBACKS

2009 record: 70-92

Local weather: Ball-meltingly hot

Namesake: Venemous rattlesnake responsible for the majority of fatal snakebites in northern Mexico, thus explaining why the Diamondbacks are Lou Dobbs' favorite team.

Do they really play for the entire state of Arizona?: Yes, except for small pockets of Tempe. They know why.

Perpetually overused team-related headline: Raising Arizona. Cease and desist letters from the Coen Brothers have proven ineffective.

Best name on 40-man roster: Clay Zavada (also owner of best mustache on team)

The That Guy's on This Team? Award: Billy Buckner. Not the former Dodgers/Cubs/Red Sox first baseman, but a young relief pitcher. Still, you'd think teams would shy away from anyone named Billy Buckner.

Spring standout: Justin Upton, whose .324 batting average and 16 RBIs are an obvious attempt to shame his brother B.J.

Probable Opening Day starter: Dan Haren, whose hitched delivery is almost as confounding as his facial hair.

Biggest question for 2010: Will their talented core of young players once again prove woefully outmatched, or merely disappointing?

Advantage to start the season: Close proximity of spring training facility removes the disorienting effects of jet lag.

Semi-serious assessment: The Diamondbacks lineup is full of stars, near stars, or should-be stars like Upton, Stephen Drew, and Mark Reynolds (all of them born in years I actually remember, which depresses the shit out of me). But their rotation is Haren and not much else until Brandon Webb comes back from shoulder surgery. They'll score a lot of runs, but they'll give a lot up, too, especially in their home park. Even in a relatively weak division, I don't see how they finish much better than .500 this year.

Last week, I posted a question to the general public about what baseball-related horrible waste of time I should work on this upcoming season. And the response has been underwhelming! Thus far, The Parallel Universe Fake Mets have the lead, but I'd like to get a few more responses so that we're not forsaken by the trickery of small sample sizes. So please, vote! Your influence counts! Use it! (Thanks, Bob Grant.)

To recap, here are your choices:

The Parallel Universe Fake Mets: I will do a season for the Mets in either MLB10:The Show or Stratomatic (or both), contrasting it with what the actual Mets do on the field this year.

The 2000 Project: A lesser sequel to The 1999 Project. I've always theorized that 2000 was a far inferior season to 1999, but this project would attempt to challenge those prejudices.

You can also choose Both or Neither (I beg you, please don't chose Both). Get to votin'!

It's Friday! Procrastinate and count down to happy hour with these lovely bits!

On this week's edition of The Best Show on WFMU, host Tom Scharpling asked listeners to share their favorite/least favorite celebrity commercials. A few gems were uncovered, which I'd like to share with you in the spirit of friendship and brotherhood and mockery.

First up, a Japanese ad for a cologne called Mandom, featuring that pinnacle of mandom, Charles Bronson. How manly is Chuck? He smokes a pipe shirtless, for one thing. He also fantasizes about himself as a cowboy as he literally pours cologne on himself. Who's gonna tell Charles Bronson he's wearing enough cologne to make a sasquatch tear up? I sure as hell ain't.



Here's an ad for a local cardiologist in Encino, California, starring M*A*S*H's Jamie Farr and a strangely bearded Alex Rocco. The hirsute Mr. Rocco does not get his eye shot out in this scene, as he did as Moe Green in The Godfather Part II, but he did go through the trouble of getting really drunk before the shoot. And you'll never guess the twist ending to this ad! (Here's a hint: You'll totally guess it.)



Speaking of which, here's some outtakes from an ad shoot for Paul Masson Wine starring legendary actor/director Orson Welles. Paul Masson would sell no wine before its time, but they would film ads before their enormous spokesman could sober up. Almost as funny as Welles' pickled reactions are the tortured expressions of the two party-goers to his right.



And what roundup of celebrity endorsements would be complete without Macho Man Randy Savage and his legendary spots for Slim Jim? Thrill as The Macho Man destroys a library and shames an authority figure with the power of smoked meats!



BONUS!: Peep this "interview" with Macho Man Randy Savage from oh, let's say the 80s cuz why not? Even by Macho Man standards, this interview is a little manic. Something extra seems at play. I don't know for sure, but I'll bet that something extra came from Bolivia.

Because of my well-documented dislike of the zeppelin-sized Mike Francesa, I often use his home station--WFAN--as a byword for sports talk idiocy. But all is not lost on the self proclaimed New York's #1. Well, most of it is lost (or, to use Francesa's vernacular, LAWST!!!), but there is one chunk of the broadcasting weekday that isn't a total waste of time. I am speaking, of course, of Steve Somers, aka The Schmooze.

I was reminded of Somers' greatness by a recent appreciation of him written by Michael Brendan Dougherty over at The Awl. Mr. Dougherty usually writes for The American Conservative, so I assume he and I don't see eye to eye on a number of issues. But love of Steve Somers transcends petty political differences.

As Dougherty deftly points out, Somers is the anti-Francesa (without ever mentioning Francesa by name). This is especially pronounced because Somers' show comes on right after The Sports Pope. Francesa acts as the judge, jury, and executioner of his own little courtroom, making pronouncements and banging his gavel against anyone who dares disagree with him.

Worst of all, he never sounds happy. Ironically, his two biggest sports loves (if you can call it love) are New York's two most successful teams: The Yankees and the Giants. And yet, their triumphs never seem to bring him any satisfaction. They just fuel more tweaking of the teams he doesn't like. Perhaps because he's so used to winning (by proxy), he simply expects victory, and so can't enjoy it. He's only satisfied when making other people miserable.

Somers' favorites are perennial losers or hard luck teams like the Mets, Jets, and Rangers (he's the only WFAN personality who actually talks about hockey, save Boomer Esiaison). And yet, there is always joy in his voice. Or at least a kind resigned, bemused attitude of oy, can you believe this? His attitude reminds you that, even though sports can give us agita and make us want to tear our hair out, at the end of the day they're supposed to be fun. The season's going down the toilet? Laugh about it already!

He opens all his shows with the same greeting: "Good evening to you and how you be?" Then he launches into a long, pun-filled monologue (he refers to the injury plagued Mets as the Medical-politans), occasionally spiced with audio collages. It's difficult for callers to bash his favorite teams because he is usually the first one to dig at them. If a caller does manage to take a shot at The Schmooze, he will defuse the hostility with self-deprecating humor.

But my favorite Somers move comes on those rare occasions when he does have something to gloat about. He will speak long and slow and in a barely audible voice about a game, building up to his point at a glacial pace, then all of a sudden say, "and then THIS!", followed by a soundbite of an amazing play from the game. It always kills me.

When a caller praises Francesa, he gives a perfunctory thanks and urges them to get on with their point. When a caller praises Somers, he sounds genuinely touched and says something like, "I'm happy enough to have a job already!" Perhaps it's false modesty, but it must be hard to get a big head when your show is regularly preempted to broadcast Nets games.

In a way, Somers reminds me of the previous generation of sports radio voices, like Mel Allen and Bob Murphy. They didn't exactly ask hard hitting questions, but they never ceased to be amazed that they actually worked in sports. It's an attitude that runs completely counter to the trend in sports yakking. In order to get on sports radio or ESPN these days, you have to be loud, obnoxious, have some sort of schtick, and usually be very ANGRY about a subject that shouldn't warrant such vitriol. Somers, on the other hand really does sound like he's happy to have any job, let alone to talk about sports for a living.

It is we who should be grateful that Somers is where he is, doing what he does. So here's to you, Schmooze, one of the good ones.

Mets management has, amazingly, heard and heeded some complaints from fans. Responding to a lack of Met-itude at CitiField, the team is working on a number of enhancements to give the new stadium more of a personality and sense of history. In addition to finally establishing a physical location for a Mets Hall of Fame, they're also spiffing up the park's exterior with banners and murals of Mets greats of the past.

Best of all, they've enhanced the already great Fan Walk with commemorative plaques, each of which feature a famous moment in Mets history that happened at the now-demolished Shea Stadium. Pics of these circulated on various blogs earlier this week, and they made me regret my decision to not buy a Fan Walk brick even more than I already did (my financial inability to do so notwithstanding).

But just like matter itself, the Mets' stupidity can neither be created nor destroyed. So when they actually manage to get something right and do something cool, it has to be countered by something dumb and ham-fisted, In this case, it's an easily fixable error in the plaque dedicated to the Mets' thrilling, come-from-behind win in game 7 of the 1986 World Series (first pointed out by Mets Police, which also gave us the awesome pics linked above).

If you read the text, you'll see the last sentence of the synopsis says "Sid Fernandez earned the win with exceptional relief work". El Sid did relieve Ron Darling in that game, and his 2 1/3 hitless innings were arguably the biggest reason the Mets were able to rally from an early 3-0 deficit in that game. However, Fernandez did not technically earn the win--Roger McDowell did.

An easy mistake to make? Sure, but also an easy mistake to correct. Two minutes of research could've prevented this from ever being cast in bronze. It's not like the Mets have so many world championships whose details need to be fact checked.

But sadly, that's not the only mistake on these plaques. Just take a look at these completely un-Photoshopped examples of other plaque oopsies!

As threats against Democratic Congressmen mount across the country, I get asked the same question over and over: John, isn't that awesome? Yes, it is very awesome.

I also get asked another question: Why don't you say speak out against these terrible threats? Let me first answer this question with a statement: Screw you. And now let me answer the question with another question" Why should I?

See, I didn't oppose health care reform because I thought it was socialistic or unconstitutional. I opposed health care reform because I am opposed to health. No one should be healthy! And there's nothing more unhealthy than being dead.

Look at me, for instance. Sure, I may look decent in this very expensive suit, but trust me, this Brooks Brothers exterior hides a veritable cesspit of a body. Every morning, I drink a delicious shake made of two kinds of half-and-half (the milk kind and the drink mix kind), crushed Snickers, and pulverized Cheetos, covered by candied bacon bits. I can't blink without sweating. And I demand that all of America enjoy the same kind of horrid physical condition!

This is why in the next Congressional session, I will introduce legislation to smallpox-idize America's water supply. That should help combat the healthy effects of the fluoride we foolishly threw in the drinking water in the 60s. I also have great hopes for my proposal to mail envelopes full of Ebola to random citizens and start pandemic flare ups every few weeks. It'll be like that movie Outbreak, except no Dustin Hoffman. By that point, we'll have passed my law that will cause him to die by mercury poisoning.

But please, understand this: My anti-health position does not in any way run counter to my anti-abortion stance. I believe unborn life is precious and sacred and anyone who thinks otherwise should have to drink some of my altered tap water. Of course, once that child transitions from unborn to actually born, then all bets are off. Because I believe that all newborn children should be injected with a crippling amount of hepatitis.

When I was in fourth grade, I was in something called Olympics of the Mind, a competition for future nerds and theatre people. This organization still exists, but at some point, it was forced to change the first word in its name to "Odyssey", because the International Olympic Committee, in the spirit of brotherhood and good sportsmanship, sued them.

Each year, OM has a bunch of different "problems" you can choose from. They require you to develop a skit around a certain theme, usually historical (certain "problems" also involved some kind of engineering, like building a structure that could withstand a certain amount of weight). There's also a segment called "spontaneous", which is basically a word association game. Teams receive points for the skit, spontaneous, and "style" (a concept I have no better grasp of now than I did then).

I'm still not sure why my school participated in these shenanigans. As an adult, it strikes me as the kind of wonderful thing they do at super artsy private schools where kids discover their desks and learn ancient Greek in the third grade. I did not go to such a place of learning. Mine was a thoroughly middle of the road public school. But I was in a gifted students program that met twice a week outside my regular class, and the the school thought enough of us to draft us for an OM team (though they didn't think enough of us to allow us to meet anywhere but a large closet used to store old textbooks).

The first year I did it, the problem involved prehistoric man. I named our skit "Cro-Magnon P.I." (still my proudest creative contribution to the world). We painted a drop cloth set and put together a few props and rehearsed for months, but even though I was a ridiculously optimistic/delusional kid (I was convinced that somehow I'd be world famous by age 12), I hadn't the slightest expectation of winning anything. It never even crossed my mind.

So said mind was blown when my team actually won our "problem", and we all ran up on the stage in the auditorium of the local BOCES and jumped up and down like kids who have just won something surrounded by other kids who didn't. It meant we were going to the state OM championships in Syracuse!

It also meant I'd be going far away from home, on a bus, and staying over a few nights in a hotel, something I'd never done before in my life. My family had zero money, so we never went on vacation. I'd been to The City many times to visit family, but I'd never been outside of a 50 mile radius of my home. So Syracuse might as well have been Disneyland to me. After all, it was a college town. It was full of smart people, just like me!

The bus ride up was a combination of abject terror and delicious anarchy. My district crammed all of the kids who'd won their OM competitions into one rickety school bus. So that included kids as young as me (and younger), all the way up to high school seniors. I vividly remember one Big Kid blasting "Brass Monkey" over and over from a large, chunky, silver boom box. I remember kids shuttling from one end of the bus to the other as it scooted up the Thruway (this was in the pre-seatbelt school bus era).

I don't remember seeing a single parent or teacher intercede to prevent any of the madness (though I'm sure adults were present). I was simultaneously terrified and giddy. I was seriously worried that something terrible would result from all this freedom, but I was also swept up in the insanity. I was on a flaming Viking ship headed straight for a rocky shore, so I might as well have enjoyed it.

At this point, it's necessary to mention that we were heading to Syracuse a few short days after the Orangemen fell to Indiana in a hotly contested NCAA basketball final. So as we sped toward the town in our Crazy Yellow Fun-Bus, Syracuse was still a smoking ruin of rage and resentment. Got the scene?


And as we drove through this frat boy Beirut, we spotted one house that looked slightly better than the rest. But this was only because most of its exterior was covered by a large sheet. One of the house's occupants had hung an enormous bedsheet from a second story window. And on this sheet, they had written, in black shoe polish in 10-foot high letters:


Word spread through the bus by wildfire, and pretty soon the entire kid population of the bus ran to one side to witness this majestic obscenity. I'm surprised the whole thing didn't tip over. A huge cheer rang through the bus, with much hooting and hollering. It was easily the greatest thing any kid on the bus had ever seen. I BARELY KNOW WHAT THAT WORD MEANS BUT I KNOW IT'S AWESOME AND I'VE NEVER EVEN SEEN IT WRITTEN DOWN BEFORE IN MY LIFE LET ALONE IN LETTERS THAT HUGE!

As for the OM state championships, I stayed at a Holiday Inn and thought it was the greatest thing ever because I swam in a pool and stayed up late watching cable TV (another luxury I was not used to). We did our skit again and I was convinced we were the best and were destined for stardom.

We finished next to last. The trip back home was not as much fun. However,I did take away something from my trip. I'm not all that into college sports in any form. I did not attend a "sports' college. But whenever I find myself forced to choose sides in a collegiate game, I say I'm a fan of Syracuse, and that banner is why.

Before we take vote on this historic health care reform legislation, I yield some time on the floor to the cream of the Republican kookadook crop. First up, the distinguished gentleman from Georgia, Representative Paul Broun.
This just ain't health care reform they're passin, folks. This is the second great war of Yankee aggression! And I for one ain't gonna stand for it! I've already bought a Civil War-era musket, I'm workin on a beard, and I've already written a soulful, somber letter back home to my wife, which I request be recited by Robert Duvall.
Your time is up, Mr. Broun. I now yield time to the distinguished gentleman from Iowa, Representative Steve King.
The fact that this bill is being voted on on a Sunday, during Lent, I find this an affront to God. Because this year for Lent, I gave up giving a shit about other human beings.

At a time when most sectors of the economy are suffering, Death reported record profits for the first quarter of 2010, prompting surprise from the world of finance and resentment from the general public.

"I think we all knew this was  a good year for Death, but no one dared dream it was this good," said Goldman Sachs CEO Lloyd Blankfein. "The smart investor who bet on Death this year is now reaping the rewards."

"I believe if you look at it in aggregate, Death's profits aren't that much larger than this time last year," said Harold Long, economics professor at Columbia University, upon hearing the news. "But a few high profile acquisitions paint Death as this greedy, heartless entity. Even I was taken aback when Death acquired Teddy Pendergrass, Alex Chilton, and Jay Reatard all within the span of two months. It just comes across as overkill."

Death's diversified holdings have expanded to acquiring assets in all fields. Its film department was enlarged by the addition of Erich Rohmer, and its literary department by J.D. Salinger. The arrival of Bea Arthur added to Death's already considerable actress and gay icon divisions.

While this embarrassment of riches has delighted Wall Street, it has led to resentment on Main Street. Such excess seems especially galling to unemployed workers like Frank Renfro of Detroit, recently laid off from his job at a decorative candle manufacturing company.

"Enough is never enough with these people," Renfro said. "All they do is take, take, take. It's not good enough they got one former child star when they picked up Boner from Growing Pains. No, they gotta grab Corey Haim, too. And to top it off, they gobble up Art Clokey! I didn't even know he was still around! What are they even gonna do with the guy who created Gumby? Put him on a pile over at the big ol' Death mansion, I guess. Makes me sick."

In response to the criticism, Death called a press conference, where CEO Grim Reaper pointed a bony finger at the assembled host, as the faint but unmistakable sound of scythes being ground against enormous wheels screeched in the distance.

Last year, I declared a truce with St. Patrick's Day. So you won't be reading any new screeds against the holiday on this site. No, instead, you will read recycled screeds.

I wrote a post several years ago on a now-defunct sports site about the Venn intersection of this holiday, Gaelic football, and my paternal grandfather. A year later, I expanded said post for this site, because that old site was completely dismantled by its owners. (You can still find Geocities pages about Mother Theresa eating someone's balls from 12 years ago, but this sports site I labored on for 2+ years has vanished. Go figure.)

I like this post a lot (if I'm allowed to like stuff I wrote), and if you're newish to this site, you may not have seen it before. So I present to you now "The Calvinball of the Emerald Isle. (Original post here.)

This last Saturday, The Wife and I volunteered at WFMU for their annual pledge marathon. (You may have seen me write about it a few thousand times.) I did some phone answering and assisted her as she cooked dinner for the DJs and volunteers. It was great and fun and rewarding and I got to hang out with lots of amazing people. But earlier in the day, I saw something that made the day even more special.

We needed a few more items for dinner prep, so we drove to a nearby Shop Rite. If you live in the NYC area, you may remember that on Saturday, we were basically hit by a hurricane. I could literally feel my tiny little car getting pushed by the wind as we chugged along to the store. About a block away from the Shop Rite's entrance, as we waited at a red light, I saw a rogue shopping cart bolt from the confines of the parking lot and make a run at freedom, straight across an extremely busy, four-lane street.

Unfortunately, this shopping cart jailbreak coincided with the light turning green. As the traffic began to move again, most of the cars managed to avoid it with some judicious swerving and braking, except for one completely oblivious Mercedes SUV. There's no way the driver of this car could have missed the thing, unless they were facing backwards with their eyes closed. Still, they drove on, making no attempt at evasive action, and so hit the shopping cart head on with a big, rattly WHAM.

Not only was this awesome and hilarious, but it also brought back a fantastic memory. This blast from the past also involved cars, and shopping carts, and the best thing I've ever seen.

I was about 11 or 12 years old. My mom had to make a quick run to the Grand Union in town. So my two younger brothers, my cousin, and I piled into her car and went along for the trip, probably so we could finagle a trip to the local video store and rent a Nintendo game right after the groceries were done. I only note the headcount to prove this story can be verified by other sources. What I'm about to tell you actually happened.

As my mom went inside the Grand Union, we stayed in the car and probably listened to a Weird Al tape or something. But we were about to witness something far more mind-blowing than "Like a Surgeon" (no offense, Al). My mom's car was parked at the edge of the parking lot, facing a small hill that led down to a creek. There was no guardrail or fence or anything else to separate this hill from the parking lot.

Suddenly, we heard an engine racing off in the distance. An angry, growling engine. As the sound got closer, we saw it was attached to an avocado green American car of 70s vintage. Something low and sloped, almost El Camino like. And it was going very fast down the main drag of our small town, in an area where 30 mph speed limits were generally adhered to.

As he neared the Grand Union, he suddenly swerved toward the parking lot without slowing down much, if at all. He peeled into the lot with a horrifying screech, burning rubber and making a dangerously wide arc on his way in. Once he regained control of his vehicle, he aimed it at a parking spot a few slots to our left. The fact that this parking spot had two idle shopping carts in it did not concern him. Or, more likely, he had no time to worry about it, as he spent most of his concentration on driving like a maniac.

The two shopping carts each took a different approach to this assault. One of them was defiant and flipped up in the air, landing upside down on his hood. The other one was more submissive. It launched off of the car's grill, as if it had been drop kicked, and tumbled down the hill into the creek below.

Somehow, the driver managed to stop his car before it too careened down the ravine. With rubber mist hanging in the air and a shopping cart still clinging to the hood of his car, the driver got out. And this is the craziest part of the story: he walked over to the Grand Union as calmly as I've ever seen anyone do anything. Whatever sense of urgency compelled him to drive like a maniac and defy common sense, the self preservation instinct, and the well-being of his vehicle had completely vanished.

It was like something out of the best action movie ever made, but not even the craziest, Jason Statham-iest thriller would have a scene like this in it, because it would stretch the bounds of suspension of disbelief far beyond their limits.

The only bad thing about witnessing this? Even at age 11-or-12, I knew I would NEVER see anything better.

I've been playing around with a few ideas for site features during the upcoming bases-ball season. Rather than pick one without any input like a fascist, I thought I should let you, the reader, choose, or at the very least influence my choice.

The first thought I had was to do a parallel, alternate reality season for the Mets. With Carlos Beltran and Jose Reyes already sidelined for god knows how long, things ain't looking to good for the team already. But anything is possible once you use your imagination! So I would simulate the season one game at a time, in MLB10:The Show (which I just purchased) or the less high-tech option, Stratomatic. Or both. The video game version could be accompanied by screenshots of moments of triumph and tragedy--contrasted, of course, by whatever actually happened to the Mets that day.

But I've also given some thought to doing a 10-year retrospective on the 2000 season, as I did last year with 1999. I'm already on record (many times) in my belief that 2000 was vastly inferior to 1999, but I'm also willing to consider that I'm totally wrong. Maybe in re-examining that season, I'll discover that it had charms that my fetishizing of 1999 have glossed over. Plus, The 1999 Project got a lot of good response, and I am nothing if not a crowdpleaser. I play to the rafters!

So folks, I need you to help me choose. Should I go for Alternate Reality Season, or The 2000 Project? Vote below to make your voice heard. Your input is needed immediately! Nothing, not even the Census, is so important!

Well, Jose, the good news is your hyperthyroidism is treatable. The bad news is you need to rest for at least a few weeks until your elevated thyroid levels start to go down. You'll also need to make a few changes to your diet. Have you been eating a lot of fish lately?
Yeah, I have, now that you mention it.
Take me a through a typical day, meal-wise. What do you have for breakfast?
Usually, a caviar omelet.
I've never even heard of that. What do you do, add caviar to scrambled eggs?
No, the caviar is the base. I crack the fish eggs and fry em up in a pan. Sometimes I throw a few prawns in there, too.
Wow. How do you crack caviar?
Very precisely.

"The Twist" (1960)

"Let's Twist Again (Like We Did Last Summer)" (1961)

"Let's Twist One More Time (Like We Did Two Years Ago)" (1963)

"It's Been Four Years Since We Last Twisted (Shouldn't We Do it Again?)" (1967)

"C'mon, Let's Twist One Additional Time" (1968)

"(Would It Kill You to) Twist With Me Yet Again" (1969)

"I'd Like to Teach the World to Twist" (1971)

"Say It Loud (I Twist and I'm Proud)" (1972)

"U Kan Twist Gud" (featuring Slade) (1973)

"Do You Feel Like Twisting Once More? Is that Something You'd Be Interested In?" (1974)

"Disco Twist" (1977)

"New Wave Twist" (1979)

"Twist the System" (split 7" w/Minor Threat) (1982)

"New Romantic Twist" (1984)

"Can You Believe It's Been 25 Years Since We First Twisted?" (1985)

"26 Years of Twisting!" (1986)

"Lets See, 87 Minus 60...Yeah, It's Been 27 Years Since 'The Twist'" (1987)

"Grunge Twist" (from the soundtrack to Singles) (1992)

"New Jack Twist" (from the soundtrack to Cliffhanger) (1993)

"Baile El Twist" (featuring Carlos Santana and Rob Thomas) (1998)

"Twist2K" (2000)

"Twistin' with Stan" (featuring Eminem) (2001)

"I Concentrate on You" (from Chubby Checker Sings the Songs of Cole Porter) (2004)

"50 Years of Twisting (And We're Just Getting Started)" (2010)

Thanks to the graciousness of host Tom Scharpling, I was able to visit the WFMU studios in beautiful downtown Jersey City during the second Best Show marathon program this Tuesday. To say this was a thrill would be a vast understatement. To say that it made me one with the cosmos and eternity itself...that's probably an overstatement. So let's say the experience was somewhere in the middle.

It was amazing to see the sheer amount of work that goes into the marathon, from all of the Phone Slaves taking pledges to wrangling all the premiums to feeding the assembled host (which was amazingly done by WFMU's own Terre T, one of the coolest people in existence). It felt a lot like being backstage at a Broadway production or a live TV show circa 1957, with folks coming and going at breakneck speed in confined quarters to make sure everything ran as smoothly as possible. Except that not a single person involved received a dime for their work. It was all, literally, a labor of love.

And as if witnessing The Best Show raise an unbelievable $80K+ for WFMU wasn't enough, I got to see funnymen Patton Oswalt and John Hodgman lend their talents to the cause. I also captured some of these moments on video, thanks to my lil' iPod. The picture quality is not stellar, but the audio is pretty good, and their historic import compels me to share them with you. (You can hear the actual show here.)

Let this post serve as another friendly reminder that the WFMU Marathon is spinning along, and the station still needs your help!

The goal for this year's marathon is $1.2 million. As of this writing, they stand at about $500K. So there's still a tough road to hoe. Anything you can contribute will be greatly appreciated.

How much do I believe in this cause? I've actually altered my site to include an Insta-Pledge widget over there to your right. Now, you don't even have to leave this fabulous webbed site to show your support! (If you want to alter your own site in such fashion, go here.)

The mere fact that you can aid such a fabulous cause should be reason enough to do so. But a pledge of $75 or more entitles you to at least one DJ premium, which are all amazing, full of stuff you can't get anywhere else, and will bring you hours of amusement.

Case in point: I just rediscovered an unbelievable CD that Terre T gave out as her DJ premium way back in 2003. It features live performances from a plethora of bands who played on her show: The Dirtbombs, Corba Verde, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Electric Eel Shock...there is nothing not awesome on this collection, and none of it can be found anywhere else.

Where can you find this CD now? YOU CAN'T. Unless you have a time machine and can travel back in time and pledge to her show, which would be an excellent use of a time machine (right after you killed Hitler, of course).

What I'm saying is, do you want to look back on your life without regret? Pledge now, get these premiums, and lord it over your less savvy friends in the years to come.

I heartily recommend you tune in to tonight's installment of The Best Show, because--well, I'd recommend doing that every Tuesday night. But on this Tuesday, if you pledge, you won't just receive this year's Chump Steamroller Fun Pack, which includes a bumper sticker, Best Show trading cards, and a DVD whose participants and contents are far too awesome to recount here.

No, as if all of that weren't enough, a pledge tonight puts you in the running for a number of fabulous additional prizes. Like what? Oh, how about the entire Monty Python Complete Series DVD set AUTOGRAPHED BY TERRY GILLIAM?! Seriously, how about that, nerds? I can actually hear 12-year-old me getting a boner over the very thought of such a thing.

And if Monty Python ain't your bag, there's also a fabulous set of rare, rare, super rare stuff from Boston Spaceships (Robert Pollard of Guided by Voice's current deal), which includes (among many other things) a 7" test pressing. How rare are those? That rare. (I'm holding my arms out very far.) You can't get a test pressing of anything unless you're in the band, produce the band, or sleep with the band. Pledging is a much easier means of acquiring this thing.

Oh, and there will be fabulous celebrity guests in studio, of course: Patton Oswalt and John Hodgman, who will contribute live hilarity to the festivities (Patton's peformance as The Famous Flamer during the 2008 is one of the funniest pledge drive come-ons you will ever hear).

If you don't tune in, you will miss awesome stuff such as what happened last week, when Ted Leo played a few songs from his brand new album The Brutalist Bricks (out today!). He also sang a duet with frequent Best Show caller/Newbridge's biggest cannabis enthusiast, Bryce, on "We Built this City on Rock and Roll".



Your country needs you. Your airwaves need you. So don't think about it, DO IT!!!!!!

Despite being jaded and cynical about The Ways of the World, I still manage to surprise myself with my naive ability to be appalled. This happened on Sunday as I read Mike Lupica's rambling, borderline slanderous column in the Daily News about Jose Reyes. In it, he puts a bunch of dots on the same page as "Reyes", "hyperthyroid issue", and "HGH", expecting you to connect the three without ever explicitly saying so.

It was a Fox News-ian tactic: say an extremely controversial thing that will play well with your core audience, but say it in such a way that allows you to deny (technically) saying it when the other side gets its feathers ruffled. Except that in the world of sports "journalism", you can write such things and not face any consequences for actions that would result in censure in virtually any other arm of the fourth estate.

Here's a few choice quotes designed to sow doubt in readers' minds:

Reyes says he told the feds he didn't get human growth hormone from a Canadian doctor named Tony Galea, often regarded as a patron saint of HGH.

Yes, I remember when the Pope officially canonized him as such last year. Galea is under investigation for HGH distribution, but I don't think that makes him the "patron saint" of the shadowy substance any more than I'm the patron saint of Cheez-Its because I can't stop eating them. (Though I would totally accept the position were it offered to me, or existed.)

[J]ust because Reyes now has a problem with his thyroid gland, and is in New York City for sophisticated testing on it, does not mean those problems were caused by any kind of synthetic drug in his system.

Although the tone of my article, and this snotty sentence, indicates I totally believe they were.

Nobody should be surprised that people are looking to draw a line from Galea to what showed up in Reyes' blood tests.

I'm not surprised that people make such assumptions in blog comment sections or on sports radio. This morning, I heard the douchetacular Craig Carton scream at a doctor who dared suggest there wasn't enough evidence to make this logical leap. But I am surprised that such accusations--which have no shred of evidence to support them--are given credence in a major newspaper like the Daily News. 

Is there a way human growth hormone could have contributed to Reyes' thyroid problems? There are doctors who think so. Would they ever say HGH definitely caused Reyes' problems? No, they would not.

No, they would not say that because diagnosing a person you've never treated and revealing that diagnosis publicly would be a total violation of everything you learn from day one in medical school.

"Good medicine is about eliminating possible causes," Dr. Lewis Maharam - a doctor of sports medicine who has made sense about performance-enhancing drugs for years - said yesterday. "It's about differentials, making a list of possibilities and then eliminating them one by one. But there is a possibility that human growth hormone could cause a spike of thyroid hormone levels."

There's also a possibility that it could give you the ability to fly or learn ancient Sanskrit or grow  an extra set of arms. These things are all highly unlikely, but there's no reason to think they're impossible, right?

The negative side effects of HGH use aren't well known, because HGH isn't legitimately prescribed often, and most of its use is confined to the murky underworld of performance enhancing drugs, where users are reluctant to participate in clinical trials. So hell, why not say it could cause your hands to turn into saltines? You can't definitively say it doesn't do that, can you? I rest my case.

Also, Dr. Maharam "has made sense about performance-enhancing drugs for years"--I didn't know you could specialize in Making Sense. Is that a lucrative practice? Is it any more lucrative than badgering Tiger Woods, which he also seems to specialize in?

Lupica closes out his piece by unfavorably comparing Reyes to Jimmy Rollins and Derek Jeter. He notes that Reyes played only 36 games last year and Jeter has never played fewer than 119. He fails to mention that Rollins had a terrible year last season. He also doesn't mention that from 2005 through 2008, Reyes played at least 153 games every year, and played 160 games twice (something Captain Intangibles has never done). Because all of these facts would not jive with the well-established narrative of Jose Reyes as malingerer and malcontent and--now added to the pile--drug cheater.

I don't think Lupica has anything against Reyes, necessarily. This is not an attempt to railroad him so much as it is an attempt to stir up controversy and sell some more papers/get some more page hits (which I am indirectly contributing to, I suppose). And in the grand scheme of things, writing a shitty, wildly speculative column on Reyes is pretty low on Lupica's list of offenses.

For instance, he was directly responsible for driving Mark Kriegel and Lisa Olson away from the Daily News, all of them for petty personal reasons. He loves to insert himself into the news as much as possible, as he did during last year's U.S. Open. He is, by multiple accounts, a miserable prick who lives to throw his weight around.

He's risen to the heights of the sportswriting world, yet is still apparently haunted by jealousy and a fear of being outshone. What could possibly cause a man to behave in such a manner? I have no idea what personal demons Lupica may have within him, but I don't think you can eliminate HGH use from the equation.

I have absolutely no evidence that Lupica has used HGH. And I also have absolutely no idea if HGH could even cause such emotional neediness. But I don't have any evidence to refute these things either, do I? Lupica painted Reyes guilty by association on evidence just as flimsy, so I see no reason why I can't do the same.

Today, Sean from Massapequa graces us with his presence to discuss Jose Reyes' sudden medical woes. He told me he preferred to address the audience directly, unlike previous posts where we had a dialogue. So without further delay, here's Sean.

They say Jose Reyes has got a thyroid problem. Yeah, and I'm the mayor of Five Towns.

I'm not, just so you know. There is no mayor of Five Towns, cuz it ain't an actual town. Just like Reyes ain't actually hurt. We all know this guy fakes injuries, like he did last year so's he could take more salsa lessons.

How do I know that? Ask yourself this: Has he ever denied it? I rest my case.

There ain't no such thing as a thyroid. You ever seen one? I didn't think so. A thyroid is one a them things doctors make up so's they can prescribe you expensive medication. Like ADD, or your appendix. It's all just a scam. They say you got some disease, charge your insurance for the pills or cream or whatever, and you get some workman's comp cuz you got sick on the job somehow. That's what they call The Circle of Scam.

You get to be my age, you see the shit I seen, you realize everything's a scam. Congress. Santa Claus. The Pope. Cold fusion. The Post Office. All scams. Makes me sick just thinkin about it.

Listen: you go to the right doctor, you can get him to say you got anything. Anything. And if you go to the really right doctor, you can get him to write you a scrip for anything. Speakin a which, if you need that type a doctor, lemme know. I might know a guy. Just sayin.

Take my buddy Joe, f'rinstance. Works for the Parks Department supervising landscaping work. Easiest job in the world. Guy works like 15 hours a week, and half that time is replacing the string in the weedwhackers. Of course, Joe had to get greedy and try and get disability. So he goes to this one doctor I know in Fresh Meadows, doctor "diagnoses" him with "lawnmower lung".

The City said there was no such thing, but Joe threatened to squeal about the no-bid Soilmaster contract, so they gave him what he wanted. Now the guy collects a paycheck while sittin in a hammock all year. Even in the winter, two feet a snow on the ground. Guy loves his hammock.

I bet that's where Reyes is right now, swingin in his hammock, sippin a lemonade. I bust my hump on the job three days a week, and all I wanna do is watch some spring training baseball in the middle of my five day weekend. Now that's all ruined cuz Reyes don't wanna do spring training drills. Life ain't fair.

Look, Reyes, just get your ass on the field and all is forgiven. I need you back on the diamond so's I can scream horrible things atcha every time you don't hit a triple.

Friday's normally the day for YouTubery Friday (because, duh), but this week I haven't stumbled across anything overtly awesome in the moving picture vein. I did, however, find a couple of items that put the "crazy" in *that weird index-finger-flapping-your-lips crazy noise*.

One of my brothers works in the fabulous world of film production. There are awesome, glamorous aspects of this job, of course. Like any other job, there are also bad things about it. In the latter category: the sheer amount of kookadooks who seek you out because their Crazy Voice must be heard. It may be hard to believe, but the prospect of fame occasionally attracts unhinged persons. The kind who write pitches that start out THE MAGIC JESUS SPACESHIP IN MY BRAIN HAS THE BEST IDEA FOR A SCRIPT EVAR!!1! I'VE WRITTEN IT ON THIS KNIFE I'M HOLDING AGAINST YOUR THROAT!

Earlier this week, my brother told me he received a movie pitch via fax (always a good sign; 99 percent of all faxes are sent by robots or the criminally insane). He sent me a link for this movie pitch for something called Doll Warrior, without comment. Because really, what else can you say? Other than several variations on WTF?!!!, which is what we did for the next hour.

Finally, I received this email from an email address at "This American Life". Something tells me it's not actually from the fabled NPR show. Keep in mind, this is just a small chunk of a very, very long rant that doesn't even begin to make sense. Brevity and crazy-ity don't often go hand in hand.

A tweet by Onion scribe/artiste Maria Schneider (aka @writtennoise, auteur of Pathetic Geek Stories) pointed me to this hideous cover of a recent issue of Life and Style. As you can see, it's a "before-and-after" shot of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie's daughter, Shiloh. In the before pic, she looks like a typical little girl. In the after shot, she has short hair and is wearing a cardigan. The cover screams WHY IS ANGELINA TURNING SHILOH INTO A BOY? and laments the fact that Shiloh has "No girlie things"! "IS IT HARMING THE 3-YEAR-OLD?" ZOMG!

Despite being a magazine aimed at a largely female audience, this publication has forgotten one very important thing: You can't force a three-year-old girl what to wear anything she doesn't want to. Trust me. I am legally required to clothe a three-year-old girl, and I know that they have no qualms about letting you know when they're unhappy with your choice of outfit for the day (or anything else, for that matter).

At this young age, kids simply like what they like. It has very little to do with the peer pressures that emerge later. For whatever reason, Shiloh likes dressing this way now. The chances of her wanting to dress this way for the rest of her life are about as slim as her watching Dora the Explorer when she's in college. How many things do you do/like now that you liked/did when you were three? And if she does grow up to wear "boy" clothing, it's because she wants to, not because Crazy Angelina Jolie "made" her that way.

When I found The Wife and I were having a daughter, one of the first things I thought (other than PANIC) was, "I'm not gonna have any of that princess crap in my house!" Because I associated the whole Princess Phenomenon with a mindless philosophy of entitlement and passivity that's resolutely anti-feminist.

But somewhere along the line, she got exposed to Princess Stuff, and she likes it. She's not super into it, like she wears a tiara to day care, but she does like it. So she has some princess-y toys and some princess-y outfits, and the world has continued spinning on its axis. Hopefully, if I raise her right, she won't turn out to be a Kardashian.

She also likes some non-girly stuff, too. She often makes me play Spider-Man--of course, I always have to be Venom and get wrapped up in her webs and carted off to jail (which greatly resembles our bathroom). As I type this, she's watching an X-Men cartoon, which she asked to see (screamed, actually). Her love of these things has nothing to do with me. I have never forced her to watch any of them. I learned very early on that when you force a kid to watch something, 99 times out of 100 they will hate it.

Even so, every now and then, she will say of something--even if it's something she likes, like Spider-Man--"that's for boys!" As if she shouldn't watch/play with it. I have no idea where she gets this idea from. She certainly doesn't get it in our house.

But she has to leave our house sometime. And when I see things like the garbage linked above, I realize she must just get it from the air, living in a world that tells her from infancy that there are certain things she can't like or do or think or be. I could have kept every item of princess-iana out her hands and sight, and she'd still be exposed to caveman attitudes like this.

Thanks, world.

WASHINGTON, D.C.--Senator Jim Bunning saw his impressive streak of heartless bastardry end at just over five days, a new legislative record, late Tuesday night. Since last Thursday, the Republican from Kentucky had single-handedly held up legislation that would extend unemployment benefits to millions of Americans. The streak was made even more remarkable by Bunning's age, and the fact that he did it for no obvious reason other than to be a colossal prick.

The exhausted congressman told reporters in the Senate locker room, "I think I even surprised myself for a while there," shortly before flipping the bird to each one of them individually.

"I think some of us questioned his stamina," said House Minority Leader John Boehner. "After all, Jim's no spring chicken. But to be that much of a cruel, insensitive jerkoff for that long...wow, I think I'd have trouble doing that."

The previous record of consecutive prickitude was held by President William Howard Taft, who refused to let relatives of victims of the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire bury their family members for four full days. "I shall not reward these insolent whelps for leaving their appointed posts before nine hours of work, fire or no fire," Taft said.

While Bunning's streak did not cause quite as much misery, it did last for a longer period of time and show a similarly callous disregard for human life. For the purposes of legislative records, a stretch of dickery can't simply be waged for mere personal reasons, such as greed or ambition. The pure assholery must have no seeming purpose except to promote suffering.

Before his career in public service, Bunning was a major league pitcher whose exploits on the mound earned him a plaque in Cooperstown. He was best known for pitching a perfect game in 1964, which he later credited to a lucky glove made of orphan skin and the tears of Vietnamese refugees.

The annual WFMU Marathon is upon us! Huzzah!

Every year, The Freeform Station of the Nation asks you, the listener, to kindly lend some change to keep their doors open for another year. To which I say, in word of Henry Rollins (via The Pink Fairies), DON'T THINK ABOUT IT, DO IT!!!!!!!!!!! !

Look, I know things are tough all over. I know that we've had a few horrible things happen in the world recently that definitely deserve our time and attention and cash. But if you have any dough to spare for the only radio station worth listening to in the tri-state area, please consider doing so. Got five bucks? Send 'em five bucks. Every little bit helps.

But if you can send more than five bucks, you will get quite a bang for those bucks. For instance, if you were to pledge to, say, The Best Show on WFMU with Tom Scharpling, which airs tonight from 8 to 11pm EST. Tune in and hear Ted Leo play songs by request. and Tom's partner in crime Jon Wurster do his magic live in studio. And if you pledge $75 or more, you will receive The Chump Steamroller Fun Pack. That includes a set of Best Show trading cards, a bumper sticker, and the first ever Best Show DVD, which I'm told will contain all sorts of celebrity contributions, bits by frequent callers, and much much much much more.

If you can spare even more change, you can pick multiple DJ premiums, and there is no shortage of awesome DJ premiums. Terre T, Evan "Funk" Davies, Rex, Dave the Spazz, Night People--a cornucopia of a smorgasbord of an orgy of awesome. Pick any one of them and you can't go wrong.

Click here to pledge or call 1-800-989-9368 during the show of your choice. Do your part! YOUR AIRWAVES NEED YOU!

Welcome bu-HACK to The Mike Francesa Program, New York's Number 1, coming to you live from Port St. Lucie, where spring training has begin. The period called spring training is upon us. The time of year generally referred to by most baseball fans as spring training is here. Something has started to occur down here in Florida, and that thing I'm referring to is spring training. I'm at Mets camp, where apparently they're preparing for the upcoming season, rather than throwing in the towel by Opening Day as I suggested. My first guest on the program is a fifth starter candidate and a promising young pitcher, Jon Niese.
Thanks for having me on the show, Mike.
Let me ask you a question, Jon. Didn't you have some sort of injury or something last year?
Um, yeah, I did. Tore a hamstring pretty bad. Couldn't you have just looked that up before the interview?
Where would I have looked it up, the internet? I don't trust those calculator things. They got viruses and cookies in 'em. Now, let me ask you something else: Are you a lefty or a righty?
I'm a lefty. Any other questions you want to ask me that could've been answered by the back of my baseball card?
Yes, as a matter of fact. With Damon and Matsui gone, do you think the Yankee lineup will be as explosive as it was last year? How do you think Granderson's gonna do in his first year in pinstripes?
To be honest, I haven't given the Yankees' question marks much thought, since they won the World Series last year and I don't play for them. I've been concentrating on breaking into the starting rotation and recovering from a horrific injury.
Don't get testy with me, young man. This is how it works, son. I'm the number one host on the Mets' flagship radio station, and I'm here in Port St. Lucie visiting your team. Of course I have to talk about the Yankees!
You do that. I gotta go stand over here for a while
/leaves