Lord Jeter, I worship humbly at your feet

Swooooon.

According to a recent report by the NY Post, following one-night stands, New York Yankees shortstop Derek Jeter refuses to let his lady-guests leave empty handed. Instead, when they climb into the car he's prearranged to whisk them away before they try staying for breakfast (that's gentlemanly in itself), they're greeted by a gift basket chock full of memorabilia signed by the future Hall of Famer.
Astounding. This man's generosity knows no bounds. Not only has he selflessly refused to be wed just so countless hoards of gorgeous women can continue to enjoy his gentle, yet robust love making, but he's offering them parting gifts as well?
It's undeniable, Derek Jeter is a saint. And yet he asks for nothing in return. But justice must must be served, so if he won't speak up, I will. And I solemnly vow to you here today, that from now until the day I die, I will vehemently argue that not only should he be a first ballot entry into the Baseball Hall of Fame, but that the maiden entry into the (yet to be constructed) Earth Hall of Fame be a bronze bust of Jeter, with three sincere words inscribed below: "Simply the best."
(You guys can't see me right now, but I'm singing "Simply the Best" and weeping openly)

Get Motivated (you worthless shit)!

It's time to get the hell up and do something with yourself! And if you're in LA this October 31st, you're in luck because the world's premiere motivational seminar is going to be right here at the Staples Center (though it seems to me they're fighting an uphill battle to even get people motivated enough to leave they're house on Halloween rather than sitting at home in their underwear eating candy they "bought for the kids" that never come to their apartment building). Some of the world's most highly regarded speakers will be on hand to teach you the secrets to their success. And because I want to see you make something of yourself, I'm offering a little preview of what you can expect from a few of the big name speakers...

Rudy Guiliani, former Mayor of New York City
Mr. Giuliani promises to wow the audience with his insights on how to obtain one of the world's most prominent political positions in spite of having been born with a freak pumpkin-head. He'll also divulge, in great detail, the benefits of blowing off a chance at the White House in order to make the most of your Yankees season tickets and keep your schedule open for ironic cameos on Saturday Night Live.

Lou Holtz, Hall of Fame football coach
This former Notre Dame gipper is known as one of the greatest in history at delivering inspirational speeches to his players. Now, thanks to this seminar, you will get to experience it first-hand. Coach Holtz will prove to you that not even an Eek the Cat-like speech impediment can come between you and your future success (Note: panchos will be handed out to those in the first 5 rows, also known as the saliva splash zone).

Bill Cosby, legendary actor/comedian
The first half of your lecture from "the Cos" will reveal to you all the secrets of how to become one of the world's biggest comics, a beloved sitcom dad, and a world-renowned pudding peddler. While part 2 of his speech will focus on how to then transition into a crotchety old fuck who calls other comics to tell them they shouldn't swear and who may or may not have a serious history of sexual abuse.

I guess Shaq was okay...

After spending all morning in my car cursing the existence of LA Lakers fans, I had to get it out. And what better way to do so than on a seldom read blog (What should I confront someone for real? I don't think so, this face is my moneymaker)?
Anyway, since the news of Shaquille O'Neal's retirement (his new nickname: The Big Thing On The Couch) from the NBA after 19 years, Los Angeles radio has been abuzz with reactions. Except here's my problem, half the fans have made me want to drive the car up onto the sidewalk and start mowing down anyone wearing purple and gold.
Lakers fans are for the most part the most spoiled bunch I have ever encountered. And their reactions to the Big Diesel's retirement have proven that beyond a shadow of a doubt they are also the douchiest fans in the NBA (way to do the impossible and out-douche bandwagon Heat fans). Here are the main arguments (or heinous mouth-diarrhea storms) I've heard about Shaq's departure:

"The balls in my shorts dwarf this thing."

- He was great, but he wasn't what he could've been: Are you FUCKING kidding me??! The guy won you three straight championships, all three of which he was the MVP! And he probably would've won you more if your backdoor-sex happy shooting guard didn't drive him out of town. A three-peat. What more do you want? Kill yourselves.
- He never cared enough to learn how to shoot free throws: Why does everyone assume shooting free throws should automatically be simple just because you're in the NBA? The guy is 7'2", which loosely translates into hands the size of fucking frisbees. A basketball is like a softball to him. Try shooting a softball into coffee can ten feet high from fifteen feet away and see how many times you make it. The guy is an ogre. It's bad enough he can't pet a puppy without snapping it's neck, do we really have to crucify him for his lack of touch from the charity stripe too?
- He was lazy: Really? Was he lazy when he was averaging 30+ in the Finals and dominating the paint like he was playing pre-schoolers? Give me a friggin break. Lakers fans have just become so insanely infatuated with Kobe that they think anyone who doesn't make this face is a lazy player. Sorry, that's not intensity, that's intense assholery (and where was that face last year in game 7 when Ron "Dangerously Unstable" Artest had to carry your ass to a championship?) Shaq was a beast. Plain and Simple.

Shaquille O'Neal was one of the most dominant players ever to hit the hardwood and any Laker fan who doesn't revere him like black Jesus with a basketball is a fucking moron. And by the way, all of this is coming from a huge fan of the Orlando Magic, the teamed he spurned so he could make cinematic masterworks like Steel and Kazaam, so this isn't a bias issue either. Give credit where credit is due and stop acting like you weren't happy as a pig in shit that Shaq left Penny Hardaway to play with Nick VanExel you spoiled fucking jerks.

John Cena: Ambassador to the world

Imagine you are in the crowd at the WWE 2011 Extreme Rules event. You are having a grand old time, throwing back beers and watching grown men wrestle in unitards (they still wear these, right?). The guy next to you has three teeth and his wife is holding a sign that says "Triple H can give me the Pedigree any time!" Jerry Lawler's weird chest hair is within mere feet of you. THIS, is America.
But just when you thought things had gotten as red, white and blue as they could, WWE Champ John Cena stands on the announcers table and drops this bombshell:

John Cena Announces Osama Bin Laden's Death To Crowd - Watch more Sports

 Are you friggin' kidding me? Did the guy from such cinematic masterpieces as 12 Rounds and The Marine just give us the breaking news we would have otherwise gotten from George Stephanopoulos? Did we just learn of a Navy SEAL incursion that brought to an end the reign of the most evil man of our time from this dude? Wait, did John Cena kill Osama Bin Laden?!

The best part of this video though is that the honorable Mr. Cena refers to Bin Laden's death as being "compromised to a permanent end." Then shortly after, if you listen closely, you can hear a confused audience member ask aloud "But is he dead?"

Now THAT's America.

Why would the Lakers do this?!

While on the subway this weekend I overheard a conversation that sparked my imagination like few others have. It was an exchange between two middle-aged women regarding the current NBA playoffs. Weird, I know. I'll assume they had already covered what happened on Dancing with the Stars this week and how Glee just isn't as good as it used to be (Yay sexism!). But what caught me off guard was not the topic at hand, it was the serious conviction with which the one woman uttered this sentence:

"No, I don't want the Lakers to win because the last time they did they set my garbage can on fire!"

They hung this picture over her fireplace
mantel before they left too!

Now, I am fully aware that what this sounded like probably wasn't what she meant. In fact, I'd be willing to bet anything she meant some rowdy Lakers fans had gotten out of hand last year. But what I heard, was that after taking their second championship in as many years, the 2010 Lakers showed up at her house and proceeded to desecrate her property. And that made me smile.
My imagination reveled in the thoughts of Kobe gleefully egging her Saturn Vue, Pau Gasol draping toilet paper amongst her precious lemon trees, Lamar Odom lighting dog doo on her front porch, and Ron Artest (obviously) maniacally dousing her garbage can with gasoline and letting her rip. And of course, Phil Jackson sitting off to the side on a giant chair orchestrating the entire thing.
That's all. There's no great lesson here. Just that it would be HI-larious if you looked out your window after enjoying the game only to see your beloved team trashing your shit. That's funny and you know it.

A 65 million dollar slap in the face

Apparently, a $65 million settlement is now considered a loss.
It was reported today that Tyler and Cameron Winklevoss, the twins made famous for their legal dispute with the owner of Facebook, were "forced" to "accept" the court ruling that "all" they would receive from their case against "Jesse Eisenberg" was a measly sixty five mil. Tough break fellas.

Pity us puny humans, lest we destroy you.

I know how difficult life must have been for you so far, what with being tall, white Olympic rowers who attended Harvard and have a rich father, and now this? These guys just can't catch a break. In fact I heard there's been a recall on the tail light bulbs on Cameron's Maserati, and that Tyler's polo horse has strep throat and will likely miss the start of the spring season! Will the string of bad luck never end for the Brothers Winklevii?
Why is God so relentlessly cruel and vengeful? Why?!?!

A lesson in athletic decorum

Late last week when Brigham Young University kicked their second best player off the basketball team, which was at the time the #3 team in nation, it was a huge story. Not because it's that rare for a player to be dismissed from his team for violating school conduct, but because BYU's particular conduct policies were a little more strict than most realized.
Yes, poor Brandon Davies was kicked off the team for, what are the kids calling it these days.... getting his consensual swerve on.

Time to transfer?

Meanwhile, Ben Roethlisberger is readily whipping his dong out whenever he feels like it whilst leading his team on another long playoff run, and Michael Vick is being handed the key to the city when just three short years ago he was electrocuting puppies (Seriously. Electrocuting puppies. That sounds like #2 on a young Charles Manson's "What I did over summer break" show and tell list).
So who's to blame here? Simple. Brandon Davies.
Why Brandon? Why on earth would you voluntarily attend a school that's motto is effectively "Yes means no"? As an elite athlete it is your destiny to take the road more travelled, the one that leads you on the path to complete immunity from the law and/or any constraining societal standards. You are meant to enroll at a school that is more than happy to cover up that measly double murder you "may or may not have played an integral role in" (I hear Miami calling). Or at the very least, a school that admits there's nothing wrong with a little bit of bump 'n grind.
To put it simply, if your goal is to parlay your basketball scholarship into a mandatory religious missionary trip and possibly meeting a few of your future wives (you can look, but don't touch), then by all means, the Stormin' Mormons (that's what they're called right?) is the team for you. If not. Go to a regular school my man. And promptly up your game from consensual sex with your girlfriend to masterminding a child slavery ring. Because hey, you're an athlete, and you earned it.

We don't want any trouble here

On Friday night of this past All-Star Weekend, troubled actress Lindsay Lohan was officially deemed too dangerous for the NBA. Yes, the young star was turned away from Pau Gasol's party because she was simply "too much trouble." Really? It's pretty bad ass when you are considered too much trouble for the NBA.
Just to make my point, let's go over a few of the names that would not likely have been turned away:

Gilbert Arenas- Locker room gun wielder and noted shark owner
Chris Andersen- Once suspended 2 years for drug use and also guilty of looking like this
Dennis Rodman- Future hall of famer who despite many other transgressions, will always be most dangerous thanks to his participation in the making of this film
Joakim Noah- He's this guy
Ron Artest- You simply never know, and since I don't have nearly enough time to list all of the possibilities here, let's just point out that he has spent literally his entire life being Ron Artest

So take pride Ms. Lohan, you are officially considered more volatile than every one of these men; Which by logic makes you the most dangerous person on the planet.
Then again though, maybe none of these people would have been allowed in. In fact now that I think about it, it's fairly likely that Pau Gasol's party was just a front for a meeting of Euro-NBA'ers only, in which they exchanged information on the delicate art of flopping and screaming like you've just been shot in the chest.
Save it for soccer ya jerks.

Sticky shoes

So, months after a friend posted this on facebook, I feel it's finally time to address the Gravity Defyer shoes. Are you as blown away by the shock absorbing trampoline heel as I am? Or the sleek breathable mesh? Or are your eyes focused on one thing and one thing only? Yeah, that's what I thought, cuz that's a sperm on the side of the shoe.
And why not? Obviously, when deciding how to market their product the good folks at Gravity Defyer noticed the strange lack of bodily fluids used as company logos, and decided to rectify the issue.
But I couldn't help but wonder, what slogan should accompany their "slick seed of life"?

- Gravity Defyers: They're jizz-tastic

- Gravity Defyers: Your feet will be swimming in comfort

- Gravity Defyers: They'll get all up in ya!

- Gravity Defyers: Just do it... unprotected

- Gravity Defyers: Fertilize the ovum of life

Any suggestions?

Athletes in Film: Cam Neely

It's hard to know where to even start with this one, because it is so very close to my heart. To me, Cam Neely is so much more than a Hall of Fame hockey player. To me, he's even more than the founder of an invaluable philanthropic venture that gives families affected by pediatric cancer a place to stay. To me, he is quite simply, Sea Bass.

In what is probably my favorite comedic film of all time, Dumb and Dumber (We landed on the moon!), Cam Neely played an essential role in some of the films most hilarious scenes. We are introduced to him after he is hit by a seasoning projectile, and he poignantly quips: "Who's the dead man who hit me with the salt shaker?!" Then, like any gentleman who had been so dishonored would likely do, proceeded to hock a giant loogie on Jeff Daniels' hamburger.
But the real reason I consider Cam's performance so daring and memorable, is the scene where he reencounters Harry and Lloyd further on down the road. After having been tricked into picking up their tab (I'll call you a liar if you don't admit you've considered trying this at some point), Mr. Bass serendipitously happens upon the fellas at a gas station. Not just any gas station though, the exact gas station in fact, in which Mr. Bass had scrawled a message regarding an intimate rendezvous on the wall.  And what ensues? Comedic genius.
You really must admire Cam for this scene. After all, not every famous athlete would be comfortable enough with his own masculinity to pretend he was about to joyously mouth molest Jim Carrey.
So my hat, or perhaps more fitting it be your hat, goes of to you Mr. Neely. Because when it comes to athletes in films, you are truly a massive gas station rapist of a man among boys.

Say it ain't Sumo

Your days of looking admiringly upon the grace and purity of Sumo wrestling are officially over. Why, you ask? Because the fat fix is in.
News surfaced recently that three prominent wrestlers admitted to match fixing, with no telling how many more were involved. The case was cracked when text messages in which fighters pre-arranged the outcomes of their matches surfaced. One such message read as follows:

Tqakje mwe oiut iobn tuhre 2mnd reounfd. LKOPL.

Of course, once that dubious message was deciphered by an expert fat-finger translator, its words rocked the very foundation of the sumo world:

Take me out in the 2nd round. LOL.

Shocking, indeed.

This scandal is only one of several that have tarnished the great Japanese tradition of late, adding fuel to the already burning fire caused by the underwear stuffing fiasco and the illegal weight-gainer ring (executed masterfully with the smuggling of hyper-creatine in booby-folds). Not to mention reopening the wounds of past match-fixing allegations (1990's WWF fans will recall the public outrage at the revelation that the outcome of star Yokozuna's matches were actually predetermined).

As a fan, all I can say is that I am simply disappointed. You hold these men up (not literally, that's just asking for a massive spinal injury) in such high regard, only to be let down over and over again. I for one, am through. I can't deal with any more corruption in what is supposed to be an honorable sport. I have taken the poster of Chiyotaikai down from over my bed, and have offered up my official replica Takohana diaper to the local Salvation Army. 

It is indeed, a sad day in Sumo.

Shirtless Fat Guy, ESQ.

So while I was taking advantage of DirecTV's free week of NBA League Pass, I caught an Orlando Magic broadcast on the day they were crowning the Ultimate Magic Super-fan.  It was a nice little competition in which the most devoted fans got some TV time and a chance to be voted fan of the year.  One man however, was deemed ineligible, for reasons which I assumed involved his being entirely too awesome.  This is that man...

Upon seeing this, I immediately decided I will be moving to Orlando, and retaining his services as my lawyer. 
"The Fat Guy," as he is lovingly known, was declared ineligible from the contest because it was assumed by everyone that he is obviously the ultimate fan, and has won the award too often.  He did however, serve as the master of ceremonies and presented the award wearing this.
Hats (and shirts) off to you Mr. Dennis Salvagio, you made my day.