February 2009
Note to Yankee Fans: Your OWN Tradition Says You Don’t Need Names On Your Jerseys
Yours.
And since I have heard the Yankee fan speech on why names are not pertinent to your ball club more times than Alex Rodriguez has lied to the public, I say ya’ll should stick to your own program.
Cool?
Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Peace,
Jeffy
(Image courtesy of the Associated Press)
Just in Case…..
…you missed it earlier this week, the brand new entry from RSBS TV is now online and available.
-Allen and Jeff
Throw the Book at Me!
What could possibly be funnier than a holocaust-denying bishop exchanging blows with an Argentinian reporter?
I can think of many things.
Like this video, or this picture, or these fans.
But in the end, what is making my side split today is the announcement that Condoleezza Rice (what’s the second “z” for anyway?) has signed a book deal with Crown Publishers to write three — count ‘em three – books detailing her tenure in the White House as well as delving into her oh-so-saucy personal life.
Crown issued this statement:
“Rice will combine candid narrative and acute analysis to tell the story
of her time in the White House and as America’s top diplomat, and her
role in protecting American security and shaping foreign policy during
the extraordinary period from 2001-2009.”
Extraordinary? You betchya! That was an extraordinary, poorly structured sentence!
When Crown Publishers says “candid”, what they really mean is “bullhickey” and when Crown Publishers says “acute analysis” what they really mean is “a cute anal cyst”.
I am going on record with that.
Ah yes, the moment we have all been waiting for, my friends: the inevitable onslaught of uninteresting, embellished memoirs (see James Frey) from Bush administration cadres who would be much better off hiding under that blanket of destitution they collectively weaved over those eight long years.
What’s next?
Dick Cheney’s memoir: I Screwed Over My Own Country and Got Away with It
Donald Rumsfeld’s memoir: Blowing Up People Is Fun
Dubya’s memoir: I Am Smarter than a Fifth Grader Because I Am Way More Educationified
I suspect these tell-alls will not tell all and that they will all be as candid and truthful as an Alex Rodriguez/Katie Couric interview.
If you want the truth, read the battery of explicit facts spewed by one Jose Canseco. He seems to be the one with all the info and up to this point, he has been the most accurate when disclosing the inner workings of a poorly policed administration.
Plus, he knows where to get the good stuff.
Speaking of good stuff, I am and always have been a reader (how else do you think I became so intelligent?) and though I enjoy some good fiction every now and then, my true passion is reading about real life. These days I can be found reading Jane Heller’s Confessions of a She-Fan. My busy schedule of Cub fan hounding and John Mozeliak thrashing has allowed me to only read a little bit each day, but I can honestly say that I am thoroughly enjoying it.
And since we are all about telling the truth here at RSBS, I am not going to withhold the fact that while reading Jane’s book during my commutes on the Chicago Transit Authority, I do my absolute best to hide the chick-lit-esque cover boasting a female fan donning a Yankee cap, looking up at an invisible monster whom I can only assume is Theo Epstein. The cover lady’s eyes are dreamy. She’s definitely into me. But I still force myself to cover it up. I live in Chicago after all. Like the rest of the blue collar cities, we hate ‘dem Yankees… don’t get me wrong, the book is great and all…
Just remember: I have an image to uphold.
Luckily, my stealth allows me to take in Confessions and really enjoy it. And while I may not have the desire to date a Yankee, as author Jane Heller once did, I sure would not mind dating some of the Yankees’ leftovers.
Believe me, that would be way more interesting than any Condoleezza Rice book.
So go ahead. Throw the book at me; just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Peace,
Jeffy
RSBS TV: “Crush” by David Archuleta
Produced, shot and edited by Atonal Studios.
Special thanks to Theo Roll.
Very special thanks to David Archuleta for being so painfully vague in his… er… eh… orientation.
This ain’t it, folks. RSBS TV is in full throttle mode. Keep a look out for more exciting film entertainment coming your way in the very near future.
(For best playback results, watch in High Quality)
I Got ‘Em, but I Ain’t Happy About It
Before interleague, before realignment, the St. Louis Cardinals and
Chicago Cubs used to battle; they decimated each other in a bonafide on-the-field theatre of war much like the Yankees/Red Sox and
Dodgers/Giants do today.
But with six teams crammed into the
National League Central, each vying for a top spot with Selig’s odds
stacked against them and the unnecessary evil of force-feeding a
delusional I-70 rivalry that requires the Cardinals to play the Royals two
times a year, what was once the toast of classy baseball rivalries has
been diddled down to a mere four series a season, which allows me the
opportunity to see my ball club make a trip to my home (Chicago) just twice.
Didn’t Selig get the memo? I thought the world revolved around me.
Guess not.
So
like all loyal Cardinal fans living in the Chi, I too was first in the
interweb line to purchase tickets for the Cardinals/Cubs series: one
four game set in April and one three game set in July.
I logged
on to cubs.com and was told to “Please be patient. We are experiencing
a high volume of requests at this time. You will be notified when your
spot in the queue is ready.”
Besides being impressed that Cubs personnel could spell “queue”, I sat patiently, waiting my turn.
For an hour.
And then another hour.
And then another… and another… and another…
After waiting patiently for five and a half hours, I was told it was finally my turn.
BUT,
I could not buy tickets for the July 10 game (sold out) or the July 11
game (also sold out) or the July 12 game (it’s f***ing sold out, dude)
or the April 18 game (goddamn it, it’s sold the **** out, man!).
I
bought tickets for the Sunday night ESPN game on April 19. And then,
before I could celebrate even the smallest of victories, I was booted
out of the ticketing system — the online equivalent of having been peed
on.
Immediately, I ventured on to Stubhub were I was delighted
to see that I could buy tickets to all of those games I wanted to see
for the same price my health insurance company rapes me for every month.
In other words, a $22
upperdeck-there’s-a-giant-metal-column-blocking-my-view ticket at
Wrigley starts out at $125 a pop. Two tickets, do the math, is $250.
Boom.
Better not get sick this summer.
Maybe
it is for the best though. It is no secret that once I step in that
dilapidated craphole cathedral known as Wrigley Field, donning my
Molina jersey in all its 2006 WS Championship glory, my Old Style
soused tongue and seedy underworld presence tend to get me trounced
more often than I would like.
But you can bet I’ll find a way.
So don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Peace,
Jeffy
A Friday Film Analogy
That Buddha sure wasn’t kidding when he said “Life is suffering.”
He must have been a Pirates fan.
Yet spring training is supposed to be that time of year when every team has a shot at being the best, every team has the opportunity to go all the way, every team can hope to be champions — well, every team not named the Pirates, Royals and now: The St. Louis Cardinals.
That’s right, folks. The Cardinals were big losers before they even got to camp thanks to one General Manager John Mozeliak. It is no secret that I hold little regard for the man who did nothing to better our ball club during this off-season, so I will refrain from further condemning him back to the bookish hell from which he originally oozed.
What I will do instead is make it easy for you, dear readers, Cardinal lovers and Cardinal haters alike: those days of St. Louis fans harboring perennial playoff hopes are long gone. And all that remains is an empty, blown-out pipedream much akin to that of one Theo Roll, modern dancer extraordinaire.
Don’t know who Theo Roll, modern dancer extraordinaire is?
Watch and learn (at the 1:35 mark look for some fine, world class, Academy Award worthy acting):
Get my drift?
Good.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Peace,
Jeffy

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