October 2009

The Evil of the Thriller

craig_sager.jpgWhat could be more spooky than changing locations for a pivotal game 3 on Halloween night? The answer: not much. I think I’d even rather face the terror of national health care than show up wearing Yankees gear in Philadelphia tonight. No matter which side of the debate you find yourself on, the fright of getting dropped from your health insurance because of a pre-existing condition or sending Nana in front of a “death panel” because her health is no longer viable sure beats the horror of beer and hot dog wielding phanatics. 

However, no matter how insane Phillies fans may be, I am hard pressed to believe there is anything more scream inducing than listening to Joe “I don’t even pay attention to baseball anymore” Buck doing the play by play. Although they could have made it even worse by bringing TBS and the corneal abrasion that is Craig Sager in on the act. Even Michael Jackson couldn’t make that outfit look good.

What would be really nice is if just for one night they would bring in a voice that could give the World Series the gravitas it deserves. And since it’s Halloween I think you all know where I’m going with this. Exactly. We should raise Vincent Price from the grave and let him do it. Hey, it worked for Thriller:

-A

***IMPORTANT PROGRAMING NOTE***

The World Series of Metaphors continues and there’s still time to make your opinion known here, here and here before the results are announced on Monday. Vote people!

The 2009 RSBS World Series of Metaphors (Game 3)

In this epic best of three game battle of metaphors — mixed, extended,
absolute and beyond — Jeff and Allen pair wits and leave it to YOU,
the dear reader, to decide the champion.

The humbled loser will be forced to shower the winner with a carefully constructed essay of praise. 

For real.

And now… the FINAL MATCH…

GAME 3

The Topic:        Phillies Fans v. Yankees Fans
Suggested by:  Jonestein from Baseball, Apple Pie & Lobster

Metaphor 1:

jihad.jpgYankees fans are the U.S. Military. Backed with billions of dollars and stacked with the Nation’s finest, these chiseled warriors are built to destroy. And while it’s going well, they tout themselves as being the very best EVER. When things aren’t going so well they pretend none of it actually exists. Phillies fans? These are the relentless Jihadists. Playoff bound or not, they will blow you up, they will eat your children, they will terrorize everyone and everything around them; and they won’t feel bad about it, for at the end of the explosion waits paradise with 72 Shane Victorinos.

Metaphor 2:

jeff_allen_nats_pose.JPGYankees fans are Allen, dedicated but with a statistically significant percentage of ostentation. They claim to love their team but sometimes you wonder if that love is as intense as it should be. Phillies fans are Jeff, always spoiling for a fight and ready to punch you before letting you bad mouth their team. You never doubt the love but you wonder if maybe they’re just a little off.

But both have one thing in common. They think they deserve to be number one. Like Jeff and Allen, though, it doesn’t always happen.

Please vote!  Tell your friends!  Storm town hall meetings!

The best metaphor is…
U.S. Military v. Jihadists
Jeff v. Allen

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The 2009 RSBS World Series of Metaphors (Game 2)

In this epic best of three game battle of metaphors — mixed, extended, absolute and beyond — Jeff and Allen pair wits and leave it to YOU, the dear reader, to decide the champion.

The humbled loser will be forced to shower the winner with a carefully constructed essay of praise. 

For real.

And now…

GAME 2

The Topic:        Jayson Werth
Suggested by:  xcicix from Bringing Diamond Back(s)

Metaphor 1:

werth_hyena.jpgJayson Werth steps into the box, a hyena scavenging for whatever scraps he can claim from his constantly shifting place in the pack. Something stolen here, something taken down all by himself there, the fear comes from never knowing what he might do. You wonder how something that looks so ridiculous could do so much damage but the crunch as he feasts on yet one more victim forces you to simply accept him for the beast that he is.

Metaphor 2:

Jayson Werth cigar.jpgAt your annual summer family reunion picnic, Jayson Werth is that fun-lovin’, cigar-smokin’, joke-crackin’ drunk uncle who never has a problem being the life of the party, on the spot, whenever he is asked.  He is also that same uncle whom your mom and dad won’t ever let you be alone with — the one who disappears every time a cop drives by, the one who considers Jager Bombs to be one of the four major food groups.

Please vote!  Tell your friends!  Do your US American duty!

The best metaphor is…
Werth the Hyena
Werth the Drunk Uncle

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The 2009 RSBS World Series of Metaphors (Game 1)

In this epic best of three game battle of metaphors — mixed, extended, absolute and beyond — Jeff and Allen pair wits and leave it to YOU, the dear reader, to decide the champion (based on the quality of the metaphor, not the person because Jeff would destroy Al in a popularity contest).

The loser will be forced to shower the winner with a carefully constructed essay of praise. 

For real.

And now…

GAME 1

The Topic:        “The Sluggers” (Alex Rodriguez and Ryan Howard)
Suggested by:  Buz from Yesterday’s Hitter

Metaphor 1:

Ryan Howard is Hungry.jpgAlex Rodriguez is the prettiest girl at the dance — the one who all the guys lust over only to find out she doesn’t even put out.  Across the empty dance floor, you’ll find Ryan Howard: the hot mess of a big girl who will ride you all night long and be real, real sloppy about it. 

… but you’ll be way too embarrassed to tell your friends.

Metaphor 2:

apocalypse_vasnetsov.jpgFrom postseason goat to playoff stallion, A-Rod’s current heroics pale only in comparison to those of Ryan Howard, the rider on the red horse. To him is given the power to take away peace and smite with the sword, a fact to which the Dodger’s pitching staff can surely attest. But the slight pallor of Mr. Rodriguez’s accomplishments only accentuates his equally ashen steed and the Evil Empire, Hades, as the good book calls it, that he brings in tow.

Please vote!  Tell your friends!  Kiss a baby!

The best metaphor is…
Hot Girl/Big Girl
Horsemen of the Apocalypse

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Waiting for Hump Day

Fine.  It’s okay.  No, really.

It is your right to not be excited about this series because it involves bullies and brawlers, overpaid free agents and neanderthals, pinstripes and… er… pinstripes.  But, as a baseball fan, it is hard for me to find a reason (other than everything else we here at RSBS have ever alluded to — ever) to not look forward to this World Series match-up between Philadelphia and New York.

I mean, we are getting the two best teams in Major League Baseball to play each other in the final series, are we not?

And let’s face it: when the crown of baseball fandom rests upon the head of someone with the mental (and carnal) acumen of this fella in the background…

… well, let’s just say that a whole new field of dreams is possible.

Is it Wednesday yet?

Hate me ‘cuz I jump on the buzz train, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

Another Take on the World Series

2009 Series logo.gifSo, here we go. The Yankees and the Phillies. New York and Philadelphia. The poorest borough of NYC versus the most wannabe borough of NYC. Should be quite a series.

Oh, you noticed that? You noticed that I really don’t seem all that excited? Hm, perhaps that’s because I’m not. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the inevitability of it all. Maybe it’s the East Coastness of it all. Maybe it’s the jackwits who are eating this up right now. Whatever it is, it just leaves me a little cold.

I think it has a little to do with the Yankees spending more than a billion dollars over the past five years to get to this point. You’d like to think that money can’t buy you championships but the Yankees are set to prove that one wrong. It definitely has something to do with the Tigers losing that playoff. And even though Jeff is right in saying that baseball is baseball is baseball, I just can’t get myself to be all that excited.

But, on the bright side, at least Dane Cook is dead and won’t ruin any more of those World Series ads. Oh, really? He’s still alive? Hm, I guess I just assumed he was dead. Sorry about that. My bad.

-A

The Filibuster

I know you guys are both baseball fans so you’re enjoying the drama of
the postseason but isn’t it hard for you to get into it when your team
is no longer in the running? Allen’s team choked and didn’t even make
it and Jeff’s team made it but then choked. I know it’s still baseball
and I know it’s still the playoffs but doesn’t it kind of take
something away when you’re watching as a fan of the game instead of as
a fan of a team in the game?

-Dakota
Ames, Iowa
____________________________________

shocked.jpgJust for today, I will put aside my pretentious baseball ego and do what politicians do: answer a question with a series of questions.  This is also what mathematicians call “proofing”; it’s what women I’ve dated call “being obtuse” — what I call “playing mind games.”

If your local pub didn’t offer a Maccallen 32 year, would you tell the bartender, “Nah, no Johnnie Walker for me, I’ll just have a soda water”?

After a long night of partying that has left your stomach growling for sustenance, would you not eat Taco Bell because it isn’t “authentic” Mexican cuisine?

If you couldn’t get behind either party’s presidential candidate because they both made promises they didn’t keep would you simply not vote for the lesser of evils?

On second thought, forget that last one.

Just know this: Baseball is baseball is baseball is baseball… and a couple weeks from now, I (and a whole lot of like-minded baseball nerds) are going to be suffering from a supreme lack of entertainment.  This will be when I start looping the 1982 and 2006 Commemorative World Series DVDs; when I reread Tim McCarver’s Baseball for Brain Surgeons; when I pop in the VHS tape of Morris v. Smoltz — Game 7 of the 1991 Fall Classic — and salivate over every pitch, even though I already know what’s coming.

Yeah, yeah, yeah… it’s too bad my (our) team(s) isn’t (aren’t) in contention.  Boo hoo.  But baseball is the religion, the individual teams merely saints.  I can live without my saint but not without my religion; and you can bet that those who follow the religion of baseball (thoroughly) are way more wacky than any suicidal jihadist or hypocritical evangelical.

And yes, I do see a therapist about this… from time to time.

Hate me ‘cuz I teeter on the cliff of instability, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

***IMPORTANT PROGRAMING NOTE***

Suggested to us by the always hilarious Jonestein at BABL, Mr. Krause and I will be competing in a World Series Metaphor Competition — a Metaphor-Off… yeah, let’s call it that

Why?  ‘Cuz we can.  And we will.

But we need your help! 
As you know, Al and I champion ourselves as masters of the meandering
metaphor; and we need your suggestions.  What do you want to see
metaphorized?  (Yes, that’s a word. I made it up.)  It could be
something as simple as an individual player, a team, a rule, a concept,
whatever.  We want your ideas.  Email us at kraulung@gmail.com, Twitter us at @RSBS
or kindly comment on a post with your suggestion.  After selecting a
trio of your topics, Mr. Krause and I will then post our metaphors
during the World Series and YOU the reader will vote for the winner in
this best of three competition.

Don’t just sit there…. suggest, suggest, suggest!

Just How Good Does it Get?

Life must look pretty good to Cliff Lee right about now. Leaving behind the festering garbage heap that the Indians have become and landing four wins away from a World Series title is just about as good as it gets.

Meanwhile, a guy like Jake Peavy goes from the most perfect weather in the United States to the intemperate hell that is Chicago. Sure, he may have helped ruin the Tigers’ chances at the postseason but that’s not much to hang your hat on.

However, as good as life might be for Cliff, I’m pretty sure he’s nowhere near as happy as this guy:

I’m sure I’ve posted it before but some things just need to be repeated from time to time. Lame attempts at Afro-Caribbean Jesus rock definitely fit that category.

It’s Saturday! Go watch football.

-A

Ozzie Ees Gonna Be an Analeees on TV

ozzie guillen zip it.jpgThat’s right, dear readers.  White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen is joining the Fox Baseball Pre & Post Game Shows as an insider analyst during the World Series.

Oh sure. 

I can’t see how this could possibly go wrong.

Unless, y’know, Ozzie tells Chris Rose that “Hees a garbage and hees children ees a garbage” or if he mentions to Mark Grace that “Hees a f^ggot” or reminds Eric Karros that “hees head ees as beeg as those peeg rats at Wreegley Feel.”

No matter how many times they have to hit the bleep button while Ozzie is on the air, I imagine his self-sacrificial lampooning for a Fox ratings spike will be less likely to fail as Glenn Beck would acting as a PETA spokesman:

Note to Mr. Beck: Don’t be killin’ no frogs on live television yo!

Hate me ‘cuz I transleeterate Ozzie’s lingo, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

***IMPORTANT PROGRAMING NOTE***

Suggested to us by the always hilarious Jonestein at BABL, Mr. Krause and I will be competing in a World Series Metaphor Competition — a Metaphor-Off… yeah, let’s call it that

Why?  ‘Cuz we can.  And we will.

But we need your help!  As you know, Al and I champion ourselves as masters of the meandering metaphor; and we need your suggestions.  What do you want to see metaphorized?  (Yes, that’s a word. I made it up.)  It could be something as simple as an individual player, a team, a rule, a concept, whatever.  We want your ideas.  Email us at kraulung@gmail.com, Twitter us at @RSBS or kindly comment on a post with your suggestion.  After selecting a trio of your topics, Mr. Krause and I will then post our metaphors during the World Series and YOU the reader will vote for the winner in this best of three competition.

Don’t just sit there…. suggest, suggest, suggest!

Happy Friday!

Mr. Magoo in Blue

ump_with_glasses.jpgWhat would a postseason be without umpiring controversies? Lucky for us, we don’t have to worry about it since the Yankees-Angels series has been a string of blown calls. I admit it, I do wear glasses. I have four eyes. I could probably use a stronger prescription. But even I could see that when Mike Napoli tagged Posada and Cano at third, neither one was touching the bag and time had not been called. I guess one of the perks of having the highest payroll in baseball is the umps knowing who pays their salary and calling the game according to that.

Now, to be fair, the Angels got straight up beat. Saying their thrashing was due to bad calls is like saying the Cubs missed the World Series because of Bartman. It just ain’t true. But, umpiring antics like these don’t make people feel any better about the Evil Empire’s stranglehold on baseball.

The thing of it is, the Yankees don’t really need
these blown calls to win at this point. It’s like a third world dictator who gets 99% of the vote
despite the fact that he’d win anyway because people are afraid to vote
against him. It’s not so much unfair as it is tragic.

When it comes down to it, we chalk it up to destiny when our teams win because of bad calls and blame conspiracy when the teams we don’t like use those same bad calls to succeed. It’s human nature, I guess. We ascribe patterns to things we don’t understand because that’s how our brains work. And since my brain doesn’t understand why the Yankees get to spend nearly twice as much as the closest team following them salarywise, I see conspiracy.

However, if the Tigers manage to make it this far next season with their proportionately overinflated payroll, you probably won’t hear me complaining if a couple bad calls go their way. I mean, it would be their destiny.

-A

Photo by Getty Images

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