From the beginning, RSBS has been about both baseball and politics. But, it’s easy to lose track of the politics when the baseball plays out like it did this year. Also, the politics have been sucking. I mean, something needs to happen with health care but I’m sick of talking about it and even more sick of hearing about it.
Luckily, whenever I hit a point where American politics isn’t doing it for me, all I need to do is look south. No, a bit further south. No, not Guatemala. Keep going. Ok, there it is. Venezuela and it’s coffee-swilling chuckle-head of a president. So, what’s happening in the mind of el presidente today?
Hm, a little baseball over in that corner of the brain which makes sense. I mean, he is Venezuelan. Yep, definitely a little crazy over in that corner which makes sense since he’s from the same country as Ozzie Guillen. But those are just sideshows. If you really want to know what’s going on just step into the three-ring circus of Hugo’s anti-American paranoia. It’s a non-stop riot of fire-breathing, wild animal taming and tiny cars full of clowns. And this time it’s all about the war the US is apparently trying to launch against Venezuela from Colombia.
Here’s the thing, Hugo. Even if we wanted to start that war (which we don’t because, let’s face it, no one really cares about Venezuela), we don’t have the resources to do so. Cutting off ties with Colombia over this makes about as much sense as the proverbial cutting off of the nose to spite the face. Really Hugo, you need to sit back and take a lesson from someone who understands putting aside differences so we can get along. Deuce Poppi, take it away:
Happy Monday, y’all.
A-Rod finally has his ring and the Yankee faithful are overjoyed.
However, do you think there’s any chance that this will make him less
of a dill-hole? This is a guy who has dumped his wife, dated Madonna,
admitted to being a big fat liar and had somewhat major surgery in the
span of about one year. Does one ring atone for that?
Okay, that’s a lie. My mom doesn’t know what a dill-hole is (perhaps neither do I), but it doesn’t matter because it’s true.
Let us remember that.
But let us also remember that in professional sports, just as in politics, the most important question when evaluating merit will always be the same: What have you done for me, lately?
In Alex Rodriguez’s case, does it really matter that 9 months ago all we were talking about was his wayward romp in the world of performance enhancing drugs? Does anyone remember that he flat-out lied to the press? That he stained the game? That he forced difficult discussions between parents and their children about the dangers of illegal substances and cheating the most sacred of US America‘s games?
No. Of course not. He led them to a World Series crown. If Charles Manson hit .378 with 6 HR and 18 RBI during the playoffs, he too would be lifted up on the city’s shoulders, carted off to the tune of “27th Heaven” just like A-Rod was.
Because that is how the world works.
I don’t think ethnic Albanians in Kosovo really put too much thought into President Bill Clinton’s oval office sexual exploits when they erected their tributary bronze statue of him in Pristina recently. He ended their persecution, man! He knocked Serb forces out of the game by hitting in the clutch, with proverbial runners in scoring position!
Likewise, Ronald Reagan ended the Cold War! Nevermind all the money and resources he threw at guerrilla specialists in Afghanistan (*ahem, Osam bin Laden, et al*) to fight the evil Soviet regime! HE ENDED THE GODDAMN COLD WAR, MAN!
And let’s face it, folks: cold wars suck. I think we can all agree on that. To Yankees fans, an eight year absence from holding the highest position in the baseball cosmos had to feel a lot like a cold war, and like my mama always said: “character doesn’t mean s*** in love and war.”
Okay, that’s a lie. She never said that. But she might. She’s got opinions.
Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
As is customary at RSBS, the Filibuster will be put on hiatus until pitchers and catchers report. Very special thanks to all our dear readers who’ve bombarded us with Filibuster topics this season! We’ll ask for them again in February! Until then, please enjoy RSBS‘ continuing pursuit of the ironically fantastic and creatively eclectic. You’ll be in for some real treats! I’d almost bet my life on it!
Right now, dear readers, you are probably experiencing the same agonizing symptoms of baseball withdrawal that Al and I are. We are here to remind you that we know: it hurts. It will continue to hurt… until pitchers and catchers report. If your symptoms gain in severity, do not hesitate to contact your primary caretaker (for those of you who can afford health care, that’d be your doctor; for those of you who cannot, try calling your congressman. I’m sure that will work).
Football and hockey can only carry us so far (not very, especially if you’re a jaded Bears fan, or in Mr. Krause’s case: a lowly win-deprived Lions fan), so we are left to rely on the offseason baseball hot stove for our daily fixins.
We like our hot stove like we like our coffee: hot.
(Mr. Levin is doing just fine. His skin graph surgeries were successful — well, most of them anyway.)
Hate me ‘cuz I tricked you into processing that painful imagery, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
The baseball season may be over but the wheeling and dealing is just beginning. Trades, pickups, moves. It’s like Christmas came a month early. However, one man seems to be doing a little more wheeling and dealing than everyone else. Well, maybe more of the wheeling after hitting up someone else responsible for the dealing.
Now, let’s see a show of hands for those of you who are surprised that Tim Lincecum likes to hit the reefer from time to time. Ok, Utah, you can put your hands down. Mormons don’t count in this poll. But as for the rest of the country, of course we all knew he liked to smoke. The dude looks like a smoker. He’s practically a dead ringer for Wylie Wiggins and he just has that look in his eyes.
Here’s the thing, though. Isn’t this just yet more proof that marijuana might not be as bad for you as DARE led you to believe? How many people do you know who are at the top of their game and like to relax with their close friend, Steve Green, from time to time? Half the NBA are regular smokers, Lincecum obviously likes it and how else do you think Steve Jobs came up with the iPod?
Take another look at that article. The thing I notice about the story is that Lincecum pulled over and “immediately complied with a request to hand over the drug and a marijuana pipe.” Compare that with a drunk who refuses to put down his beer and winds up taking a swing at the officer. I’ll take the pot head any day…..especially when he has a 2.90 ERA over 3 seasons.
Congratulations on winning the World Series, fellas. You kept me interested by keeping things interesting; you played great baseball all season long; you are champions of the universe. You deserve — and receive — my recognition.
But I still don’t like you.
And that’s a good thing. It’s good for me, good for you. It’s good for baseball in general.
I am human and humans hold grudges… even if they are stupid.
That’s right. 1996. Three terrible things happened to me in 1996: Tupac Shakur was murdered. The Yankees won the World Series for the first time since 1978. And MC Hammer went bankrupt.
I can only hope that this present calamity is not followed by two equally devastating events.
Luckily, it has coincided with at least one current positive from the baseball cosmos: Los Angeles Dodgers pitcher, Vicente Padilla (species name vicenteticus padillicarpeus), shot himself in the leg earlier this week near his home in Nicaragua, lending even more credence to the “Padilla Once Shot Himself In the Face” theory of explaining why he is so goddamn ugly.
Life is about balance.
I like it that way.
Hate me ‘cuz I hit neanderthals below the belt, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(Image at the top courtesy of Three Frames)
Awaiting your praise, huh, Mr. Lung? Well, you’ll get your salutatory essay soon enough. However, today is not the day. Today I’m in too much of a celebratory mood. Why? Why not. It’s the beginning of the Islamic weekend, I have a martini in one hand as I’m writing this and I just obtained Season 2 of True Blood which started off much stronger than the first season.
Not only that, but the Yankees have not yet won the World Series. There’s so much to be thankful for and we’re still three weeks away from Thanksgiving (and the Eid Al-Adha, too).
But more than that, I’m just grateful because no matter what else might be going on, I can still wipe my @$$ without needing any kind of assistance. That, just like Chase Utley, is the gift that keeps on giving:
Happy Hump Day!
Who is more despised by the RSBS guys? Yankees or Cubs. I haven’t figured it out yet.
Maybe I’ll begin by asking a question of my own. Who was a more insignificant president, Benjamin Harrison or Millard Fillmore? Or perhaps it makes more sense to ask something slightly different, like, who was a more brutal dictator, Stalin or Mao? The point I’m trying to make here, Brad, is that there isn’t necessarily an answer to your question. Wanting to know who is more despised, the Yankees or the Cubs, is like asking what does Indiana Jones hate more, bugs or snakes.
When it comes down to it, the Yankees and Cubs aren’t all that different. They have both been spending money like a hobo in a liquor store, dropping every last penny on whatever rot-gut might make them warm for a second. Milton Bradley is just a poor man’s Jason Giambi once you leave Bradley’s temper and Giambi’s juice out of it. And up until this season, the results were pretty much the same. Make the playoffs, head to the playoffs, crash out of the playoffs.
The equation shifted a bit this year, though. Now, it’s safer to say that the Yankees are Stalin to the Cubs’ Hitler. It was all going so well for the Cubs until it all fell apart. And the Yankees may have almost driven their base over the edge with the profligate spending and tax-payer financed multi-billion dollar ballpark but, like Stalin, nothing brings the masses back in line quite like victory.
All that being said, I still don’t know as though I can say that one of those two teams is more despised here at RSBS than the other. I can say, though, that after thinking about it a bit more, although Indiana Jones really didn’t like bugs, he hated snakes. And the name Steinbrenner sure does have a sibilant sound to it, just like a snake. Coincidence? Probably, but I’m willing to forgo the formalities and declare the Yankees the more despicable.