And so in this Podcast brought to you by Lifestyles…
Jeff, Allen, Johanna and Second City’s Mark Piebenga knock off the winter rust and gear up for what looks like a fantastically competitive 2011 season. Besides being racy, risque and borderline offensive (or, just plain offensive), the topics of discussion include but are not limited to the best orange juice of all time, Michael Young’s precarious situation, Major League collisions and much, much more… all to make you happy face!
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*Special thanks to our PodMaster Keith Carmack. You can experience Keith’s wicked podcast and subsequent film projects at Undercard Films. Keith is a hot topic right now! Not only is he filming that cool baseball doc, but now he’s got some commercial gigs from the Undercast, AND he’s investing in fleshlights! Pay him a visit!
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Recorded Saturday, January 29, 2011
A couple of years ago a guy in Canada made the international news when he killed a fellow bus passenger for seemingly no reason at all. Even that probably wouldn’t have been enough except that he proceeded to cut the dead man’s head off and hold it up for everyone else to see.
Thankfully, this type of crazy remains relatively rare. Sure, we get the occasional nut job like Jose Offerman but he’s the exception rather than rule. And, to be fair, he didn’t cut anyone’s head off either.
Here in the US we also get our fair share of far-out nuts. These stories run the gamut from the tragic (Timothy McVeigh and the Columbine Killers) to the macabre (Jeffery Dahmer and John Wayne Gacy). However, every once in a while a story hits the wires that just can’t be categorized. For instance, Richard Elwood Sanden.
Honestly, I’m not even really sure where to start on this one. And I’m not even really sure why I’m bringing it up except to spread the horror a little wider in hopes that my own will dissipate. I mean seriously, who uses telephone dating services? That’s why the internet was created.
….Oh, you’re horrified for other reasons? Oh, yeah, ok. I guess I can see where you’re coming from. That part is pretty bad, too. But seriously, I didn’t even know that telephone dating services still existed or that anyone used them.
(GIF via 9GAG)
RSBS loves beer. In fact, although Jeff may dispute me on this one, there’s nothing wrong with going to a baseball game just for the beer. Sure, it’s more expensive, and yeah, it’s watered down. But sitting at the ballpark in the middle of July with a beer in your hand beats just about any other feeling. Since I also tend to be a bit of a snob, finding ballparks like AT&T Park in San Francisco, which serves Anchor Steam, only adds to the allure. Baseball and decent beer? Yes and yes.
But here’s a secret. Get the small. The tall cup might look bigger and you’re sure going to pay more but volume and surface area have only a tenuous relationship at best. Go ahead, see for yourself:
Oh yeah, that’s right. 16 ounces is 16 ounces no matter which way you stack it. But $1.25 extra? That’s straight up thievery. Of course, it is Washington where Microsoft is based and if anybody knows thievery, it’s those guys…….Uh, hey, wait. Why is Explorer crashing? I’m just kidding guys. I love Microsoft. And I’ll gladly pay an extra $1.25 for your “large” beer. Please?
Happy “Kiss a Cardinal Day” or, as it’s known in some corners, Jeffery Lung’s birthday. That’s right, today my buddy Jeff officially reaches the ripe age of 29+. The beautiful thing about that plus is that it could really mean anything. Although my protestant guilt forces me to tell you that it means 3 this time around.
I don’t have to tell you that Jeff and I have known each other for a long time and helped each other celebrate birthdays many times before. However, it has been a while since we were able to celebrate either one of our birthdays together. This year is no different.
However, that doesn’t mean I can’t help him celebrate his birthday correctly. And what could be more correct than an alternately loving and loathing collection of photos.
In honor of Jeff and his birthday, I present this little birthday present, a gallery of things he loves, although sometimes ambivalently. Without further ado, here we go:
Happy Birthday, buddy!
Survival of the fittest drives natural selection. The mechanisms evolved decide whether your particular branch of a species flourishes or fails. Over the years, this has led to mimicry in butterflies, symbiosis between birds and crocodiles and Kirk Gibson. However, humanity has done itself a disservice in the past decade in its continued attempt to thwart survival of the fittest.
At the birth of our nation, we had this:
And just in case the story couldn’t get more bizarre, the woman in the video is now suing the mall.
I’m pretty sure Samuel Whittemore didn’t sue the British soldiers who bayoneted him. In fact, I’m betting he slapped on a few bandages before hopping on a velociraptor to go help his buddy, George Washington.
Just like a Pedro Martinez pitched inning circa 1999, this is gonna be quick, probably painful and will most likely include more soul-glo than the FDA deems acceptable:
A few weeks ago, I ran into Rahm Emanuel at the Roosevelt Red Line stop. I shook his hand, wished him luck in the Chicago mayoral election, then basked in the warm glory that is his presence. Yeah, kinda makes me sick too. But I can’t lie. He had a an insidiously welcoming glow about him. And as I stood there, standing next to (and above, as the man is quite short) him, I couldn’t help but debate myself, asking Well, Jeff, are we on Rahm’s team or no?
Of course, Rahm is Rahm and Rahms don’t go down without a fight.
So let’s sit back and watch as time and LOTS OF MONEY are wasted on the proceedings.
The American Way.
Se la vie.
Call it desperation or call it genius (I’m goin’ with genius, by the way), but the Tamp Bay Rays certainly found a flashy way to fill some holes in their lineup by adding Idiot One and Idiot Two to their roster. On the cheap! Hey, if they could just convince Curt Schilling (and that unstoppable mouth) to suit back up, maybe the Rays will have a real chance at stickin’ it to the Yank Sox again this year! If nothing else they have succeeded in ultimately defying logic: Manny Ramirez will get $2 million while *GASP* Kyle Farnsworth will make $2.7 million! WTF?!?!?!?
Say what you want about the Chicago Bears and their NFC Championship performance, but as a Chicagoan, I call out to all fellow Chicagoans to lay off Jay Cutler. For realz.
In fact, I’m just gonna shut up about it and defer to RSBS regular, Johanna Mahmud with the quote:
“you can never quiet the stupid.“
Hate me, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Last year, RSBS gave you a guide to surviving the zombie apocalypse. Sure, maybe it hasn’t happened yet but you’re welcome nonetheless.
The problem is, we forgot to include a survival guide for overcoming the undead already among us. No, I’m not talking about Dick Cheney or anyone else with a pacemaker. I’m talking about something much, much scarier. Hippies.
We all know people who just don’t understand when it’s time to give up or time to go. Names that come to mind immediately include such luminaries as Jamie Moyer, Brett Favre and Roger Clemens. But what about the hippies? Seriously, these guys have been going at it since the 60’s at least. If you want to lump the Beats in there with them, you’re going back even further. C’mon man, pot and patchouli are cool but at some point you have to give it a rest.
Now, there’s no denying that the hippies have given us some wonderful things. There’s no way that VW could have stayed afloat long enough to give us the new Beetle if it wasn’t for the hippies buying up all the VW vans. And where would we be without tie-dye? I’d be missing at least one shirt, that’s for sure.
But at some point you have to accept that your revolution has reached it’s natural end and move on to something new. For instance, try on some skinny jeans and an ironic t-shirt and join the hipster movement. At least the name is similar. That’s helpful when you’re working with less than a full contingent of brain cells.
Here’s the thing, the anti-hippie revolution is already underway and if Malaysia has put their foot down, other civilized countries can’t be far behind. The bell has tolled, hippies. Time to wake up. Jerry Garcia is gone, Timothy Leary is dead (I think) and pot is almost legal. Hm, now that I think about it, maybe we should be writing a guide on helping hippies reintegrate instead of marginalizing them further……..Nah. Stupid hippies.
As a man, the sport simply speaks to the inherent barbarism that has trickled down my side of the species for time ad nauseum. Some of my fondest high school memories revolve around strapping on the pads and hitting people as hard as I possibly could, without getting in trouble for it. In fact, I can honestly say that I enjoyed getting hit — laid out on my back with stars circling overhead — more than doing the hitting (see Fight Club).
And the language of football is deeply connected to the language of our cave-dwelling ancestors:
Arggh. Me want. Arggh. Me take. Arggh. Touchdown!
Football provides that wormhole back to warriorism — where heroes are born for their stubbornness to quit, where the last guy standing reigns supreme, whether he’s got all of his limbs or not. From this we have been treated to Jim Brown, Walter Payton, Jerry Rice, Joe Montana, Reggie White — WARRIORS the whole lot!!!
And I respect that. All of that. Every single bit of it.
Still, football ain’t baseball.
It’s not even close.
So, for me, when football playoffs come around, it’s just not the same as when baseball playoffs come around.
I don’t obsess over every matchup. I don’t lose sleep at night wondering how the benches will play out. I don’t break things or make women cry or have the cops called on me for repeated noise violations. And this is for games in which my team isn’t even in it.
‘Cuz if my team is in it, you can fuhgettabout me paying attention to anything else but the game, series, trophy, until it’s over.
Hate me ‘cuz it’s the thing to do, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Man, what a start to the new year. Health care gets repealed in the House, Tunisia throws out its president and Michelle Obama lights up a state dinner. January isn’t even over yet. What next? Aliens landing in the Kremlin? Pujols sporting a big Detroit “D”?
Even if ET and his homeboys do show up at Lenin’s tomb, though, I’m not sure it could be any more amazing than a series of events that took place right here in our own fair country. Sit back and let your mind wander (and wonder) as we take a trip to beautiful Ocala, FL.
Happy Saturday, y’all, and god bless America.