Results tagged ‘ Alex Rodriguez ’
But What About the Children?
Kids have it hard these days. I grew up in cable’s infancy, a time when phones were still attached to the walls. It took a little while for news to spread. And it was a more innocent time, too. Heroes were put up on a pedestal to be worshiped, not to have stones thrown at them. Today, though? Man, it must be rough to be a kid or a hero.
Take Tiger Woods (please!). As if the multiple sordid affairs weren’t enough, he’s now being dragged into the PED arena as well with the news about his doctor using HGH. And as soon as any news about him hits the streets, it’s spread far and wide by the internet. Let’s be honest, it’s entirely possible that Jack Nicklaus had a stable of pretty young fillies at his beck and call during his hey-day but you never would have heard about it. Stars were protected back then.
The real problem is that we can’t seem to find a happy medium. Either we don’t know anything (why haven’t I seen a Joe Dimaggio/Marilyn Monroe honeymoon video?) or we know way too much (the image of a syringe in Roger Clemens’ @$$ is something I’ll never be able to forget). Why can’t we just know a reasonable amount? Like, if someone is a danger to himself or society (Ray Lewis, I’m looking at you), let us know. But if they’re just doing some canoodling on the side, that’s his or her business (yes A-Rod, I’m giving you a pass on that one).
Information is power and that hasn’t changed. And there is plenty of information on every possible subject out there today. But trying to find the useful stuff is like diving into a latrine to find the quarter you accidentally swallowed and then excreted. It’s messy and ultimately just not worth it. Kind of like being a hero.
-A
A Call for a Ban on Crappy Nicknames
Oh jeez.
In 2005, the St. Louis Cardinals called up a 27 year-old lifetime minor leauger to get his first hacks at the big league level. That man’s name was John Rodriguez.
Don’t remember him? No worries. Most people don’t.
Mr. Rodriguez came on pretty strong during his brief glimpse of the Majors, hitting .295 with 5 HRs and 24 RBI in 149 at-bats. The folks in St. Louis liked him and his cinderella story so much that someone decided to grace Mr. Rodriguez with the nickname: J-Rod (a la A-Rod, K-Rod, YourMom-Rod, et al).
J-Rod *ahem* wasn’t a fan of the name. Why? Maybe because he wasn’t A-Rod! To be honest, he wasn’t anywhere close to being an A-Rod type player. His greatest downfall was was being born with the same easily nicknameable name as poster boy Alex while also having a first initial that contained just one syllable (you see, W-Rod would never work).
Flash forward to December 7th, 2009 and my trusty misanthrope of a colleague, Mr. Allen Krause, deigns us with the phonetically challenged nickname “Pla-Po” for his beloved (and now long gone from Detroit) Placido Polanco.
Pla-Po? Are you kidding me? How is that even pronounced? PLAY-Poh? Plah-POH? Ah, forget it; all I know is that it sucks.
So, please know, Mr. Krause, that from now on we are calling for a complete ban on poorly constructed nicknames, specifically on those you created. For those of you dear readers unaware, the following Krausian nicknames shall no longer be used, under any circumstances, lest you wish the worst on the baseball-politico community:
- Matt Holliday – Ma-Ho
- Barack & Michelle Obama – Bachelle
- Albert Pujols – A-Jols (read “A-Holes”)
- Dick Cheney – Dick-Chin
- Pablo Sandoval – P-Sand
- Harry Reid & Nancy Pelosi — Harry Nancy
- Carlisle Littlejohn – C-Lit
- Michael Cuddyer – Mi-Cudd
- Ann Coulter – ‘Lil Beotch (it should be “Big Beotch”)
- Kevin Youkilis – K.Y. Kill-Us
And of course, let us not forget to mention the ongoing ban against one of the crappiest nicknames of all time, also penned by Mr. Krause, for his dilapidated Mo-Town Tigers team:
Winners.
‘Cuz unless finishing the AL Central in second place qualifies you as a ‘winner’, then this just needs to stop.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m brash, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Peace,
Jeff
The Filibuster
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?
Tamara
Cedarville, OH
____________________________________
Like my mama always said, “Once a dill-hole, always a dill-hole.”
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.
Peace,
Jeff
**PROGRAMING NOTE**
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!
Awaiting One’s Praise
Relax. Breathe easy. Enjoy this, fellow Yankee haters: Cliff Lee and the Phillies have given us another precious day of hearing “twenty-six rings” over the inevitable “twenty-seven”. And remember, God made a “firmament” in just one day. Think of what we can do with ours!
Because let’s face it, whether it happens on Wednesday or it happens next year, the year after that or whenever (it’s gonna happen in your lifetime), the Yankees are going to get their twenty-seventh ring. That’s fine. I’m okay with that. The franchise more than deserves it. You see, if you spend a billion dollars on something, it will work. Ask our government. And if I spent a billion dollars on something in just 9 years I’d expect that something to at least win me a trophy of some kind, or get a bill named after me, or land me a free room at Holiday Inn Express (they still make me pay there).
The point is: the Yankees will win… sometime… eventually…
…probably.
Until then, A-Rod, Party Boy, Mo and Tex… you will have to wait patiently for this hater (me) to shower you with praise.
Speaking of people who want to shower me, I believe Mr. Krause lost the World Series of Metaphors and owes the winner (also known as Me) a meritorious essay on the topic of why I am awesome.
Can’t wait!
Hate me ‘cuz I flash a flair of fetidness, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Peace,
Jeff
Red States Win……And We All Lose
In an effort to avoid any bias in reporting the results of the recently completed World Series of Metaphors, RSBS decided to ask an impartial third party to announce the results of the contest and authors of the metaphors. Unfortunately, it was kind of short notice and the only person willing to help out was our old friend, Max. So, despite our better judgment, here goes.
___________________________
Populism can eat my @$$. For that matter, so can democracy. You know what happens when you let democracy and populism run amok? Sarah Palin and Barack Obama. Speaking of which, you know what both of them can do? I’ll give you a hint: It has already been mentioned in this paragraph.
You know what else happens when democracy and populism run amok? Worthless excuses for contests like the one that happened right here on this blog. Look at those metaphors. At least there was an attempt to keep it a little highbrow with the biblical references and I thank Allen for that. But Jeff went straight for the gutter. Way too embarrassed to tell your friends about Ryan Howard? That doesn’t even make sense. He might be a fat girl but he’s popular. Wouldn’t that put him more in the Jennifer Hudson vein? I’d expect Jeff to make that connection anyway considering his practically pederastic love for underage Filipinas and everything else that American Idol entails. Way to play to the lowest common denominator there buddy.
As it stands, Jeff won the contest. Jayson Werth as the dirty uncle and this whole A-Rod as a pretty girl business won it for him. But really, doesn’t that just mean that we all lose? And just to be fair, I’m more than a little disappointed with Allen for sinking to the same level with his self comparison to Yankee fans. Did you forget that you hate the Yankees, pal? And as if that wasn’t bad enough, you still lost and now you have to write an essay praising Jeff. Well played, Judas. Hope you remembered to pick up your thirty pieces of silver on the way out.
Frankly, I’m not even sure what I’m doing here right now. I consider Jeff and Allen great friends but intellectual minnows, a point they proved impressively well with this “metaphor-off” or whatever poorly disguised euphemism they might have used for their h0mo-erotic excuse for a blog. I need to get home anyway. Populism and democracy are coming by in a little while to attend to some business.
-Maxwell “Max” P. Framington
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:
Alex 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:
From 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!
Things Scott Boras Says from Behind the Plate
Yep. We’re sick of seeing his smug mug behind the plate on every pitch too. So in an effort to oust his recurring playoff cameo, we sent our RSBS interns into Angel Stadium with a mega-fortified parabolic microphone to pick up all the juicy sound bytes Mr. Boras let slip during the game.
Here’s what we heard:
“Jesus, look at A-Rod. How’d I let that guy fire me again? That oughtta be my ****ing walking wallet! Mine! My lord, those labrums! Look at those labrums! Best labrums in all of sports!”
- – -
“Forget Teixera… Matt Holliday is worth Babe Ruth like money. How much money did Babe Ruth make again? What?!? $80,000 a year was his best? F*** that, Matt Holliday is so worth Mark Teixera like money.”
- – -
“Why aren’t there gold flakes on this f***ing hot dog? Huh? Who the hell brought me this hot dog without gold f***ing flakes!?!”
- – -
“Jesus Christ, I can’t understand a thing Manny says. How do you say ‘take a goddamn shower for crying out loud’ in Spanish!? Anyone? Anyone?”
- – -
“Holy s***, Alex Rodriguez… maybe I can get teams to think Ivan Rodriguez is actually Alex Rodriguez. Quick trip to the Dominican Republic, grab some stuff from A-Rod’s cousin… shoot up Pudge and BAM! He’s lookin’ like Alex did in that hot Details shoot. Did I just say that? F*** you. Don’t look at me. Watch the game.
- – -
“Ha ha. I just remembered that Adrian Beltre deal.”
- – -
“Why does everyone hate me? Because I’m rich? Because I’m powerful? Because I look like a young Rush Limbaugh? Ha! My bowel movements are worth more than these worthless fans’ entire lives put together and run through a gilding press that I bought with my money. Where the hell is my goddamned organic vodka gimlet!?! Jesus!”
- – -
“Someone remind me to tell Kyle Lohse he has really f***ing made me look bad.”
- – -
“$tra$burg… $tra$burg… $tra$burg…”
- – -
“Jesus, if I were gay, I’d totally do Alex… ha ha, but, y’know, I’d of course make a big deal of it to the press first before opting out at the last second… then, when things calmed down a bit… I’d fire that b****.”
- – -
Now you know, folks. You aren’t surprised, are you?
Hate me ‘cuz I bring it, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Peace,
Jeff
Google Knows EVERYTHING
Dear readers, what you’re about to witness is real. Nothing has been altered or changed to assist my own, personal opinion(s). Thank the baseball gods for screen capturing abilities while surfing the interwebs.
*Click on images for a closer view*
Hmm. One of those may not be correct.
I, personally, like Derek Jeter.
Are you noticing a trend?
Hate me ‘cuz I gotz mad computer skillz, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I (and, usually, Google) am (is) right.
Peace,
Jeff
Unraveling the Wrath of New York
Forget about Iran and its escalating nuclear capabilities. Pay no attention to Iraq and its still undiscovered weapons of mass destruction. If you wanna start a war, piss off a Yankees fan.
That’s exactly what my socially fledgling and oft baseball addled colleague, Mr. Allen Krause, did over the weekend. With this one simple quote…
With the lineup they have at the plate and a ridiculous cast of pitchers, the pennant is theirs to lose. But lose it they will.
…Mr. Krause ignited the unbridled anger of Bombers fans across US America. For example:
Some troll who goes by “kb24″ commented:
“Jeff Lung and Allen Krause are f***** a** losers! Have fun when the
Yankees win the World Series a**holes!”
You can reach said troll by emailing him with your own expletive laden rants at supermanredblue@hotmail.com, the address he uses to log into MLB.com.
rr257 said:
“So, the Yankees will lose again, like they always do? You should
probably follow roller derby, or another sport with a shallow
history…where people who write Blogs don’t have to know that the team
they are calling “losers” are the winningest team in sports history.”
Hey dude, how’d you know Al loves roller derby? I am quite pleasantly surprised you had the time to investigate this little nugget of fact after your demanding schedule of Erin Andrews stalking. Keep up the good fight!
And then, a guy (I assume it’s a guy, or perhaps a three-toed sloth who lives off Monster Energy Drink, ramen noodles and goodnight kisses from Mommy) who goes by Lukepiewalker121 emailed us with this quip of superior baseball knowledge:
“Ha, say what you want about the Yankees choking in past years. We live
in the present not the past. Go cry your butt off when they win the
World Series and A-Rod wins MVP of World Series now that he doesn’t
have all the pressure with Teixeira with him . . . . . loser live in
the present not the past!”
Now, now, Lukepiewalker121@aim.com, let’s not be so vicious in our ill thought retorts, shall we? First of all, who the hell uses AIM anymore? This ain’t 2003, buddy! Join the living! Stop — as you say — LIVING IN THE PAST! Once you take your own advice and stop living in the past, I assume you and and your Yankee-lovin’ brethren will kindly stop reminding me and everyone else who has any aural abilities whatsoever that your beloved Bombers are the “winningest team in sports history” because, well, y’see, those 26 trophies are all in the past, pal. Them days is over. Move on. Indeed, Lukepiewalker121, we live in the Yankees-Tend-To-Overpay-Free-Agents-and-Blow-It-In-the-Playoffs-Era; and just in case you haven’t noticed, the Yanks have been doing plenty of playoff choking in recent years, which is why my colleague made the brash statement that he did in the first place.
Feel good about this, Yankees fans who hate Allen Krause: Mr. Krause’s Detroit Tigers just put the finishing touches on one of baseball’s most prolific and grandiose epic fails of all time.
And know that I don’t always (or ever) agree with Mr. Krause, but in this case, he makes a valid (albeit sloppy) point. If the Yanks follow their recent history, they’re due to disappoint.
So, my dear Yankee fan readers, I will bare the olive branch with this bit of truce:
If the Yankees do win the World Series, I will take Lukepiewalker121′s advice and “cry my butt off”.
Hate me ‘cuz I unravel the reasoning behind the phrase Evil Empire, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right… if ya don’t believe me, ask cubluvr1995, the last childish, ranting, wrathful dear reader to bite the proverbial RSBS dust.
Peace,
Jeff
One Big Bag of Weird
There are a lot of different kinds of weird. There’s the weird of realizing what had to happen between your parents to make you. There’s the weird of managing to be all tied up after 162 games. But then there’s the weird that, as my old Sunday school teacher would say, transcends all understanding. That’s right, I’m talking about the weird of watching Tom Delay on Dancing With the Stars.
Tom Delay. The Hammer. The man who was able to achieve a veritable cat-herding feat by first organizing the Republican caucus in the House of Representatives and then by keeping them in line. The man who helped redistrict Texas to such an extent that no Democrat will ever win outside their existing district for the next generation. And now he’s doing the rumba.
Let me explain this in layman’s terms. It’s like Ty Cobb quitting baseball to lead a civil rights campaign. Ok, maybe it’s not that extreme but it’s also not that far off. Perhaps it’s more like A-Rod leaving his gorgeous wife to date an over-the-hill pop star. Yeah, that sounds about right.
However, all of this oddness led me to an almost stunningly brilliant idea for another long-serving representative. Picture it: Nancy Pelosi leaves the Congress to lead a b-boy pack that takes America’s Best Dance Crew by storm. Hey, weirder things have happened. Just ask your parents.
-A
Red State Blue State
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