Results tagged ‘ Allison Stokke ’
For the record, Dear Readers, I am only one and three quarters of an inch shorter than my self-aggrandizing friend and normally trustworthy colleague, Mr. Allen Krause — not “a lot shorter” as he so vainly suggested in his most recent post. Inches, mere inches, I really am not one to be fraught over inches. In so being, I would like to extend the arm of peace to my friend by quoting Rebecca West when I say Mr. Krause “is every other inch a gentleman.”
And with that bit of business out of the way, I would now like to take this opportunity to ignore the Cardinals’ recent acquisition of Khalil Greene. Why? Why would I disregard such a move that even I admit looks to be beneficial for the 2009 squad? Because of Trever Miller, that’s why. The addition of Miller to the bullpen is supposed to make me feel better, Mr. Mozeliak? Hardly. Give me Brian Fuentes. Give me J.J. Putz. Give me a real closer. Give me something!
Let’s look at something more interesting… like the freakazoids who inhabit this planet. Not satisfied with your everyday sports memorabilia? How about you get on eBay and buy some game-worn underwear soiled by your favorite superstars Alex Rodriguez, Josh Beckett and Kevin Youkilis?
No? Perhaps you’d like to make a deal with the devil herself and get behind the liberal head-hunting train, because, in her opinion, it’s your duty as an US American to hope your new administration fails. Duh. Of course, Ms. Coulter’s got it right: nothing’s more American than hoping your American brethren suffer beyond measure.
But folks, this is just a small sampling of the oddities gnawing at my corrigible conscious. The recently acquired RSBS staff (graciously borrowed from Russell at Arizona via Slough who seems to have gone on an extended vacation) has gone through the StatCounter files and found quite the eclectic collection of keyword searches leading the masses to the hallowed pages of RSBS. There are a slew of nutball examples, but I’ve pulled my five favorites for your viewing pleasure:
“Allison Stokke Drunk”
Okay, okay. I get it. She’s hot. Unattainable even. So you think you gotta get her drunk first to have a shot. Well, she could be lying dead in the middle of a desert and you still don’t have a shot, Sicko!
“Wemen Hitting Mens Balls”
Hmm. Alright, let’s pretend that the spelling error doesn’t exist — that this is just a case of a concerned individual who wants to know how women should go about hitting men’s balls. Hmm. Nah, still doesn’t make any sense.
“Kwame Kilpatrick In Cuffs Picture”
Right on, brother. Right on. Detroit has never been more proud.
Yep. I feel ya. I voted for him just because he’s from my neighborhood too. Well, that and it was the right thing to do.
“Attractive Chinese Wemen”
Whoa! How did you know? Oh, and also, a word of advice: you might want to learn how to spell “women” before you start looking for them on the internet.
I know this — from experience.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Sixteen-year-old Eri Yoshida, a knuckleball throwin’ femme phenom, recently became the first woman ever drafted in the Japanese Professional Baseball League — which would most probably make her the first professional female baseball player in an all-male league (I think; our staff is working on this one).
Eri, a studious highschooler with a keen eye for Red Sox geriatric Tim Wakefield and his trademark knuckleballing mechanics, has proven herself quite the asset amongst her male counterparts and thus looks forward to breaking in as a rookie with the Kobe 9 Cruise this spring.
In lieu of these developments, we at RSBS (namely Me) would like to take a moment to congratulate Eri Yoshida on her groundbreaking achievement by memorializing the trailblazing feats of women sports icons both past and present because… well, because we can and we should.
And we will.
Helene Robison Britton
Inheriting the St. Louis Cardinals from her uncle, Stanley Robison, in 1911, Ms. Britton broke ground as the first woman in the history of the world to own a Major League Baseball club. During her six year reign at the top of the Cardinals organization, the team managed an average winning percentage of .441, a number which — in a round about world — popped up again in 2008 as the batting average for hitters facing the Cardinals bullpen.
Okay, so she’s not much of an athlete, but she sure knows how to piss a lot of people off with her baseball-related antics. Sen. Clinton’s meandering baseball allegiances have long been the seed of the People’s frustration. America may not see in just black and white anymore, but we die-hard baseball fans tend to be staunch conservatives when it comes to flagrantly waving about one’s fan preference. Don’t get me wrong: I sincerely respect Senator Clinton. She had a great run and she would’ve gotten my vote if the desire for change in Washington wasn’t burning so strong in my heart. I voted for that change. And how am I (and all US Americans) being rewarded? By seeing the same old Washington insiders posted in the highest offices under the President.
Excuse me while I go stab myself.
Super hot woman who knows more about sports than I do? Not much else to say.
Now that the dust has somewhat settled, let me commend Gov. Palin on being the laughingstock of modern politics. Not quite the Dan Quayle Potato-Head, still, she provided plenty a laugh throughout the campaign. She’s worthy of commendation because she stuck it out and never got too rattled (unless you count that Katie Couric interview, SNL, et al). As an avid hunter, basketball player and all around “hot mamma”, I bet she’d be a pretty sturdy fireballer on the mound late in a game. The Cardinals need some bullpen help. I’m just sayin’…
*Drool… drool… drool…
What? She didn’t make the Olympics? She doesn’t play baseball? Do I even care?
Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Just when I thought the Chicago Cubs had genuinely forgotten how to lose this season they surprised me and went on a well-deserved five-game losing streak. For the last several days, seeing them falter to the festering Phils and resurgent Astros, I have been reminded that indeed: they are still the Cubs. And losing Carlos Zambrano for a stretch due to rotator cuff tendinitis sure won’t help their case to win the Central.
Now, am I willing to go there and say there’s a chance they could continue on this hapless streak, not win the Central and miss the playoffs entirely? Not on your life, dear reader. I’d like to have the guile to say that, but I’m just not that dumb. I’ve been watching this team destroy my worldview all year long and I don’t expect them to stop until they reach the playoffs.
Just set your clocks for them losing in the first round.
And since we’re on the topic of losers, let me add to the list that my not-exactly-humble colleague, Allen Krause, so graciously offered.
As a head-in-the-sand Tiger fan, I’m sure Mr. Krause will appreciate the losership of one Detroit ex-Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick and his likely fall from power. Now I have bashed Kwame for his idiocy in the past, but I must admit how impressed I am that he was able to get those charges (perjury, assault, etc) dropped to just a couple counts of obstruction of justice. I guess when you’re that big and that scary looking you can get away with being an ^sshole — just ask Roger Clemens.
Or ask his former team, the New York Yankees, who are vying for the top spot in disappointing loserdom this season. While the curtain hasn’t made its final descent on the Yankee stage, you can be sure that the damn thing is on fire and burning into oblivion, as are the hopes and dreams of a Yankee post-season appearance. The Prince of New York has done them in — read article — and so have I.
There. I just did it.
Did you see that?
No? Okay, well, did you see that White Sox sensation Carlos Quentin is out with a wrist injury for an undetermined amount of time? If you’re a Sox fan, this is not good news and you should be invoking the baseball gods for Ken Griffey, Jr. to return back to his 1997 form right now. Give up your first born… eat a cat… whatever, you gotta do something. And let me tell ya, the worst amount of time to be out of the lineup is an ‘undetermined amount of time.’ I had a girl tell me that she wanted to see other people for an ‘undetermined amount of time’ and that didn’t go so well.
But let me tell you about the loser in Jordan — yes, that’s right, the country: The Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan — who did a Yahoo! search for:
“what outlandish mean you are red white and blue”
…and was lucky enough to find the RSBS blog as the first site to pop up.
Gee, that guy was probably all excited to find some US Americans to hate on but instead what he found was a plethora of ingenious posts written by two well-spoken, edumacated MLBloggers with the propensity to post pictures of pretty, powerful, secular women whom would never be invited to serve as one of the seventy-two virgins.
Ouch. Don’t hate me on that one ‘cuz you know I’m right.
Ever since the accident (see comments), I’ve been having difficulty focusing my thoughts; but don’t worry. I will still find a way to express them in a brilliant, informative manner as is always expected here at RSBS. I am many things, but a quitter without an opinion I am not.
Picture it: October 2008. The first round of the MLB playoffs are in full stride and not a Red Sox or Yankee is anywhere to be found. Yes. It could happen, folks. For the first time in recent memory, both the Yankees and the Red Sox may find themselves sitting out during the important games. The Rays and Angels look to be locks and it seems that the Twins and White Sox are in a tussle for the other two spots in the AL. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but it’s hard to dismiss the possibility. Think of the chaos, the madness, the tantrums that would follow. At least emergency rooms in the northeast would be more quiet than usual.
Imagine my horror. Finally over the disappointment of not being able to see Allison Stokke vault her majesty in the Olympic games, I found myself settling on Swedish hurdler Susanna Kallur to satisfy my propensity for body-gazing during female competitions. Yes. My mind was made up. She was going to be the one. And then she knocked down the very first hurdle, fell to the ground and didn’t finish the race, further proving my theory that the combination of beauty and athletic prowess is more rare than me having somewhere to go on a Saturday night.
Envision the face of Barack Obama’s Vice President. Is it male? Female? White? Black? (doubt it) Latino? (double-doubt it) In any case, we should know soon and I have a feeling it will be someone whom we never even thought of. (No, silly, it won’t be me. I’m too busy blogging and raising cain, but thanks for the thought).
Think about it. Wouldn’t that USA/China baseball spat have been more exciting and more newsworthy if some real punches had been thrown? Look, I get it. The Olympics is all about class and sportsmanship but this isn’t the floor exercise we’re talking about here: this is baseball. Our sport. Our way. And we fight. Robin Ventura, Nolan Ryan, Michael Barrett, A.J. Pierzynski… those guys would have tore heads off — they would’ve brought bloody pride to the Red, White and Blue. A knockdown at home plate, some bean balls here and there… jeesh. I was really disappointed.
See the world the way my colleague Allen Krause sees it and see a world that revolves around the wonders and blunders of one irksome Venezuela. Yes, dear readers, I ask the same question you do: What the hell is up with all of these Venezuela posts? This one and this one and this one… I understand that Venezuela is quickly rising the ranks to be the proverbial pebble in US America’s shoe, but come on… Mr. Krause is talking about the degrees of handsomeness between Miguel Cabrera, Magglio Ordonez and Ozzie Guillen. That’s crazy. That’s just plain crazy.
And you know it’s crazy. You know you’ve had enough. And you know there’s no reason to hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
The way the balls were jumping out of The Joan today, one might have thought that the Chicago Air Show started a day early. That wasn’t the case. No. Those were homeruns flying out of the ballpark, not F-14s, and at least four of them flew out in a row: back-to-back-to-back-to-back.
When you say that out loud, it sounds like a bad rap song.
And it got me thinking…
Rarely do things as delightful as homeruns occur four times in a row (especially in the post-PED era) … so when they do, it surely is magical. What else would I like to see back-to-back-to-back-to-back?
Back-to-Back-to-Back-to-Back Saves by the St. Louis Cardinals Bullpen:
Because of the rarity of this now-merely-theoretical possibility, I am beginning to think that the 2008 Cardinals are looking more and more like the 2007 Cardinals. And folks, let me tell ya, that ain’t a good thing.
Back-to-Back-to-Back-to-Back Republican Sex Scandals:
Foot tappin’ in an airport bathroom stall, meth dealin’ gigolos, married northeastern governors who just happen to dig guys more than their wives… keep ’em comin’!
Back-to-Back-to-Back-to-Back French Male Olympians Crying After Competition:
Why? Because the only thing better than watching a Frenchman cry is watching four Frenchmen cry — in a row. “Zee wemen… zay sink zee cry-eeng… eez sexy.” Ah, the French are such easy targets sometimes.
Back-to-Back-to-Back-to-Back World Series Titles for a Team NOT Named the Yankees:
It could happen. No. Seriously. It could. Okay… no. You’re right.
Back-to-Back-to-Back-to-Back Presidential Terms for the Democratic Party:
FDR did it — by himself — and he was awesome. I’m not saying let’s rewrite the Constitution. I’m just saying we could use a good twelve to sixteen years to get some s*** done — for real.
Back-to-Back-to-Back-to-Back RSBS Posts Where Allen Krause Doesn’t Offend a Great Number of People:
Look, in this case, I agree with you, Mr. Krause; but somebody has to stop those Christians from firebombing my house! Enough already!
Back-to-Back-to-Back-to-Back Evenings Where I DON’T Receive a Soliciting Phone Call from the Number 800-450-9135:
I signed up for one non-profit organization that stands for making the earth a little bit better place and now, every day, non-stop, I get anonymous phone calls from this number asking me to donate to (insert random charity name here). No. I’m through giving my money away. Why do you think I’m still single?
Back-to-Back-to-Back-to-Back Pow-Wow Sessions with the Staff of Arizona via Slough:
I realize that I’m starting to sound like a real perv here, but trust me: I’m not. I’m interested in his staff because they are smart problem-solvers with real world experience and decorated graduate degrees. That’s it. That’s the only reason. Oh — and they know how to order Chinese food properly as well. Very important.
I leave the last one up to you, dear reader. Leave us with your back-to-back-to-back-to-back dream and we’ll see what we can do to make it come true.
I promise. It won’t include rhyming.
You can hate me ‘cuz I’m a dork… but don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Those of you who know me personally know that my obsessive-compulsive disorder has no boundaries. You know that I am a stickler for preparation, execution, reflection.
Today, as I prepare to make my way up to the North Side to watch the Cardinals battle the Cubs, I realize that this could be the end. I’m not hoping for it; but I am prepared for it.
So, if the Cub fans really do make good on their threats to my livelihood, I have prepared the following:
Flair for the Dramatic, you can have what’s left in my bank account, which you should then donate to the Yankees, because everyone knows the Yankees are hurting for cash.
Some Clubhouse, you can have my thoughts that I scribble on the little notebook I carry with me everywhere. You might find something interesting to stretch your think-tank.
And of course, you, dear readers, get to have this:
You, I, We will always have that. Always.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
**Allen Krause gets nothing**
Finally, there is something to distract me from the escalating woes of St. Louis’ bullpen, the blooming ERA of the White Sox pitching staff and the rumor mill officially known as Veepstakes!. Yes, dear readers, it is time for another Olympiad. The story lines are plenty, but first and foremost my focus will be on whether or not the Chinese follow through on their promise to change the weather to their specifications. They have made great strides in weather modification (I heard the North Koreans gave them a hand with the necessary plutonium) so I really look forward to seeing them turn off the rain and turn on the sunlight. I am also curious to see how successful they are in duping athletes into thinking that the ominous, smoky, gray haze really is just fog and not smog like the big bad foreign devils claim. And of course, we all look forward to watching sappy melodrama after sappy melodrama, narrated by Bob Costas, featuring Olympians who overcame war, severed limbs and mange to compete on the world’s stage.
Interesting as the above may be, still, as a proud US American, I must say that the two main story lines I looked forward to the most will not be present in Beijing. And this, dear readers, makes me sad.
Because ever since Deadspin made her an internet sensation, I have long dreamed to watch California pole-vaulting vixen Allison Stokke turn multicultural heads. When I found out she didn’t make the USA team, I was crushed. In my depressed stupor, I chugged a 40 oz., plucked out a few of my eyebrows, and drunk-dialed everyone I knew.
No one answered the phone.
If you’re one of those people unfamiliar with the greatness that is Allison, you don’t need to know much. These pictures will provide all the necessary information:
Besides Ms. Stokke, the presence of St. Louis Cardinal top-prospet Colby Rasmus will also be missed. Touted as the ‘next big thing’ in the Cardinals farm system, I have been ravenous to watch him play. With a measly .249 average and just 11 homeruns in 329 at-bats, I know he hasn’t had quite the year everyone expected him to at Triple-A Memphis, but there’s no telling what putting on the Red, White & Blue uni could do to a player. Unfortunately, a leg injury will keep him from making the trip so I will be left to watch Davey Johnson manage the likes of Gronkiewicz, LaHair, Segovia and Bacsik — very US American-like names that I’ve never heard before.
Of course, there will be one big name I’m glad I won’t have to see play, whine, cry, shoot-up, whatever and that is Roger Clemens. There was some hinting that he might make a run at pitching for Team USA and all I can say is that I am very pleased that general manager Bob Watson quickly dismissed any potential shenanigans involving Mr. Clemens. After the Marion Jones fiasco, the last thing US America needs is to have another steroid scandal — especially one involving the most detractive PED user this side of the Atlantic.
The decision to keep Clemens at home with his underaged and/or married love affairs was elementary my dear Bob Watson and I thank you for making it. In fact, I, and the rest of US America, applaud you for it. That being said, I don’t quite agree with your hasty acquisition of Chewbacca for the starting pitching rotation. His fastball is a little weak and I’m not so sure he’s from our country — or planet for that matter. Did you check his birth certificate?
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I ask the tough questions, Watson, and don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
U-S-A, U-S-A, U-S-A!