Results tagged ‘ Expos ’
That’s right, dear readers. The ginormously ugly head of the Chicago political machine is callin’ it quits. He’s done. Out.
The last time Chicago saw such expeditious light, names like Doug Dascenzo and Danny Pascua anchored both sides of the Second City’s streets, while far across the globe, the Soviets were just gettin’ out of Afghanistan, after the United States ignited what would later turn into the biggest American tragedy of all time.
In other words, Mayor Daley’s been around a while. Perhaps too long. And we Chicagoans have gotten used to his turbulent tendencies.
So who in the heck is gonna replace him?!?
Don’t worry, folks. The hardworking RSBS interns have put together a shortlist of candidates, all of whom come highly recommended:
month ago none of us knew who he was. But having gone 9-4 in his first
13 games as the Cubs manager, let it be known that no Chicagoan has ever
done more with less than Mike Quade. Believe that.
see… He’s a democrat. He’s a Chicago hardliner. He’s abrasive.
He’s on the take. He’s got “friends” that wouldn’t flinch in breaking
your legs. He primps for the camera. He’s full of himself. He dreams
bigger than he can act. And he thinks the world revolves around him.
If that’s all that’s required of the mayor of Chicago then someone give
this guy the key!
And… one final candidate to consider:
Why not? I live in Chicago. I love Chicago. Hell, I am Chicago (don’t believe me? Ask me to do my super fan
impression sometime). Seriously, why wouldn’t I be a good candidate
for the job? Because I love the Cardinals? Because I might burn down
Wrigley Field? So what, I support the Sox and I’d build a bigger,
better Wrigley (to house the Expos I plan to bring back once I get rid
of the sCrUBS). Okay, so maybe I’m lying about all that — Hey, I’m a
liar! That qualifies me on its own! — but I will say that I, too, hate
paying the highest sales tax in the country. I, too, am tired of
reading gang and gun-related headlines. Let’s make a change, people.
Let’s get deep dish pizza in all the schools and make it mandatory that
baseball theory is taught to every kindergartner, before they find out about basketball or football.
Hate me ‘cuz you don’t believe that ‘yes, we can’… just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
And so in this Podcast…
Once again, Jeff and Johanna tread the unconventional waters of mischief-making as they delve into important social issues such as cock-fighting Aramis Ramirez, Stephen Strasburg’s golden elbow, Katy Perry’s wisdom, the Lou Piniella mailbag and much, much more! Turn up the volume and chuckle with us, y’all!
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Subscribe to the RSBS Podcast by clicking *HERE*
Subscribe via iTunes by clicking *HERE*
thanks to Keith Carmack — our engineer, director, editor and
all-around sound guru. If you like laughing or just wanna listen to some wildly impromptu conversations about food, film making and other important life subjects like living on display in a museum, check out his Undercast podcast. Visit Undercard Films!
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Recorded Saturday, August 28, 2010
And so in this Podcast…
Jeff and his Cub-lovin’ pal Johanna Mahmud put their heads together to find out what’s wrong with Joe Buck’s face… they also talk about a slew of other important stuff, including (but not limited to) Andre Dawson being a bad@ss, why everyone hates Cleveland, Pete Hill of the Negro Leagues, Matt Capps’ ginormous noggin, the Lou
Piniella Mailbag and much,
much more… all to make you laughy time!
P.S. Language definitely rated R on this one. We let ourselves go a bit… but it’s a lot of fun (trust us).
to the RSBS Podcast by clicking *HERE*
via iTunes by clicking *HERE*
thanks to Keith Carmack — our engineer, director, editor and
all-around sound guru. His Undercast
podcast is a must-listen (listen to it!). It’s available on iTunes and
is posted regularly at Undercard
Recorded Saturday, July 24, 2010
Besides baseball, one could say that I get pretty ravenous about the arts. Especially in the winter, when all is dead on the diamond. I pay rent at the Art Institute of Chicago. That’s how often you’ll find me there.
So I got to thinking… what would happen if I combine baseball with the arts?
That’s what would happen.
Congrats on the Hall, Andre.
Congrats on being one of the best.
And thanks for not hating me ‘cuz I’m right.
Happy “Health-Care-Less” Friday!
(Image courtesy of BuzzFeed)
I am not so full of myself that I believe everyone wanted
a piece of me during yesterday’s All-Star festivities; but wearing
throwback gear from a team long dead certainly gave me an edge. As a
walking memory, representing Gary Carter, Andre Dawson and Delino
Deshields with porn ‘stache swagger, I was definitely drawing
attention. Unfortunately, the security people holding me back at field
level, blocking my attempts at getting a word with Erin Andrews did not
find me as irresistible.
“I need to talk to Erin Andrews.” I told them with confidence.
“Because, it’s my destiny.”
“Get the hell outta here before I throw you the hell outta here.”
well. Had to keep my head up. I was part of the Homerun Derby. Busch
III was electric. And despite all the partying, I was somehow still
The Derby? Well, it was what I thought it’d be: very
exciting for the first half hour, then pretty boring after that.
Several balls came close to us in our right field seats, but one guy —
the SAME GUY — caught two balls (one from Ryan Howard and one from Joe
Mauer) and after standing for the three hour event and being
shot down by Erin’s handlers before I even had a chance, I ended up
leaving Busch III ball-less… well, sorta. Anyway, here are some pics
from Fanfest and the evening’s homerun contest. Click on them for
Okay, y’all. I’m gearing
up for the big game tonight, Molina jersey on my back, praying the that
the National League doesn’t embarrass me… again. This would be as good
a time as any for us to win this thing (not that I really care) and I
have a feeling I’ll have a better shot at meeting President Obama than
I will Ms. Andrews.
She doesn’t know what she’s missing.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m here, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Keith Hernandez, say hello to the Lady Killer.
Gotta admit, since crafting the ‘stache, I creep myself out every time I catch my reflection, but I fit right in here at the All-Star festivities in St. Louis. An old man in a Mets hat even asked me for my autograph (he thought I was Thomas E. Dewey until his caretaker reminded him that Dewey died in the early ’70s). So I did the right thing, lied and told him I was Dewey’s son.
That was a stellar start to what turned out to be a pretty disappointing day.
Because after only three outs were recorded in the Futures Game the sky turned black, thunder cracked and it rained… and rained… and rained…
After walking the concourse for four hours, drinking my weight in beer and buying more overpriced All-Star trinkets than one person will ever need, me and my buddy decided to book.
So we met some friends, went to a bar and watched the Cardinals beat the Cubs.
Good friends, good game, good times.
And today is gonna get even better. Admittedly, I’ve never been a fan of the Homerun Derby. Watching it on TV is about as boring as watching Nascar: boring! But I have a feeling that being there, in right field, in prime homerun territory, it’s going to be something to remember — especially if I snag some homers using the swagger and intimidation factor of my new accoutrement: the Lady Killer ‘stache.
In order that my aging father can find me easily during and camera shots of right field, I’ll be donning my 1980s era Montreal Expos jersey and cap — making this a special occasion indeed.
So here we go, folks… All-Star fun in full effect! I will fight my way down to get a word with Erin… and in case you missed that Lady Killer, here are some more photos:
US America rocked by St. Louis Cardinal hats… very cool:
General Motors is busted.
My dignity (whatever there was of it) is also busted.
And in case you haven’t noticed, the 2009 Washington Nationals are most definitely busted.
Now I realize that it has become cliché hack to go after the lowly Natinals and all their shame — that by marauding these lesser-known squibs I am just one of many basement-confined jokesters, another savvyless cheapshotateer who gets off on landing lowblows wherever I can.
But that’s me.
‘Cuz when you’re bad, you’re bad; and the Washington Nationals are beyond bad.
With a sub-stellar 13-36 record as of the first of June, touting a team ERA of 5.69 and Kip Wells in the bullpen, I think it is time we US Americans seriously consider showing the Washington Nationals a big-time government bailout.
Because if Julian Tavarez can’t save the Nationals, then who in the world can?
GM made crappy cars. For years, GM didn’t listen to its consumers. Simply put, GM didn’t care. They were/are insane: doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. And now GM is virtually as obsolete as their “planned obsolescence” business model: an absolute example of eating your own s*** and dying a terrible death.
Luckily, there is still hope for the Washington Nationals, albeit grim. Despite fielding a beer-league softball team, they are averaging about 21,000 people per game. And even if half of those fans are wearing the visiting teams’ duds, that money is still green.
If the government knows anything, it knows how to take money from everyday Joes like us and spend it irresponsibly. So, save the franchise, Capitol Hill! I don’t care about GM, but I do care about about the
Montreal Expos Washington Nationals and they deserve my tax dollars because let’s face it, Adam Dunn has gotta eat (a lot).
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(GM Image courtesy of the Cleveland Leader)
We begin (as we often do when it comes to failure) in our nation’s capitol where the former Montreal Expos put on an exposition all their own the other evening. I could explain the premise of the story but I think this one quote just about sums it up: “…if there’s one thing we all can agree upon, it’s that exploding hot dog buns are high comedy indeed.” How can you top that? Well, maybe by spelling the name of your own team incorrectly on your jersey. But seriously guys, please keep it coming.
However, the farcical comedy stylings of the Washington Nationals pale in comparison to the tragi-comedy of the Chicago White Sox. Sure, they play in a mediocre division so they’re never really going to be out of it but they took a beating and a half yesterday afternoon. It all started when the Twins plated 20 runs to the Sox’ one and just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, the always eloquent Ozzie Guillen’s managed to jinx the impending Jake Peavy trade. Let me refresh your memory. Following the loss Guillen said, “I hope Peavy didn’t watch the scoreboard today. He might say no.”
Well Ozzie, you sure nailed that one. Maybe Peavy watched the scoreboard and maybe he didn’t but either way, he won’t be suiting up in Chicago pinstripes anytime soon.
So that’s where we stand as May slowly draws to a close. But don’t worry, the Nationals are still out there and it’s only a matter of time before they manage to outdo themseleves once again. My guess? Teddy Roosevelt gets decapitated in the President’s Race on Kid’s Day at the ballpark. Once again ladies and gentlemen, your 2009 Washington Nationals!
-Thanks to SLK for the link to the Nats story.
This weekend we saw a series pitting the team with the best record in
the league against the team with the worst record. At what point in the
season do you think we’ll see this again and which teams will take part
the next time around?
As long as the Washington Nationals continue to be a baseball franchise (sorta), you can be quite sure that this scenario will pop up once again. Will they be playing the MLB best Cardinals next time? The Dodgers? The Blue Jays in June during interleague play?
The truth is: I have absolutely no clue.
Because so far nothing this season has been on my radar: that the Cardinals’ piecemeal bullpen could hold itself together through April… that the Blue Jays would find a way to win in the AL East… that no one wants Pedro Martinez…
But in the end, one thing will always remain certain: The Washington Nationals are a national joke.
After some hardcore number-crunching analysis, one might conclude that their suckage is rooted in their inherent identity crisis:
- Are we the Expos?
- Are we the Senators who are now the Twins?
- Are we the Nationals who were the Expos?
- Are we the other Senators who are now the Rangers?
Or perhaps it stems from their dizzying closet of uniform combinations:
Dear readers, I could go in a million different directions with that snafu of a baseball bodega — none of them good — but I will save you (and myself) from the certain discomfort and unpleasant visualization it would cause.
Whatever the reason for the Nationals’ lack of success, I must admit how sad it was for me — as a baseball fan — to see such a beautiful ballpark only a quarter full for a Friday night game. It was disappointing too that there were more Cardinal fans in attendance than Nats fans and that the loudest cheers I heard all weekend were in response to the Capitals vs. Penguins playoff hockey game — the favorable D.C. score of which was posted on the jumbotron in between innings, thus rousing Washingtonians into a fervent coup d’etat aimed towards building a bigger hockey arena while at the same time finding a more thirsty suitor for the oh-so-lowly Nats, all of their prior nicknames, logos and dysfunctional sausages.
So far, no takers.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(Senators Sausages image courtesy of Wonkette)
(Uniform image courtesy of Wikipedia)