Results tagged ‘ George W. Bush ’
Sidney Ponson: SOBER!!!
At the end of last week’s thrilling Filibuster, I asked (as usual) for more dear reader questions… and — if possible — pictures of journeyman screw-up Sidney Ponson not under the influence.
Hilarious, I know.
Hilarious because, indeed, it was just a throw-away quip… a nonsensical one-off… a friggin’ jape.
But boy was I surprised when our inbox actually received a picture of Sidney which shows him to be in complete control of his own cognizance.
Special thanks to Mary Retallick (pictured right, whom you can often find on Gateway Redbirds Forum) for sending this to our attention… and special, special thanks to you, Mary, for sending it with the subject line: Picture of Sidney Ponson sober.
‘Cuz that is funny.
Not only do you “get it”, you also got us, making us full-fledged believers in other mythical creatures like Bigfoot, Skunk Ape and a well-spoken G.W. Bush.
And to a man (that’s you, Sidney) more accustomed to hearing the words “designated for assignment” than “we would like to offer you a contract extension”, this post is most assuredly a sign of better things to come.
Yeah. You got me. I’m totally lying.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right, Sidney.
Peace,
Jeff
Illusionary Tactics
Yesterday, my unequivocally nefarious and visually challenged colleague, Mr. Krause, finally posted his two-month late debt which required him to pose for the camera while proudly donning St. Louis Cardinals merchandise accentuated by a bright, broad smile across his face. Obviously, there is little doubt as to how disingenuous the smile was; but I must admit that even I was shocked at just how low Mr. Krause stooped to eschew what would be considered by everyone else in the world to be a rightly just punishment.
Here is the picture:
Sure. On the surface, everything seems in order… until we zoom in a little closer (thanks for the assist, Jonestein):
Hmm. Is that a photocopy of the regal S-T-L taped on your cap, Al? And what is that underneath the pasted cover-up? Is… is that… is that a Washington Nationals cap!?!?!?! (click *here* for reference to that same Natinals cap)
*Rich white people in the suburbs of Detroit whail in painful disgust.
Congratulations, Al, on not only embarrassing me and Cardinals fans worldwide, but for also abandoning your own people during a playoff race. Nice. Indeed, you are the Sarah Palin of baseball fandom!
But Allen’s experiment with the not-so-magical isn’t the only thing causing the masses to rub their eyes today. Note to all Major League managers not named Tony LaRussa: If Albert Pujols steps in with the bases loaded, for Lord’s sake walk the man! Last night, Jerry Manuel found out rather quickly what everyone else seems to already know when he decided to have Sean Green pitch to Albert, only to see Pujols launch yet another grand slam, which ultimately led the Cardinals to victory. For the record, in 2009, Albert is a disgustingly sick 7-9 with the bases loaded, including five (YES, FIVE!) grand slams. If you think you’ll get A.P. to swing at something stupid in that situation then you deserve to be beaten.
And while we’re on the subject of idiocy…
This photo has been dancing around the interwebs faster than Kevin Gregg can blow a 9th inning lead; but let me tell ya, just like Al’s photo above, this is all wrong. I’m not talking about the actual lampooning of our president as a joker — that’s all fair game as far as I’m concerned — what bothers me is that the word “SOCIALISM” appears below the Obama-as-Heath-Ledger-as-the-Joker image.
Come on now. Socialism? Look, the Joker was an anarchist. There was nothing social about the Joker at all. The closest he ever came to socialism was wanting to kill everyone for no reason other than to just kill everyone. So if you’re gonna roast the Prez then at least make sure you get your metaphors — visual and contextual — correct.
“Fool me once… shame on… shame on you. Y’fool me y’can’t get fooled again.”
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Peace,
Jeff
Literalism Always Trumps Idealism
Indeed, it is no secret that whilst in our bogarting college days, I brought my dubious and oft erratic colleague, Mr. Krause, up on a live stage in front of hundreds of people with the promise of providing wholesome entertainment only to publicly embarrass him by tying him down and shaving his overgrown forest of an otherwise pasty white chest.
Something tells me he hasn’t gotten over the humiliation.
Which explains his hurtful yet accurate tirade ridiculing the Julio Lugo/Chris Duncan exchange from earlier this week.
But let me step away from the GOP-like mudslinging smackdowns and ask this simple question: Can we not just call this trade what it is? Literally?
It’s crap for crap.
And no, I ain’t happy about it.
But I have found that in the darkest of hours, the most tumultuous of times, the most republican of regimes, that sniffing through all the sugar-coating just to figure out what is really going on often brings out the heartiest of laughs.
Don’t believe me?
Watch this:
Now if that doesn’t make you want to relive 1983 — and laugh all the way — then I don’t know what will.
I do know that giving up a top prospect (Brett Wallace) and some minor leaguers for the player formerly known as Matt Holliday (now just a shell of his former slugging self) is something that will keep the smiles off my face and torment my sleep patterns. Until I see some serious power surge protection for Albert Pujols from our new unsignable Scott Boras client, I am not going to budge from my disgusted stance. Ah, the pain… I cannot help but remember that Dan Haren and Kiko Calero trade for Mark Mulder a few years back. But hey, if this motivates Tony LaRussa to stay on with the Cardinals, then I suppose it is more than worth it… that and as long as Jesus continues to hate the Cubs.
Happy Friday! And don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Peace,
Jeff
*And a special RSBS cap tip to St. Louis boy, Mark Buehrle, for not only achieving perfection, but for providing me with uber-stimulation while I should have been working.
Re-Specter Yo Self Before You Wreck Yo Self
“I have found myself increasingly at odds with the Republican Party.”
— Sen. Arlen Specter, Pennsylvania
Welcome to the club, Arlen!
Folks, this is a big deal.
HUGE!
Imagine:
a Cardinal fan rooting for the Cubs, a Red Sox fan pledging allegiance
to the Evil Empire, a Dodgers fan embracing Barry Bonds while chanting
“GO GIANTS!”
As crazy and fantastical as those scenarios seem,
longtime Republican (albeit a moderate one as he opposed Clinton’s
impeachment and didn’t get along with Dubya so well) has done just that
by crossing back over the visible division line to find his rightful spot among US Americans who pine to progress, lean to logic, veer to victory.
Ahhhhhh snap!!!
No more filibustering power for the GOP?
You betchya! Guess from now on those smattering political diatribes of malcontent will be reserved for Fox News and the Vatican.
And
while this obvious jockeying crossover amuses me like Gary Sheffield’s
defensive capabilities, in all honesty, I hope it does not become a
trend. I mean, besides needing a multi-party system with checks and
balances, I am afraid that without Republicans, I would not have any
material to rouse fuming arguments on this site, family reunions or bathroom walls.
Let’s face it: we Cardinal fans could not survive without the
incessant, whiny yappings of hopeless Cub fans every year. As much as
we hate to admit it, ours is a symbiotic relationship built on mutual
antipathy, fundamental dislike and drunken slander — all for the love
of the game.
Dear readers, before making such a monumental switch, remember to chickity-check yo self before you wreck yo self ‘cuz wavering loyalties are, ultimately, bad for yo health.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Peace,
Jeffy
(Specter image courtesy of the US Government)
(Cardinals/Cubs image courtesy of Deadspin)
Fire at Will; Give Fred a Shot
When a Major League Baseball team fires the majority of its relief pitching staff
and restocks it with a fresh cast of bumming bandits headlined by the
ubiquitously underachieving journeyman Kip Wells (of all waifs), you
can be certain that that team has hit its absolute rock bottom.
Congratulations, Washington Nationals! You are the burnt toast of our nation’s capital. We are going to eat you up.
Of course, picking on the Nationals is a lot like kicking a quadriplegic — it does get old after a while — and since my indomitably fatalistic colleague, Mr. Allen Krause, already did a good job
of slamming the organization for all its follies, I would like to
propose a more optimistic approach to gibing this laughingstock of a
team.
But first, let us agree that whether Nationals’ manager
Manny Acta is responsible for the team’s atrocious play or not is, at
this point, quite negligible; because, just like a Kyle Farnsworth
fastball to the number eight hitter, Acta is gonna be outta here.
And after two miserable years and countless futile attempts at
corralling the motley crew of ex-cons, high profile free agents and
drug addicts, Acta probably won’t mind taking his rightful place in the
unemployment line.
So I — humble paragon of hope that I am –
would like to offer the D.C. brass some friendly advice on who should
replace Acta at the managerial helm. Let’s face it: right now what the
Nationals need more than anything is a fiery, go get ‘em, gnarly
skipper who won’t take crap from anyone — someone who eschews personal
dignity and goes right for the jugular!
Mitt Romney comes to
mind. He’s in the D.C. loop. He’s Mormon (synonymous with “scary”).
He supports blowing up people if they don’t agree with him, which is
evident in his recent remarks that President Obama is a “timid advocate of freedom”
for trying to conduct a sensible dialogue with Latin American leaders rather
than walking into the meetings strapped with an AK-47 and a briefcase
full of Zyklon gas.
Then again, like the Nationals, Romney can be better summed up as a simple loser.
I
hear George W. Bush is looking for a job. And though he is most known
for his stints at drunk driving, mismanaging war and ignoring a city in
peril, I must admit he did do a pretty decent job during his baseball
days in Arlington. Still, something with Dubya will always be amiss.
He just doesn’t have the necessary flair it takes to rally a country,
let alone a hapless baseball team.
If not these men, then who,
dear readers, can lead the way? Who has the guts, the guile, the zip, the zap, the
unadulterated masochism, the uncanny madness… who has what it takes
to whip those gutterball Nationals into a state of frenzied affirmation
and show them what real success tastes like?
There is but one answer. One man (boy?). His name is Fred. And Fred is awesome.
Send Fred into the Nats’ clubhouse — just once –
and I guarantee Elijah Dukes will never screw up again. Don’t believe
me? See the wrath of Fred (without his medication no less) for
yourself…
…just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Peace,
Jeffy
Coco Crisp = Comedy Gold
For those of you anti-technocratic individuals stuck in 2005 where MySpace is your second life, Andruw Jones is your homerun leader and The Emancipation of Mimi rocks your screenless iPod Shuffle, let me tell ya: it’s time to get with the program.
Join us!
And by us I mean Red State Blue State — on Twitter, the hottest albeit most meaningless social networking site that has all the kids goin’ crazy.
If you do not do it to keep up with the immediate updates of flamboyantly flippant posts authored by my oft misunderstood colleague, please do it for the comedy gold that is Covelli “Coco” Crisp.
And do it now.
Not convinced yet?
Here is but a small sampling of prolific “tweets” by the Royals hot off-season acquisition (read them; you will laugh):
i saw a guy at
todayz that looked like the deformed dude from Goonies, i have to tell
yah i got a weak stomach. He was over where i wassigning
autographs b4 the game and i thought it was gonna b game over for me,
but i made it… PHEWW signed his ball and all. that could
have been the weirdest moment of my life!!! 4real. Anywayz bout 2 watch Golden Child, “I want the knife…_… Pleassse”
oh yeah b4 i log i went 3-4 today and we won
red bull is amaZing
Got n 2 KC last
night. That plane ride was by far the worst i’ve ever been on. i
thought fasho i was a goner. The last 5 mins of the theof the flight the
plane was movin like a Wakefield knuckleball lol. i just new that was
it 4 me… us but we make it.ANOTHER VICTORY!
John Buck had an awesome game. Right now tryin to make a mix tape 4
after we win, what we’ve been playin is terrible
(*note: it seems Coco was just as surprised as us that the Royals won again)i guess when i get back of this road trip ill check out the night life. im bout 2 check out im hella tired Gnite.
You see, dear readers, sometimes the creative mind is no match for stream of consciousness junkets created by extremely talented yet severely uneducated athletes.
Amen to that.
And go ahead and hate me ‘cuz I take cheap shots at verbally challenged yet outspoken outfielders… just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Peace,
Jeffy
P.S. You can follow Coco *here* on Twitter. You can follow RSBS *here*. You can follow the yellow brick road *here*.
It Must Be April
It’s finally a nice spring day in DC. The sun is out, the birds are chirping, the Canadian geese have taken over everything. Oh, and the Nationals are already six and a half games out of first place. That can only mean one thing. It must be April.
I love this time of year. There’s still hope for the Tigers and still hope for my fantasy baseball teams before the long slog toward September and mediocrity. It’s warm during the day but not so warm that it’s uncomfortable. The end of April is really one of the best times to be a baseball fan.
But this time of the year is also special for another reason. In the next few weeks, as the drama begins to build around the early season fortunes of various teams, drama also starts to build at movie theaters around the country as the first wave of blockbusters hit the screen.
But really, on a Friday afternoon like this it just feels good to sit back and reflect on making it through another winter (residents of southern California and other warm states are exempt from this contemplation). But, as we wait for all the inevitable drama about to unfold, it’s also a perfect opportunity to appreciate the drama inherent in life. Not sure what I’m talking about? This should help:
Happy Friday!
-A
Credits:
-Video via The Daily Dish
Golden Nugs for Silver Screens
Feisty factions of conservative right wing constituents are finally going to get what they have always wanted. Indeed, after a series of anti-republican films exploiting the low-blow antics of unsavory characters such as Richard Nixon and George W. Bush reached wide audiences in 2008, the GOP is all smiles knowing the biggest, baddest politico docudrama to ever hit the big screen is well on its way!
Special Relationship, the upcoming film starring Julianne Moore as democratic juggernaut Hillary Clinton and Dennis Quaid as the always promiscuous Bill Clinton, will explore the finer points of Slick Willy’s extramarital affair with Monica Lewinsky and his wife’s subsequent decision to stick by his side (so she could run for the New York senate, and eventually the presidency).
Moore is a decent actress. I see her pulling off this role of a lifetime no problem. Quaid as Clinton? What a wonderful opportunity to repeat his 1987 world-class performance from Inner Space! I can hardly wait, folks!
And the Hollywood hoopla doesn’t just end there, dear readers. I am super excited about some other upcoming films that are in the early stages of development:
The Little MVP Who Could: The Dustin Pedroia Story
Starring Macaulay Culkin as Pedroia, this film aims to highlight the undying will of small stature phenoms on baseball diamonds all across the galaxy. Also features Manny Ramirez as the evil space alien predator intent on disrupting all things Red Sox until the bitter intergalactic end.
Jacked! The Alex Rodriguez Story
Pre-production on this film has been stalled until Alex can get his entire story straight. While the writers continue to amend the script as best they can, more problems seem eminent as Vin Diesel, originally slated to star as A-Rod, pulled out of the project noting that not even he would subject himself to performance enhancing drugs, whether his trusted cousin bought them in the D.R. or not.
Yeah, I Hit .213 Last Year, What’s It to Ya, Buddy? The Khalil Greene Story
Sean Penn stars in this not-so-action-packed drama about how decent defense often allows a poor offensive performer to wallow in the ongoing apathy that is the San Diego Padres (and later, St. Louis Cardinals).
Where Have I Gone? The Rafael Palmeiro Story
In perhaps the most poignantly cast role of the century, Tony Danza portrays PED-raging anti-hero Rafael Palmeiro not because he looks like him (he doesn’t) but because his career is as equally irrelevant.
And finally, what promises to be a most entertaining entanglement of hopes, dreams, egos and narcissism:
Me, Me, Me! The Curt Schilling Story
Posthumously directed by Stanley Kubrick, this tale of unfettered vainglory explores the tired, whiny affectations of one number 38 through standard Kubrick mind-busts like a minimalistic score and plenty of drawn-out steady-cam shots. Accurately portraying the role of Schilling will be the outspoken and very homosexual Nathan Lane. Who else to better force Curt into yet another self-consuming fit of rage than a flamboyantly gay ultra-liberal left wing Broadway icon with plenty of career left in him?
Yes, my friends, going to the movies has never seemed so good.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Peace,
Jeffy
The Modern Era All-Corrupt Baseball-Politico Team
Clearly established is the fact that perhaps nothing is what it seems these days. From Alex Rodriguez gallivanting around the Dominican streets with his cousin scoring steroid sauce because he was “young and stupid” to Larry Craig simply taking a timeout in an airport restroom because he needed to “relax”, we, as US Americans, would be doing ourselves and our country a great disservice by not postulating the underlying motives and behind-the-scenes shenanigans that make up our anti-apotheoses of leadership.
Guilty until proven innocent?
Why not? This is America after all. We do what we want, when we want (see Iraq, Guantanamo, “W” for more information).
Baseball, democracy, Erin Andrews being all hot and sexy… these are as astutely American as a Paris Hilton reality television show; so it should be no surprise when they eventually fall victim to our insatiable desire for dirt.
So why not celebrate the fecundity of our backpage headliners… bring them together, assemble a stellar nine to barnstorm the backwoods, villages and small towns of this great nation?
Well, I have thought about it and I am all for it and I am doing something about it, damnit.
Dear readers, I now present the All-Corrupt Baseball-Politico Team:
Marion Barry — CF
At the top of the lineup we need speed; and who better to give us speed than a bonafide crackhead? Believe me, folks, Barry will get on base — perhaps even manage to free-base — all the while giving pitchers (and Washingtonians) nightmares better fit for an episode of The Wire.
Eliot Spitzer — 2B
He’s scrappy, he’s fast, he leaves his socks on. With a name like Spitzer (see Roberto Alomar), Eliot’s the guy I want at second base. As patient in the number two hole (wink, wink) as he was hypocritical during his gubernatorial reign, Eliot is a surefire shot taker whom I definitely want on my team because he knows where to buy all the hot chicks.
Kwame Kilpatrick — 1B
The bigger, the fatter, the sloppier the man, the better the first baseman. Well, at least that is how they do things in Detroit. And Kwame, though once a sharp dresser, now looks a bit haggard after those 99 days in jail. The fact is, defensively liable players often end up at first base. On the plus side, Kwame is a big target and he has the agile hands of a 14 year-old text messaging champion.
Bill Clinton — 3B
No one knows his way around third base better than Slick Willy. Besides, this position requires a bit of flash peppered with a sprig of charm… not to mention an oh-so-faint cheating character. Of course, there are doubts that Clinton could handle the duties of a clean-up man (refer to the stained blue dress) but if we know anything, we know that Bubba is always full of surprises.
John Edwards — SS
Protect a cheater with a cheater: enter John Edwards.
Rod Blagojevich — DH
Now here’s a guy who comes to play, pays to play, forces others to pay to play, whatever; he’s a player. Widely known as a bit of a primper, Blago manages to fill the flashy DH role better than most. His only drawback: if you take him out of the game he will continue to run his idiot mouth.
Roland Burris — RF
Admittedly, the only reason Roland has a spot on this squad is because he’s in tight with the DH; but by now we all know it didn’t take long for Burris to wield his own personal bat of corruption and make a stately name for himself. And let’s face it: Burris has quick feet, able to change his story faster than you can say Chicago Democratic Machine.
George Ryan — LF
Bringing up the rear of our team’s famed corrupt Illinois politician trifecta (CITP) is the always forlorn oft uninteresting George Ryan. He’s fat. He’s slow. He’s a left fielder. But the man knows how to sell contracts, licenses and leases on behalf of his team, so it’s always good to have a guy who can get things when you’re on the road half the season.
Dick Cheney — C
The scowling shot-caller. The calloused captain. The man who hides behind a mask. With the entire field in front of him and myriad opportunities to talk s*** behind people’s backs, it is quite evident that Cheney was born to catch. More fierce than a misguided, misled, mishandled bombardier, he’ll chat the opposing hitter up as much as possible, flashing his hunting rifle from time to time to gain a psychological edge. Arrrrggghhh.
Larry Craig — P
Bringing up the rear, ahem, Larry Craig is one of those subversive anomalies of the baseball-politico reality. Sure, he can pitch; but he can catch too, which makes him all the more valuable to a team going long and far down that dirt road called destiny.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Peace,
Jeffy
Being There (Part I)
Yes, I was. Yes, he did. Go crazy, folks! Go crazy!
As my friend, Mr. Lung, mentioned yesterday, I was indeed present at the inauguration of our 44th President, Barack Hussein Obama. And honestly, the only way I can describe the event is by comparing it to an early (or possibly late, although I have no experience with that) season baseball game. You know the kind of game I’m talking about, where you think you’re wearing plenty of layers but you figure out 30 minutes into it that you will never be warm again. But at the same time, you don’t care about a couple of numb fingers and toes because moments like this don’t come along every day.
Even now, I’m trying to sort through all the emotions that come along with an occasion like this. Of course there’s pride in knowing that for all our faults as a nation we always find a way to overcome them. And there’s hope, echoed in the words of the inaugural address, “Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.” There’s also a little bit of uncertainty because, let’s face it, these are not easy times in which we live and, as the President said, we all share in a “collective failure to make hard choices.”
But I guess what I feel most of all right now is relief. Relief that the unwashed hordes will soon leave my city. Relief that almost all disasters were averted. And relief that the stewardship of the country has passed into the hands of President Obama and his team.
At the same time, there were also events that left me conflicted. I freely admit that I am no fan of former President Bush and I’m sure I’ve written many scathing criticisms of him in these pages. But, the man was still our democratically elected President and because of that he deserves respect. Perhaps his opinions and his decisions don’t always deserve respect but the man and the office do. That’s why it left me a little unsettled today to hear people booing whenever President Bush’s face was shown on the screens. I understand the atmosphere and I understand the strong feelings. But, even if the inauguration felt like a sporting event and even if President Obama is the Michael Jordan of politics, there’s no excuse for booing his competition.
So, there you have my initial, unvarnished thoughts. And I’ll bring you more along with a roundup of the absolutely ridiculous coronation, uh, I mean concert I attended on Sunday.
-A
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