Results tagged ‘ President ’
To begin, a warm welcome, reader, you of discerning taste
and eye, to the maiden voyage of Ninemen’s Morris, a clear voice rising
above the innumerable newsman’s clanging gongs.
Here you shall encounter cogent commentary on the politic of the day,
juxtaposed with tantalizing tid-bits from this season in the national
past-time. In our first column, we turn
our attention to a crucial topic: this first year of a fledgling
What is this brand of nouveau dandyism practiced by the
current administration? The cloying
pretense of free trade and thinly-veiled cronyism only further illustrates
their disconnectitude from the American main.
I cannot abide his minced words and Nancy-boy intellectual caterwauling. In a fearful harbinger, in June it was this
johnny-come-lately’s duty to throw out the first pitch for a clash of titans at
Griffiths Park. Our gastropod of a new
president was seen to fling the sphere short of home plate by many a yard, all
the more length his atrophied limb would aspire!
This is the leader of our fair republic? Please!
A finer metaphor for his soft-lipped foreign policy and his craven
crumbling in the crucible of overseas conflicts I could not conceive. Endure this so-called Dollar Diplomacy? I would sooner have my shins sluiced by the
sharpened spikes of the Georgia Peach, Tyrus Cobb!
On the diamond, an historic battle is shaping up clearly in
this season, a pas-de-deux between the elegiac behemoth, Johanus Wagner, and
that aforementioned centerfield hit-smith.
The Detroit man’s vitriol is well known (to quote one sporting
columnist, “he would climb a mountain to punch an echo.”) It may well be that the echo in greatest need
of punching is that crafty and classical shortstop from Pittsburg. A study in contrasts, these two men play in
styles so differing they could be two separate sports.
An equal contrast comes current in the governance of our new
president, as opposed to his predecessor.
Where Roosevelt was a man of action, and given to a spiking style (does
his big stick not slightly resemble Ty Cobb’s Louisville Slugger?), Taft is a
soft, gentlemanly sort, of a disposition more to demure than vociferate. Already his rhetoric against the Trusts
brings to mind the gentle way of the Dutchman Honus Wagner, a man far more
likely to even the playing field with a kind word than to spike the unwary
second baseman’s leg on a steal. (Though
on pace to steal over 700 bases in his career he may well be, I query still,
where the teeth?! Where the threat?!)
As we tread unwillingly into the end of our summertime, and
the autumnal pennant race begins its inexorable warm-up, we shall watch with
interest the progress of these titans,
and pray for as hardy a disposition in the capital. Though he spoke of his profession, it could
just as easily be the office of the president that Cobb referenced when heard
to say, “it is a grown up game for grown up men. It is no pink tea. Mollycoddles better stay out.”
Hear you that, elephantine executive?!
– – –
Silas ‘Red’ Quigley
Editorial correspondent for the Boston Wax-Intelligencer. Editor/Publisher of various workers rights
publications, sporting weeklies, and Ladies Garment Journals. As a youth he was attache to Henry Chadwick (claims to be the
uncredited co-creator of the box score).
For more on the nature of Ninemen’s Morris, please click *HERE*
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.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
In recent weeks, much ado has been made about the ongoing interweb scuffle between bloggers and “real” journalists. From JRod’s mental wanderings on Raul Ibanez to Geoff Baker’s self-serving opus dei to Hugging Harold Reynolds‘ public flaying of Jay Mariotti, everyone seems to be getting in on the controversy — creating it even.
I’m sure JRod is pretty pleased, if for nothing else than for being noticed (albeit harshly). As sports bloggers, isn’t that all we really want? To be noticed?
Apparently, this is the best way to go. Stir up some real crap.
So I’m gonna.
The following are very, very, very TRUE:
- Vegetarian or not, Prince Fielder is fat
- In my “fantasies”, Yadier Molina and Albert Pujols always fan me with palm tree leaves from the side while I… y’know, do my thing
- The color orange is on steroids!!!!
- Rush Limbaugh is also fat… and annoying
- Babe Ruth was only awesome because he had to overcome and compensate for the fact that he had a girl’s last name (and breasts)
- Barack Obama is a smoker. Deal with it, yo!
- Bud Selig is as good at being commissioner of baseball as the Washington Nationals are at being champions of baseball
- I spent a lot of money on Cardinals games during the summer of 1998, in awe of Mark McGwire, realizing that something fishy might be going on, but, like you, didn’t care that much about it ‘cuz it was friggin’ awesome. Like Selig, I too, looked the other way; but I would still make a much better commissioner of baseball than he because this All-Star Game’s “this time it counts” thing is absolutely ridiculous.
- Our earth is flat; gravity is just some bulls*** made up by Communists
- Manny Ramirez is Predator… and a cheater and annoying; but in a few days no one will remember that he got popped for taking a banned substance… and just in case you’re wondering, no, Manny is not fat — just big-haired.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m a fire-starter, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
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.