Its probably best that this one is left without much of a comment since it pretty much speaks for itself. Which is another way of saying I'm not feeling motivated enough to come up with anything right now.
Go ahead and post your own caption in the comments.
Has anyone else been noticing the shit going down with the University of Colorado football program? It started off with recruits laying pipe on some prostitutes, then came the allegations of sexual assault by female trainers (shock), and now there's a report that this orgy was paid for via a slush fund stocked from the revenues earned by Gary Barnett's football camp for children. Now how many felonies is that exactly?
You remember the movie Pinocchio? The part where he goes to the amusement park with the other bad kids, smokes cigars, watches nudie shows, drinks scotch and then turns into a donkey? Well, stop dreaming, my friends, that place exists. Its a wonderfully beautiful place nestled in a town called Boulder. Except in Colorado the football team pays fat chicks to screw the donkeys. ¡Ay, Dios mio!
I just got done reading up on Bonds' latest tirade to the media. I swear to God I've known dogs more intelligent than this idiot. Here's my favorite example of a little Bonds down-syndrome logic:
"You want to define cheating in America? When they make a shirt in Korea for a $1.50 and sell it here for 500 bucks? And you ask me what cheating means?
Who the fuck buys a $500 t-shirt? Introduce me to this person as I'd like to hit him in the face. But with the head for figures that Bonds has I'm sure he was bent over more than a few times by his 'roids dealer.
"Hey, Victor, I think this bag feels a little light."
"What?"
"I'm just saying it seems a little less than usual."
"You think I'd fuck you over Barry? That's 25 centimeters of Andro, just like every other week."
"Alright...but I thought it was measured in grams?"
"Barry, that's metric. We're in America here. You don't want to look foolish now do you?"
"Of course not. Damn metrics, why can't those wetbacks learn English like the rest of us!?"
"Don't worry Barry. You're the greatest."
"Yea, you're right, I am the greatest."
"Oh, and Barry, you gave me a twenty and I gave you back change for a fifty. So if you could just give me back 3 twenties we'll be even."
I'm watching Sportscenter this morning as I nurse a wicked hangover. I actually quit watching this 1 hour shitfest years ago and now rely exclusively on ESPNews. John Clayton just got done with his "NFL Free Agency Scorecard." Apparently all you have to do is sign a boatload of over-the-hill vets to huge contracts and this guy will label you a winner. As Master Shake would say, "Yeah, that's original. Will you for once, think outside, the freakin' box!" His winners were, of course, Dallas, Carolina and Oakland. All of these teams did bring in a new group to fill some important holes, but, Jesus, Dallas paid a 9 million bonus to a 33 year old OG who wasn't even the best guard on his own team. And 12 million for Anthony freakin' Henry? Did Dallas not notice that the Browns were absolutely terrible in pass defense last year? In what was one of the best NFL offseason articles I've ever read, Len Pasquarelli summed up the problem with Oakland's signing of Lamont Jordan, "That's the kind of money you lay out for a proven back, a guy with multiple 1,000-yard seasons and a few trips to the Pro Bowl. "
I'll give you my own take on winners and losers later in this post, but Clayton's report is symptomatic of sports journalism as a whole; a fetid wasteland where few ever express any original thought. Maybe that's a bit overboard, but is it that difficult to compare the new signings to salaries of other comparable players to determine if that signing was really so special? That might require a modicum of research and we're talking ESPN, so of course not.
Here's my list of the real results:
Losers:
Winners:
UPDATE: Caught this in an article on Jeremiah Trotter, the Eagles are quite good at the business side of football in case you haven't noticed:
"That's amazing," a league source said. "How do they get away with that? I can't believe with the money being thrown around to slightly above-average players that a player like Trotter would take that kind of deal. Good for them."
For those of you who miss the only thing that makes hockey
watchable, and for the rest of us who are just thankful that ESPN can devote the
extra air time bringing us up-to-the-minute coverage of Maurice Clarett’s bowel
movements, I bring you the latest from the world of college basketball.
Not to be outdone,
Good Luck to Klabo, Ingram, and all semi-literate college ballers who dream of becoming semi-literate millionaires.
With the news that Moss has finally been shown the door in Minnesota, I just want to take this moment to tally the score:
Adam 1
NFL Owners 0
Red McComb's tried to take our battle public by cowardly challenging me with statements to the press--as noted in this past piece--and by attempting to sell his team in a midnight-hour move to avoid my scathing pen. But I declare this a victory with Moss being shipped to the shitiest city in the US.
And one can only think that Jerry Porter must be pretty fucking pissed.
Most sports fans were busy watching the NBA All-Star game this past Sunday. I know some of you out there are not fond of “professional street ball” and didn't watch the game. After pounding some PBR and watching left turns for hours, some of you were probably pretty tore up. But after your hero lost to a classy northerner and the exhaustion set in from having an enjoyable evening with your wife that even Samari Rolle (or, if you're a lefty, Jason Kidd) could respect, you probably couldn’t manage to stay awake until the halftime show.
So for those of you that were passed out by then, I'll give you a
short recap of what you missed. Likely due to the ever -present FCC attempts to
avoid the further display of more dirty, filthy titty, the show was devoid of hip-hop, Sprite-drinking marketing and, instead, included some rather outstanding NASCAR-style
entertainment, replete with midgets and banjoes. From the 30 seconds I saw
of it, I’m sure it was something spectacular.
Every so often ESPN Radio actually
serves a purpose other than providing unemployed jackasses a forum to
fellate Jim Rome for a couple of hours. On Sunday night I was
lowering my IQ by listening to hard-hitting sports coverage of the
NBA Slam Dunk Contest when a a caller broke-in to comment on a previous segment about steroids
in sports, or more exactly, to defend steroids in sports. And you
know what? The man's got a point.
Every athelete injecting straight testosterone into his ass cheeks will most likely suffer all kinds kinds of maladies in the future, such as hats-don't-fit, bacne, bitch tits, liver damage, heart disease, stroke, and in some cases, severe, debilitating brain damage . So where are the positives? Well, for us die-hard sports fans, I can think of one.
Hey, Barry Bonds, Bill Romanowski, Sammy Sosa, Jason Giambi, and Jose Canseco, guess what? Compared to yours, my junk is huge. That's right. With your limp, atrophied genitalia, your steroid use ensures that I could laugh you out of any locker room. Heck, you probably couldn't give me a run for my money if you stacked them end to end. And it's irreversible!
I say, let them shoot up! You athletes can earn your millions, break all the record books, jack testicle shrinking juice into your thights, and go on a roid rage here and there. In exchange, we male fans will give you smug, mine's-bigger-than-yours looks and make sure our significant others don't make it too obvious when they point to your package and snicker. Don't even bother with a sock—we know the truth.
In fact, there are not nearly enough athletes on steroids for my liking. There are definitely some who need to get started immediately, simply because they make me feel insecure:
Shawn Bradley:
There's no way that "The Mantis" is on steroids, and that really bothers me. There's nothing worse knowing a gawky white guy made completely of elbows should be bigger than me. Allow me to introduce you to BALCO, Shawn.
The WNBA:
Introducing steroids into women's basketball can actually have a twofold effect. First , the games might actually be half as entertaining as an XFL game ('roid rage chick fights!). Secondly, you know somebody has to be packing in the locker room.
Earl Boykins:
This should be self explanatory. It'll just help me sleep better at night.
Keep those steroids flowing. There are a whole lot of fans for you guys to measure up to, and you guys have a lot of work to do.
With the NHL safely out of the picture and Spring around the corner, its time to turn to the true sport of the season. Ultra shitty basketball played by girls who were too ugly to be cheerleaders and turned to athletics to get the attention that their Father never gave.
We thought we'd bring you the first Role Model WNBA scouting report of the offseason. We'll start off with last year's champions; the Seattle Storm.
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Free agency hasn't begun and the draft is still months away, but the Cardinals have already made the biggest splash this offseason by changing their logo. There are a lot of jokes here (HEADLINE: Cardinals pass on the penis pump and surgically enhance their pecker instead) and even some sad social commentaries (Bored with the Native American activists, NFL decides to piss of the Asians). But I think its impossible to expound on the sheer absurdity of some of the quotes by Cardinals' personnel on the newest logo to grace thousands of unsold hats and shirts.
"The outline is in black," Michael Bidwill said. "We've made the beak much more predatory and much more aggressive. The face is much more streamlined. It's faster looking. The eye has been described as mean, we'll say tough. We've taken tail feathers and given them speed, as well."
"As they say, it's not the size of the bird in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the bird," coach Dennis Green said. "The cardinal is a small bird, but it can be a very aggressive bird. That's the idea."
"The only birds I know about are the duck and the dove and the quail, birds that you shoot," the Cardinals quarterback said. "You're not really supposed to shoot cardinals. I don't know if I'd shoot this bird. It looks pretty mean. This bird might pull a gun out and shoot right back at you."
On an unrelated note, the Senior Bowl occurs this weekend. Its just this little event where all the top college players show their wares for all NFL coaching staffs. Make that all staffs minus one, since the Cardinals had more important things to do. Drafting talented players really is overrated anyway.
Brett Favre: Favre
Want to hear stories about a handful of dead relatives, a near-fatal Vicodin addiction, and a person people idolize despite? Give this sunny page-turner a try!
Lance Armstrong: It's Not About the Bike: My Journey Back to Life
I've got one testicle, lungs the size of trash bags, and a wicked hot wife. Now read my book.
Muhammad Ali: The Soul of a Butterfly : Reflections on Life's Journey
I fought a lot and then I shook a lot. Thrilling!
Ric Bucher: Yao: A Life in Two Worlds
This is ridiculous. He's 24 and he has an effing biography. Save yourself the time and just read this abridged version: Yao's really freaking tall and Yao comes from China.
John Wooden: They Call Me Coach
Sure, sure you won 10 national championships, including 7 consecutively, but you think people should read your book over Marv Albert's? When was the last time you bit a hooker on the back and forced her to perform oral sex after she refused a threesome? I didn't think so.
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