November 30, 2007
This Is The End for the Knicks. Last night’s stomping by the Celts showed them up for what they are, a Coney Island sideshow of fruits and nuts.
Nothing against Isiah Thomas. He had a great record as a player, but as a manager he reeks like a barrel of rotten fish heads. He has put together a Dirty Dozen of spoiled misfits, only he doesn’t have the ability to mold them into a fighting force. The played like a schoolyard pickup-up team, and they were mowed down by Boston’s well-oiled professionals, who played like a coordinated team with a purpose.
The Celts had a comprehensive defense that didn’t let the Knicks even get near enough to the basket to set anything up. The Knicks were reduced to taking all their shots from the outside and were only able to score 25%. The Celts had a passing game that kept the Knicks running around like a Keystone Kops Komedy movie. The Celts were well-drilled in the fundamentals. Ray Allen shows up three hours before each game to practice all his moves, like a professional who takes his job seriously, while the Knicks are mugging to gangsta rap on their freakin’ iPods.
The Celts dug deep and broke up everything that the Knicks tried to put together, which wasn’t hard since the Knicks get their playbook out of the funny papers. They are not a team but a collection of mama’s boys. They are a reeking Porto-San that needs to get flushed out.
Isiah Thomas gets such a lack of respect that the Boston hotel where he was staying locked him out of his room for a joke. Wotta moron! He put together a team of retards and now he hasn’t got the slightest idea what to do with these tomato cans. He’s too soft to handle this gang of reform school class clowns
Meantime, Dolan is away on vacation, like he really gives a freak! He is too stoopid to replace Thomas because he wouldn’t know what to do and he doesn’t have the mental capacity to figure it out.
The Knicks looked OK against the Bulls because they are also a gang of 2-8 losers, but when our boys came up against a real team with values they collapsed like one of those imploded Atlantic City casinos.
Demolished, that’s the word. It was like the Polish cavalry going up against the German Panzer tanks, a comedy of terrors.
Oh, it’s going to be a looong winter of derision and humiliation for New York as this gang of retards presents us as a doormat for the rest of the country! Thanks for nothing, you freaks!
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Posted on 11/30/2007
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November 29, 2007
Thank you, Mutt Romney, the king of Massachusetts! I promised the administration of Fan Nation that I would not write any more rude things about Boston, but what am I supposed to do when Massachusetts' favorite son goes on national television and says, "All of America hates the Yankees"?Romney calls himself a Mormon but he's really a Moron. He looks like a freakin' Barbie Doll with that haircut. Whaddaya want, he passed a law that men can marry each other, and now he's for Family Values. What family, Larry Craig's? Wotta froot! No wonder Giuliani went over to the Red Sox, he feels right at home wearing his dresses up in Cape Cod.Do me a big favor - leave the Yankees out of Republican politics, OK? New York doesn't care about Belichek's cheating, and we don't care about Boston blowing gas out of their butts from eating all the beans. We got bigger fish to fry.Boston has got some good teams right now, and that's very nice for them since they don't have anything else. But that too shall pass, and Boston will go back to being a flyspeck on the map, while New York will always be New York and the Yanks will always be the Yanks. Long Live The Yankees Forever. Amen!
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Posted on 11/29/2007
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November 28, 2007
“You’re a loser!” “Why don’t you pull yourself up by your bootstraps?” “You’re weird! You don’t smile enough. That’s why you can’t keep a job, with that face!” “You drank all the vodka yesterday. That’s why you couldn’t do the laundry.” “Why can’t you do what I tell you?” “You smoke so much, you’re going to ruin your health!”
Geez, no wonder I smoke so much! Life is tough enough right now, with jobs drying up because of Bush’s brilliant economy and thousands of people being dumped onto the labor force, competing for the meager crumbs of work that are left, but I also have to deal with a hostile home environment as well.
“Plus ça change, plus c’est la meme chose.” My life with women resembles nothing so much as an old W.C. Fields movie, wherein he is hounded and terrorized to the brink of insanity by lunatic, loudmouth women, spoiled kids and biting dogs. I managed to avoid ratty children demanding $200 sneakers and iPhones. Happily, no woman ever considered me a decent sucker for a paternity scam, as happened numerous times to my father and uncle. I’m just too nasty. But, unfortunately, I am ensnarled by what is laughingly referred to as “the weaker sex.”
My mother once advised me, “Women feel overpowered by men, so they respond with the one weapon left to them, language.” Amen to that! The only problem is that the women’s liberation movement, instead of empowering them toward equality and self-reliance, has just devolved into a kind of institutional nagging marathon. It’s just old wine in new bottles.
Here’s an example: a European female blogger who is enormously popular over there has just published a book entitled “How To Live With A Twat,” the “twat” being her boyfriend, naturally. The book is so well regarded that a European bureaucrat in charge of promoting The New Europe chose to honor its launching party with her presence.
Now ask yourself this question: if I published a book called “My Girlfriend is a Cunt,” do you think a member of government would come around to congratulate me, or would I be honored with chanting demonstrations and book burnings?
Anyway, if she hates the guy so much, how come she compares him with that defining aspect of her own physiognomy? The actual equivalent of this is if I were to call my book “My Girlfriend is a Dick.” This misnaming of her book only serves to illuminate the central complaint of men, that women are dizzy.
Who am I to argue with no less an authority than Chairman Mao, who philosophized that “women hold up half the sky”. Fine, only why can’t they hold up their half in a more stoic, silent manner so that our half can watch the game?
Most men are intimidated into silence, at first because of the threat of no more sex, and then later because all the assets are in her name. Fortunately, I have had sex with my girlfriend so much over the years that it has now become meaningless and I don’t have any assets, so what have I got left to use? Let me be the spokesman for all the men who have been cowed into silence.
This is not to say that I don’t support Hillary Clinton. She seems sensible enough. Angela Merkel hasn’t destroyed Germany. Yet. And Hillary’s opponents are not that manly anyway. In fact, Giuliani loves wearing dresses.
The only problem is, what if Clinton turns out to be a confused mess like Israel’s only female prime minister, the beloved Golda Meir, who left that country vulnerable to an unsuspected sneak attack in 1973 that cost the lives of thousands of Israeli soldiers; or Indira Gandhi, who was finally assassinated by her own Sikh bodyguards?
Or what about France’s attempt at a female prime minister, Edith Cresson, who was sacked immediately after confiding to a journalist that 25% of British males were homosexual? All people entertain these kinds of outrageous notions, but it takes a particularly female mentality to share them with a working journalist. The new French president, Sarkozy, just scored a big win over his opponent, who happened to be female.
What is remarkable, however, is the total lack of interest in any prospective female leadership in Britain, a country that not too long ago suffered eight years of Margaret Thatcher’s hectoring, this in a country where the men are no slouches at tedious moralizing themselves. If you think about it, England has had exactly four queens, one of whom inflicted a monstrous sexual inhibition that still bears her name on the world; and another whose most notable achievement was to execute her own cousin and the mother to her successor.
When I was totally hormone-driven I put up with a lot from women. Now, less so. I have found that the best way to drive them nuts is to tell them a joke. They mostly have no sense of humor whatever, especially about themselves. Another way to drive them bonkers is to say these four little words: “Mind your own business.” That is sure to get the fur flying.
But just be careful. After hundreds and thousands of years of complaining about violence against women, they are striking back in increasingly gruesome ways: the woman who strangled her sleeping husband, who had just bought her a new house in Long Island, and then tearfully cried to the jury that he had abused her, moving that body to refuse to indict her; or the woman who beat another woman to death with a club for telling her “black women don’t have any money” (she says), and now her attorney is claiming that the cops coerced the confession out of her.
Anyway, even if the victim did say that, should Condoleeza Rice have suffered a similar fate for telling the jewelry shop assistant “I have money and you don’t.”
They look cute, but so do female wolverines.
I believe that the way to counter the almost-complete female domination of society has to evolve into the political arena, and that’s why I am starting a movement called “SHUT THE %$#@ UP!”
Check it out! www.200motels.net
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Posted on 11/28/2007
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November 24, 2007
Sports betting is like playing the stock market. In order to be successful at it you have to be comfortable with its inherently corrupt nature. Most betters do not possess the inside information necessary to make an informed decision. Some of the most brilliant financial geniuses in this country are people you never heard of because they have names like Vito and Sal. They perfected the techniques of hedging and risk management when the concepts of derivatives and options were just a twinkle in Morgan Stanley's mother's eye. With all the chaos in the banking industry and the stock market, you don't hear of any problems in sports betting, except for maybe fewer suckers due to a general economic slowdown.One characteristic trait sports betting shares with the stock market is "pump and dump", which is setting up marks to take unwise positions by generating false publicity. Companies that want to unload worthless stock frequently bribe analysts and financial writers to generate favorable publicity to lure unwary investors. Bookmakers will pay sportswriters to intentionally mislead suckers to place unbelievably poor bets.A blatant example of this is an unbelievably sickening headline in Thursday's New York Post, "Jets Will Be ‘Boy Busters", favoring the Jets to beat the Cowboys by a point spread of 14 points. Now you would have to be the world's biggest moron to bet the 2-8 Jets over the 9-1 Cowboys at a 14-point spread, but there are probably enough big morons to make it profitable for the betting syndicates to shoot a few bucks to hungry Post writers for them to plant such a juicy piece of bulls** *.That Post writers accept bribes to write lies and false news is an established fact, as The Post itself was forced to admit earlier this year in response to a lawsuit brought against them by a fired journalist. The Post admitted that accepting bribes and gratuities in return for publishing favorable stories was not only accepted, but encouraged by News Corp. as a way to keep salaries low.The Post is not alone in this Porto-San of constitutionally protected expression, but leading with an item of blatant nonsense giving the Jets a 14 point edge over the Cowboys, by whom they were run over, trampled, crushed, flattened and pulverized as though by a steamroller, is the most outrageous example of journalistic abuse this side of communist Pravda.
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Posted on 11/24/2007
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November 22, 2007
When Isiah Thomas finally walks out the door of Madison Square Garden, directly behind him should walk James Dolan, who is the sorriest excuse for a team owner that ever existed.When asked about his son's disastrous administration of that misbegotten franchise, Big Boss Charles Dolan, was reported to have replied, "I'm too busy to worry about the Knicks."Sports is part of culture and history, and the Knicks are a cornerstone of the edifice of New York civilization. They were here before anybody ever heard of the Dolan family, and they'll be here long after that family is forgotten. The idea that they can be used as a plaything for a useless fatman is enough to inflame even the most sedate sports fan. You want to find something to amuse useless freakin' James Dolan? Buy him an erection set!There is a by-law that says that if a team is mismanaged to the extent of chaos and disintegration by a useless fatman, the NBA can appoint a trusteeship to take over management until stability is restored. Naturally, the Dolan family would instruct their idiot attorneys, who mismanaged the Anucha Browne-Sanders lawsuit, to file a motion in court to block such a move, so the only thing for scandalized New Yorkers is to wait until the team is such a pathetic joke that the Dolan family eventually loses interest in being portrayed as buffoons and decide to sell. But by then the rest of us will be in Bellevue psycho ward, having been driven crazy from watching the Titanic crash over and over again, a basketball version of "Groundhog Day" that re-runs endlessly until we repent for our sins.New York is the story of the blind men and the elephant. Depending what part you are touching, that is what the animal resembles. For me the Knicks is America on a small scale. In New York you got the Knicks and in the U.S. you got the disastrous economy; in New York you got spoiled, lazy fatman James Dolan, and in the U.S. you got spoiled lazy idiot rich kid Bush; James Dolan hires Isiah Thomas because nobody likes to hire somebody smarter than he is; Bush got a whole gang of losers and dummies."Groundhog Day," that's what life is right now. Fall on your knees and repent!
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Posted on 11/22/2007
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November 22, 2007
I admit that I don't know shit about point spreads. I couldn't give you the odds on the NFL if my life depended on it. I once had a boss who knew all that stuff. He knew football, basketball and horseracing. He knew so much that one time his bookmaker sent a couple of goons up to our company to hang him out the window by his heels until the Big Boss opened the safe and paid them to let him live. When he retired they gave him his retirement pay in one lump sum, which he had to turn the whole amount over to his bookie.Another sports expert I knew blows so much money betting football that he can't even keep a telephone in his house. His wife left him even though she still loved him.What qualifies me to write about sports is that I work out more in one week than most Americans work out in a year. I haven't let my gym membership expire in 25 years. Everybody I know I met in gyms. I run, lift weights, box, practice Tae Kwon Do and kickboxing, you name it - anything to move and sweat. Arnold Schwartznegger is my supreme hero and "Muscle And Fitness" is my bible.Oh, I follow the New York teams, but it's hard for me to sit still and watch unless I'm drinking. Like a lot of hard-core gym rats, I would rather be working out than watching somebody else play.Every friend I've got I met in a gym. If you don't play sports, fuck off. I don't like fat people and I don't like skinny people. Athletes have got the best values and they are the only people to have for friends. Look at Greg Anderson. He trained Barry Bonds, and Bonds is such a prick that it can't have been that memorable of an experience. But it was a professional relationship, and when the feds started crawling all over Anderson about what he knew about Bonds, Anderson clammed up.A personal trainer working in Greg Anderson's capacity for a professional athlete like Barry Bonds doesn't just stand there and count repetitions while Bonds does ab twists with a medicine ball. He is fully engaged in designing a nutrition and training program for his client to get results. Anderson intimately understood every muscle group in Bonds' body and how it got that way. Greg Anderson knew more about Barry Bonds than Bonds' girlfriend or his mother. But it was a confidential professional relationship that you don't discuss with anybody. Just because some flatfoot investigator comes into the gym and demands that you spill your guts out or some venal, ambitious assistant U.S. Attorney drags you before a federal grand jury to betray your client's confidence does not mean that it is the right thing to do.As far as I know, Anderson himself is not accused of doing anything illegal or unethical. He simply is not willing to say what he knows about Bonds' behavior, which he feels is information imparted to him under terms of confidentiality.Strictly speaking, under the law Anderson is not protected by the same guarantees of confidentiality that cover licensed attorneys or physicians. But he is unwilling to betray that confidence and he has suffered immeasurably, spending years in jail for refusing to rat Bonds out. Susan MacDougall also suffered the same way when the Republican congressional committees trying to dig up dirt on Clinton locked her up for years in solitary confinement, kept her in chains and let her sick husband die in jail, all because she refused to spill her guts to them about what she knew about the Clintons (not that she knew anything, but she refused to tell them anything). So don't ask me why I hate Republicans, OK?What do I care about Barry Bonds? Quite aside from the fact that he stinks as a human being and that he ingested poison to enhance his athletic performance, he cheated other ball players and brought misery onto baseball. Fuck the asterisk, I'd like to see the stupid ball pulverized by a steamroller.But the feds don't have the physical evidence that is needed to convict Bonds in a court of law on drugs, only on supposed perjury. And lacking that they are cheating the same way Bonds cheated, by bringing destruction upon innocent people who are only incidentally involved to try to get them to roll over on him. If they can wring an admission out of Bonds that he cheated like they did with Marion Jones and strip him of his records so much the better, but not at the expense of honest people who work for a living.If they can do this to Anderson and Susan Macdougall, they can do anything to anybody. That's why we have constitutional guarantees in place, to protect us from tyrannical authority. That's what America is supposed to be all about.All I know is, if I find myself in a problematic situation, I hope I have a decent guy like Greg Anderson around to watch my back.
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Posted on 11/22/2007
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November 19, 2007
Sorry, but there's nothing more revolting than sanctimony in the service of social conformity. I'm not in favor of steroids. I never took them and I'm sure I saved myself a lot of grief, particularly when I see some of Vince Macmahon's former trained seals on TV, who no longer have the use of their legs, or are even dead.But if you're going to indict Barry Bonds for lying to a grand jury four years ago about doing something that wasn't even illegal seven years ago, then I think the witch trials are going too far.This situation of making people testify under oath about their private business, even when no laws have been broken, has its modern origins in the anticommunist witch hunts of the 1950's, where they went after artists for things they ostensibly did in the 1930's. It was the same garbage:"I didn't attend this meeting in 1935.""Well, we say you did, and we have this witness, Joe Schmucko, who saw you there. So we're going to indict you for lying about being a commie twenty years ago."Same shit. Only now nobody cares about commies, but everybody loves sports. So in order to distract the public from the huge Republican blunders concerning Iraq, the economy, the dollar, the housing scandal, torture, Katrina, gas prices and all the other multifarious fuck-ups of the Bush administration they're trying to skin Barry Bonds alive in a Star Chamber proceeding (look it up).
If they want to ban steroids, fine. Let them do it according to procedure, which is that you first pass a law and you then try to enforce it, not retroactively targeting unpopular public figures for something they did when it wasn't even illegal
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Posted on 11/19/2007
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November 18, 2007
Political Correctness has a new class of victims to protect – pigeons! Urban Wildlife Coalition founder Johana Clearfield wrote a letter to City Council speaker Christine Quinn, castigating her for referring to the little darlings as “flying rats.”
Hey, pigeons got feelings too. But like every other New Yorker, they don’t mind dishing it out. They don’t mind defecating all over the place, including on your head. They don’t mind infesting people’s balconies and driving them to drink. They don’t mind flying or creeping into food processing areas and contaminating victuals.
That’s what they are, rats. They spread filth and disease, the same as rats. New York pigeons are worse than rats because, unlike rats, they’re not intimidated by people. They’ll fly right into your head. They’ll fly into airplane engines and cause planes to crash. If you leave your window open, they’ll fly right into your house looking for food.
Pigeons are nauseating, filthy, disgusting creatures that eat garbage and contaminate the environment.I have a lot of pigeon experience. When I was a manager at P&K Bagels (“A Puke In Every Bite”) one of my jobs was to keep freakin’ pigeons from flying in through the loading dock and shitting all over the bagels in the packing area, I kid you not. On the ground I had to worry about the rats and roaches, and in the air I had to worry about the flies and the pigeons.
Nothing could deter the pigeons. They are really smart when it comes to food, and a bakery, with all its grains and seeds, is a pigeon’s target of preference. The little buggers used to roost on trucks in the street and wait for something to happen. In the process of unloading pallets of baking materials from delivery trucks, the forklift drivers would inevitably cause a bag to rip, spilling sesame or poppy seeds all over the street, which the pigeons would zoom in on.
The morning was the best time for the pigeons because that was when the garbage trucks came to pick up tons of the unbelievably rancid bakery waste that is necessarily a by-product of the industrial baking process. Hundreds of garbage bags of corn meal, vegetable oil mixed with filthy bagel fragments that had fallen through the conveyor, huge fermented clumps of rotten dough oozing grease, flour swept up from the floor, petrified pieces of bread dislodged from in between the moving parts of the machinery, crates of product that had been soaked by leaking pipes in the walk-in freezer and then left to re-freeze all over again, the whole mess dislodged at great effort with axes and crowbars and torn out of the caked ice by use of a mechanically powered jack, the whole stinking mess being loaded into two yard dumpsters and picked up at dawn in a not-too-delicate process that left the street in front of the factory with a gooey film of filth looking like a huge diseased carcass that the vultures had abandoned to the smaller scavengers. The pigeons, just waking up, would dig into this mess with the gusto of a Hollywood cocktail party, and this was the scene that confronted me as I arrived to begin my day.
I would organize a clean-up crew and have the place in order in an hour’s time, before the city inspectors came around.The pigeons, meanwhile, would retreat to the tops of parked trucks to await another target of opportunity. This wasn’t a flock of birds, it was a gang. If the loading dock was left unattended, a line of them would stealthily creep in. When they were approached, they would casually stroll back out and go back to the truck to bide their time.
This cat-and-mouse went on incessantly, eternally. As long as the bakery was there, the pigeons would be there. One time I bought an ultrasonic device on the Internet for $500 that was guaranteed to drive the pigeons nuts. After I had built a little shelf for it and installed it at the front of the loading dock, I walked away. When I returned later, the thing was humming away – with a pigeon sitting atop it!
Nothing stops these birds, not machines, not inflatable owls or scarecrows. The only thing that works is to pay a Mexican to chase them with a broom all day long, like vegetable stores pay guys to watch the fruit displayed outside.
The most horrible thing is to see somebody actually feeding the little buggers. Crowds of them eating and defecating and feathers flying all over the place, and some retard giving them food.Yuck!A monetary fine is too good for these weirdos. They ought to be made to live in a cage with the vermin, but that would be cruel and unusual punishment, because these birds spread encephalitis.
Feeding them birth control sounds like a good solution. Anyway a lot of those birds are perverts. One time I was watching a pigeon on top of another pigeon, doing the nasty thing. After they finished, to my absolute astonishment, the pigeon that had been on the bottom jumped on the one that had been on top and started doing it to him! A third pigeon, who had been watching the scene along with me, became offended and walked over and broke the whole thing up.
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Posted on 11/18/2007
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November 18, 2007
The Rats and the Roaches ran amokWith a meatball that fell out of the pizza delivery truckThey decided to hold their championship gameIn the alley underneath the elevated train
The Roaches kicked off and sent the ball
To Frankie The Rat who had just broke out of the Rikers Island jailThe Rats' quarterback was sackedBy a gang of waterbugs that jumped on his backHe fumbled the ball to the dismay of the coachAnd it was recovered by Norman The RoachThe Roaches had the advantage in running the ballBecause they had more legs and could run up the wall
At half-time the score was Roaches 6, Rats zero
The Rats decided to send in their heroJake was the toughest rat on the streetHe wore little cleats that fit on his rat feetHe said ‘Freddie you go short and Joe you go long‘I'll break through the line because I am so strong'
When the meatball was snapped the Roaches piled in
And swarmed all over Jake like a jungle, JimA hundred roaches gathered roundBut still they could not bring him downJake The Rat crushed them under his feetAnd cracked their bodies with his cleats
Jake scored the touchdown and kicked the conversion
The Rats won by a whisker and that's the official versionAfter the game was the victory paradeWhere The Rats ate the meatball and drank Gatorade
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Posted on 11/18/2007
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November 17, 2007
The Knicks looked so fantastic against the Nuggets last week that I thought it was the Second Coming. Now I feel like the guy who bends down to pick up a dollar only to discover that it is tied to a string and is being pulled away in a cruel joke.This week they are back to their old form, which is a group of nut cases so pathetic that even a grasping, scheming Anucha Browne Sanders can make a monkey out of them in a phony civil suit.Even as she is off in some balmy, tropical clime with $11million to keep her warm, the Knicks are working overtime to ensure that no edifice will be left standing in their little empire of knuckleheads. Marbury is hardly part of the team anymore, Collins and Balkman are literally on crutches, Eddy Curry seems to be sleepwalking, Isiah Thomas is in a catatonic state from which he is only aroused by the hysterical screaming and threats directed at him in post-game meetings with James Dolan (I am not present at those meetings, but I have worked for guys like Dolan. How could it be otherwise?).New York sports is at its all-time historic low, made all the worse by the triumphalist bleatings of our erstwhile suckers, Boston, who now beat us with a triumvirate of championship clubs: the Celts, the Patriots and the Red Sox.Certainly we are not losing out for lack of wealth spent to attract sports talent. New York is prepared to spend vast sums to lure the highest quality of stars. Part of our decline as an empire might be environmental, and I don't mean pollution, but a poorly designed physical environment which has been constructed without consideration being given to the metaphysical spiritual laws of feng shui. In spite of the vast sums being consecrated to new constructions I have often felt that we are living in a world out of balance.My opinion is that the City is being punished for worshipping false gods. New York was built on manufacturing and transportation. We have lost our manufacturing capacity and our transportation infrastructure and replaced them with shylocking and communications. People only dream of getting rich without working, by living off interest or clicking a computer mouse. This general slackness and loss of resolve translates into a public atmosphere of unreal expectations, which permeates sports management. If you think that this is illusory, think about the Knicks for a minute. The Knicks should have been back on their feet years ago, and not a load of garbage smooth-talked by Isiah Thomas. They should have beaten Anucha Browne Sanders in her phony lawsuit, but nobody in the front office or among their high-priced team of attorneys took a leadership role in controlling the case and coaching stoopid freakin' Marbury and Thomas in how to comport themselves on the courthouse steps or in the courtroom. The Knicks ended up getting their butts handed to them by an ignorant, greedy, grasping idiot of a woman.By the same token, James Dolan should have gotten rid of Isiah Thomas and read the riot act to the players years ago, but Dolan himself, a product of nepotism, is, aside from hysterical behavior, quite unqualified to administer even a hot dog stand.There is obviously a paralyzing dysfunction at the Knicks management level. Nobody is in charge. Nobody wants to work. The players are the Designated Suckers. It's not because of their lack of talent. It's because they are not being managed intelligently. A very smart guy once counseled me, "There are no bad workers, only bad supervisors."Why does Isiah Thomas still have a job? Steinbrenner got rid of Joe Torre, despite his having a very distinguished record, when the Yanks flunked out of the playoffs. How long would he have lasted if the Yanks had spent year after year in the cellar, like the Knicks?The Knicks is not a player problem. It is a management problem. But the managerial class as it's now presently constituted is not up to world-class standards. Maybe the Knicks should bring in a manager who knows nothing about basketball. Top managers move from industry to industry all the time. If you can manage one business successfully you can manage another.But as long as Charles Dolan owns the Knicks this is unlikely to happen. The Dolans make their real money from Cablevision. The Knicks are just the toy for Charles Dolan's fat, useless son, James, and the fans are just the suckers.Part of the problem is the players' union. Now that the players have so much power, the way the contracts are written makes it impossible to control them with the threat of dismissal for non-performance. And since most of the players are young persons with little or no work experience, they are very difficult to manage.Every year Isiah Thomas comes back with the same lame excuse, "It is a young team that needs time to develop." Blah blah blah. Maybe next year. Mañana. Those are the shopworn bleatings of a turkey who is trying to hold onto his job. Only, even the stupidest boss in the world is not going to buy a bill of goods like that. Unless, of course, the boss is the Big Boss' idiot son with a pineapple for a head. I wouldn't trust James Dolan to feed the birds in my pet store.Even the most stultified sports team eventually divests itself of its expired talent, as the moribund Jets proved when the finally jettisoned Chad Pennington after a disastrous start. Only Isiah Thomas seems to be immune to this fundamental law of nature.
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Posted on 11/17/2007
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November 15, 2007
This lady told me, “Anybody who says ‘good morning’ is not a real New Yorker.
I’ll drink to that.This ‘good morning’, Happy Face garbage is rotting my mind. Give me a good-natured grouch anytime! New Yorkers these days are expected to walk around mellowed-out on Prozac, smiling like freakin’ bobble heads.
Under the old New York rules you had an absolute duty to ignore other people because anybody who spoke to strangers was a nut-job and a criminal who meant to do you harm.
Now, with Political Correctness, you’re obliged to defer to any weirdo who elects to waste your time like he was royalty or the pope.
I have never even gotten to know any of my neighbors. Neighbors are evil things. They spy on you and keep tabs on you like secret police. They rat you out to the cops and talk about you to the newspapers. My girlfriend, Magpie, who believes in smiling, saying hello to people who don’t count for shit and being a good neighbor, lives in mortal fear that the neighbors will figure out that all the liquor bottles we throw out belong to us and start to gossip that we are alcoholics (hic!).
style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ffd700; "> This whole trend of neighborliness goes back to that prick Giuliani, who was determined to make New York into a sanitized Disneyland so that people from the suburbs would be happy. So now they’re happy and New Yorkers are miserable. Giuliani reduced crime and murder, and that’s good, but he tried to shut down the Brooklyn Museum because his white bread sensibilities were offended by the modern art, and he was determined to remold the city in the image of a working-class, ethnic suburban rube, which is what he is.
How Giuliani has gotten as far as he has is beyond my comprehension, except for an axiom developed by political analyst H.L. Mencken that “Nobody ever lost money underestimating the intelligence of the American public.”
Anyway, the closer we get to election day, the more clearly the map of Giuliani’s little world will come clear, revealing him to be a hybrid orchid consisting of one part J. Edgar Hoover, one part Larry Craig with a few dashes of Bernard Kerik, Jeanine Pirro, The Vagina Monologues and Judith Regan thrown in for garish display. If Rudolph Giuliani is an example of the clear-headedness of drug-free America, pass me that joint over here!
But I salute that lady in Long Island who, when somebody who happened to be bicycling through her neighborhood smiled at her and told her “Good Morning!” assaulted him with a rake, pistol-whipped him with a gun she happened to be carrying and ran over him with her SUV. I say, right on lady! We have to get back to get back to traditional values.
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Posted on 11/15/2007
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November 15, 2007
Can you spare a few bucks to help out A-ROD? He needs the money now that he's taking a pay cut to go back to work for Steinbrenner for a lousy $275mil. If he would have kept his mouth shut and just played baseball, the Yanks would have signed him for $300million. But OH NO! he had to listen to his genius agent, Boras, who told him to play hard-to-get. Now the $20 million the Yankees were supposed to get from the Texas Rangers as part of A-ROD's original deal has to come out of A-ROD's end.Not only that, but as part of the new contract A-ROD has to participate in a special ceremony on the pitcher's mound at Yankee Stadium next year. According to the agreement A-ROD will say "Forgive me, boss, for I have sinned," and will plant a big smootcheroo on Steinbrenner's patriarchical posterior as thousands of fans cheer.A-ROD may soon be joined at the Millionaires' Soup Kitchen by Knicks' super foul-up, Stephon Marbury. Whereas A-ROD plays like a professional athlete and had a legitimate contract issue, Marbury, with his sneakers and his ho's and his personality issues, behaves as though playing basketball is the last thing on his mind. With all his flying around on airplanes, leaving the team, joining the team etc., the odds are that he's going to eventually run into his spiritual godfather, OJ, who is also a frequent flier, and who will give him some tips on how to become a major league idiot.Marbury's stupid, all right. He's squandering all the gifts God gave him. It's only a matter of time before he ends up in the Foul-Ups Hall of Fame with Rodman and Tyson, wrestling a tag-team of pygmy dwarfs in a Slobovian circus ring, and he will have ample time to reflect at his leisure how he should have kept his mouth shut and just took the money.Even James Dolan, who has got to be one of the biggest morons who ever existed, who is not even capable of managing a hot dog stand or feeding fish to the seals in the Central Park Zoo, is eventually going to figure out that Marbury is doing the Knicks more harm than good and is then going to shovel him into the rubbish bin along with Isiah Thomas.
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Posted on 11/15/2007
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November 15, 2007
How much of Norman Mailer’s belligerent attitude was formed by growing up in a world where the Jew was the Designated Sucker even unto the point where half the world set on a feeding frenzy of blood-lust against that race while the other half just stood by and mutely observed is an appropriate subject for meditation. Maybe if his formative years had been spent in a world where Israel, with the world’s most accomplished military and intelligence service had already existed; a world where the enemies of the Jewish people tremble at the thought of the Sword of Gideon, where Jewish submarines prowl the seas, where the Jewish Uzi machine gun is the weapon of choice in every corner of the world, Mailer’s mind would not have been twisted into a Gordian Knot of inadequacy, hostility and defensive aggression, and he would have been able to artistically interpret the world from a freer and more universal base of comprehension.
Likewise, if he had been born into a larger and more impressive physique he might not have felt threatened by his women, who, after all, were about the same size he was. The funny thing about Norman Mailer’s antagonism towards women is that he always felt the need to keep them around him. He was married six times. I have also had a life of endless problems with women and girls. If you’re heterosexual and driven by hormones there’s no alternative. But I never felt compelled to marry one. My father and my uncle were each also married five times. I’ve been living with my present woman for five years and, believe me, this will be the last go-round for me. If I am lucky enough to survive this latest disaster I will be very happy to live a bachelor’s life going into my old age.
Mailer had more in common with his female adversaries than he would ever have cared to admit – a sense of physical diminutiveness and powerlessness that propelled him into an attitude of perversity. What kind of man is he who feels the need to take after his wife and puncture her with a ballpoint pen? He employed a lot of female tricks, like verbal aggression against a much larger guy, knowing that the guy would be forced to restrain himself for fear of going to jail.
I read some of his books.The one I liked best was “The Executioner’s Song” about Gary Gilmore, who was executed for murder. Mailer was responsible for springing another murderer, Jack Abbott, from prison once because he could write a little bit, but immediately after being released Abbott stabbed another man to death and was immediately sent back. After that Mailer never again involved himself in social issues.
Mailer and Ernest Hemingway were consumed by the ideal of the writer as a man of action. Hemingway was able to see the world as a traveling correspondent for The Toronto Star. André Malraux was born into an environment of adventurers, his father and grandfather having traveled widely throughout Africa and the Maghreb. This additionally frustrated Mailer who, with the exception of serving in World War II as a cook, hardly ever left New York.
Maybe if he really spent more time in foreign places and prowled the exotic climes of Soviet Samarkand and Ushuaia instead staying ensconced lifelong in the Brooklyn that he both detested and couldn’t tear himself away from (like with his women) he could have become the man of action that he always promoted himself and dreamed of being.Maybe..
Mailer did his best work while he was still young and then lived ever after on his previous accomplishments. Another writer like that who comes to mind is Hunter S. Thompson, who, well into his sixties, had to refer back to “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas,” which he wrote close to a half-century ago, in order to validate himself. Didn’t these writers learn anything new later in their lives, when they should have known a lot more? Writers are not intellectuals, they’re artists. Tolstoy inspired a whole generation with the beauty of his philosophy, but he died without being able to resolve the contradiction of his own personal unhappiness. (Incidentally, one of the major themes of “War and Peace” was the alacrity with which men went to war to escape their women and live in a masculine environment)
The writers of Mailer’s age were all a psychological mess. Never mind Hunter S. Thompson, he burnt out immediately. Saul Bellow was so emotionally fragile that he couldn’t even be in the room with anybody who was even remotely a threat to him. Once he met Nelson Algren in a Chicago bar for a drink, by pre-arrangement, and he walked out after five minutes.
Algren was another tough guy writer, what with the motorcycle jacket.Hunter S. Thompson liked to shoot off firearms. There used to be a guy named Eric Hoffer who was a philosophical stevedore. Where the tough guy nonsense came from, who knows? But it goes back to my theory that these people started writing at too young an age and later felt the need to authenticate themselves as something other than sterile academics. I don’t include André Malraux in this because he was a rarified species indeed, who pursued his dreams of the queen of Sheba and the volcanoes of Chicastenango many times nearly at the cost of his life. These guys who start writing at age 20, what can they possibly think they have to share with the world? I only properly started writing after I had flunked out of every other earthly pursuit ha-ha! That is not strictly true, but the things I wrote as a young man so distressed people who were invested in their self-image of bourgeois respectability that whatever merit I manifested was buried by their natural human instinct to pretend to ignore the unpleasantness of the realities I ignited.
Mailer is the last of his breed – literary writers who actually had something to say. The modern age is as sterile as “Brave New World.” I’ll use for my example the Frenchman, Houllebecq, who is shallow and narrow as a gutter, an office worker and sex tourist possessing no literary depth whatsoever. The only element that presents even a possibility of literary expression is the Internet, where writers can take their case directly to the reading public without being squeezed through a strainer by the publishing establishment.
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Posted on 11/15/2007
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November 13, 2007
Puerto Rican welterweight boxer Miguel Cotto kept his promise to win the WBA Championship belt from Shane Mosley Saturday night at Madison Square Garden is a unanimous decision after 12 rounds of dynamic boxing. It was a slugfest from the first round to the last, with each fighter landing an astounding 248 punches on his opponent.
Cotto said of Mosley, “He hits hard.It hurt!”For his part, Mosley said of Cotto, “He is a young lion and he will be a great fighter.” It was Cotto’s second victory at the Garden this year and the fourth Garden victory of his career.
The arena was packed to the rafters with raucous fans, mostly Puerto Ricans, who hailed their new national hero, a native of the city of Borinquen.
Cotto immediately flew home and was greeted at San Juan’s Luis Muñoz Marin Airport by Puerto Rican Secretary of State Fernando Bonilla, who hailed him as a “great Puerto Rican who will raise high the flag of Puerto Rico.”
Cotto was then driven in a motorcade to the city of Caguas, where he was celebrated in an exciting rally. He is expected to defend his title against the Mexican fighter Antonio Margarito, who knocked out Texan Golden Johnson in 2 minutes 38 seconds of the first round for the International Welterweight Division title of the WBO.
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Posted on 11/13/2007
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November 13, 2007
I want A-ROD to go to the Dodgers. He’ll be the biggest star in Hollywood.Instead of just hitting the ball over the fence, he’ll hit it over the security fence into Mexico and hit some DP’s in the head ha-ha!
With $350mil in the bank, he can buy Michael Jackson’s old place. Only instead of inviting little kids over he can invite a whole gang of stripper to spend the night. But he better watch out that his wife don’t chase him around the grounds with The A-ROD Miracle Bat. One shot with that baby and he’ll be in orbit with the space shuttle.
He can go surfing in Malibu.Heck, with his money he can buy the Pacific Ocean. When the Yanks come out there to play A-ROD can take them over to Hollywood Boulevard, which he’ll own, and show them his star in the sidewalk. When he gets invited to put his hands in the cement in the Chinese Theater he can put in Steinbrenner’s butt instead.
He can be in the movies.Arnold Schwartznegger, eat your heart out.Tom Cruise can be his batboy. They can change Disneyland to A-RODland and Scott Boras sell tickets. Joe Torre can be the Sphinx of Egypt.OJ can be in charge of security. Fans can throw baseballs at a target and land Derek Jeter in a barrel of water.
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When the pope visits LA next year and says mass in Dodger Stadium, A-ROD can give him a mitt and hit him a few fly balls.
He can produce a Hollywood remake of “The Fly” with Joba Chamberlain crying “Help me! Help me!”
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Posted on 11/13/2007
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November 12, 2007
The Dominican Republic has produced some of the greatest stars in Major League Baseball.
Baseball was brought there by Cuban sailors, who organized a game while their ship was at port in the capitol, Santo Domingo.
The Dominican professional league was formed in 1890 with two teams. In 1907 the Ozama and Nuevo Club teams were founded in the city of Licey. Licey was the unchallenged capital of baseball.Eventually there were three teams, San Carlos, Los Muchachos and Delco Lite. The best players from these teams left and formed Los Escogidos in 1921, which became one of the greatest teams in Dominican baseball history and in Caribbean baseball.
Because of internal political turmoil, that country was occupied by U.S. Marines from 1916-24, who were instrumental in popularizing the sport throughout the country.
Under Dominican dictator Rafael Batista, Licey and Escogido fused into one team, Los Dragones de Ciudad Trujillo, as the capitol was renamed under his dictatorship.Trujillo poured a lot of money into the team and brought in players from Cuba, Puerto Rico and the U.S.
Los Dragones lost money each year because Trujillo paid the players top dollar. In 1955, he built the DR’s first stadium with lights for night games.
In 1964 Trujillo was assasinated by a man wielding a machine gun.
One hundred years after the foundation of Dominican baseball, the league has five teams: Los Tigres de Licey, Los Leones de Escogido, Las Estrellas Orientes in the city of San Pedro de Macorís, Los Aquilas de Santiago and Los Azucareros del Este (the Sugar Cane Cutters) in the resort city of La Romana.
Nobody can deny the fanatical dedication of the Dominican people for baseball. That country has produced some of MLB’s greatest stars, such as Sammy Sosa, Manny Ramirez, Pedro Martinez and many others. The Dominican Republic has become the capital of winter baseball from October to February, during the off-season. Fans bring conga drums to the games and drink piña coladas as well as Presidente Beer.
A nuestros pelateros dominicanos les dicemos con gusto, “¡Saludos, amigos!”
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Posted on 11/12/2007
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November 11, 2007
Nov. 6 – Eye gouging, knees to the groin, kidney punching and biting.These were some of the features that characterized British boxing up to the nineteenth century until a noble sportsman, the Marquess of Queensbury, decided he had seen enough and set about codifying a system of rules to regulate the sport.Boxing was to be brought up to Victorian standards of behavior, exemplifying the standard of gentlemanly comportment appropriate to an Empire upon which the sun never set and the standards of civilized behavior extended even unto the arena.
The impact of these socializing impulses exist right up to the present day, as exemplified by the Olympic Games, which were resuscitated from their ancient origins by the French nobleman, Baron de Coubertin, to become the world’s foremost athletic event.
The spirit of the Marquess of Queensbury must have been smiling at ringside Tuesday night at the Patriot Center in Fairfax, VA, where two extremely rough gentlemen of the Super Middleweight class, Joey Gilbert and Jimmy Lang, both 159 lbs., put on an exemplary performance of pugilism in a scheduled 12 round contest to decide the NABO championship in that division.
These were not poverty-stricken denizens fighting their way out of the inner city.Gilbert, 29, a native of Reno, NV, is an accredited attorney belonging to the Nevada Bar Association.His opponent, Jimmy Lang, also 29, hails from the blue-blood precincts of Northern Virginia, domiciled a scant 15 minutes’ drive from the Patriot Center.
Pierce Brosnan and George Clooney, eat your hearts out!These guys are the real deal: young gentlemen hardened by the best training techniques in the world of sport and thousands of hours of grueling aerobic conditioning and repetitive tightening and hardening of muscle groups.They are at the peak of athletic performance, benefiting from all the material advantages that this Great Nation has to offer.
These old boys were not strangers.In addition to training together in various gyms and participating in numerous sparring sessions against each other, they had even lived together as roommates.Not only that.This fight was a rematch to settle a dispute over a previous contest between the two, wherein Gilbert had been awarded the victory by a unanimous decision of the judges.Since the victory was by decision, Jimmy Lang felt he had a legitimate beef.“This fight is a revenge fight to show [Gilbert] that his victory was a fluke,” he said.
In anticipation of the title bout, the audience was treated to a little bit of a middleweight clown show between Derek Ennis of Philadelphia and Roland Cummings of Youngstown, OH, a city situated near the border between Ohio and West Virginia, a real nasty former coal mining and steel producing city historically overrun by gangsters and possessing a tradition of producing very grisly boxers.
In contrast to the featured attractions on the ticket, these two guys were more in the traditional mode of hardscrabble fighters.Ennis, 22 years old, was looking to make a name for himself in the ‘hood and Cummings, a mature 40, needed the cash.
The fight was a foregone conclusion.Cummings, in lamentable shape, charged out of his corner and, hoping to achieve a miracle, used up his whole pathetic arsenal of resources in the first thirty seconds of the first round, which Ennis cannily avoided by allowing himself to be chased around until his stalker ran out of steam.Then, as Cummings’ legs turned to licorice sticks, Ennis methodically controlled him against the ropes with jabs setting up combinations that knocked Cummings silly.Miraculously, Cummings survived the first round but was heard to reply to his trainer’s question as to how he felt, “Terrible!”
Mercifully for all concerned, the ref stopped the fight in the second round, as Ennis, pummeling Cummings into the ropes, prepared to administer the coup de grâce.There certainly exist conditions for 40 year-old boxers to vanquish 22 year-old ones, but not in this case.Anyway, after expenses are deducted Cummings hopefully had bus fare back to Youngstown, where a job probably awaits him at Larry’s Car Wash.
The assembled thousands awaited breathlessly as the darkened arena throbbed with the jungle rhythms of hip-hop music while Lang entered the ring, followed by Gilbert in a black hooded robe reminiscent of the Grim Reaper and accompanied by the apocalyptic shrieking of heavy metal rock.I’m not advocating a return to the old ways, but one of these fighters is going to go down in ignominious defeat made all the more humiliating by his grand theatrical entrance into the arena.Maybe it would be more prudent to save the sound effects, flashing lights and pyrotechnics for after the match, but that’s just one opinion.
At the first bell the boys, who knew very well each other’s fighting style, tentatively felt out each other’s attitude and conditioning.It quickly became apparent that Lang’s strategy would be to stay outside from Gilbert and lead with the left jab in hopes of finding an opening.Gilbert was counting on his superior strength and conditioning to fight at close range.Gilbert boldly stepped inside and overpowered Lang with hard left jabs and combinations, staying on top of Lang until the bell.
Between bells, Lang’s trainer told him to keep moving to his right, but in the second round Lang, immediately under pressure from Gilbert, forgot the advice and circled to the left, which brought him within victim’s range of Gilbert’s right hand.As the round progressed, Lang, overpowered by Gilbert’s poise and conditioning, tried to keep away from Gilbert and let his ring experience and instinct for survival carry him forward until the match would reach a point where Gilbert would tire and Lang could set up some kind of program to dispatch him.Gilbert was not getting tired, however.Seeming to benefit from superior endurance and conditioning, he continually stepped inside and delivered straight punches and hooks, driving Lang onto the ropes and not allowing him to escape.
The crowd was going berserk at all the action and at ringside some of the most beautiful girls you ever saw, all dolled up in cocktail dresses and pearl necklaces, were on their feet punching and shouting their lungs out.Boy, are these guys lucky!
At the bell for the third round, it came clear that Gilbert was totally in control of the match.He immediately moved in close to Lang, forcing him into a corner and bombarding him with heavy artillery.Lang, who was counting on an outside fight, found himself pinned and helpless, unable to escape or fight back.The ref, after waiting a sufficient amount of time to allow Lang to mount a defense, determined that his cause was lost and stopped the punishment before any permanent damage was inflicted on the man.The decision was a TKO in favor of Gilbert in the third round.
Pandemonium erupted in the arena.In a beautiful display of sportsmanship, Gilbert went over to Lang and, putting his arm around Lang’s shoulders, told him something complimentary.Lang, obviously shattered from his second defeat by Gilbert, was morose, but he accepted the consolation without being unpleasant.
At the postfight inverview, Gilbert, elated, credited his victory to his trainers whom, he said, had gotten him in the best shape of his life.He declared himself to be only now warmed up and said he was ready to fight another opponent then and there.Asked about his future plans, this 29 year-old replied, endearingly, “Whatever [my handlers] tell me.”
www.200motels.net. CHECK IT OUT!
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November 09, 2007
Hi folks, this is FORMER Yankees third baseman Alex Rodriguez for The Baseball Channel. Y'know, a lot of fans ask me, "A-ROD, after a hard night of chasing blondes in the strip clubs, how do you find the energy to hit so many home runs and RBI's?"Well, the answer is: I don't. This isn't my real body at all. It's an inflatable Spiderman suit. My real body looks like Pee-Wee Herman. The real secret of my slugging success is in this little beauty - The A-ROD Miracle Bat!That's right, folks, The A-ROD Miracle Bat eliminates the need for messy steroid injections and uncomfortable grand jury interrogations. All you need are three easy credit card payments of $49.95 and home run batting records are yours for the breaking.The startling new technology in composite materials has permitted our technicians to produce a bat composed entirely of compressed coconut shell fragments from Dominican palm trees specially selected from the beach of Punta Cana. The bats are then lovingly polished by our beautiful team of bikini-clad bat polishers using chicken fat consecrated by a certified Santeria witch doctor. The result is a light, durable hitting machine of unparalleled hardness. Here, I'll just try it out on Derek Jeter's head."Oww, that hurts!"See what I mean, folks? In addition, if you turn the bat up towards the sky and look through the small end it doubles as a telescope, so that after you knock the ball into outer space you can track it as it revolves in orbit around the earth. Oops, it looks like one of my shots knocked some insulation off the Space Shuttle. Sorry about that!And it's convenient. As you can see here it fits into small spaces like George Steinbrenner's butt.So don't delay. Get out your credit card and call today. To the first hundred callers we will include absolutely free of charge a digital recording of Joda Chamberlain and the Cleveland Indians Choir singing their heartfelt rendition of the old romantic classic "Flies Gets In Your Eyes".
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Posted on 11/9/2007
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November 08, 2007
Giuliani demonstrates his fellatio technique before admirers
New York’s war on sex continues apace as the National Organization For Women announced new successes in their campaign to drive commercial sex underground with the suppression of sex ads in 15 publications this year.
Bravo, ladies, but what are guys supposed to do who can’t get women by normal means? No matter how you look at it, sex is an economic activity, only “honest” women expect a bigger pay-off in terms of engagement rings, vacation trips, theater dates, etc. All NOW is doing is eliminating the lower-price competition. The real bad actors, the Mexican whorehouses that line Roosevelt Avenue in Queens, or the oriental brothels in Chinatown, don’t advertise in New York Magazine and are not going to be driven out by marauding society ladies waving umbrellas. All that NOW is doing is enforcing an environment of Victorian priggishness to keep the Anglo-Saxon world in chains.
What about guys with physical deformities? How are they supposed to get sex in the “normal” sexual marketplace? I know a guy 5’2” who is fat, bald, stone-deaf and speaks with such a speech impediment that he is impossible to understand. This guy is no ball of fire in a pick-up bar. Fortunately for him he is able to send out to Asian Escorts for a really fine oriental girl, whom he pays a couple of hundred bucks. This way he at least feels like he is part of the human race instead of an outcast.
I wouldn’t care that they are trying to drive sex underground if there was a designated red-light district with social recognition for sex workers like there is in Europe. Then it would be regulated for fair treatment and disease control. At the very least society needs to adopt a more tolerant attitude for that other oppressed minority, socially inept and disabled heterosexual men.
Anyway, how come this sexual persecution totally ignores gay men, because NOW is afraid to confront the gay pressure groups? Why is it Rudolph Giuliani shut down the heterosexual sex trade in New York and then moved in with a couple of gay guys? Why is he coming out in support of Bernard Kerik even as Kerik is getting indicted for taking payoffs from the mafia, while Giuliani is running for president? What does Kerik know about Giuliani?
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November 08, 2007
Nov. 6 – The Knicks came back on three separate occasions from double-digit deficits to wrestle the initiative away from the Nuggets and Allen Iverson (who scored 32 points) to forge ahead and ultimately emerge victorious in a very physical game. The final score was 119-112.
They played like a team and not like a disparate collection of free agents, like a disciplined unit and not a pick-up squad. All their talent and grit came to the fore. Eddy Curry getting inside and wrestling away rebounds, fighting his way in and pirouetting to do fancy lay-ups. Reynaldo Balkman playing muscular defense and ball-handling with dexterous facility. There was no fighting, but Iverson busted his lip on Stephon Marbury’s head and Curry caught an elbow in the face, holding up game up for a time-out.
Four Knicks players scored 20 points. At the post-game press conference Isiah Thomas appeared completely poised and relaxed. Of Balkman he said, “Reynaldo completely changed the game for us. He played with great intelligence and ability.
“I liked the tenacity and ability that they played with. They played physical and tough.” Thomas spoke about his long-term strategic goals for the team. “We have so much growth yet to come. We are a relatively young team in terms of age…We want to get to the point where we can come out every night and explode.”
Speaking of the enthusiastic fan response, Thomas said, “The crowd was spectacular and loud, so I had to get a little closer to mid-court so the players could hear me.”
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Posted on 11/8/2007
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November 07, 2007
How the mighty have fallen! Just as the statue of Saddam Hussein was toppled by a U.S. armored vehicle and danced upon by happy thronging masses of liberated Iraqis, so has the historic edifice that is Dolphins former head coach Don Shula been reduced from his title as the most successful team manager in the history of the NFL and a historic figure in American athletics, trampled underfoot by that most ignominious and reviled mob of primitive sports rabble, the ignoramus bostonicus, or Boston sports fan. Not content to leave the great man even a shred of dignity, the Boston mob viciously assaulted his age, his motives for expressing his opinion and his honor. "A jealous, senile old fool," was the characterization employed to describe Shula by the leader of this dull-witted crowd of pitchfork wielding peasants, a snorting porker who shall be called Napoleon The Pig for purposes of this essay.Napoleon The Pig was the villainous, stinking swine in George Orwell's allegorical novel "Animal Farm," wherein Napoleon leads a revolt of the barnyard animals, who honk and crow at his odious pronouncements until, once he has established himself in power, they realize that they have overthrown the farmer only to become the subjugated victims of a stinking, vile garbage-eating porcine petty dictator.Don Shula's offense was concluding, simultaneously with this writer, that Patriots head coach Bill Belichek was guilty of industrial espionage in the Patriots-Jets game, and that this fact should not be lost on the historical record of the Patriots' winning season.
I had written my asterisk story on Monday, but I was too tired from my job to type it up on my computer when I returned home. I figured that it was just another wild piece that I had composed, and that the world could certainly wait another day (week/month/year?) to read it.
Imagine my stupendous astonishment when I awoke on Tuesday morning only to find that overnight Don Shula had arrived at almost exactly the same conclusion: that if Barry Bonds deserved an asterisk on his home run ball, Bill Belichek deserved to have one tattooed on his backside!Only my analysis went considerably farther, speculating that the videotaping of the Jets tactical signals had represented only a part of a much broader pattern of criminal activity. For this one offense Belichek received a $500,000 fine and Pats were penalized $250,000 and one draft pick.My supposition is only reinforced by the NFL commissioner's decision to have the recorded images destroyed and not released for public analysis.People can make fun of the Jets and I agree. But this being the first game of the season Belichek could not have known that they would stink so bad, and he was taking no chances. He was following his standard procedure. But let's get back to Napoleon The Pig and his Greek chorus of ignorant barnyard denizens. I had previously had a couple of run-ins with this moron, once when he wrote to tell me that he disapproved of the way I was formatting my stories and imperiously demanded that I change it to suit his taste, which I declined to do. The other time, I had posted a very funny satirical piece I had written about the newly established Israeli baseball league, which he demanded I instantly remove.Evidently, he had jerked off as much as his little corkscrew pecker was able to take, and he needed something else to do with his chubby little hands. I don't take orders from any illiterate fat men from Boston, so I declined this order as well.When he couldn't get his way, Napoleon The Pig complained to Fan Nation that I had posted anti-Semitic propanganda. Not content to do that, he filed a complaint with (get this!) the Antidefamation League of B'Nai Brith, accusing me of anti-Semitism.All right, Fan Nation caved in to the threats of this swine and threw out the Israeli baseball piece. Frankly, that's small potatoes. I'm small potatoes too. But by viciously attacking Don Shula for expressing a considered opinion formed by a lifetime of experience of the most winning coach in NFL history, Napoleon The Pig and his gang of barnyard rabble are manifesting their totalitarian inclinations, which were first revealed to me when he had my joke stricken for the Fan Nation web site. He may be harmless because he is so worthless, but his ruthless destructive intentions deserve to be noted for what they say about Belichek, for whom winning, even at the price of losing his own soul, is the paramount goal.As a New Yorker, I am used to being surrounded by glory. New York has had more championships than the rest of the country combined, so if we don't win one year, no problem! The people of Boston, on the other hand, have nothing going for them at all except for a couple or recent championships. Take away sports and they have nothing, no culture, to theater, no opera, no movie or television industry, only sports. For years and decades up until the last couple of years they didn't even have any winning sports teams either except for the Celtics. Now they have some winning teams but, in the spirit of the nouveaux riches, they are not able to behave like anything but hardscrabble farm animals, to the utter revulsion of the rest of the country.This brings to mind the other part of my George Orwell analogy, that of "1984." The connection of the electronic surveillance used to steal the Jets' signals is obvious. I even offered the argument that if Belichek was prepared to use telephoto lenses, why not shotgun mikes, bugs in the locker room, bribed refs, spies or any of the other accoutrements of the modern totalitarian state?Which opinion earned me a response from one reader comparing me to the paranoid schizophrenic played by Mel Gibson in "Conspiracy Theory" (though, as I recall, the nut job guy in that movie was ultimately revealed to be completely sane). But what is even more deplorable is the attempt by these jerks to impose thought control à la Big Brother by means of threats, coercion and hysterical screaming, insulting behavior. "Don Shula is a jealous, senile old fool. He should go back to the old folks home!" "200motels is crazy and ignorant." These Belichek partisans are not upset by the facts of the case. They're just upset that anybody wants to discuss them.Anyway, Don Shula is a bigger man than Patriots fans are. He has stated that if the Pats do indeed finish the season undefeated he will drink a champagne toast to them.I will go Shula one better. If the Patriots equal the Dolphins' record for a perfect season, I will personally send to Napoleon The Pig and his barnyard crew of grunting, bleating, mooing, neighing, quacking denizens of the Pigsty Nation an entire truckload of their favorite food - garbage!
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Posted on 11/7/2007
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November 06, 2007
The new managing director of the International Monetary Fund, Dominique Strauss-Kahn of France, reiterated that body’s opinion that the dollar is still overvalued. His opinion is echoed by supermodel Giselle Bündschen, who insists on being paid in euros, and super billionaire Warren Buffett, who advises seeking refuge in non-dollar currencies.
Taken together the future prospects for the American economy do not present an encouraging perspective. Stan O’Neill, the chairman of Merrill Lynch, was let go with a severance package of $150 million after losing $10 billion for the firm. Chuck Prince has been let go from Citigroup with a comparable package after that bank suffered comparable losses.
Critics are castigating Yankees third baseman Alex Rodriguez for seeking a long-term contract in the neighborhood of $350 million, but he at least gives value for his money, unlike the aforementioned bozos, who can’t hit homeruns or field ground balls. They are so lazy and ignorant that they couldn’t even do a capable job of evaluating the real value of the billions of dollars of worthless securities their banks bought.
$350 million sounds like a lot of dough now, but it won’t seem like so much in a couple of years’ time, when a bottle of beer costs $10,000. In Colombia an iPod costs two million pesos and nobody thinks twice about it. When worst-case scenarios have been presented in past years, I always brushed them off, saying, “Nah, it’ll never come to that.” But after George Bush, where reality has surpassed any worst-case scenario that could ever be imagined, I have come to accept that the worst can indeed happen.
Even the reactionary elements know a political earthquake is coming with next year’s elections, but they behave as though it’s due to some irrationality on the part of the electorate. Fox News Channel, The New York Sun and the rest are discussing what they concede to be an inevitable Clinton presidency with a tone of incredulity. They are deploring the trend of “economic populism” and “soak the rich class warfare,” as they see it.
Even a monkey has the sense to connect the disparate elements of a situation in order to form a conclusion. If you present an ape with a banana suspended from a string and a box, he will push the box over and stand on it in order to reach the banana. The American press is not capable of following this kind of logical progression. Indeed, they were hired for their stupidity. The Mayan religion teaches that when the sun god made the first men out of corn they saw too clearly, so he destroyed them because he didn’t want his creations to have powers of observation equivalent to his own. There is a world of truth in that fable and it explains the dolts who are pre-digesting our news and opinions in accordance with the wishes of their masters, whose goal is to retain their position of dominance. What’s going on in this country is not terribly difficult to explain, but they don’t want you to know, so they intentionally confuse you with disinformation and useless nonsense, telling you that the Canadian medical system stinks (yeah, for the insurance companies), or how the Swedish economy is inferior to that of Mississippi. Pleeeeze!
The reason I seized the opportunity to write Internet articles is that I suffered a lifetime of having these idiotic opinions jammed my throat and no opportunity to fight back. What was I going to do, write them a letter?Ohhh surrre! “Dear New York Times, you are a bunch of butt-kissing, middle-brow conformists. Why don’t you tell the truth once in a while? Judith Miller is nothing but a shill for the Bush administration. Thomas Friedman is a hick writing garbled nonsense. I dare you to print this!”
Good luck!
All right, so I have an agenda that is to present a point of view at least as informed as theirs and let the reader decide. Let’s examine the facts. By whatever measure you choose to employ, George W. Bush, who became president by means of a coup d’état, has been an unmitigated disaster. All he has ever cared about was consolidating wealth and power in the hands of his friends. Even his unbelievably bellicose approach to the Middle East makes sense in that it has caused oil to rocket from $20/barrel under Clinton to its current price of $100/barrel, with the difference going into the pockets of his friends in the petroleum industry.
His destructive fiscal and monetary policies have destroyed the dollar. Whatever ambitions Hillary Clinton had to institute appropriate social programs to bring the US into line with the rest of the industrialized world, she will be forced to preside over an era of austerity that will last for many years, just to restore confidence in the American economy. The dollar is so blown out at this point that it might be easier to get rid of it completely and establish a new system of currency.
The Democrats are content to let the Iraq war drag on until Election Day. They can say, “Hey, we tried, but Bush refuses to budge. Let the electorate decide!” In the meantime Bush is pushing for a missile defense program costing in the hundreds of billions of (worthless) dollars to protect us from – Iran!!!???
The problem with the Democrats is that they are so tedious and incompetent that after a few years of watching these idiots mess up the Republicans start to seem fresh and exciting by comparison.
But if there is one issue that terrifies Hillary Clinton, it is anything to do with cars and licenses. The only time Bill Clinton ever lost an election was when he got thrown out as governor of Arkansas for raising license plate fees. It took him years of crawling on his knees and apologizing, all because he raised license plate fees by a couple of bucks.Americans are a bunch of weirdos when it comes to their automobiles, and if you put together the combination of drivers’ licenses and Mexicans it’s Welcome To My Nightmare! She tried to dodge the issue but the press and the other Democratic candidates are holding her feet to the fire, knowing that the mess of undocumented Mexican workers driving cars has no solution. She’ll stall, hoping that the issue blows over, but I would like to take a baseball bat to New York governor Eliot Spitzer, who decided to raise it as an issue right before a presidential election.
Let Spitzer eat shit!Let him withdraw the proposal to grant drivers licenses to undocumented immigrants and cop a plea that he made a mistake. Fuck him, throw him to the wolves. This country can’t stand any more Republican misrule, and the overriding issue is to get the Clintons back in power so they can get the economy on life support, or all is lost.
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Posted on 11/6/2007
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November 06, 2007
I had this piece written yesterday but I figured, what the hell, I can wait another day to post it. Now I feel like I deserve a kick in the butt because my concept was beat out by Don Shula. From now on I don't hesitate anymore. Boston fans are a bunch of lying, sanctimonious hypocrites.Generally speaking, it's rare that you catch a crook the first time that he commits a crime. Only a witless moron gets caught the first time out. Everybody knows that Bill Belichick is a cheat. He may be either a witless moron who got caught cheating for the first time in his career or a habitual criminal that the law of averages finally caught up with. Which one would you choose?It stands to reason that if he was willing to use a telescopic lens to capture the opposing team's signals, it would not be out of character for him to employ a shotgun mike to listen in on their huddles. Maybe he had the opposing locker room bugged. Maybe he had the refs paid off. Maybe he paid hookers to pick up opposing players the night before the game and wear them out. How far would Belichick have gone if he hadn't gotten caught? Indeed, what did he do before he got caught? The difference between a boat and a ship is the size of the vessel, and the difference between sports cheating and industrial espionage is the size of the monetary stakes. What is the difference between the Patriots and a garbage scow?There is a word for what Belchick was engaged in, and the word is "industrial espionage." We're not just talking about football games. We're talking about sports betting which is hundreds of millions of dollars a week. When a coach or player gets caught cheating there is always betting and big money involved. The fact of Belichick being being able to continue as the coach of the Patriots after being blatantly caught cheating indicates to this writer that big people are being greased on a national level. How is it that the crooked, mobbed-up NBA ref, Whatsisname, gets indicted and fired from his job and Belichick, who gets caught red-handed for spying, gets a meaningless monetary fine and a couple weeks later is being hailed as a genius? The whole mess should be rightfully exposed to the light of day, except by whom? The NFL is part of the establishment. You think anybody ever went to jail in ancient Rome for fixing gladiator matches in the Coliseum?This situation of Belichick getting a free pass is a perfect example of racketeering at the highest level of society. If Barry Bonds is getting an asterik, Belichick and the Patriots and the whole NFL should get a freakin' bronze statue of a 20 story-tall asterisk right in the middle of Boston Common!
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Posted on 11/6/2007
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November 05, 2007
I had a rough day at the office, dudeSo I figured I would drink some beers to put me in a better moodI turned on my flat-screen to ESPNAnd they were playing replays of the Vikings latest winAdrian Peterson tore across the fieldLike he was protected by a cosmic sonic shieldI glanced at my wallAnd there standing tallWas the aforementioned dude rushing the ballAll of a sudden he jumped into the roomThe furniture crashed with a sonic boomHe ran around my pad brushing off tacklers like fliesCatching passes, scoring touchdowns, the greatest running back aliveThe roar of the crowd made a frightening scareThe landlord started banging the doorScreaming "What's going on in there!?"All of a sudden I awoke
style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ffff99; " color="#008080">I looked around the room, nothing was brokeAdrian was back on the wall of my homeHe winked at me and said "See you next week at the Metrodome."
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Posted on 11/5/2007
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November 04, 2007
This schmuck, Larry B., got my story of Israeli baseball thrown off Fan Nation web site by complaining that I am anti-semitic, which really pisses me off because not only am I Jewish, but I come from a very distinguisned Jewish literary background. So fuck Larry. This is a poem that I composed about this fat piece of whale shit, who also happens to come from that stinking pile of offal commonly referred to as Boston. Naturally, he got fannation.com to throw my poem off too, so I am reproducing it here for the edification of New York sports fans:
This is the Ballad of Larry B. A moron in the first degree Larry’s the loudmouth plague of Fan Nation And the product of too much masturbation He drinks his lunch out a dirty spittoon His body looks like a fat balloon Ol’ Larry’s idea of playing sports Is to streak through Times Square without wearing his shorts No woman can stand him ‘cause he’s such a creep When Larry’s in town you better lock up your sheep ‘Cause Larry has got the perfect mind To appreciate a sheep’s behind Larry loves da Broons and the Red Schmucks Because his head is filled with rocks Ol’ Larry wouldn’t last a day in New York Because he is such a jork He talks like he’s a big tough man But he eats the garbage right out of the can
Larry B. is the king of air pollution
His early demise is the only solution He may believe that he’s Boston’s pride But he would do the rest of the world a favor by committing suicide Larry B. is Larry Craig’s blind date For airport toilet goofballs he is the perfect bait When Larry B. walks into the room All the men’s room idiots swoon O Larry you’ll go down in history Like all the crackpots on TV It figures that Giuliani is a Red Schmucks fan Larry B. is his kind of man I don’t anticipate that this poem will last long on Fan Nation But Larry B. is the biggest fool in God’s creation
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Posted on 11/4/2007
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November 04, 2007
Archeological remains recently discovered in Boston harbor show that it was a place where prehistoric whales used to beach themselves and puke their guts out after eating diseased seagulls. The Indian name for Boston was Wattahump, or "Place Where Lepers Relieve Shit". The original penises and limbs that fell off these unfortunate people while they were in the process of doing this have been lovingly preserved in jars of formaldehyde and put on display in Faneuil Hall, where they can be seen by unfortunate travelers who have had the bad luck to be diverted there when their flights to Montreal were turned back due to bad weather conditions.The site of modern Boston was originally a collections of primitive outhouses built by European settlers as a rest stop where the ancestors of Senator Larry B. Craig first perfected the art of tap-dancing while sitting on the john.Boston has always been jealous of New York without having a chance of emulating it, the same way Pee-Wee Herman is jealous of Arnold Schwartznegger. A dog can howl at the moon, but it's still a dog and the moon is still the moon. Back in the eighteenth century, when New York invented baseball and established its team, the glorious Yankees, Boston decided to have a team too, but they were too retarded to think up a name for it. They had a town meeting to decide on the name for the unfortunate group of misfits and mental defectives they had assembled from the insane asylum to represent them. One group wanted to call the team "The Boston Dorks" and the other group wanted to call it "The Nerds". In the middle of the fight, somebody interrupted the proceedings to ask, "What stinks so bad?" It turns out that one of the female Bostonians was wearing a pair of red underpants that she had been wearing for a month, which is the custom in Boston. The panties had originally been white but she was having her period and now they were red. Somebody said, "Let's call our team "The Boston Red Panties" and the name stuck. She took off her panties and they ran them up the flagpole. It was only after receiving complaints about the odor from the citizens of Providence RI, which was located downwind from Boston, that they replaced the ladies' nasty bloomers with a pair of odiferous red sox that somebody had stolen from a wino sleeping in the subway. For the purposes of this story, however, we shall refer to the team as the Red Schmucks.Boston had a similar experience when it came time to name their hockey team. They couldn't decide whether to call it "The Boston Losers" or "Clowns on Ice," but one member of the group mentioned that he had just seen a bear shitting in Boston Common, so they called the team "The Boston Dump", which they later changed to da Broons.Boston is famous for spending a hundred billion dollars on a highway tunnel that collapsed the first day it was open, crushing a family who was riding in their car. Their football team perfected the art of cheating by using industrial espionage techniques to steal the opposing team's signals. Boston baseball players who have had the good fortune to be traded to New York have shown their gratitude by kissing the ground New Yorkers walk on. Johnny Damon still pukes when you even mention Boston in his presence. Lately their baseball team, the Red Schmucks, has shown some ability, but scientific observers have suggested that they are all pumped up on steroids and may also be guilty of cheating by using the same techniques the Patriots used to steal catchers' hand signals.The national food of Boston is beans, which explains the gas coming out of their butt but not the hot air coming out of their mouths, as they are very tedious people. The natural flatulence of obese Bostonians has been responsible for a greenhouse effect, which is breaking up the ozone, with the resultant global warming causing large chunks of Boston to fall off into Boston Harbor. Fat Bostonians who were sunning themselves on the rocks like walruses and unable to turn over in time because of their immense girth have been sighted floating out to sea and have had to be towed back to land by Coast Guard cutters.In addition to being very plain and dull-witted, Bostonians are also extremely sanctimonious and ill-humored. Boston has never produced anybody even remotely interesting. New Yorkers have recently proposed a security fence to keep Bostonians from sneaking into New York and taking jobs away from our Mexicans who, unlike Boston, at least have a few good rock bands.
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Posted on 11/4/2007
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November 03, 2007
Let's all shed a tear for George Steinbrenner. For thirty years he's been making everybody's life miserable and now he's getting his own butt handed to him by a Latin love machine, el A-ROD!I say go for it, A-ROD! Last year, when he was in a slump, New York hounded him unmercifully. Sports writers treated him like nuclear waste and fans booed him all day long. You think a guy forgets a thing like that? I wouldn't. So he had Scott Boras telling him, "Don't worry, we'll straighten them out going forward." They filed it away with a post-it reading, "Pay these pricks back when the time is right."This season A-ROD had the greatest year of his life, which happened to coincide with his free agent status coming up. Now he's going for the money. What would you do? The dollar is not what it used to be. Steinbrenner's friends the Republicans (Steinbrenner actually served time in federal prison for making illegal campaign contributions to Richard Nixon's reelection committee, CREEP. You didn't know that, did you?) have done such a thorough job of destroying the American economy that the dollar is worth roughly half what it was relative to the euro when Clinton was the incumbent. Why should A-ROD, who is at the top of his game, be devalued along with the rest of us suckers?Unfortunately, the realistic approach to business is all about thievery. The CEO of Merrill Lynch, Stan O'Neill, walked away with a payoff of $150million after he lost $10billion for the firm. Citigroup chairman Hal Prince will get an equivalent amount for an equally shabby performance. These bozos can't hit or field or even play the guitar. But they are the boss. Conversely, If Steinbrenner and the MLB team owners were still holding the whip, they would be forcing A-ROD to work for peanuts. In 1947, when the Yanks won the World Series, Yogi Berra was paid $5,000 and he had to go to work in the off-season as a hardware store clerk.What goes around comes around. Let Hank and Hal Steinbrenner get part-time jobs at Ace Hardware. They can't bat and they can't field. The sons of the fathers are visited on the sons, and my feeling about the Steinbrenner heirs is that they are very soft. Let them deal with it the best way they can.
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Posted on 11/3/2007
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November 02, 2007
Joe Torre's return to LA as manager of the Dodgers was celebrated at a star-studded banquet held at the Taco Bell in Encino this weekend. In attendance were David and Victoria Beckham, who took time off from doing nothing at all; Barry Bonds, who is starring on Broadway in "Young Frankenstein"; Governor Arnold Schwartznegger, who flew into town without an airplane; Oscar de la Hoya, who modeled his line of transvestite panties called "Make Believe Ballroom"; and OJ, who sang a heart-rending version of "Mack The Knife".The Bush administration has promised to stop the practice of torturing terror suspects by waterboarding. It announced plans to extract information from them by forcing them to watch reruns of last week's Jets-Patriots game until they crack. Osama Bin Ladin, reacting from his cave (grave) in Afghanistan, protested the announcement, calling it "barbaric".The Nets' Antoine Wright has just returned from Las Vegas, where he attended the Abunassar Impact Basketball School, which is a metal basket rim attached to the garage of the Mustang Ranch bordello. Abdominal exercises at the training camp consist of doing crunches with a hooker sitting on your face. He revealed that he had played a game of pickup against Knicks former vice-president Anucha Browne-Sanders and Jason Kidd's ex-wife, and lost.In China preparations continue for the 2008 Beijing Olympics, where nearing completion is the world's first sports stadium constructed entirely of lo mein. Olympic officials declare that rumors of shortages of backscratchers and rubber sandals are completely without foundation, and that the hot dogs sold there will contain only the finest dogs.Brazil, meanwhile, has won the rights to host the 2014 World Cup of Soccer. In order to avoid the kind of headbutting incidents that marred last year's tournament in Germany, Brazilian officials will require all the players to play wearing Green Bay Packers foam cheeseheads.Never mind this junk! Go to my personal web site www.200motels.net for the real deal!
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Posted on 11/2/2007
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November 01, 2007
It’s impossible to keep track of all the self-destructive behavior taking place in the business world, just as it’s impossible to keep recalculating the consequences. The investment banks and the currency markets are in a state of freefall that is so rapid that the figures are a blur.Incidentally the World Bank just released a statement that the dollar is still overvalued. When will it reach its level, when a bottle of beer costs ten thousand bucks?
Don’t laugh. The ruling classes are in over their heads and it’s distinctly due to a lack of culture, or maybe it has its roots in chromosome breakage. Scott Boras, A-Rod’s agent, waited for the seventh and deciding game of the World Series to announce that A-Rod would not be returning to the Yankees. Great timing, screwing up the most important game of the year with an announcement that could have waited a couple more hours. What do these bozos think, that they don’t need the good will of Major League Baseball, which made them rich?
Gambling magnate Steve Wynn gives a speech in Macao, where he has billions of dollars of investments at stake, calling China’s Chairman Mao an “imbecile.” Why didn’t he call him a schmuck too? “Nyah, that Chairman Mao! Whatta schmucko! Look what he did to China, da schmuck! He took a beautiful country and turned it into a fuckin’ shithouse!” Steve Wynn, the historian.
style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ff0000; "> Whatever the average Chinese thinks of Chairman Mao, he’s not likely to appreciate Steve Wynn’s analysis of him any more than Americans would feature some moron from China coming over here and expressing such a broad opinion of one of our historical figures. “Nyah, that George Washington, wotta fuckin’ goof!”
Wynn, who stuck his elbow through a $50million Picasso painting that he had bought last year to lend some “class” to one of his saloons, will feel the pain the next time he needs a building permit or a renewal of his Chinese gambling license.
Then you got a moron named Gerald Ratner, who inherited Great Britain’s largest jewelry chain from his parents, who scraped and chiseled to put it together with their own hands. And this jackass makes a joke to a newspaper reporter, yet, that his own merchandise is, in his own words, a bunch of crap. And he likes the joke so much that he uses it going forward in promotional speeches across the country, and even tells it to Princess Anne of the British royal family! “Nyah, ya know, I’m just sellin’ people a buncha shit, ya know, haw haw haw!” Naturally, his business went bust. People declined to buy their wedding rings from a fool who was going around telling the royal family that he was selling shit, and he talked himself out of a billion dollars. If this moron wanted to tell some jokes, he should have spent a coupla bucks and hired a comedy writer. Jokes aren’t that easy to write.
But next time you are trying to figure out why the world is such a mess, remember these three stooges. There are a lot of stupid poor people too, but they don’t have as much impact as these pineapples. It used to be that stupidity was not a capital offense, but in today’s world of interconnectivity what these knuckleheads do has a material impact on the rest of us, so that is why I am advocating suicide for stupid people. If you don’t know what you are doing, why don’t you just check out and free up resources for people who still have something to live for?
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Posted on 11/1/2007
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