Because I like to self-promote, you may know me as Ted, and I normally write this schlock over at A Price Above Bip Roberts. On Wednesdays I do this little junk for Adam - the hook is a glimpse at people whose lives are even more pathetic than mine, or, conversely, yours. Here we go now:
Want a lil' churl to go with that dog, Charlie?
I can't imagine his life, or bathroom, is going to be a pleasant place for the next 36-48 hours. I hope he has, like, boatloads of porn in there.
First, it loses the 2010 bid to Vancouver. Then, it loses the 2014 bid - and the right to let NBC come in and show a bunch of still photos of guys you've never f'n heard of while Costas prattles on with 19 syllable words you don't even want to bother looking up because it's Costas, and who really cares anyway? - to some Russian outpost we probably saw in "Rocky IV." This would be a bad time to make a joke about the Korean War, I bet.
It's wet, and not in that good, "We-in-the-bed-like-oh" way. Now it's got P.J. to regress the talent of Durant and Green, Hargrove has bolted ship, and everyone seems to have forgotten the 'Hawks made the Super Bowl 2 years ago because Patrick Willis can hit hard down in San Fran.
D-Rays have lost 10 in a row, which is about as obvious as saying "The Knicks are going after a player of questionable character who is statistically likely to kill someone while in New York." Meanwhile, with Rashard in Orlando, a healthy D-Wade in Miami, and the train wreck the Dolphins are sure to be, Tampa as a sports city may be the least entertaining place in Florida. I hear it's easy to meet loose, herpes-infested women at the Pirate Ship, though.
In D-Town, "vicious" apparently means "true." That goes a long way towards explaining Rasheed Wallace as a human being.
"Cheerio! I'm just seeing which way the cat jumps, mum!" I looked that crap up. That's how toothless Britons say "It's raining," apparently. I bet they say it a lot watching Wimbledon, which may take longer to complete than the NBA playoffs. Weird people over there. The Revolutionary War was a tremendous idea.
The All-Star Game
Without A-Rod's wife teaching small children to be foul-mouthed as an anecdote to having a philandering, weakling husband, and in a city where Bonds is a hero and not a villian, we need some evil. It can only come from ONE source: Pat Neshek.
Just because of the relevance of a bad year to your career, can we rename "The Mendoza Line" as "The Jones Line" after this season? Is that like a weird reversal of racist tendencies? Am I pioneer?
If the NHL free agent market became a special on TLC hosted by a talking mix of the protaganists from Benji and Air Bud and I was the only person in America who could see it without the benefit of shrooms, I still don't think I would give a crap even 1/4 of the size of what's floating in Chestnut's toilet right about now.