Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Dearest Syndicate Members,
Take a
look at the listings at your local multiplex and you’ll see that comic-book
geeks have proceeded to take over the world. The preponderance of “Super Hero
Movies” merits no serious objection from your friendly bookie. Let the fellow
Geeks claim their prize. So long as Nicholas Cage doesn’t make the “Ghostrider”
series into a trilogy, I’ve no profanity-laced censures to write. There is
something I wish to broach, however. While the “Comic-Book-Geeks” were busy
rushing to their town’s equivalent of “The Android Dungeon”, an entirely
different breed of Geek rushed to the same store to purchase packets of poorly
lamented glossies that came with sticks of stale gum. We were known as
“Baseball Card Geeks”. We were no less nerdy, no less inclined to waste our
allowance of something totally frivolous, no less naively convinced that we
were amassing a fortune. We drew breath as well….and far too many of us
maintain an unhealthy obsession with the game of baseball.
The
re-released content that follows was written by an aged “Baseball Card Geek”
who had the misfortune of loving the team with the most losses in the history
of American professional sports. He grew up jaded….much in the same way that
George Will did. It matters not. Today we celebrate the advent of a new and
novel chapter of the syndicate. Hello to all the ballplayers out there. Hi. How
are you?
Now we
present the inaugural baseball sportsbook….all in white no less.
Alles
Gute,
PJW
2009 World Series—The Philly Phan Speaks
My fellow dejected and demoralized Phillies fans—
As we emerge from our post-Pedro depression, the time is
well nigh to ask ourselves, what is the proper outlet for our frustrations?
Shall we join the ranks of a “Yankees suck!” Facebook Group? Somehow this seems
too childish and unoriginal. L Shall we tweet obscene
messages to Yankees fans using every last tired “Aroid”, “Swisher Sweet”, and
“Lenoesque C.C. is a fat fuck” pun in our arsenal? As if we aren’t already considered
the lewdest and most vulgar fans in the league, incapable of being articulate
in our derision. L
Shall we simply swallow our defeat, retreating to a dark room to gorge on Maria
Shriver’s “Low Fat Ice Cream to partially Benefit the Mentally Challenged”? The
answer, quite obviously, is no. Even Jersey Housewives would decline to
surrender so meekly. Yet, as the Shriver reference should foreshadow, we draw
nearer to the optimal solution. Shriver’s husband, “Herr Governeur”, has
reintroduced the most splendid method of spicing up your next useless
intra-office memo, banal cover letter, tedious scholarly review,
and..yes..congratulatory note!! Sweeping the nation, no matter your vocation, I
invite all word fiends to join in on what I hope will be the latest craze.
Please take some time to send someone you know a:
“Subliminal Schwarzenegger”!!
Hell yes! I haven’t been this excited by Arnie’s Antics
since those “Mix it Baby” commercials back in the late 90s! We’ve got ENOURMOUS
potential here. Is your boss an irritating “Girly Man”? Does your wife continue
to insist that it is unreasonable to move to Mars? Send them a “Commando
Communiqué”!! Take a page from the
Governor of the great state of “Cahl-lee-fohn-eea” a blast them with a not so
subtly encoded “consider dat a Dee-Vorce, bitch”. Your obsequious fawning will
have them feeling as if they have perfectly chiseled buttocks. However,
carefully hidden among your words is a true “I hope you have room for my first
because I’m going to ram it into your stomach!!!” Let us undertake a quick
review of the rules, examining Schwarzenegger’s ACTUAL veto memo to members of
the California State Assembly after one week after being heckled by radical
assemblymen at a Democratic Fundraiser. I’ve been so kind as to call the secret
message to your attention:
To the Members of the California State Assembly:
I am returning
Assembly Bill 1176 without my signature.
For some time
now I have lamented the fact that major issues are overlooked while many unnecessary bills come to me for
consideration. Water reform, prison reform, and health care
are major issues my administration has brought to the table, but the
legislature just kicks this can
down the alley.
Yet another
legislative year has come and gone without the major reforms Californians overwhelmingly deserve. In light of
this, and after careful consideration I believe it is unnecessary
to sign the measure at this time.
Sincerely,
Arnold Schwarzenegger
Why are all my favorite comedians ignoring the “I”? The full
brilliance of the man should not be ignored! Okay. Now, in the spirit of Conan
the Destroyer, I am pleased to present “Peter Weis’s Memo to the Proud Fans of
the 2009 World Champion Yankees”. Who’s your Daddy, Yankee fans….er and “what
does he do”?
To the fans of the World Series Winner:
Girardi’s army
beat us fair and square! For your complete and unequivocal triumph over our inferior Phillies, the most sincere
congratulations are in order.
For all the nasty words and malicious taunts that we’ve
exchanged, I think we can uniformly agree that this year’s Fall Classic was won by the
best team. We simply couldn’t compete against your superior squad! Matsui, A-rod,
Jeter, Swisher and Mariano
kicked our asses plain and simple.
You guys deserve this championship! Nine years was too long.
America’s team is back on top! After all the free agency bombs this of this past
decade, you’ve demonstrated the uncanny ability to once again buy the best players! There is
much to be said about the rabid Yankee fan base that supports this team. Without you,
going into Yankee Stadium surely wouldn’t as intimidating as it is. So, Yankee Fans,
as you celebrate number 27, every single Yankee fan should share in the credit for this
well-deserved title! Yankees lore is unparalleled in our country’s history. It seems
fitting that the most storied club was victorious. It was foolish of us to think that we could
compete against history’s giants, even if we were the defending champs. It is to a truly
classy organization that we now surrender our championship trophy. Best of luck defending
next year!
Sincerely,
Peter Weis
Ahh..too much fun for one
afternoon. I’ll be doing these all year. Anyone care to give it a shot? Onwards
to the next feature……
2009 World Series by Numbers
In spite of the fact that I bear
no resemblance to Field’s Medal Winner Terrance Tao, I like to play with
numbers. No, I’m not referring to Sudoko, Ken-Ken, or any of the other 2,713
non-Japanese games that the Japs have copyrighted over the last decade. I
prefer a good engaging mathematical puzzle that so frustrates me so that I am
forced to yell at my cat that its all his fault that I can’t see the solution.
In honor of the late great Martin Gardner, I’ve been working through some of
his “Mathematical Circus” books and my cat is slowly going deaf as a result.
“Damn you smug mound of meow! How dare you fucking purr at my lack of
algorithmic talent! You know the highest Prime, you’re just not telling me!!”
Anyway, here’s a classic that sent my cat scampering toward his secluded den of
half-eaten spiders, mutilated bird heads, and mole fetuses:
Question: What are the only two
nontrivial sum-product numbers?
Answer: (three cups of coffee,
five temper tantrums, six cigarettes, and a rotten tasting can of Keystone
DryIceLite later)
a. 135 ((1 + 3 + 5) x (1 x 3 x 5)) = 135
b. 144 ((1 + 4 + 4) x (1 x 4 x 4)) = 144
All right! Someone desperately
wants to smack this nerd on his head, I can tell. Nerds unite! To be fair, that
one can from Ken Jennings, not Gardner. I understand 90% of basic computer
programming courses start with that riddle, so its good to know. Anyway, before
I digress to far, and write a genuinely horrible piece on numbers (something as
bad as the moronic Ramstein song where he counts to ten as if that is somehow
cool or John Allen Paulos’s fantastically boring and highly unreadable book “A
Mathematician Reads the Newspaper”) let me get to the damn point!
Should you elect to write a
satirically laced piece on baseball, you have your veritable pick of
well-established formats in which to write it. Taking meticulous notes and
swigging the poisonous swill (otherwise known as Keystone DryIceLite), I
wondered if I should steal Bill Simmons/Michael Davies’ “24 Format” (a minute
by minute diary that they write sometimes). Perhaps I try Classic Simmons, with
the “Rambling Format” (a collection of bullet points). Maybe I’ll leave my
idols alone (after Simmons publishes a 700 page book on “Basketball” of all
things, I think I’ll be leaving him alone for a while) and just do a cheap
imitation of eye-catching “Number Formats” one sees everywhere from Time
Magazine (disgraceful…when was the last time that magazine produced anything
remotely interesting?) to the Wall Street Journal “M & I” Page (I’m loving
my subscription. Does this make me Satan incarnate?). The choice of format has
something to do with laziness and other exigent obligations. My World Series
Tickets saved everyone from an Easterbrook length column in which I extolled
the entirely heterosexual virtues of Chan Ho Park’s thighs. (gasp of relief).
One cannot deny that baseball forever shall be a game where
numbers rule! Current Saber-Metric reports make the “Financial Indicator” data
columns in “the Economist” look like a Sesame Street Lesson! Long before there
were worthless Roto Fantasy Football Leagues, dweeby kids packed the shed to
figure out career Batting Average versus lefties on turf during home day games
when it was drizzling. E.R.A’s are how so many of us learned long division! The
stats on the back of baseball cards compelled us to set up an elaborate
tournament in which our massive collections competed against each other using
everything from height/weight to elaborate Slugging percentage/stolen base
percentage formulas. The cards themselves produced untold riches, as we looked
up their worth in “Beckett Baseball Card Monthly”. Another one worth two cents?
Tally her up! We’ve almost got $100 worth of cards now! To the comic book
store! If Richard Dreyfuss’s appallingly bad voiceover is to be believed, the
World Series is all about revisiting childhood. Here we have a guy who did his
fourth grade social studies fair project on “The Economics of Baseball Cards”.
Sorry, but in the words of Kai Rysdaal,
“Time to do the Numbers”
“Count Vicey” goes from 0 to infinity in 56 Minutes.
ZERO (Number
of times Carlos Ruiz parked his static mug in directly in front of the camera
and proudly proclaimed “I AM SANCHO!”)
I’m very disappointed. The Don Juan of the Phillies needs to
make better use of that never changing face.
ZERO (Number
of times I need to hear the Richard Dreyfuss voiceover opening again)
Yes, yes. I get it. The World Series Dream flickers the mind
of every young boy who picks up a glove. Did we have to use the voiceover from
“Stand by Me”? I consider this going somewhat overboard. One half expected to
hear, “They’ve dreamed of this day….when four friends go in search of a dead
body by the railroad tracks”. Speaking of poor opening segments, if I hear Bon
Jovi’s “We Weren’t born to Follow” one more time, I will come up the bloody
turnpike and hunt that bastard down!! Is there some rule that every major
sporting event has to open with an anthem from washed-up, substandard Rock
Stars?
ONE (Number
of times I’m willing to tolerate Jay-Z and Alicia Keys performing during
pre-game being described as “A special surprise we have in store for you!”
Yeah. Looks like we used that one up. Next time you tease
with, “a special surprise in store for you” you better damn well have a naked
Zhang Ziyi stashed away somewhere!
ONE (Number
of times I hope to hear Jacoby Ellsbury say “I’m here on behalf of Taco Bell”)
So sad. One year you’re MLB stolen base leader, the next
you’re giving out Blackjack Tacos. Exactly what about the fact that the taco
shell is black am I supposed to find appetizing? It's the same zarking taco
shell. It’s just black!!
ONE (Number
of times Joe Buck used impressive vocabulary)
Hello everyone. The Joe Buck GRE Word for 2009 is
“intimate.” (The second usage)
(IN-TEE-MATE)
Intimate
–verb
(used with object), -mat⋅ed, -mat⋅ing.
1.
to
indicate or make known indirectly; hint; imply; suggest.
2.
Archaic.
to make known; announce.
Once again, the only chance to improve your English via Joe
Buck during 2009 came from the word “intimate”. Thanks for playing. Keep fuckin
that chicken!
TWO (Number
of escorts assigned Yogi Berra as he threw out the First Pitch)
I was hoping that Obama-Biden could make it, but instead
they sent in the wives. I suppose it didn’t make sense for Joe Biden, a
self-professed Phillies fan, to throw out the first pitch in Yankee Stadium.
Barack could have come. Insert your own Olympics joke here.
THREE (Number
of World Series players who use bats produced in my “hometown”
of Baton Rouge!)
It’s true. Ask Kai Rysdaal if you must. Ryan Howard, Chase
Utley, and Jorge Posada all order their sticks from Marucci Bat Company in
Baton Rouge, LA. Three of the top players in the game are swinging lumber from
some wop with a wood shop off Siegen Lane! Here are their Series Stats:
Utley--.286 Avg. (5 HR, 8 RBIs)
Howard-.179 Avg, (1 HR, 3RBIs)
Posada--.263 Avg. (0 HR, 6 RBIs)
Okay, so Howard had an atrocious series, setting a World
Series record with 13 Ks. Ouch. All the same, he’s one the best non-juicing
players to set foot on the diamond in recent years. Another good year for
Marucci! I’ll have to meet him someday. Sorry about the “wop” comment sir. At
this point, it’s pretty much reflexive.
THREE (Number
of times Tim McCarver referred to a sharp line drive as a “tracer”)
I knew he was on LSD! Grandpa, we’ve all talked about this
and….perhaps its time to put you in a home.
FOUR (Number
of statements by Joe Buck and Tim McCarver that can be ruthlessly exploited by
my sophomoric sense of humor)
In truth there were many more, but we all have to grow up
some-time don’t we:
1. Joe Buck: “Cliff Lee and C.C. Sabathia are gonna hook
up.” I hope not, Joe. At the very least, I hope Cliff will be on top.
2. Tim McCarver: “I think he wants to come inside Utley.”
Ewwwwwww. Gross, Tim. Next time I suggest you remember that the preposition
“on” is vital to that sentence. Ideally, it should be placed after “inside” and
before “Utley”. Prepositions are friends that can make a huge difference!
McCarver realized his mistake and tried to make a recovery. This time however,
he forgot the importance of the word “inside” and blurted out “He wants to come
on Utley”. Dammit, Tim!
3. Tim McCarver: “Damon has played a lot behind Pedro. He
knows about those long fingers.” I’m not even sure what this one means. I just
know that this a bad combination of two homoerotic baseball themes that would
have been best left unsaid.
4. Tim McCarver: “When you see him rocking back and forth
like that, he’s going to throw a lot of balls their way.” Tea bagging joke
anyone?
That’s all for baseball. Always remember to giggle when
hearing the American Football line “They’re getting great penetration!”
FIVE (Number
of minutes I devoted to coming up with a novel joke about C.C. Sabathia’s
Weight. Sorry fresh out!)
FIVE (Number
of beers consumed by myself during game four at Citizen’s Bank Park)
At $6.75 a beer, that brings the beer total to $33.75. Not
bad for a ballpark. Nevertheless, I find myself asking what would have
transpired had my flight not been delayed and I had made it to Philly in time
to partake in the Pre-Game tailgate activities! “Super Sunday” was especially
outrageous in Philly as the Giants-Eagles game kicked off a few hours before
the series! It was absolute bedlam at the Sports Complex. Hmmmm…Never mind.
Thank the fuck Christ my flight was delayed. I wouldn’t have made it to the
game it all. Rather, I assume I would either been in a coma or in jail.
Possibly both.
SIX (Number
of minutes I considered, over a cigarette break, working in a critique of Emo
Music based on the fact that Jayson Werth looks like he should be fronting an
Emo band. My ideas were simply too churlish and rude. Hmmm…You escape for now,
“Whine and Cheese” music genre. I’ll be back.
SIX (Number
of Games Ozzie Guillen picked the Phillies to win in)
As far as I know, he was the only Fox Analyst to back the
phightins. To hell with white people.
SIX (Number
of times we, the viewing audience, were forced to watch the “In Game Box Score”
brought to you by Fox Business Channel!)
Pardon me for being an aristocratic asshole, but do we
really need a Fox Business Channel?!? In these days of the “Brain-dead
Megaphone”, must we really contend with another cable channel full of dense
dipshits shouting at us?! As if CNN, FOX, MSNBC, CNBC, CBN, CNN Headline News,
CNN International, BBC America, and MSNFNFN aren’t bad enough! All this crap
and we can’t even launch “C-Span International”!?!
SEVEN (Number
of bullshit bloop singles and Texas Leakers hit by the Yankees in Game Four)
An extremely tough loss to take, and not just because I was
there. The Yankees produced almost no quality hits in this game. They had the
good fortune of some lucky bounces and bad defensive strategies. Arghhh. To
think, pivotal Game 4 was settled by such nonsense! You lucky bastards! Okay.
In order to subdue my rage, I’ll give you Tim McCarver’s quality analysis
regarding why there are base hits:
“Base hits occur because they outfielders can’t be
everywhere”
Thanks Tim. Until your cutting edge breakdown, I just
assumed baseball players were as omnipresent as electrons and God!!!
EIGHT (Number
of At-Bats for Matt Stairs in the World Series)
Nothing like laying your eyes on the all-time Beer League
Champ! How about our sport, baseball fans? Over 80 years since Ruth, and we’re
still producing ball playing fat dudes, even in the steroid era! Some
exceptionally insightful commentary on Matt Stairs from Tim McCarver:
“Matt Stairs likes to hit the ball. He likes to hit the ball
as hard as he can. He likes to hit the ball as far as he can. He’s a baseball
player”
Grandpa, maybe you’ll be happier in a home!
NINE (Number
of times I felt a tingle in my heart upon learning that Pedro built his mom a
garden)
I don’t care what you think of Pedro! The man tilled the
soil for his mother. Would you do that? Edmund Stoiber wouldn’t do that! Go
call your mother! Tell her you’re eating well and really getting great use out
of the sweater she bought for you last Christmas. Be a “mother-lover”!
TEN (Number
of minutes in took Mary J. Blige to sing the National Anthem in Game 6)
C’mon girl. Even “Bleeding Gums Murphy” managed to get in
under that one. That reminds me, all Simpsons Fans should check out this site.
Be forewarned, you can likely kiss your afternoon goodbye:
I’m certain this site would reduce my father to tears.
ELEVEN
(Number of times I had the pleasure of watching the “Smoking Cessation”
Commercial)
If you haven’t seen this one, an elderly fellow lights up a
cigarette on the pavement, then proceeds to steal a delivery truck. A soothing
female voice reminds us, “You don’t drive every time you smoke, so why should
you smoke every time you drive?”
I’ve managed to glean the following lessons from this highly
esoteric logical narrative:
1. Every time I smoke a cigarette, I should steal a car.
2. Maybe I should sell my car.
3. If I can resist the rapacious desire to smoke a cigarette
after I get behind the wheel, I’ve won a very significant battle. In order to
ensure that I can claim the war, I’ll have to identify and work on all other
habits/situations/circumstances that I associate with smoking. These include:
When I wake up in the morning, after I brush my teeth, after
I get out of the shower, whenever I take my first sip of morning coffee,
anytime I’m reading a newspaper, anytime I’m reading a
magazine/journal/book/blog/cocktail napkin, after I eat anything, before I go
into class, after I get out of class, before I go to the gym, after I’ve
completed my workout, before I go to bed, after sex (okay I’ll give you that
one), anytime I’m drinking, anytime I’m conversing with someone, anytime I’m
writing something, anytime I’m researching, anytime I’m at work, anytime I’m
“working on something”, anytime I have to buy something ANYTIME I’M BREATHING!!
Whew. Good luck making to 40 Peter. “Solange man hustet, lebt man.”
TWELVE (Number
of times I looked at Mark Grace and wondered if I should call in an “Amber
Alert”)
It has been nothing short of excruciating to see that one of
the favorite players of my youth has gone for the “creepy child molester next
door look”. That tweed jacket, those horn-rimmed glasses, the goatee. They just
don’t mix! Not since watching the L. Ron Hubbard interview have I been so
convinced that the person on my TV screen drives by Boys Prep Schools with a
trunk full of candy. How odd it is to see what has become of your youthful
idols. If you had told me fifteen years ago that John Kruk would get off the
couch, Lenny Dykstra would be embroiled in a trading scandal, and that Mitch
Williams would not only escape assassination, but find gainful employment as a
baseball analyst…..well you would have discovered how travel back in time. You!
You are the one sabotaging the Large Hadron Collider from the future! You
bastard! Let us find the “God Particle”! Don’t deny us the Higgs-boson!!
TWELVE
(Number of times Joe Buck sent it to commercial with the words “No Score”)
This turn of phrase is perfectly fine by me. However, a
certain cantankerous uncle of mine in Philly will immediately begin screaming
at the television set, “There IS A score, Joe. The score is zero-zero, nil-nil.
Don’t say there is NO score, when there clearly is A score.” It never fails.
Needless to say, I do not tend to watch games at this nameless uncle’s house.
Luckily, three games featured first inning runs, so I can confirm that uncle’s
head did not, in fact, explode. Had it done so, well, it would have been perfectly
fine by me.
13 (Number of
errands I had time to run while waiting for Joe Buck to finish a sentence)
This guy pauses enough to make Obama’s initial press
conference look like the speed-reading of the Cap and Trade Bill! What kind of
roundabout neural network causes the following weak, vanilla sentence to take a
staggering 14.4 seconds to complete:
“This……………World
Series……………………is…………..a…………northeastern……World Series.”
Thanks, Joe. I had time to run to the store, clean the
litter box, take out the garbage, and alphabetize the can goods. Either there
is something extremely strange going on in this man’s head, or he’s getting
some glorious head in that booth.
16 (Number of
consecutive minutes during game two where I swear I heard absolutely nothing
out of Tim McCarver!)
What the hell happened to the color commentary? Uh oh. I
hope there’s not a connection between this and the theory offered above. Let’s
just hope McCarver’s BPH was flaring up.
18 (Number of
times I confused Joe Girardi for Gerry Dinardo)
That contemplative look threw me off!!
19 (Number of
ads for the upcoming movie about the South African Rugby Team, starring Matt
Damon and Morgan Freeman!)
Er..I don’t necessarily wish to rain on the parade of those
who are mildly intrigued enough to go and see “Invictus” I would like to point
out the fact that the greatest story of an inter-racial South African Sports
Triumph is YET TO BE WRITTEN. South Africa 2010! Be there to witness the masses
revel in a sport that ALL can participate in! This movie shows scenes of Nelson
Mandela (Morgan Freeman) expressing a desire to unite the country behind the
rugby team. WHAT? Mandela said no such thing. He was, how should one put this,
more intelligent and pragmatic than Hollywood Screenwriters during his time in
office. Don’t let this movie’s contrived melodrama fool you. The blacks
couldn’t give any more of a shit that the South African Rugby Team won the
World Championships than a Miner working for $1.75 an hour cares about the
DeBeers Stock Price. South Africa’s sport heroes are waiting to hit the stage,
not immortalized in some piece of Hollywood dross.
28 (Number of
shots of Rudolph Giuliani in the stands, wearing his NY/PD/FD baseball cap)
Why must we continue to endure this? The man should be wearing
a Florida Marlins Cap. Florida is, after all, the home of the ONE measly
delegate he acquired during his disastrous Presidential Campaign. Enough with
the “Never Forget, I stayed up all night with the rescue crew.” Did you rescue
anyone? I swear I heard this over the Yankee Stadium PA: “Will the owner of the
‘9/11 Mobile’ please report to the parking lot. You left your lights on.” It’s
about time we started showing our strength as a country by proving we can move
on. On that topic, I don’t think we need to sing “God Bless America” during the
7th Inning Stretch anymore.
29 (Number of
cumulative total shots of Kurt Russell, Kate Hudson, Alec Baldwin, Mark
Messier, and Jeff Gordon)
America worships celebrities and we miss pitches. I would be
a hypocrite if I started to carp about working the nepotism to get World Series
tickets. I only ask that these celebrities, who pay only market value for their
tickets, STAY TILL THE END OF THE GAME! You see those empty seats behind home
plate? That’s Alec Baldwin saying, “well, I’ve experienced it. Off to the
whores!” This is not acceptable. The whores, yes. Leaving early no!
32 (Number of
shots of Ryan Howard’s “Meditative Trance” before moving to the On-Deck Circle)
What do you think he’s thinking about, Joe? Whatever it was,
it worked about as much as well as the Afghan run-off. Bleh. If you are in need
of a new Zen like mental locale Ryan, might I humbly suggest “The Whirling
Dervishes of Rumi”? They worked for me for almost two years, my personally
longest running nirvana! After that, I could no longer see the twirling Sufis.
All I could visualize was the guy from the Institute of Interfaith Dialogue
giving a bombastic, long-winded speech: “We Sufis are The Good Muslims. Don’t
be Afraid of us! We no kill you!” Presently, I try for an auditory
inner-replication of some of my favorite Bach fugues. That is, until my
father’s voice invariably intrudes “I am the good German. Don’t be afraid of
me. By the way, you’re a loser.”
36 (Number of
Keystone DryIceLites consumed while watching games 1, 2. 3, 5, and 6)
The sticklers will take this opportunity to point out that,
no, there is no such beer as “Keystone DryIceLite”. Admittedly, there is not. I
use this amalgamation as a metaphor for all cheap, watered down shitty American
beer. There is a “Keystone Dry”. There exists a “Keystone Light” and a
“Keystone Ice”. There is also “Miller Light”, “Bud Light”, “Milwaukee’s Best”,
“Pabst Blue Ribbon”, “Natural Light”, “St. Pauli Girl”, “Coors Light”, “MGD”,
“Miller High Life”, and “Michelob”. If there is one thing Americans know, its
shitty beer! I propose we henceforth refer to all horrendous American beer as
“Keystone DryIceLite”. Incidentally, the best line concerning Keystone Beer
belongs to my longtime friend Daniel Williams:
“I was drinking some Keystone Ice the other day. I couldn’t
be absolutely positive that I didn’t piss in my beer, but the taste certainly
allowed for the possibility.”
Einer geht noch…..
37 (Number of
years Raul Ibanez has lived on this planet)
Let’s hear it for the 37 year-olds!!! Amazing catches. This
proves that 37-year-olds can still be limber! Speaking of that, I have a few
phone calls to make……..
53 (Number of
times I had to sit through Howie Long’s pathetic attempt to save General
Motors)
Give it up already. As a German from Kaiserslautern, I am
thoroughly pissed with your state-subsided “surgical bankruptcy” and the manner
in which U.S. Tax dollars enabled you not to change your mind about spinning
off Opel, wasting several million German tax dollars in the process. Grrrrrr.
An American icon? Verfickte GM! As if the poor denizens of Kaiserslautern don’t
have enough heartbreak to contend with, now you’re going to shut down one of
their largest industries all because of your own incompetence. Verpiß dich!
65 (Number of
Fox Promotions for…drum roll…the big “Terry Bradshaw-Brett Favre Interview!)
I don’t really follow American Football anymore.
Nevertheless I have a few questions for Brett Favre:
1) “Why won’t you fucking go away?”
2) “Seriously, aren’t you just asking to get a life-altering
concussion?”
3) “Once again, will you leave already?”
4) “What is so irritating about your wife that makes you
“un-retire” 6.2 times per off season?”
5) “It’s vanity, isn’t it? You want every Sports Channel to
air the Brett Favre Speculation Marathon and every announcer to say ‘there is
the wily veteran’”
6) “One last time. Please get off my e-mail sign-in
screen!!!”
70 (Number of
minutes I had to share with my good buddy Jason Salvano)
A Philly town visit is not complete without popping in on
the “grand don”! Such a shame that we had just over an hour to spend revin up
the banter. Ply yourself away from “Street Fighter” a rest and come blog
yourself! The talent is there!
101.6 (Number
(approximately) temperature upon seeing the “Tommy Boy” Direct TV commercial)
No you may not!! You may not dishonor the memory of Chris
Farley for your money-generating means! You may not re-edit “Fat Guy in a
little coat” to augment your profits! I cry foul! This is the closest that an
atheist comes to shrieking sacrilege. Fuck Direct TV! 99.9 % signal
reliability? HA!! Your dolt programmers can’t even deal with wimpy solar
flares. May you burn in hell!! (A first for this atheist)
126 (Number
of references this postseason to the recently deceased Phillies Broadcaster
Harry Kalas)
Oddly enough, 126 references are not enough. Harry, I miss
you terribly. You were the ONLY voice of the Phillies; the voice I grew up
listening to and strove to emulate. I owe my current speaking voice to your
summer broadcasts. Shane Victorino knew how best to honor Harry after he
departed early this season: Get everyone in the clubhouse to take a drag off a
cigarette. Farewell, to you “last of the great smokers”. Now I only have Helmut
Schmidt to dream of hanging out with. Keep an eye out for my upcoming public
affairs show:
“Peter Weis and Helmut Schmidt smoke a carton of cigarettes
while complaining about EU Politics”
(Peter Weis und Helmut Schmidt rauchen eine Stange
Zigaretten während sie über EU-Politik klagen)
332 (Number
of times I would like to hear John Legend sing “My Nutmeg” from the Colbert
Christmas Special)
John Legend sang the national anthem for game two. He did a
bang-up job! This was the absolute highlight of the banners sung….I mean other
than Mary J. Blige taking an Ice Age to complete the song and the Philly fans
cheering Alanis Moirsette. Cheering Alanis Morisette? These are the fans that
boo Santa Claus and the March of Dimes Poster Child!! Er….and isn’t it ironic?
Don’t you think? J
423.5 (number
of dazzling hot girls I counted dressed in full Phillies regalia at Citizen’s
Bank Park)
Sweet Jesus! Well done, Philly Girls! Ordinarily, I reserve
ruminations on gorgeous women and the teams they follow for my writings on International
Football. Essentially, my inability to stop staring at Korean, Japanese,
Spanish, Argentine, and Nigerian girls gives you some idea of my exotic ethnic
tastes. The white honeys with the tramp stamps can still hold their own
however, provided they work one of my little known fetishes. I positively love
women in my team’s sports jerseys! It makes me hotter than a Norwegian Sauna! I
myself will rarely don a Phillies, Flyers, Hotspur, Deutschland, FcK, or
Tanzania Jersey. I don’t particularly like wearing uniforms. Why are they still
in my closet? I’m lookin at you, girl who stayed over last night!! You get up
before me, slip one of those one (and nothing else) and you’ve cleared a path
to my heart. If you happen to head for the kitchen and I find you cooking some
eggs wearing nothing but that tricot……baby, you’ve nearly earned a marriage
proposal. A useful tip for women. Too bad none of them are reading this J
537 (number
of times Joe Buck began a sentence with “We talked about…….”
Okay sportscasters. I am honestly curious if the opening
clause “We talked about” constitutes some sort of secret fraternity handshake.
Is this on the test?
How does a sportscaster indicate the past plus subjunctive?
“We talked about”
What is the appropriate use of the tele-strater? “Watch
this! You see this circle? Watch how he breaks through the hole! BAM!”
I wish to take the test. I can use a tele-strater. “Watch
Peter. He’s reaching for his pocket. Grabs the cigarette and the lighter. Look
at where I drew the circle. BAM!”
1,231 (approximate
number of shots of Joe Girardi in which he looks as if he is prepared to bite
the heads off of some live chickens, do 5,000 sit-ups, bite the heads off of
some more chickens, steal fire from the Gods, revisit those chickens, bench
press about 400 lbs, and wind down with some light Tai-Chi)
The irony of all of this is that Joe Girardi is actually one
the nicest guys you’ll ever meet. I can personally attest to this. Somehow,
through some idiosyncrasy of the tele-genic filter, he always comes across as
Bill Bellichek after you burned his house down. One suspects those somber,
serious, mercenary eyes can shoot laser beams. This man is more serious than
anything the Cohen brothers have managed to dream up. The man is a demi-god! Not since the days of the “Nosferatu”
Italian Soccer Referee Pierluigi Collina have I been so sure that a member of
the undead is on the screen….and he’s trying to peer into my mind. I’d conjecture that the Official
Yankees Drinking Game calls for three shots every time Girardi cracks a half
smile. I can’t believe I’m writing this, but I looked forward to the “Time to
Talk” Dugout Segments. Hearing Girardi speak reminded me that Hercules is, at
least, half-human.
2,348 (number
of times I wished I had a girlfriend after watching the “Dragon Age: Origins”
commercial)
Let’s face it. Video Games can be a very dangerous hobby, if
there is no one to beckon you back to the world of the living. I would buy that
game, were it not for a total vacuum of restraint.
10,647 (approximate
number of advertisements for Anti-Depressants during the playoffs)
I am not one of those who vehemently distrusts the
pharmaceutical industry. After all, we all are chemical people, wandering this
earth looking for grand solutions when we are really at the mercy of a few
molecules. Yes, there are people for whom anti-depressants can really help. The
real question is, do these people need a fucking television commercial to tell
them this? FUCK NO! Since the Supreme Court ruled that commercial speech is
protected under the first amendment, we’ve been bombarded by these “Ask your
doctor about the Happy Pills!” commercials. These medicines are for people with
SERIOUS medical conditions, not for goddamn Joan from Omaha who feels sluggish.
Here we have the absolute worst side effect of capitalism.
Medicine can help those in need. Why don’t we sell medicine to those not in
need? The specific commercial that draws my ire involves Bristol Meyers Squibb
and their new drug “Pristig”. In the ad, a morose housewife protests that her
mental malaise prevents her from spending more vivacious times with her
children. Moreover, and more importantly, the ad informs us that Pristig “is
thought to work by regulating serotonin levels”. EXCUSE ME? Is “thought to
work”?!? Look, medication will never be more than 40% of the solution. The rest
is merely “life and how much it sucks”. Is the fact that you seem deprived of
energy during playtime enough reason to submit your brain to a bunch of people
who “think” a flash of light on a cat scan is the scientific breakthrough of
the century?!?!? Again, I emphasize that these medicines can genuinely help
those who are afflicted with unfortunate brain chemistry. I merely object to
such things being mass marketed. This brings us to…………
767,892 (approximate number of commercials I’ve
been forced to sit through for Erectile Dysfunction, BPH, and whatever the fuck
the medical term for those who don’t piss enough is)
Please allow me to illustrate for you how excruciating it is
for a young person to watch the baseball playoffs. IS THERE ANYONE OVER FIFTY
IN THIS COUNTRY WHO HAS A NORMALLY FUNCTIONING JOHNSON?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!? I
can’t take it anymore!! I’m trying to watch a ballgame and you inundate me with
this nonsense! I know kids aren’t collecting baseball cards anymore, but is
that any reason to assail me with your barrage of “older guys whose penis isn’t
functioning as well as it could” commercials??!?! Aaaaaaaaahhhhh! Lass mich in
Ruhe! Leave me the fuck alone! Are you not peeing as frequently as you should?
Ask your doctor about Dynaflow Today! Are you peeing too often? Your symptoms
may be a result of an enlarged prostate. Ask your doctor about BPH today!
Perhaps you are piss stream is released in satisfactory intervals…that still
doesn’t mean you can get it up when the Mrs. wants you too. Talk to your doctor
about your erectile dysfunction today!
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! What the hell is wrong
with you people? I know getting old is hard, but is it my fault you don’t want
to fuck your wife anymore? We return to my point. Viagra, like
anti-depressants, was developed for those with SERIOUS MEDICAL CONDITIONS (e.g.
heart problems, partial paralysis, etc.) Yet, Viagra is a 68 BILLION dollar a
year industry. I refuse to believe that so many men suffer from such hardship.
The only plausible explanation is that Viagra has morphed into a sort of “Love
Potion No.9”. That’s right. Leisurely lounging on the couch, many men are
watching the baseball game and thinking, “Hell, I’m supposed to have sex with
that hag tonight?” Sorry wrinkly, but if you are no longer attracted to your
wife, I recommend you bring back the magic the old-fashioned way: Get drunk
until she looks good! In the meantime, I would like to watch a baseball game in
peace, absent an actor saying, “Today is the day I’m going to ask my doctor
about my flaccid dick!”
4,356,781 (Number
of years I deem acceptable before anyone named “Brad Lidge” dons a Phillies
Jersey)
1,896,753, 899
(Number of stars in our “local group” of galaxies)
25,453,489,984,817,384,871,283,873,764,234 (Number of grains of sand on the planet earth)
Infinity (Number
of universes there are, according to the latest academic proponents of “M
Theory”)
According to this theory, there is a universe in which the
Phillies won the World Series! There is also a universe in which I am a
successful writer, who is sexually serviced by Asian beauties poolside at least
15 times a day. Damn. I had to pick the universe in which everything went
wrong! Oh well. Nothing to do but keep writing.
