It started out as a Cub blog with cuss words. I'm still cussin'; it's the Cub part I'm a little squishy on these days.

The Sloth is not intended for younger or sensitive readers!
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POISON


Illini Basketball
Bruce, we gave you tha keys, and THIS is what you brought home?


¿Dónde está mi dinero, las rameras?


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Friday, January 30


Once upon a time, at a golf course far, far away....

Maddux: "Hey, Scott? Talk to the Cubs yet?"

Boras: "Uhhh, yeah. Jim called me the other day. We said our hidy's. Not much else."

Maddux: "Did they act like they wanted me?"

Boras: "Like a starving crack whore. They're gonna pay, and pay big. I'll call the Dodgers, and the Giants, and try to solicit some counter..."

Maddux: "Hold on a second! Don't waste your time going to a bunch of different teams, trying to drum up some fake interest to hold the Cubs hostage! I want to play there, they want me, so just get the best offer, OK?"

Boras: "The Players Union isn't gonna like this..."

Maddux: "SCREW THE FUCKIN PLAYERS UNION! I have more money than my wife, children, and grandchildren can ever spend! All I need is my Pings and beer money. Just get me a couple of years, so I can win 300, and maybe a World Series with the Cubs, and I won't ever have to pay my way onto another course ever again!"

Boras: "Then, I have no choice than to resign as your representative."

Maddux: "Don't be an anus. We can send a message here, a good one. I want to play for a winner in Chicago. We'll be heroes. Gods, even. Just call Hendry, capiche?"

Boras: "No problem...he's on hold."

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Thursday, January 29


Delusions of grandeur

Look, I wish Derrek Lee all the best luck in the world. He's OUR first baseman now. I hope he does hit 40 home runs. I hope Alou hits 40, Ramirez hits 40, Gonzalez hits 40, Patterson hits 40, hell, I hope Mark Prior hits 40.

And I hope Kerry Wood hits 40 batters. That would be fun. But I digress.

There are plenty of bloggers out there, like me, that just talk out of their ass. God bless 'em. But they obviously never even peek at the "free" content at BP, because their theory seems to be based on a notion last accurate in the eighties, namely:

If he hit thirty with the Marlins, in their park, he'll hit 40 by accident at Wrigley!

Except, believe it or not, Wrigley field is in the BOTTOM half these days for offense. Yes, for the last ten years or so, Wrigley is a Pitcher's Park.

It is less so than Joe Robbie, or Pro Player, or whatever they call the football/jai alai den in Miami. But no longer can you take anyone's homer totals, stick them in Wrigley, and tack 20% to them. In fact, if your new blood is coming in from Colorado, Houston, or even the CellBlock, you need to subtract in order to compute a true expected slugging percentage.

So people, I WANT to see him hit 100. But STOP IT NOW with the "He'll hit 40 easy". There is absolutely NO basis to suggest that 40 homers is an absolutely sure thing, and I am cautioning us to pull back on your expectations of this particular player.
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Sorry for missing you all yesterday. I didn't throw up, but my other end feels like a slab of Chili's baby back ribs, w/o the barbecue sauce.

New White Sox marketing campaign

Team slogan for 2004: "Curb Your Enthusiasm".

First Wrigley Field Moment

I was seven. It was Clemente's last year. We went with a bus group from my dad's work. Ron Santo pizza was great! Clemente hit 2 dongs and a double, as well as threw a guy out from right, as Pittsburgh shut us out.

But, as it does now, hundreds of trips later, when I walked up the ramp the first time, the field laid itself out atop the rows of seats. First the deep green of the ivy-covered brick walls rose up, followed by the even deeper, richer green of the outfield grass, complemented with the brownish-red damp clay of the basepath. I smiled then, as I smile now, with a most sexual contentment. Money green, Jaguar Green, St. Patrick's green...nothing compares to Wrigley Green.

33 years later, it is perhaps even more beautiful. Time, care, and superior herbicides have only improved the most beautiful venue for sport anywhere.

However, I'd trade it all for a pennant. In a second. There is no more room for sentiment in my following. Hendry, Baker, Prior & Co. need to win for me NOW!

Just wondering

Do Mike Sirotka, Ryan Dempster, Will Ohman, Scott Chaisson, etc. get all the free Cubs gear they want while they rehab? Will they sign me, while I work on losing the 75 pounds it would take for me to run the bases? Fuck the minimum. I'd take a buck a year, if it meant free workout time, as well as free gear.

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Tuesday, January 27


Winter Recap/Juan Cruz

Let's recap this winter, shall we?

- Game 6, then Game 7 happened, where it was made clear that our bullpen was thin, and the bottom of our order was impotent.

- Much dead weight was cleared away! Yay! We have money to spend.

- Derrek Lee was acquired. Big whoop. McGriff without painful arthritis.

- LaTroy Hawkins was acquired. Nice. So was Kent Mercker.

- Michael Barrett was acquired. Whoop-dee-do.

- Todd Walker turned down more money to come here.

- Wood, JoeBo, Lee, Grud, Goodwin, Martinez, Bako, and Farns have all re-signed.

So at this point, presumably the bullpen is in better shape, but the only offensive upgrade evident from Game 7 is, in my opinion, a tiny one at first base. We gain a little pop if Patterson comes back strong, but in return we lose a true lead-off man.

Sorry, Todd Hollandsworth for not mentioning you, but you suck, you are the classic "if you can't beat him, join him" pickup, and I expect NOTHING from you.

Months go by, it is now less than a month until the start of camps, and we still await The Big One! Whether it is Pudge to fill a oozing gap in the lineup, or Maddux for sheer feel-good PR, I do not feel we have done enough at this time.

My winter mood: mildly disgusted and completely disillusioned at the Trib for not spending enough of the tens of millions of dollars in Pure Profit from last year's run.

So what about Juan Cruz?

Notice I don't have "Cubs Trade Juan Cruz" anywhere on the winter roundup. This, frankly, is a surprise to me, and I am now preparing myself for the notion that Cruz IS our fifth starter, maybe even 4th if he starts well, and Zambrano continues his post-season funk. He has done nothing in the minors but tear people up, he is killing them in the winter leagues, and it is time for them to put him in there, support him, treat him like one of the rotation, and let him prove it to us once and for all...can he Pitch, or can't he?

They held on to him...they must see something...it is now time to find out what?

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Monday, January 26


Lord, it's boring...but it could be worse

Today's Tribune, and I choose NOT to link to it since it requires registration, even though it is free - gives us a kind of update on the Maddux and Pudge negotiations. Obviously, it was a plant by the Boras camp.

But it could be worse. The article talks about the Cubs' pursuit of Maddux, as well as the latest Cuban refugee pitcher, who will be the subject of an intense bidding war between as many as 15 teams. The Sux, on the other hand, are closely watching Scott Erickson, according to the article.

As I say, things could be worse.
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World's smartest pig

My homeboy Smitty chimes in today:

A guy is driving by a farm and he sees the farmer standing
by the road with a pig. The pig's got a wooden leg. The guys stops and asks
the farmer, "what's up with that pig?". The farmer replies, "This is the
world's smartest pig. He understands 200 different commands, he can do
simple math, and he even has a 50 word vocabulary." The guy says, "Wow, but
what's with the wooden leg?" The farmer replied, "When ya got a pig that's
this special, ya don't eat him all at once."


There's a moral there, probably even one that applies to the Cubs, but it's far too early in the AM for me to articulate it.

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Friday, January 23


R.I.P. Childhood Icons

Note: if you didn't grow up near Chicago during the sixties & seventies, this may not mean much to you

Damn...yesterday, Ray Rayner bought the big one. Today, it's Captain Kangaroo taking the long dirt nap.

The following folks should assign someone to check on them, periodically, while they sleep tonight:

1) B. J., off of "BJ and Dirty Dragon"
2) The dude from "Magic Door"
3) Miss Nancy from "Romper Room" (I see...Billy and Susie and Janie over there....)
4) Jimmy from H.R. Pufinstuf
5) Bozo's dead, but the little fruity guy who was the one-man band in the end...he should sleep with one eye open tonight.
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Time to make the donuts

Cubs management is making it real hard for me and others in the Cub Blog Army to honor the committment of posting something insightful and fresh every day. For over a month now, I have been stuck on "...Cub management thinks they have a winner, but they actually have one too many holes in their roster to truly consider them a sure thing...."

So that may explain why some legit sports journalists are saying that Greg Maddux has turned down the Cubs. That just isn't true, I am convinced that they are merely still negotiating, Hendry and Greg and the Evil Satanic Boras. And, this isn't a matter of rampant optimism on my part, because honestly, I don't feel he is the key to the 2004 season, anyway.

Once again, would it be FUN to have him on the team?

Ohhhh, yes. It would be like going out with your usual deer-hunting buddies, but this year, you show up with an Uzi. It's FUN to spray that mutha around. Boggle your friends, cut down a few trees with your fireline.

Doesn't mean you're gonna bag one, because as anyone who has ever trudged out in a muddy field can attest to, it isn't a matter of firepower, but accuracy.

And having him doesn't mean we are going to waltz to the pennant. We don't have a true leadoff hitter, we have two positions (C and SS) with abysmal on-base and contact frequencies, question marks abound at nearly every other position, and many of the more cynical of us are still waiting for the day when Beezlebub his own self shows up one ninth inning in a close game, walks across the diamond, ala Annie's stuck-up brother Mark in "Field of Dreams", gets right in Joe Borowski's face and demands his immortal soul, NOW, NO More Stalling.

But, hey, that's the curse talking now.

BTW: BST goes off on a jag, inspired by a huge mutha sneeze. I have suffered from nasal problems all my life, and would be happy to share some sneeze stories with you.

One question, tho, before I do. Do any of you LOVE mostacolli? Because if you do, I won't tell the story.

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Thursday, January 22


Some things are meant to be

I wish I were writing today about the cosmic pairing of Greg Maddux, who is still at this point the finest pitcher we have ever drafted, and the Cubs.

But the most cosmic pairing I have at my disposal today is Darius Miles and The Portland Trail Blazers.

Noone, nobody, noway, personnifies the hip-hop style of the "new" NBA than this guy. Allen Iverson has results. LeBron James has talent oozing out of his pores. Tracy McGrady is actually very quiet. No, if you want to find the prime example, the ultimate specimen of Style over Substance, look no further than the 4th year pro from East St. Looie, who should be a senior in college, or who should be selling crack around the strip clubs in Sauget.

This son-of-a-bitch can't and won't do anything but flush, and talk and dress like he was just dragged off from Central Casting of "Barbershop 2". He had a good thing going with the Clips, because nobody gave a fuck what he, Odom, Q and Magette did. He got sent to Cleveland, tho, who is run by John Paxson's brother, Jim, who is a little older and more uptight than John, if that's possible.

So now he has finally come home, to the NBA Penetentiary for Men. Sheed. The Nanny-Stopper. Zach Randolph, the Beat-down Master. Damon (tin-foil) Stoudamire. Qyntel Woods, who is trying single-handedly to out-do them all. The former NBA home of Bonzi Wells, the 2nd Craziest Man in the L.

How long is it going to take until they feel they must have Ron (Rottweiler) Artest?

Sit back, fire up the big blue Graphic. This is gonna be sweet.

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Wednesday, January 21


Ryan Dempster

The oft-injured enigma wrapped in a quandry named Ryan Dempster is now a Cub.

Never mind that he was the MAN in Kane County. Never mind that, before I even thought that Greg Maddux was a remote possibility, I advocated our taking a flyer with this guy. I'm fine with it.

But why now? Surely Hendry isn't such a moron that he thinks that Dempster is going to scare Greg Maddux, Greg Frickin Maddux, into signing with us.

More than likely, it was a way to get what was once a grade A prospect, dirt cheap. He had Tommy John in August, so don't count on him whatsoever until the trade deadline. BUT, what if he's ready at that time? Can you use him OR Z OR Clement OR Cruz in a trade to cure what ails us, whatever than may be?

Personally, I am starting to see a real surplus building here, even more so if Maddux is signed. Something has to give.

Maybe the money is going to go to Pudge after all...he hasn't signed with anyone yet.
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George Bush, Sammy Sosa, Rick Telander and...Vince McMahon?

Well, hey, here's the drill. I hate Sammy Sosa. Many of you think I am just nuckin futs for feeling that way, but he is a liar, a proven cheat, and most of the stuff that rolls out of his swollen mouth just doesn't add up.

The issue that would not die, Steroids, got a new life last night when Dubya thought it was proper to include a plea to "major league sports" to stop using steroids. Well, first off, and I leave it to about a billion other blogs to flesh this out in further detail, but doesn't he have bigger things to worry about than whether sports are clean?

Of course, we all know that football HAS a steroid policy, and they really aren't useful in the basketball world. Who gives a rat's ass about hockey? We all know that Dubya used to own the Texas Rodriguezes. Anybody with a 3rd grade reading level can see through the bullshit and figure out that Bush is speaking directly at Baseball!

So it's big news again, so Rick Telander was compelled to write about it today, as a refreshing change of pace from his usual bitching about the Dartmouth swimteam. And we were reminded again why Rick used to be really good. He quotes Dusty Baker, who says that he talked to Sosa, who is gushing that he is (I added bold type for emphasis) "so excited about this coming season, that he is lifting in December for the first time!"

That's a BIG fucking problem to me. This is the same guy who blew up like a puffin between the end of 1997 and 1999, two years where he smacked 66 and 63 dongs. This guy was asked what he was taking, and he said "Flintstones". He said he took nothing but vitamins, and he added nothing but hard work during the offseason.

Well, let's see. All this offseason hard work. In the world of Sammy Sosa, the offseason doesn't really start until November, after the playoffs (of 1998), after making all sorts of appearences, visiting The Donald, visiting the President of the Dominican Republic, and working on his charitable foundation. Yeah.

The offseason ends later for Sam than most guys, since he doesn't show up until the last possible moment. But we're only talking Nov-Dec-Jan- most of Feb, at that time he starts his long trek back to His House in Amereeka.

Do you mean to tell me that he gained over 30 pounds of muscle, in less than TWO months, aided only by Fred & Barney?

I don't mean to go all anal about this, but Sammy Sosa is a sideshow fraud, a cheat, a liar, a performance enhancement user, who lacks the most basic moral fiber. What does this matter to us? Well, if the league all of a sudden, or even gradually, decides to really HAVE a drug policy, one that takes into account not only steroids, but THG, HGH, and anything else they can cook up, then our boy is in a world of hurt.

If he's a 30 homer guy without the juice, then doesn't that differ from the 60 homer guy he has been for years? Isn't that quite a great loss to the entire TEAM, if they suddenly lose 30 HRS and 60 RBI of production...if Sammy Sosa suddenly becomes Derrek Lee? We were counting on Sammy Sosa out in right...what's this pale imitator doing there?

Every manager will tell you that he needs to know who he can count on, and if he gets more than he counted on, great. But they all feel so much better when they have a BASE level of production to plan around. I feel Sosa is stealing this from us when he dabbles in drugs.

Now are some of you starting to see why I feel the way I do?
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Atkins, day 8

I would kill any and all of you for a piece of pizza right about now.

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Tuesday, January 20


Right Field Sucks/The Heckler

Unbeknow...Unbecknow....how the fuck do ya spell it? Screw it, it was a nice surprise to me to get linked to by RightFieldSucks
today. Thanks, Brad & George.

These are the guys that have the Heckler, and I think I'm gonna get my wifey's CC number (since God, TransUnion and Citibank have made it impossible for me to get my own) and order it delivered to my humble abode, right now.
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I promise I won't do that too often

But, people, you came through very nicely, and I'm always glad to know what is on your minds.

Wigs, I will e-mail you presently.

The other topics I will hit upon today are, in this order:

1) Whither Grud and Walker?
2) Who do we want Kerry Wood to kill, in the line of duty?
3) Why does anyone give a tittyfuck about Paris Hilton?

The notion of why we have two second basemen is an important one. I truly believe that the answer is "true platoon".

In relative terms, both Grud and Walker are 'old skool'...and both of them have some sort of idea of how they would be worshipped into eternity if THEY were part of the roster of The Cub Team that finally wins the World Series. There certainly seems to be the belief throughout the organization, from the front office, to Dusty and, most importantly, the players themselves, that this is THE year. So the idea of a platoon sounds almost glorious right now. The ceiling on such a thing...maybe you get 15 homers and a .320 average from the leadoff spot. Sounds good. But what happens when they realize after a month or two that their ABs are cut in half, or more in Grud's case, since he's the right-handed half? Will the good feelings continue? Or will they pollute the team with misery?

I am thoroughly disgusted with today's athletes, and I don't trust ANY of them to actually operate in the spirit of team harmony and personal sacrifice. So I don't see the platoon working. Let them surprise me.

Who deserves a fastball shoved up his ass?

We'll start with Roger Clemens. Matt Morris also has been asking for it for awhile. They are charter members of the Snap-On Tools Dildo Society. Fuck 'em both, and make them eat fishheads.

Barry Bonds, fer sure. When they play the Sux, they can drop Jose Valentin. Not because he made fun of Sosa and his kiss-blowing. I thought that was funny. Just hit him and convince him that there's no place in the league for his big overrated ass. I'd hit Frank Thomas, too, but at this point in time, it would just...be...sad.

Luis Gonzalez. Hey, Gonzo. You were a limp-ass noodle for us, but you shoot da juice for AZ? Here goes: FFFFFSSSSSSSSSHHH!

Yo, Chipper? Wanna know what Hooters has on special this week? FFFFSSSSHHH!

Jeromy Burnitz? What, ya trying to take a shortcut heah? Play in Denver to inflate your stats, so you can screw somebody else over? FFFFSSSSSSSHHH! Whap!

Of course, Juan Pierre. Little fuckin' gnat....and, oh yes. Let's all kneel and prostrate ourselves in front of the future HOF tandem of the "Killer Bees", Bags and Beege. Boys...ever heard of Trammel and Whittaker? Thought so...FFFFSSSSSHH! Whap! Whap! (Nice shot, Woody. Two in one. Granted, it made it easier that you could throw right at Bagwell's crotch, and hit them both...)

About ten years ago, TV was just LOUSY with cop shows, buddy cop shows, ensemble cop shows, crafty old detectives, crooked cops, funny cops, cops that could pop into the future. "Give us something else!!!" we cried. Network executives, desperate, looked at the great bastions of culture for inspiration.

The BBC, and MTV.

So now, we have "reality" on a nightly basis. Dating reality. House arrest reality. Bug eating, shit-swimming, stunt-car driving reality. So Fox, the people who brought you "Who's the Daddy" DNA-testing reality, decides they want to find the most vapid, shallow moron on legs and plunk them down in a small town for Green-Acres-type laffs! Hilarious!

Since Eva Gabor was a woman, the moron has to be female. Formula! She has to be rich, young, totally mind-numbingly clueless. We need Royalty! Well, this IS America...we have none. Except the Kennedy's, I guess, but since John-John and the rapes, they are most recently camera shy.

Well, how bout heiresses? How bout Tommy Hilfiger's daughter? Not dumb enough, plus her friend is Too Jewish looking. Well, that leaves one of the Hiltons. Hey, Paris is down with it...plus her friend is real slutty, a drug addict, plus she's Lionel Richie's daughter. PERFECT!! Rack 'em.

I can't think of too many men of my acquaintence who think Paris Hilton is attractive. I think it's mostly girls. I think she is one of those "girls think she's beautiful" things, you know, the real strange looking girl that may have one feature: a narrow waist, a nice chin, unusual eyes, that the other girls wish they had. She's soooo damn skinny, and knowing what we know now, it wouldn't be worth fucking her, since you'd have to wear so many rubbers at once, to protect yourself from the creepin' crud, that you wouldn't feel a thing. God knows you're not gonna get any rocking motion out of her, and it isn't like she's going to, like, act interested in you, either.
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The Arkansas Farmer

Thanx to my guy Wigs, again, good ole' treehugging downstate boy turned cheesehead:


A young journalism graduate from Arkansas had gone to work for the New York Times. His first assignment was to write a brief human interest story. An idea came to him and he returned to one of the most remote areas he knew of in his home state of Arkansas. Deep in the woods, he came upon a farmer's house and decided this would be a good place to start.

He introduced himself to the back country farmer and explained why he was there. The farmer (named Farmer Mahon) agreed to answer his questions. The reporter asked the farmer what event in his life had made him the happiest.

Farmer Mahon replied, "One time a neighbor lost one of his sheep. We all formed a posse and found it. After we all screwed it we took it back to the farmer that lost it."

I can't print that,' said the reporter, "Is there another event that made you really happy?"
Farmer Mahon thought for a minute and said, "Yep. One time the daughter of another local farmer got lost. She was a good-looking young girl. We all formed a posse and found her. After all of us screwed her, we took her back to her daddy."

Again the reporter knew he couldn't print the story and decided to take a different tack. He asked Farmer Mahon, ?Is there any event in your life that has made you really sad??

Farmer Mahon hung his head and replied, "Well, I got lost once."

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Monday, January 19


Write about the Cubs? Love to, but...

I truly am at a loss about what I can say at this point. I didn't go to the LoveFest, I have given up on expecting to see Ivan Rodriguez walk thru the door, and I imagine Maddux/Boras are going to dick CubPlanet around for months.

Because, they can.

And there's nothing Scott Bore-Ass loves more than to show everyone just how powerful and magnificent he thinks he is.

So, now that I actually have a functioning comment system, I would be interested to know what you want me to write about. Maybe there's an angle I haven't touched on, and maybe someone wants to know what a fat, white, bitter, unrefined rumpranger thinks about it.

Then I'll ask Forklift about it, and pass it along to y'all.

Fork, only kidding. We all know that Frank is the tube tester.
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Thanks, T

I saw a license plate today that read: THNKS T 1....and memories of a happier time enveloped me...

To my friend Stan, best man at wedding #1, Godfather of my eldest son, who currently holds me on his "pay no mind" list...anyway, he was the one who invented "Thanks, T", as far as I know.

You know, on the 'A-Team', where B.A. always had a keen sense of the obvious? Like when the team was surrounded by heavily armed enemies? B.A. would mutter "Those guys got guns!" Thanks, T. Maybe Murdock would be spurting blood from a gunshot wound in the shoulder. "Murdock, you got shot!" Thanks, T. While driving the awesome Van, he would quite purposefully run over someone else's pathetic little vehicle. "I think I hit a bump!"

Thanks, T. So that became the de facto saying whenever someone stated the painfully obvious.

"This bar has a five-dollar cover. It won't leave us much drinking money." Thanks, T.

"I see that cop car behind us has his lights on. I think he wants us to pull over."

"I think I have puke on my shirt."

"Those girls do NOT want to dance with us."

"I think I'm getting fat."

Thanks, T.
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Happy Monday...smile!

Thanks to good ol' Uncle Cecil at The Straight Dope, who has shot all to shit the popular notion that "it takes more muscles to frown than smile, so you should smile:

Dear Cecil:

I've heard from all sorts of places that it takes 43 muscles to frown and only 17 to smile (the numbers vary), but I can tell you from experience that spending half an hour grinning is a lot more tiring than half an hour of not smiling, which is pretty much the same as frowning. Is the whole idea bogus? --Ella, via the Internet

Cecil replies:

I've been hearing this for years. Supposedly it takes fewer muscles to smile than to frown; ergo, you should smile. Happiness, it seems, is the lazy person's emotion. Time to put this platitude to rest. I arrived at the following detailed accounting of the relevant muscles with the aid of David H. Song, MD, FACS, plastic surgeon and assistant professor at the University of Chicago Hospitals. Song, among other things, reconstructs faces--in short, he ought to know. My apologies if this list seems obsessive, but we're going to settle this once and for all. Caveat: Deciding which of the 53 facial muscles are important in smiling or frowning is a bit arbitrary--many make only minor contributions, and depending on the intensity of the expression may not be involved at all. I've listed here the ones Song feels are important, as corroborated by other sources.

Muscles involved in a "zygomatic" (i.e., genuine) smile:

Zygomaticus major and minor. These muscles pull up the corners of the mouth. They're bilateral (one set on either side of the face). Total number of muscles: 4.

Orbicularis oculi. One of these muscles encircles each eye and causes crinkling. Total: 2.

Levator labii superioris. Pulls up corner of lip and nose. Bilateral. Total: 2.

Levator anguli oris. Also helps elevate angle of mouth. Bilateral. Total: 2.

Risorius. Pulls corner of mouth to the side. Bilateral. Total: 2. Grand total for smiling: 12.

Principal muscles involved in a frown:

Orbicularis oculi (again). Total: 2.

Platysma. Pulls down lips and wrinkles skin of lower face. Bilateral (though joined at midline). Total: 2.

Corrugator supercilii (bilateral) and procerus (unilateral). Furrow brow. Total: 3.

Orbicularis oris. Encircles mouth; purses lips. Unilateral. Total: 1.

Mentalis. Depresses lower lip. Unilateral. Total: 1.

Depressor anguli oris. Pulls corner of mouth down. Bilateral. Total: 2. Grand total for frowning: 11.

Despite the fact that smiling uses more muscles, Song believes it takes less effort than frowning--people tend to smile more frequently, so the relevant muscles are in better shape. You may feel this conclusion assumes a rosier view of the human condition than the facts warrant, but I defer to the doctor. Incidentally, a superficial, homecoming-queen smile requires little more than the two risorius muscles. So if your goal in expressing emotion is really to minimize effort, go for insincere.


There. Fuck you, Wal-Mart smiley face. My puss is too worn out to smile on this frozen (2 above) Monday morning.

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Saturday, January 17


Fixing comments (yet again)

Now I'm on Haloscan. Wish me luck, again...

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Friday, January 16


The Cubs Convention

Many people seem to think because I am an uncouth sloth, live in the Chicago Area, and have been a diehard fan since b4 we landed on the moon, that I should be at the Cubs Convention.

Never been. To be honest, meeting my heroes has never been a priority. The few times I have, I was for the most part disappointed. Bruce Sutter is an exception.

But the real reason is simply this: I just wasn't on the ball for the 45 seconds between it was announced and when it was sold out.

Besides, if I want to mingle with the unwashed masses, huge hulking lugs and sinewy genetically-shortchanged mongrels, all wearing double knit polyester, most lacking any familiarity with the notion of "deodorant", hypertensive bellowing idiots who can't help bumping up against me and making me feel real uncomfortable, I can just finally go to one of my high school class reunions.

Ohhh, ok. I confess. Junior high class reunions. My HS reunion could be held in a phone booth, dropout rates being what they were in 1982 in Black Lung.
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Yep, this is a move designed to break "The Curse"

Grady Little has been hired by the Cubs as an Assistant GM.

What can I possibly add to this?

Insert your own joke here: _________________________________________
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Nerd Season

My buddy Wigs sent this along to me today.

This truck driver hauling a tractor-trailer load of computers through California stops for a beer. As he approaches the bar he sees a big sign on the door saying "Nerds Not Allowed - Enter At Your Own Risk!" He goes in and sits down.
The bartender comes over to him, sniffs, says, "You smell kind of nerdy. What do you do for a living?"

The truck driver says, "I drive a truck. The smell could be from the computers I am hauling."

The bartender says, "Okay, truck drivers are not nerds." And serves him a beer.

As he is sipping his beer, a skinny guy walks in with tape around his glasses, a pocket protector with twelve kinds of pens and pencils, and a belt at least a foot too long. The bartender, without saying a word, pulls out a shotgun and blows the guy away.

The truck driver, totally shocked, says "Why did you do that?"

The bartender says, "Not to worry. The nerds are overpopulating Silicon Valley and are in season now. You don't even need a license."

The truck driver finishes his beer, gets back in his truck, and heads back onto the freeway. Suddenly he veers to avoid an accident, and the load shifts. The back door breaks open and computers spill out all over the freeway. He jumps out and sees a crowd already forming, grabbing up the computers. They are all engineers, accountants and programmers wearing the nerdiest clothes he has ever seen.

He can't let them steal his whole load. So, remembering what happened in the bar, he pulls out his gun and starts blasting away, felling several of them instantly. A highway patrol officer comes zooming up and jumps out of the car screaming at him to stop.

The truck driver said, "What's wrong? I thought nerds were in season."

"Well, sure," said the patrolman. "But you can't bait 'em."


Truth IS stranger than fiction

I completely made up the Greg Maddux AP article I posted on here the other day.

I figured you all knew, but I saw several comments, and even a couple of you in the Army were seemingly running with it. I felt bad...

But, as it turns out, Peter Gammons got on the Dan Patrick radio show and reported that Maddux and Boras, in fact, WERE asking for such an arrangement!

Jesus, help us all.

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Thursday, January 15


Oh My God, that's....that's....that's Tony LARUSSA'S MUSIC!!!

Check out Joe today as he wonders out loud if the two great Anti-Christs, BoreAss and Tha Geeenious are planning sacrilege at the Cubs Convention, with Greg Maddux the willing pawn.

As a culture, we all owe SO much to Vince McMahon. Steroids, The People's Eyebrow, Rod Smart, Stacker 2.
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Andy Dolan gave me a shout!

Yup, s'true. Check it. One o' my idols, letting fools know about da mack daddy.

I think he was saying that I'm a poor man's Andy, which is cool, seeings how I don't give you hardly any links, and that I suffer from keyboard taretts.
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Dipshits of the year, so far

From all indications, Greg Maddux will become a Cub. The verbage out of Hendry and out of Bore-ass (the Great Satan) is that it will be a done deal, but they're going to try and draw every last penny that they can, which I guess is their right. Just as long as Mad Dog isn't wearing a shirt this summer with little dumbass red birds.

No, my dipshits of 2004, so far, is the crew of the Mars lander. I'm sure by now you've seen some of the footage of the scene at Mission Control at NASA, at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, and at some of the other government facilities responsible for portions of the project. As any child of the sixties can attest, the Apollo missions were HUGE to us, landing on the moon, bringing back rocks, inventing Tang. Space will always hold a type of fascination to us, and certainly what NASA has done on, what is for them, a shoestring is a great accomplishment, and I do congratulate them.

But, Oh, My, God, these people have just taken it too far. Most of us work on a project basis, whether you hang iron in a skyscraper, write code for data warehouses, or teach a room of 7 year olds about the Sacraments so they can receive Eucharist. At the end, we are all jubilant at a job well done.

But THIS bunch a nerds were jumping around like a indulgent home-schooled child after spelling "antioxidant" on an ESPN spelling bee! And the stuff they were saying...the "personnification" of the land rover. Their "Baby", their "Toddler", "taking its first steps", "dipping a toe in the water", here is a sampling of last night's quotes:

"Mars is now our sandbox

We are ready to play and learn

Our wheels are finally dirty

There are probably several hundred people here for whom it's the best day of their lives,"

Look, guys-n-gals. Good job. Way to go. Free deli meats and cheeses for all, collect your bonuses at the door.

But you have all lost sight of something that I personally think is important...the Rover is a THING. An inanimate object. It is NOT a baby, NOT a person, it is an IT. Come to find out, many of you actually found someone else to BREED with, and many of you actually have REAL children at home, who are currently being negelected while you spend every waking hour at the "office", twiddling your joysticks.

Really, dudes. Come outside. Mow a lawn. Dig in the dirt. Go to a soccer game...something. Because you all have not only lost perspective, you couldn't find it with one of your fucking geo-synchronical sattelite devices.

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Wednesday, January 14


What the hell am I sposed to do now?

Waiting.

Just waiting to see us screw this one up. For some reason, with each passing moment, I really want to see Mad Dog come back.

Of course, I'm one of those idiots who got all happy when the Ghost of Fergie came back, the Ghost of the Rebel came back, the Ghost of Holtzman, the Big Ghost of Big Daddy Reuschel all came back, and I felt warm and fuzzy.

No, of course I don't think this is THE trade that clinches everything for us. I just think it would be FUN, and after winning, isn't that what it should be about?

Let's see, now what can I do?

I can sing...

My milkshake brings all da boys to da yahd
they're like, it's better than ya'lls
damn right, it's better than ya'lls
I can teacha
but I'd hafta chaahge
(Ding!)
la-la la-la-luuuuh...


Dammit! This is killin' me...
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How well do you know the Sloth?

No, no Sloth quiz for you to take. I wish! Every time I try to get on that site to build one, it's always swamped.

I'll cut the bullshit, and while we wait anxiously to see How In The Hell Hendry & Co. is going to screw up the Greg Maddux thing, take a gander at the new, improved About the Sloth page. You may think it's mildly amusing, but every word is true.

There were several points (like, "Scarest feeling") where I could have gone for the Ha, but for some reason I felt like coming clean on it.

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Tuesday, January 13


Look, here's the thing...

The Cubs made enough money to cover ALL of their expenses for 2003, all of the payroll, building costs, travel costs, utilities, everything...IN OCTOBER ALONE!!!

Which means that everything else that happened from January thru September goes into the Tribune's pocket, which includes all that juicy National TV money.

So when they tell ME and YOU that they don't have any more money to improve their team, NO MATTER HOW BAD OF AN INVESTMENT IT MAY BE, it is a crock of shit.

Maybe KC or Pittsburgh can't afford to risk $30M on Pudge, on the oft-chance that he is going to suck over the length of his contract.

But we can.
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Nope, that wasn't it

Oh well.

Anyway, it is my turn to comment on the Rocket landing in Houston.

All I really give a fig about is the Cubs, and if you take Hendry at his word, the signing of Clemens has nothing to do with the Cubs pursuing Greg Maddux. Of course, I think Hendry is a stinking liar, and if the Houston signing suddenly causes us to go get Maddux, then that's good for me. I still don't think this is going to put us over the top. But, I gotta admit, it will be so freakin' cool to see him win his 300th here, to watch him stick it to the Deadbirds, to the Braves, and yes, the Gotdam Marlins.

Plus, there is a new newspaper ad campaign entitled "Fo(u)r Starters" with the studs all pictured in a row. You'd hafta squeeze Mad Dog in there if he comes with us, and that would just lick me underneath!

What must it feel like to hit Cub pitching?

Batting against Wood must be like getting beat up by a sick, sadistic school bully. The bastard is hitting you as hard as he can, he's hitting you in the face so it shows, he's leaving welts and maybe even breaking bones. Going against Prior is like getting run over by a car. It hits fast, and you know you didn't have a chance. A game against Z is like one of those long, drawn out fights that lasts about six days, and maybe you win, maybe you don't, but at the end, you can't even stand up, you're so Goddamned tired.

And then Maddux walks in, with his specs and his pea shooter. You're laughing your ass off, then he starts shooting it right at your eyes, and while you're crying and rubbing, he then walks up and kicks you, once, right in the fucking gootch. You immediately crumple up in a fetal position, coughing in the oft chance that maybe your balls would clear out of your throat. And he just goes back to stinging you with his cockshifting pea shooter.

Having Maddux around WOULD rock.

As for duh Rocket, well, I only see him winning 8 games this year. Yes, I know he won more games last year than Maddux. He has more stuff at this point than Maddux. But he has never had to bat for himself...to run for himself...and either somebody like Wood, Zambrano or maybe that psychotic tacoshell Tavarez in St Louis is gonna drill him in his big bubble head. Either that, or the big fat genetic freak is gonna pop a hammy running out a dribbler to second. Either way, I say he only makes 20 starts, and ends up a non-factor.

Which is not to say that the AssTrolls won't be good, because they're gonna be right there all year. Anyone who says that the Cubs are "far and away" the best team in the division, let alone the whole NL, is strung out on so much Oxycodone that Rush Limbaugh wants to suck your Rick for a second-hand buzz.
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Now where the hell did my comments go?

I wonder if posting the picture has anything to do with it? I will take it out, and see.

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Monday, January 12


In this, the decade where its always someone else's fault

Here in America, we are killing ourselves. Everything costs more and more these days, industries are shutting down, because of monstrous lawsuits of frivilous grounds.

An clumsy old woman spills a cup of McDonald's coffee on her lap? Sue Mickey D's for her pain, win.

Countless idiots ignore the warnings on the sides of tobacco packages the last forty years, lungs fall out, they die, their widows sue the tobacco companies for literally billions...win.

Fat ass fuckers gorge themselves on Quarter Pounders and Egg McMuffins for years, then sue Mickey D's because they're fat...

Well, here's the latest...some knuckle dragging Neanderthal in Dairyland is suing Cable TV, because he's a drunken sot, his wife is a fat pig, and his spuds are all potatoes? He asked them to disconnect the cable four years ago, and they did him a FAVOR and ignored his request.

Where I'm from, if you're getting free cable, you shut your fucking piehole, and give a quick prayer of thanks to God for your good fortune. You don't file the most bizarrely cocksucking lawsuit known to mankind because YOU COULDN'T HELP YOURSELF, and YOU SAT ON YOUR FAT LAZY WISCONSIN ASSES and WATCHED!

That's it. Someone hold me back. I'm going up there, putting this cretin out of his misery, him and the phony fucking prick who took his case, and save us all a little bit of oxygen for us to enjoy.
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Well, everyone else did it, why can't I?

Pholph's Scrabble Generator

My Scrabble© Score is: 26.
What is your score? Get it here.


Big Stupid Tommy scores a 27.

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Saturday, January 10


I call Bullshit!

Did you call "bullshit"? Well, truth is sometimes as strange as fiction.

BTW: If you are not aware of the sociological impact that The Heckler has already had on Planet Cub, then take the time to check them out! This truly is an example of every Cub blogger's dream come true: an uncouth sloth (not The Uncouth Sloth, mind you) who has received the attention and adulation of the mainstream media. He's one of us...albeit with some substantial capital investment, and some key contacts through his gig with the ad agency.

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Friday, January 9


MADDUX TALKS WITH CUBS STALLED OVER...GOLF?

BY LANCE AMULET, AP SPORTS WRITER

PHOENIX: Cy Young award-winning pitcher Greg Maddux, through his representative, agent Scott Boras, confirmed today that he has in fact had contact with the Chicago Cubs about the possibility of rejoining them for what will certainly be seen as the end of a long, meritorious career. Maddux is looking for an arrangement similar to what the Houston Astros are reportedly promising to future Hall Of Famer Roger Clemens in order to pitch for them.

Reportedly, Maddux would be willing to forego his full market value, which could be as much as $11M annually, in exchange for a number of perks. Many of them, such as ground transportation in Chicago, several in-season flights for his family from their Las Vegas offseason home, and membership in several exclusive Chicago area golf clubs, do not present a problem to Cubs management.

According to Boras, speaking by cell phone from the golf course at Gainey Ranch in suburban Scottsdale, where he was playing a round with his 20-game winning client, the hangup lies in a proposed alternative work schedule for Maddux. "Since (Maddux) would pitch every fifth day, that means that he would only be expected to appear in every other series. Most starting pitchers use that time to chart pitches by other starters, and to engage in film study of their next opponent. However, (Maddux) knows the hitters in the NL better than anyone pitching today. He does not need to be present for every series the Cubs play. Furthermore, he also has a state-of-the-art video viewing studio in his home which would allow him to study other teams' tendencies just in case."

Boras reportedly suggested to Cubs management that Maddux be allowed to go back home to Nevada on the off series, at his own expense, to spend time with his family and take care of family business. Like golf, Boras was asked? "His family likes to golf with him. That qualifies as quality time in the Maddux family," Boras replied.

Cubs management is reported to have initially balked at the suggestion. It has been theorized by many in the media that Maddux would be just as valuable on the days he is in the bullpen as he would be on pitching days, providing leadership and pitching tips to the bevy of young Cub arms, such as Kerry Wood, Mark Prior, and Matt Clement.

"There will be plenty of time for male bonding," Boras added, "but (Maddux) is at the point in his life where he would like to see his kids grow up. Quite possibly, other teams, certainly on the West Coast, may agree."

Talks are said to be ongoing.
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Right off the bat

On my Yahoo! Cubs News, this was part of the first article, which in turn is from Indiansinsider.com:

..the man can hit.

As it turns out, though, the other thing Todd Walker can do is irritate the bejeezus out of his teammates and front office. His reputation is normally expressed as a colloquialism for "anal sphincter." And it's pretty much universal: it's not like Kelly gave him a bum rap that unfairly stuck. No, Todd Walker apparently earns every bit of ill will he can conjure forth. One imagines the scene in which Mark Shapiro makes Walker the $2.4M offer, mildly secure that he has started the bidding and will bow out after showing good faith effort, when other GM's call him up and whisper, "Mark ... no one else will offer him that much ... he is a colloquialism for anal sphincter." Thus Shapiro rescinds his offer, because he realizes that, Good Lord, pretty soon Walker's going to figure out that that's gonna be the best offer he's gonna get. and he might actually take the sucker. See, I think Shapiro may have fallen into the trap we Virtual GMs stumble over, which is he made an offer commensurate with the numbers without enough regard to the fact that the human being generating said numbers is pretty much universally reviled.


This isn't good news to me, if in fact it is true that Todd Walker is an asshole. Could this be sour grapes because he signed with the Cubs for less than he was offered by his team? I sure hope so.

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Thursday, January 8


Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome BlogSpeak

Commenting should be better now.

And, if there are any ladies reading this, please let me know. I don't intend for this to be a sausage-fest.

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Commenting

I will need to get my commenting fixed soon. My apologies to any of you who have been trying to comment about Hit King, Ryno, or Bore-ass.

There was a passing reference in yesterday's Bruce Miles column in the Daily Herald where he cautions us not to hope for I. Rodriguez, but there may still be a chance that G. Maddux will once again pitch for us.

In case this is your first visit here, even if Maddux comes, there will be NO pennant for us if Pudge does not play for us, as well. We cannot possibly call the Cubs' lineup dominant with Alex Gonzalez, Mike Barrett, and Grud taking up a third of the batting order. It WOULD be cool if Maddux came back, though. Not only does he win us 15 games, and buddies up with Wood, Prior, and the other studs, but it is just so Cub. Fergie came back this way, as did Holtzman and Big Daddy Reuschel, too.

Of course, I thought getting Richie Sexson was Cublike, too, and it didn't happen.

Oh well, look on the bright side. We still could be paying Turd Hundley to hit .154 for us.

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Wednesday, January 7


A blond joke from my wife....


...hmmm...well, let's see.....

As a trucker stops for a red light, a blonde from Kentucky catches up. She jumps out of her car, runs up to his truck, and knocks on the door. The trucker lowers the window, and the blond says, "Hi, my name is Wendy and you are losing some of your load."

The trucker ignores her and proceeds down the street. When the truck stops for another red light, the girl catches up again. She jumps out of her car, runs up and knocks on the door. Again, the trucker lowers the window. As if they've never spoken, the blonde says brightly, Hi my name is Wendy, and you are losing some of your load!" Shaking his head, the trucker ignores her again and continues down the street.

At the third red light, the same thing happens again. All out of breath, the blonde gets out of her car, runs up, knocks on the truck door. The trucker lowers the window. This time, HE says, "Wait, Wendy. Listen. Hi, my name is Kevin, it's winter here in Indiana - and I'm driving the Salt Truck."
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Why is the HOF irrelevant?

OK, let's shove aside the deserving yet imbecilic Ryne Sandberg for a minute.

I would have voted for Molitor, and CERTAINLY I would have voted for Eckersley. Dennis Eckersley is what the Hall of Fame is about. I can sit here and argue that his career parallels Babe fucking Ruth's.

Both men started out as starting pitchers, and both were good. Both were 20 game winners. Both battled addictions. Both had mid-career position changes. Both not only dominated their game, but TRANSFORMED the position they played. Ruth decreed that all corner outfielders worth their salt hit with massive power. Eck would go MONTHS without giving up a run.

Did Eckersley get a unanimous vote? Has anyone? Hank Aaron, Willie Mays, Mickey Mantle, Johnny Bench? Ted Williams, Joe DiMaggio? Ty Cobb? Babe Ruth? THE names of the game, and none have ever received unanimous backing?

If you are one of the several hundred people entrusted to cast a vote this past year, and remember, you get up to ten votes!!!, if you looked at this year's list and did NOT vote for Eck, then you know what? You're NOT a fan, you DON'T know baseball, you should have your rights TAKEN AWAY, you're an ASSHOLE, a shitforbrains no-good nothingnuts oxygen depleting prissy-ass dicks-shoved-up-yer-chute fuckstain, and the fact that pus-sores like you vote for the HOF depreciate its worth. If you didn't use one of your ten precious votes for Eck, then what did you do? Cast your one vote for Dale Murphy, and send it in like that?

How responsible is that? How constructive is that? How incredibly bull-headed are you?

I understand logic. I know logical people, and I grasp logical concepts. I don't always go that route, but anyway. I do not understand what I call "HOF logic", the principle that states that Ryne Sandberg retired in 1997, came up for vote in late 2002, and was NOT a hall-of-famer according to 51% of the voters. In late 2003, 39% still thought so, but 12% somehow came around to appreciate Ryne Sandberg. Quite possibly, by late 2005, many people will still not see him that way, less than 25%, but still hundreds of voters still will.

What did he do in 2003 to ingratiate himself to 12% of the voting populace? Was it because he refused to pout in public? Was it his great National City ads (BTW, Chuck, how EZ is it to get his autograph?) What is he going to do this year?

The answer is NOTHING, nothing except grow older. The voters, yes the same ones of whom 12% thought that Dennis Eckersley does NOT belong, impose a type of catergorization by their refusal to vote for him. "Oh, I don't think he deserves it now. Maybe next year."

What kind of dumbfuck thought process is that? Either he IS, or he IS NOT. Last year, I went crazy when he was passed over. Since then, I have realized just how stupid, pointless, and meaningless the whole thing is. He seems to be well adjusted enough to realize it, too, or perhaps he is "playing the game" by being coy about it, or in fact, maybe, he's too stupid to be insulted.

But for whatever reason, God bless him, and God also bless Ron Santo, who is NOT well adjusted enough to live content without such an honor, and may end up dying with this piece missing from his soul.

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Tuesday, January 6


Contest

All I can offer for a reward is grudging respect of your superior bastardity by your fellow bloggers.

1) What is your favorite ACRONYM?
2) Why is ATM my fave?

Leave your comments below, if that fucksticking Enetation is working today....
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Would you buy medicine from this man?

Ok, in an attempt to cool down from the latest annual butt-fucking Ryno is taking from the idiot savants that vote for the HOF, I actually went through some of my SPAM. This one is unretouched:

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Now, really, if you received this e-mail, and you actually clicked on this for some viagra, then you deserve to have your meat fall off in tender, ragged clumps.

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The Cub Blog playoffs

I'm winning my division?!?

Anyway, thanks, guys....sniff...you like me! You really like me!!

Yeah, Sally, OK, now get down here and bob on Rob...
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More on Pete, Pudge, and the East Coast HOF

It is day 6 of the new year, and Mike Barrett is still our starting catcher. It's a fucking crime, when you consider the Cubs made about 43 trillion dollars last year.

Pete Rose is a fucking scumbag sweat-licking whore who does not deserve to be inducted in the Covington, KY Hall of Fame, let alone the all-mighty Cooperstown variety HOF. There are rules in place, posted in EVERY dog-fucking clubhouse, and he disregarded them, then lied to everyone until such time it was profitable to come clean, and he has no shame in any of it. His callous disregard to the rules, whether they make sense or not, shows a complete lack of respect for the traditions of the game and the people before you who have earned respect.

He does not deserve a break.

But let's say, for a minute, that the rule didn't exist. This occurred to me today during the long ride in - what's so bad on betting ON yourself? Sure, I understand that the line between betting to WIN and betting to LOSE is a fine one. And anyone who bets to lose, and then throws the game away, should never be allowed to participate again.

But let's assume that I have extreme moral character, and I would NEVER throw a game. What's wrong with betting ON yourself? Don't we do that all the time, in real life? When you go into debt to finance an education, isn't that a bet on yourself to succeed? Or when you mortgage your house to start your own business? Or buy stock in your company?

If you're an athlete, wouldn't it inspire you to work HARDER if you bet on yourself? I always thought it would be cool to make all player contracts contingent on wins. Isn't that a bet on yourself? Betting ON yourself doesn't sound immoral to me at all.

But, as I said, I understand that gambling itself can be tragically addictive, and it would be very easy to slip once it starts, particularly if you get behind and need to pay off in a hurry.

Finally, HOF announcements are due out today. I would vote for Molitor and Eck. I would also vote for Sutter, Sandberg, Gossage, Blyleven, and am currently sweating the notion of Lee Smith. He's borderline to me. I don't think Dawson has it, and Jim Rice seems less impressive to me with each passing year.

The first two will get in, the rest will take their usual annual screwing, and I'm not going to lose any more sleep about it. I spent all my disillusionment last year, when Ryno didn't get 50% of the vote, and the scabby pricks on the Vet Committee didn't vote Santo in. Festering pus-sores like Mike Schmidt and Joe Morgan deserve to be in a little homo club that would welcome "men" like themselves, and exclude Ron Santo.

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Monday, January 5


Impatient as hell

I know who this is...this is all Scott Bore-asses fault!! That fucking keyunt could fuck up a night at Benihana's with Jessicas Biel, Alba, Simpson and Lynch, all on Oprah's credit card!! Yup, all the food groups: steak, shrimp, rice, brunette, brunetter, blond, and crippled!! YUM!

I'd like to shove a ton o' Swedish fish up his delusional ass!

I want my Pudge!! Fork called me a "Pudge Packer"...(sheepishly raises hand)

OH, BTW: Say howdy to Gooseneck, who hails from the south, follows a certain Chicago sports franchise, and writes real good.
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Charlie Hustle

Some one, and I can't remember if it was a legit sportswriter, or one of the tear-stained wretches on the Coven or in the Cub Blog Army, said a few months ago that the reason why Pete Rose's book is coming out this week, rather than a few months ago, is because he is going to admit on betting on ball, and it was going to come out the day AFTER the HOF vote was announced, and this would give him enough time to be reinstated, and to be added to the 2005 ballot.

I have been waiting to see if this was fact, and sadly, it is.

Only a coward would see the need to lie about it for 14 years.

Only a fuckwad would admit it without any remorse. No "apologi", no "I'm sorry". Even Sammy fucking Sofa thought it was a good idea to apologi for his corked bat.

In the realm of assclowns, I would kiss Sosa's ass for an eternity before I would shake Pete Rose's hand.

Give the pathetic dripping gloryhole his HOF plaque, so he will just go away to sell fake "authentic" artifacts on QVC, or whatever it is that Southern Ohio white trash inbreeders do for a living.

Of course, there's one more thing, the prospect of his actually working in baseball. Anyone who hires the convicted felon gets what they deserve. There's only one place in the world where he COULD possibly swing this, though, and that's the Gateway to Appalachia itself, Cincinnatti.

If Reds fans welcome that shit stain back with open arms, then they are worse toothless soapless clueless hillbillies than Cardinal fans are.
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Potpourri of thoughts from the weekend

Since I didn't hear a lousy scrap of Cubs news this weekend, all I have for you are my thoughts for this weekend.

First of all, Will Carroll e-mailed me. I thought that was cool.

Next, if Oklahoma kept on pounding the ball in the fourth quarter, they woulda beat LSU. But that was OK by me. Geaux Tigers!

I was a little surprised by the lack of displeasure communicated by the Green Bay crowd when that veiny weenie Matt Hasselbeck got on the loudspeaker and announced at the sudden death coinflip "We'll take the ball, and we're gonna score!" Maybe the fans, which despite the fact that they're all a bunch of back-assward rubes, are die-hard muthas, knew what was coming.

What is it about impending snowstorms that makes TV newspeople cream their jeans?

BTW: if you're female, cute, but flatchested, there's always work for you on The Weather Channel. They have about six different weather persons who fit that descriptions.

More on breasts: another reason why LSU beat Oklahoma: their cheerleaders were more buxom, shall we say.

Final word on breasts: there are cuter girls (Mandy Moore), prettier girls (Jessica Alba) and hotter girls who can act (Catherine Bell), but nobody on TV or movies has a better body than Jessica Biel. Hands down. I will not argue with anyone on this.

How does one know when their child is out smoking pot? I want to strangle my elder son, because he just takes selfish and lazy to a new level every day. His latest trick is going downstairs after midnight and messing up the kitchen cooking shit. Why does one need to do that? We fed him dinner.

The book Durocher's Cubs, in the end, depressed the shit out of me.

Finally, if you haven't figured it out, I got Derek from

Big Red C up on the left hand side. The Cub Blog Army just keeps growing in strength. We gonna get noticed one of these days, real soon. Wouldn't it be great if we could somehow help shape the future of the Cubs? Stranger things have happened. If a guy can hold his infant son in front of a hungry alligator, maybe McFail can start paying attention to what Ruz or the Northside Lounge has to offer.

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Friday, January 2


Return of the Overrated list

Part V of things and people too big for their britches

A blog I read regular is Hi, I'm Black!, and Glenn points out that Snoop Dogg is the most overrated rapper ever.

Glenn, you could not be more correct.

81. Snoop Dogg
82. Internet porn "movies" of the "stars" (Pam Anderson, Paris Hilton)
83. Fiery coaches
84. Any N-SYNC member not named Justin
85. In fact, any Carter family member or ex-girlfriend
86. The NCAA Football National Championship. Will the sun come out tomorrow if there are co-champs? Bet it would.
87. The Homeland Security Terror Alert. Of course, I didn't have to fly for the holidays.
88. Caviar and champagne. Bait and vinegar?
89. Amateur Night. New Year's Eve. Are there really more accidents than usual?
90. The cholestrol-lowering benefits of oatmeal
91. I hate the whole Lord of The Rings thing, but it seems that LOTR may be UNDERRATED...jeez
92. Earned Run Average. I don't care if his career ERA is around 4, Felix Heredia sucks
93. Radar Guns (pitching). Kyle #44 is better than Maddux. Gun says so.
94. Japanese, Korean and Cuban ballplayers. Not worth the huge up-front contracts
95. Single-malt scotch. Still tastes like melted ice water with a cigarette butt in it
96. Did I say Lizard Joe Morgan already? Bears repeating.
97. Timberlands
98. Cubs v. Cardinals. Next to Yankees v. BoSox, watered down and weak
99. The Dow Jones is back up. Do you feel any richer?
100. Mad Cow. Just gimme my fuckin' beef, OK?
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It's January 2

Where's my Pudge? I want my Pudge!

Yeah, Happy New Year to you, too. I guess I assumed you knew that, already.

No news. The Cubs Blog Army must have been hung over yesterday. I personally slept until noon, which is a personal adult non-alcohol-aided record. Fortunately, so did the rest of the family. Basically I got up, ate, watched some football, went to bed. As I said, the rest of the CBA must have done the same thing.

I don't give a rat's ass how many laps Scott Skiles makes the Bulls run for not tying their shoes, I couldn't give a fuck less about who coaches the Bears next year, and they can play the BCS in a phone booth for all I care, because all I am looking forward to is the Cubs signing a future HOF catcher, winning the Central by 20 games, and kicking the snot out of the other playoff qualifiers in the NL.

Anything else will go down in my book as a disappointment. Period. Paragraph. Story.

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