It’s Friday once again, although it may not feel that way because many of you probably overindulged on Wednesday thanks to Cinco de Drinko. We used to love Cinco de Mayo until it somehow degenerated into an ever bigger amateur farce than when we were growing up. But still, it’s an excuse for gringos to drink margaritas and eat Mexican food, so there’s always that.
However, it’s now the next day and you’re probably hungover, full of indigestion, and wondering why you used that permanent marker to draw on your pencil thin mustache. We can’t help you there, but we can help you salve things a bit with this batch of links we collected throughout the week. So come on in!
Let’s start by tying up some loose ends. Cinco de Mayo was also Cinco de Mustache around CJS, and we witnessed both Hart’s and Keithage’s impressive offerings to the holiday. Well done, fellas. But you weren’t alone in your follicle foibles. Here we present the esteemed facial hair of two of our other Regulars:
The poor, future Mrs. Tron obviously didn’t enjoy Rural Edition Tron and in her email to us only said, “Eeew.” We like it. Especially that beer one. It says, “This may be beer, but I got wine coolers too. Step into my Cummins Diesel ‘cuz I’d rather be cummin’ than strokin’”.
“I’m your huckleberry.”
“I know, Ike. Why don’t we have a spelling contest?”
We like how he went ahead and put on the pale tuberculosis makeup too for the complete Doc Holliday effect. No one’s that pale in real life, right?
Happy Cinco de Mustache, everyone!
Since Deuce went balls out on Cinco de Mustache, the next two links belong to him.
In what he calls “a sad day for mild-mannered NASCAR fans everywhere,” we see some idiot painted the back of his truck with nasty, reductive anger toward an entire group of people. In addition, his 14CV88 license was also deemed to be code for white supremacists, and that Confederate flag on his back window certainly leaves nothing about his personal ideology as mystery. We’re no NASCAR fans around here, but we do empathize with Deuce because of all the fucking miserable ridicule we’ve had to endure as pro wrestling fans thanks to some halfwit yokel poisoning everyone’s well with his shitheadedness.
On the lighter side of car racing: Gnarly crashes! Watch the onboard cam of Paul Rees as some other cockwagon crashing into another driver and flying over the top of him in what’s one of the batshit kookiest views of a car wreck we’ve ever seen. Well done, sir. And thanks for the links!
Moving now to our current favorite sports breeding ground for slack-jawed dimwit fans, the UFC. And despite the unreal amount of bullshit he must put up with from his slobbering fanbase, one thing you can always count on is a straight word from Dana White. The dude lives his brand, and when it sucks, he calls it like it is. In another terrific read from Dan Wetzel, we get to peek inside the world of Dana as he tries to move past Anderson Silva’s horrible fight in Dubai. I’m not usually compelled by business leaders (I mostly find business to be a game played by jocks, pricks, and thugs), but I can’t get enough Dana White in my life. I’d read an article about him cooking fucking breakfast at this point.
One guy we feel exquisitely bad for, and wish for his sake that no one would ever say his name in public again, is Steve Bartman. As a fellow Cub fan, as a fellow baseball fan, and just as a person, my heart aches for Steve Bartman. We’d try to analyze all the reasons he’s not actually at fault for the Cubs failing to make the World Series in 2003, but we’d just fall short compared to this beautiful, poetic, and thoroughly engrossing analysis of Game 6 of the 2003 NLCS by Will Leitch. If the quality of this essay is any indication of what his new book Are We Winning? contains, we’ll all be winners if we pick it up.
Wait, pretend I didn’t just say that. That’s terrible use of language. Aren’t you thankful we didn’t write the Bartman analysis ourselves?
As much as we should probably just get over it, we still hate Eric Byrnes. So, it’s with full recognition that we should probably be charmed by this story of his joining a beer league softball team after the Mariners cut him for sucking and being over the hill, but nope. We still think Eric Byrnes is an obnoxious clown, and all we can picture is him sitting on that raft as a correspondent for the All Star Game in San Francisco throwing balls to his dog all smug and self-satisfied because he just signed a massive new contract extension. We hate that image. Then we remember him as the last out of the 2007 NLCS face down in the dirt, and the pain washes away immediately. Anyway, enjoy retirement you unreasonably happy bastard. We’ll look forward to you annoying the piss out of us on Fox Saturday Baseball soon enough, we guess.
Since stadiums refuse to enforce them, fans have unwritten rules about attending games they should follow. Wait until between hitters to find your seat, and if you’re slow as hell getting down there, crouch in the aisle to maintain everyone’s view. Heckle outfielders with only clean barbs. And for God’s sake, if you’re sitting behind home plate, if you spend the entire game on your cell phone waving at the fucking television camera, everyone you annoy gets to flick you on the earlobe once.
Baseball has unwritten rules too. Considering many baseball players are meatheads, we’re amazed at how many are here. One that should be included that isn’t here: If you’re an American League bench player, you can legally file for unemployment because you don’t technically do any work.
And as if we haven’t had enough baseball, here’s a brief history of Wiffle Ball. We never played much Wiffle Ball, but we did always like Wiffle Ball Tony from Mike Birbiglia’s stand up act. Of course, we liked him better as a metaphor than we did as an actual president, but that’s to be expected.
Since nothing screams topicality like a sitcom that went off the air more than 10 years ago (In a related story, I’m pretty sure I used this lead-in a few weeks ago which means I’m working far too much now), here’s two links pertaining to the cast of “Seinfeld.”
1) Bet you didn’t know that the episode where Elaine’s boyfriend thinks she’s Spanish was damn close to life. Don’t believe me? Behold her star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame: Julia Luis Dreyfus. Ay, mamacita! Happy Cinco de Mayo, Luis!
2) Thanks to the Sports Guy’s Twitter page, we too thoroughly enjoyed this re-imagining of George Costanza as a dramatic, heartbroken man who loses the love of his life. It’s no “Brokeback to the Future,” but damn if this didn’t make us laugh like hell.
In a nod to all of our dork engineering friends, we, like the crowd of people who gathered near a highway just to watch it, marveled at the way FasTracks moved the giant bridge over 6th Avenue into place this past weekend. It’s not every day someone just up and moves a goddamn bridge, so we thought we’d commemorate the occasion with a hearty tip of the hat.
The Confessional this week asks: What summer movie are you most looking forward to, and which movie will most likely suck balls? Feel free to consult this list for reference, and send your picks into firstname.lastname@example.org
You may want to join in on this one because it’s likely the last Confessional for a while. We’ll discuss more on Monday, but for now, send in those movie picks.
Finally this week, enjoy the NBA Playoffs in all their resplendent glory…
Have a great weekend, CJS folk! We’ll see you Monday.
07 May 2010 E Dagger