Probably Not Appropriate for a Sunday

If you've never listened to Kevin Smith and Scott Mosier's SMODCAST, don't bother. Unless you think you'd enjoy hearing two overgrown adolescents get stoned and talk about women, movies, hockey, and really, really fucked up news stories. It's almost as if someone tried to tune a radio to the frequency of Teejay's brain, but got the next station over.

Consider this a trailer:

Game 6 Over/Under

My friends and I just finished up playing a coupe hours of pickup ball this afternoon. Not surprisingly, Game 6 of the Eastern Conference Finals was a major topic of discussion. Over the course of our time we worked out some over/unders for tonight's game in Orlando. Feel free to throw in your own and/or chime in on these in the comments.

Free Throws Attempted by LeBron: 25 (Over)

Offensive Fouls by Dwight Howard: 2 (I'd like to push here but I'll take the over)

Offensive fouls on LeBron: 1 (There's no way I can take the over here...push)

Bad/rushed shots by Mo Williams: 6 (Over)

Bad/rushed shots by Rafer Alston: 6 (Over)

Number of times LeBron flops after minimal contact whilst on offense: 5 (OVER)

Number of times Dwight Howard flops after minimal contact whilst on offense: 3 (Under)

Flops by Anderson Varejao: We couldn't find a high enough number

Camera shots of a sweaty and exasperated Stan Van Gundy: Again, we couldn't come up with a high enough number

Number of times I scream at the TV: 10 (Under...I hope)

Number of beers I consume: 12 (OVER)

That's it. Enjoy the game. I think I speak for all of us here at Gheorghe (and if I don't then anyone I'm not speaking for has no soul and is a complete and total starfucker) when I say, let's go Magic!

Roller Skating Jam

Old(ish) school, because I haven't been home in two weeks and I need a Saturday.

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Better "One"?

I had this grand plan to write a post this morning saying the Nationals would be wise to let Daniel Cabrera channel his inner Rick Vaughn and close, but then I go and see the Nats released him yesterday (and GM Mike Rizzo took some shots at him on the way out, nice).  So instead, we'll have a little election at GTB today (no Mark, not that kind). Driving home last night, I heard Choice A on the radio and remembered how fucking good U2 can be when Bono's sheer presence isn't pissing me off:



But then I remembered Choice B and was instantly transported to a time when I felt only I knew of Metallica and how hard they rocked and I wasn't bombarded daily with cuts from the black album on MTV:



An extremely tough choice, and not that anyone cares, but I'll cast my ballot in the comments.

NCAA Failure, Again

The NCAA's passive-aggressive stance towards the State of South Carolina and its stars-and-bars state flag is a well-documented and tiresome story. This weekend, I delved a bit deeper into the issue and found that, as usual, the NCAA's enforcement mechanisms are misguided and mistargeted.

Instead of focusing on a minor kerfuffle like a state flag that bespeaks the casual racism of a region, the NCAA should be spending its legal fees on a far more egregious and outrageous offense. To wit, the picture below details an actual restaurant in Cherry Grove, SC - hard by the Atlantic Ocean and just thisfar from 1964:

Heritage, not hate, people. That's the line, right?

I'm a big softie

So Sunday I'm watching yet another Nats stinker (which they actually won thanks to Adam Dunn) and just as I'm about to turn during the 7th inning stretch I catch who's going to sing God Bless America. Let me just say that even I found this extremely cute.

Bite Me, Randy Newman

Fittingly, on the weekend of Gary Burghoff's birthday, science is finally getting around to confirming something I've been saying for years: short people are evolutionarily superior to tall, gangly, long-nerve-having freaks*.

(* - This may not be a completely accurate reading of the source material, but it is a near-certainty that it's a quicker reading.)

Gheorghe Helps the Authorities

Women sought in daring TV theft from Mo. Wal-Mart
May 20, 9:18 PM (ET) JOPLIN, Mo.

(AP) - Police are looking for two women who pulled off the daring theft of a high-end television set from a Wal-Mart store. Police on Monday said one of the women posed as a Wal-Mart employee and the second played the role of customer Sunday night. The duo made off with a 52-inch, flat-screen Samsung TV worth $1,300. Police Cpl. Chuck Niess said that by the time any real Wal-Mart employees became suspicious, both women were gone. He said the phony employee was dressed as a Wal-Mart worker in tan slacks and a blue shirt and wore a communication device on her belt. She recruited some true employees to help her load the TV on a cart. Niess said Pittsburg, Kan., police reported suspects matching the same descriptions staged a similar theft at a Wal-Mart in that city.

Occifer, we found your culprits:

Know Your Minor League Mascot

I was originally going to profile the Lake Elsinore Storm this afternoon, because I've been to their ballyard in SoCal and they have a terrific (if slightly creepy) logo. But their website is a freaking travesty of sound-effect overkill with so much fooferaw that it crashed my browser three times. As payback, the Rancho Cucamonga Quakes get their turn in the bright lights of G:TB fame.

Team: Rancho Cucamonga Quakes
League: California (A)
Affiliation: Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim

Mascot: Tremblor

Self-Absorbed East Coast Elitist Commentary: Cucamonga. Cucamonga. Cucamonga. I could say that for minutes on end. Cucamonga. Californians are silly. And fiscally irresponsible.

Gheorgheness Quotient: 65/77. The name is geographically perfect, and even a bit self-deprecating. The Quakes play in a ballpark called The Epicenter. We took off points because their mascot appears to be an alligator/crocodile-type creature, and to the best of my considerable knowledge, such things don't exist in the Western U.S. (We'll add 5 points to the score if it can be proven that it's actually a dinosaur. But we'll take them back off again because it appears to also have the measles.) Also, fuck the Lake Elsinore Storm.

Thursdays with Maury*

Natural selection must've been on a smoke break when these pillars of society were drunkenly conceived:



*And yes Dave, if you're thinking you've also seen this post title before, you have.

If it's on motherfucker...

I'm not sure what has happened here lately, but it hasn't been good. There's been less content than normal (I know, I didn't think it was possible either) and there's just been a generally uninspired feel to the proceedings. In fact, G:TB is running the risk of turning into a half-assed, no account organization. The Clippers of the blogosphere, if you will.

Sadly, there is no Blake Griffin looming on the horizon to come and shake us from our doldrums (As an aside...man, could Griffin have gotten a rawer deal tonight? I'm sure Zach Randolph will be a welcoming and supportive mentor for young Mr. Griffin. This is pretty much the exact opposite of what happened to Derrick Rose this time last year). No, all we have is the beginning of the NBA Conference Finals. Conference Finals that I, for one, am extremely psyched about. I love basketball, the matchups are intriguing, the two best players on earth are involved, my favorite NBA team is also involved and, to top it all off, I just bought myself a new 50" HDTV last weekend. Don't ever let anybody tell you that buying an enormous HDTV is a waste of money. It's only been a week and I already love that TV more than at least one of my sisters (to be fair, they did go to FSU).

So, anyway, here's a little something new to celebrate the kickoff to the NBA's Final Four. If you aren't watching these games, chances are you don't like basketball...and there's an even better chance that I don't like you. So, um, yeah. Let's have some fucking fun already.

Sam Wyche, Wrong Again

You may live in Cincinnati, not Cleveland, but if you do, you suck. Or, at least, your sports teams do. According to a Toronto Star study, the home of the Redlegs and Bengals ranks dead last of the 37 North American cities with at least two professional franchises in winning percentage since 2000.

Also, if you live in the greater Washington, DC area, you suck, too.

Finally, it occurs to me that those sneaky bastards in Toronto may be including CFL franchises in this calculation, in which case they suck, too.

Breaking News: G:TB Circles Back, Finishes Bit.

"Geraldo Parra became the 100th player in major league history to homer in his first at-bat Wednesday, May 13th against the Reds."

Congratulations Geraldo! May you make it to heaven a half an hour before the devil knows you're dead...

And for an exclusive look at the now-famous slugger (who's actual name, Rotoworld editing department, is Gerardo Parra - "It's Ronald, not Donald."), a G:TB mole leaked our new hero's stock photo to us to share with our readers before he became yet another household image gracing the tops of ottomans and coffee tables everywhere. Right next to that skank, Kate, from "Jon and Kate Plus Eight" - what a skanky skank she is. While you weren't on our short list of prospects to accomplish this feat, we salute you nonetheless.

**You'd actually be surprised how many guys look like Gerardo Parra at first glance on Rotoworld.com. But, if you look carefully, you can see the subtle distinguishing features. Arizona was obviously wearing their throw-back "Rattlers" uniforms on picture day. So, don't let the "R" on his cap throw you off.

His Weekend, Better Than Yours

A feel-good story for our readers on this holiday-shortened week. (For me, anyway.) Irish amateur Shane Lowry knocked in a 2-foot putt to win the rain-drenched and wind-whipped Irish Open yesterday, finally giving the locals an excuse to drink. We heartily and jealously approve.

Raising Filler to New Levels

Because I'm tired of looking at sleepy Nats fans, and because this made me laugh out loud, and because I'm hoping (though not expecting) that this white flag of a post may inspire someone at G:TB HQ to post something else, I give you the following quote from Jerome P. Flantastico, proprietor of Jerry's Wheelhouse, regarding last night's Rockets/Lakers game:

"Look at all the skanks. Houston is the New Jersey of the rest of the country."

You Usin' the Whole Fist There, Doc?

Last night in San Francisco, Pedro Sandoval hit a 2-out, 2-strike offering from Joe Beimel over everything to give the Giants a come-from-behind 9-7 victory. Standard issue walk-off, jumping up and down by the home team, tough one for the vistors. Move along, nothing to see here.

If only it were that easy for the 6 or 7 fans left in Washington. Teejay's led the charge in chronicling Team Lerner's ongoing experiment in civic torture in the G:TB comments section, but in the spirit of our government's new transparency, we're throwing the sunlight on the Nats' bullpen's body of work in a effort to expose the putrescence and excorcise the demons. We won't be using any names because a) the list is too long, and b) we have at least a little compassion.

Herewith, in chronological order, the story of Manny Acta's firemen:

April 13 vs. Philadelphia 9, Nats 8 - Uncle Cholly's boys plate 5 in the 7th and 8th innings to ruin the Nats' home opener.

April 17 vs. Florida 3, Nats 2 - single tallies in the 9th and 10th provide the Marlins' winning margin.

April 18 vs. Florida 9, Nats 6 - not satisfied with blowing a win in mildly tough fashion, the Nats give up 3 in the 9th and 3 more in the 11th to fall to the Marlins. The grumbling reaches near fever pitch as Washington's record skids to 1-9.

April 19 vs. Florida 7, Nats 4 - sorry, make that 1-10, as the home team allows 4 runs in the 9th to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.

April 27 @ Philadelphia 13, Nats 11 - Manny's boys manage to go 8 days without a meaningful bed-wetting, but make it a doozy to make up for the streak of moderate competence, giving up 6 runs in the bottom of the 8th to the Phightins.

April 30 vs. St. Louis 9, Nats 4 - in one of my personal favorites, the Nats treat the home crowd to a nail-biter, entering the 9th deadlocked with the Central-leading Redbirds. And then give up 5 runs to send the fans home deflated once again.

May 6 @ Los Angeles 10, Nats 3 - in a real team effort, the bullpen joined starter Daniel Cabrera in giving up 8 runs in the 6th and 7th innings to turn a close contest into a comedy routine. Nats had the last laugh after that pederast Hanrahan found Manny Ramirez' stash.

May 10 @ Arizona 10, Nats 8 - good-guy Nats hand rookie manager A.J. Hinch his maiden victory, allowing 5 runs in the 6th through 8th innings. Who says nice guys finish last? Oh.

May 12 @ San Francisco 9, Nats 7 - the above-mentioned Pedro Sandoval waited until the last moment to add one more dollop of gack to the Nats' bullpen recipe.

The 10-21 Nats can legitimately trace 9 losses to their dreadful, awful, horrific, turrible, not very good at all bullpen (1-10, 6.02 ERA, 1.67 WHIP, .828 OPS against). Turn half of those to wins, and they're only 3 games behind the Mets in the decidedly average NL East, with decent young starting pitching and a respectable major league offense. (We'll remain notably quiet regarding the Nats' defensive abilities.)

What you're doing Messrs. Lerner and Kasten, we're not seeing it.

Playoff Hockey is Awesome

From the ridiculous of John Daly's pants to the sublime of this gentleman's statement of support, G:TB is all about sartorial splendor this week. Tomorrow, Robin Givhan declaims lengthily about the social implications of Teejay's Simspon jersey.


(h/t to the Sportsbog, whose coverage of the Caps has been terrific.)

TR...Gift

"There are no adjectives vivid enough to describe the awesome pants that John Daly wore yesterday. The phrase "sunflowers on acid" is really just the tip of the iceberg."
- TR, one hour ago

I found what he was talking about - I think you can guess which pair Daly wore yesterday:

Happy Mother's Day

You can thank loyal reader Michael S. of Nashville, TN for this gem:



Wow.

Know Your Minor League Mascot

Seems the G:TB community is searching (vainly, perhaps) for a little perspective today. Manny's a cheater. Obama's firing gays from the military. Brett Favre isn't actually holding our sports media hostage yet again (for now). Where to go for a little old-fashioned simplicity, a reminder that the game is what matters?

If you can't join the Amish, and you're willing to ignore the fact that most of the players are probably using HgH, I think you'll find the answer at your local minor league ballyard. In today's Know Your Minor League Mascot, we travel to Harry Grove Stadium, home of my local team.

Team: Frederick Keys
League: Carolina (A)
Affiliation: Baltimore Orioles
Mascot: Keyote

Self-Absorbed East Coast Elitist Commentary: I assume the Keys are named for Francis Scott, a man so far ahead of his time that he wrote a song to be played at baseball games well before baseball had been invented. Unfortunately, he also came up with the idea for Keyote, which is a bit of a stretch nomenclaturaly. (Look it up, Scrabble-boy.) Key couldn't hit a lick, but he knew special when he saw it, so I'm quite certain he'd have been impressed by Matt Wieters, the Orioles' can't-miss catching prospect. I saw Wieters play in Frederick last summer, and while I'm sure he's as good as his press clippings suggest, I can't actually vouch for his game as I spent the entire 9 innings chasing one ballpark food item after another in service of my daughters' whims. Spoiled little...

Gheorgheness Quotient: 51/77. We like the unique name and the small-town feel of Harry Grove Stadium. We don't like the fact that the Keys are in any way related to Peter Angelos. I'd like to give that bastard some perspective.

"Kato, my little yellow friend, I am home!"

A little something from Dennis' lesser known brother to *ahem* kick-start your Friday:

Hey, Assholes

I was right.

Greatest Things in the History of Ever

Today's Entry: the Orange Julius.

For the uninitiated, an Orange Julius is a fruit drink, created by blending orange juice, crushed ice, and a mixture of powdered whole milk and egg whites. It has been available since the late 1920s (thank you Wikipedia).

And please, don't ever call a Julius a smoothie. It's downright insulting.

You might ask, how can you dare to label it with such high regard? Um, have you ever freakin' had one? They're absolutely delicious...plus, they are one of those few items that bring you immediately back to childhood. Nothing wrong with a little nostalgic escapism.

Almost impossible to find around these parts, I happened to be in Arundel Mills Mall this weekend, and while the missus did her best to help out the economy at Ann Taylor Loft I went on the prowl for some Julius. I found it...right across from that bastion of good food and great entertainment, Medieval Times (in case you find yourself in said mall I am trying to save you miles of walking...those damn Mills malls are a workout).

It was the best purchase I've made at a mall in years. Jonesing for a Julius now? Check out the website for locations...and yes, I did just join the OJ Quench Club.

Adios Captain Chaos

Matar dos pájaros de un tiro

I'll wait for Dennis to translate that for you...

The pajaros in question? Wishing you all a festive Cinco de Mayo...and getting this song stuck in your head all day (and possibly all week):

Life Lessons

Dikembe Mutombo Mpolondo Mukamba Jean-Jacques Wamutombo (born June 25, 1966) is older than me.

Bring the Noise...

Let's be honest. We should probably harbor some level of hate for Public Enemy and Anthrax for giving birth to the Rap-Rock genre when they collaborated on Bring the Noise. Because 99% of Rap-Rock, I can confidently say, is utter fucking garbage. However, PE and Anthrax did it so right with Bring the Noise that its impossible to hate, regardless of what it led to. In summary, Bring the Noise is awesome.





You know what else is awesome? This Bulls-Celtics series. Game 7s. Title fights from Vegas. Saturday night.

Guess what asshole...we get all that tonight.

Oh, Bother

Because Pooh makes every day a little brighter.

(h/t to Andrew Sullivan)

Breakfast with Biz