Thursday, April 30, 2009

The 15% Rule

There's a scandalous new book coming out about Alex Rodriguez and steroids. Yeah, I know. You're probably racing over to Amazon.com to pre-order it. ESPN.com just posted a report that included some of the juicy details.

And while I mentioned in the comments of the post just prior to this that my biggest problem was deciphering what the hell "B---h T--s" meant (see the prior post for why it was such a struggle), I read on and was just flabbergasted. Not at the audacity of the rampant steroid use and web of lies covering it up. Hell, no, I figured that much.

But here is one of the outlandish tidbits about A-Rod from the upcoming book. (There were only 3 mentioned, this must be a dandy):

"• A-Rod was hated at Hooters, where he tipped the minimum 15 percent."

What??? He was "hated" because he tipped 15 percent? What melodrama. I get it, he has a ton of money, but what if the service was shoddy? I've been to Hooters; it can be hit or miss with the rocket surgeons hoisting trays there, and even if he got preferential treatment, what if they were annoyingly ass-kissy or bimbotic? He should give more simply because he can afford it? Does he buy an iPod from the Apple store for $1000 just because he can afford it?

And it's not like he stiffed the wait staff. It's not even like he gave 10%. 15% is the standard. 20% or more is earned, dammit, not charity work. I almost always give 20%, if only because the math is easier, but I certainly don't begrudge people for giving 15% (unless they're dining with me, and then come on, dude).

When Rob and I were delivering pies in Williamsburg for the Hut lo those many years ago, Bruce Hornsby's dad routinely gave a $20 bill on a $19.70 pizza order. Thanks, jackass. And even then, I wouldn't say we HATED him. We would just try to dodge that delivery and give it to Big Bruce or one of the pedophile couple.

Anyone at Hooters who "hated" A-Rod not because he was a namby-pamby whose presence on their favorite team's roster doomed them and whose contract was Exhibit A on what is wrong with baseball but because he only tipped 15% needs a desk job, and pronto. And they need to watch Reservoir Dogs and realize what some customers do.

And Selena Roberts, author of the book, just piling on -- when the fact that he's a milquetoast juicer should be enough --well, she'd better tip 22 fucking % every time out for dinner or beers after this. After all, with her book advance . . . she can afford it!


Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Festivus

Well, the longer we wait to post something to do with our jaunt to JazzFest 2009, the more underwhelming it will be. As it is, I can't imagine a blog post that could ever do a great New Orleans weekend justice; if you've never been, there's no capturing the wow-ness of the place. If you have been, discussions of it either don't hold up to your ridiculous memories of the place or piss you off that you missed out.

Anyway . . . the biggest aspect of the weekend may have been the little guy's first foray into the Crescent City. G:TB's own Rob joined me, a couple of W&M folks, and a small horde of my hometown chums at the Fest. I'd say his eyes were sufficiently widened and his horizons sufficiently broadened throughout the weekend. Hell, every time I go back, mine are all over again. For his part, Squirrel truly brought his A-game and then some.

Rather than give you a rundown of our weekend teen journal style -- that would inevitably not make chronological sense due to the fuzzy memory of the journalist (only because so much was going on and I wasn't concentrating on the details of the moment!), I'll just show how Rob found out you can spend 72 hours in that town and still only see a fraction of its offerings.


The Music
What we heard: The best Fest music ever, so says I. For those familiar with New Orleans artists, Galactic, Trombone Shorty, and old fave and redhead fiddler extraordinaire Amanda Shaw really brought it -- in addition to the bunch of great smaller acts who graced the Fais-Do-Do stage. Shorty was a late addition to our viewing docket, since the Drive-By Truckers backing Booker T were hell and gone from our encampment, and he rewarded us with a bang-up, foot-stomping set. Oh, and Amanda Shaw is 18 now, so comments about her aren't (as) creepy.

More well known artists like Spoon and Dave Matthews delivered the goods as well, but the Avett Brothers and Wilco really lit up their respective stages. Wilco is solidifying its place as the best live band in America right now. And the Avetts . . . well, they do their own thing, and do it well.

What we didn't hear: We took in no live post-Festival music at places like the House of Blues, Tipitina's, Maple Leaf, Howlin' Wolf, or 1,000 other places. We did catch a bit of a band at the Sea Horse Saloon across from the Fest, but according to those not blacked out, I put my feet up and my eyelids down for most of that. Next time, Rob, we'll get you to some of them nighttime joints.


The Food
What we ate: The Bayou Philly at Cooter Brown's was no letdown. I ate some other delectables there off other people's plates, but I can't really remember what or if they were even friends of mine. Cooter's was very fuzzy. (Pun intended.) We also had a killer shrimp/fried green tomato/remoulade po' boy at a great place called Mahoney's in the Garden District pre-Fest Saturday.

As for the JazzFest food, I feel like Rob really only got a tiny taste (TJ, joke) of it. Crawfish bread and Crawfish Monica are two absolute staples, but the list goes on so far beyond that. Still... they're fucking dynamite.

Oh, and we ate the hell out of Igor's burgers at some point. As the story goes.

What we didn't eat: Jambalaya, crawfish pie, filet gumbo. (I actually ate some gumbo and got most of it on my shirt, but no real worries -- I wore the shirt for two full days and nights, so it was looking awesome anyway.) No meat pie, no red beans & rice, no crawfish sack. (Crawfish sack is underrated, and you can guess why.) No boiled crawdads. Next time, more Fest food, Robert.


The Drink
What we drank: Beer. Assloads of it. Abita Amber. Foster's. Miller Lite. PBR. Heineken. Bud. Red Stripe. I remember drinking a Coors on a bet, I think. Bloody Marys with green beans. A tequila shot followed quickly by a Jager shot. A number of screwdrivers, but only because it was breakfast time (in England).

What we didn't drink: Chivas Regal. Chimay. Zinfandel. Zima. A few other things. And hand grenades, because--


The Place
Where we went: The Fairgrounds for JazzFest. Igors. Rinse. Lather. Repeat. We did do something I haven't done much in New Orleans, and that's party at some people's place of residence. Some newly made friends of friends had us over once (or twice . . . honestly, Rob, please help me on these logistics).

Where we didn't go: The French Quarter, amazingly. TJ goes to NOLA and never leaves the Quarter, Rob goes and never enters it. I won't speak for him, but I think we did a good job of partying in the Garden District and at and around the Festival, neutralizing any strong desire to head downtown. He still needs to go back if for that alone, but we did just all right without it.


And finally, the strongest performance of the trip:
So we rock it out Friday but hit the hay at a very East Coast not-New Orleans hour (2ish). We get up, head back down to the nextdoor bar (Igor's) and have Bloody Marys. Fest it up again, get shnockered to the gills, do ____ and ____ and maybe ____, then I get fall-down "tired" and go to bed. Midnight. Embarrassing.

I wake up at 5 AM, see that my man the Squirreler is still not back, and call him. He berates me, but I'm just thrilled to know he's still at Igor's. I race downstairs (hence, the clothes don't get changed) and try to redeem myself by drinking at the bar from 5 til noon or so. His two compatriots tag out, and I figure he might need to do the same.

Nope.

He powers through the whole day, not pausing to stop drinking and making it til close to midnight Sunday before he crapped out. Unbelievable. I was actually pleased with my rise-and-shine rock star performance that day (I was a little inspired by seeing my old friend Bryan behind the bar t 5 AM after a 3 years' ban), but I have to tip the cap to the little guy. Such a hearty rookie performance, I overheard one friend's wife proclaim, "Whitney's out, Squirrel's in. Squirrel is the new Whitney." Not sure about all that, but still.

And so the recovery time ensues. We're looking at 2-3 full days before feeling like a human again kicks in. Ugh.

And that's what we did. Most of it. Some of it. I don't know.

Battle of the Day: Pandemic vs. Epidemic


Breaking down the two best words used to describe the swine flu. In case you were wondering, the special burrito yesterday at my local burrito shop was a Mexican pork burrito. I shit you not.

Pandemic - an epidemic that is geographically widespread; occurring throughout a region or throughout the world.

Pros - has the global feel that scares folks and gives the press plenty of opportunity for sensationalist journalism. This breadth of fear is impressive.
Cons - allows crap sandwich movies like Night of the Comet, Outbreak and I Am Legend to be made.

Epidemic - a widespread outbreak of an infectious disease; many people are infected at the same time.

Pros - has depth of fear. May only scare folks in one area, but it brings the fear in a big way.
Cons - doesn't capture the attention of the entire world. Nobody on the Ivory Coast cares about an Ecuadorian epidemic.

Winner - Epidemic by a (diseased) nose. Depth always beats breadth.

Monday, April 27, 2009

This is what happens when I'm left in control...

Actually, thats not totally true. If I had known that I was being left in control today then I would've worked up 1,500 or so words on the the NBA Playoffs or the NFL Draft or maybe just the pleasures of a stiff drink, a fresh bag and a good album. Sadly, none of this is the case. I just returned home and saw TJ's email plea for a new post (as well as Whitney's and Rob's replies where they bitched out like the two old, broken down skirts we all know they are). Luckily for them, and you, I'm here to get the job done. Even if that means its getting done sloppily and with little inspiration. So...ummm...yeah, enjoy one of my favorite songs (the video's kind of fresh too) by one of my favorite artists, RJD2, and try not to kill yourself on a Monday where you surely are hating your job.

Friday, April 24, 2009

As Mr. Page and Mr. Plant once so eloquently said...

Ramble On...

This is meant to be the open post for the NFL Draft tomorrow. It promises to be a pretty exciting day, no Jazz Fest day I'm sure, but fun nonetheless. And I felt this picture captured the draft for all football fans out there...I think we all hope Saturday and Sunday could be this perfect:


Friday Clip Fun

One of my favorite Ice Cube tunes of all time. I do however suggest keeping the volume reasonably low on this, for pretty obvious reasons. This is probably my second favorite "diss track" of all time.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Don't Mess With Texas

According to a Daily Kos/Research 2000 (and yes, I'm highly aware of the source's bias - we're doing silly comedy here, not politics) poll conducted this week, 48% of Texas Republicans answered 'Independent Nation' to the following question:

"Do you think Texas would be better off as an independent nation or as part of the United States of America?"


After giving this some thought, I'm all for it, provided the Cowboys go with the new Republic. The resulting lack of drama would probably be worth adding yet another oil exporting nation to our roster of creditors.

I'm a little worried about Ed Werder, though.

That's...Unfortunate

Here we go again with the windmill-tiliting. Something tells me that the graphic designer behind this 1973 logo for the Catholic Church's Archdiocesan Youth Commission was dearly hoping that it wouldn't see the light of the internet.


(h/t to Andrew Sullivan)

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

W&M Students Break Record; Alums Weep

Okay, this is it. This is the final straw.

We hung in there through four, sometimes five years of getting completely stymied both by bitter professors with an inflated sense of self-worth and homely co-eds whose self-worth wasn't the only thing unnecessarily inflated. We dealt with one (1) bar and two (2) Dellys (sic). We tolerated retirees, tourists, and 10,000 tri-cornered hats. We smiled at the rumors of suicides and gay people. We swallowed Katie Koestner. We accepted cans over kegs, statesmen over sports heroes, and big time SAT's over big-time PAT's. Our fraternities were all dorms. Our classmates were all dorks. Our curriculum was straight out of the 50's (1750's), our options for amusement were straight out of witness protection programs, and our friends quickly became some of the closest we would ever have -- on a par with war veterans or cellmates. And we took it. We were made to feel like Blutarsky clichés -- and this diatribe won't do anything to diminish that notion among unfamiliar readers -- but we took it.

We made the best of it. I know I did. Had a ball.

As alumni, we accept that we won't be going to watch our D-I men's basketball team play in one of the biggest annual sporting events in the nation. Ever. The football team is starting to resemble the basketball team in its putridity, even as the Laycock Center (not instructions from the Kama Sutra) still has the "new football complex" smell. But we shrug it off. We know that with each passing year, our alma mater ups its academic standards and lowers its chances of attracting anyone like us to the campus. (Actually, we may even appreciate it, as it unjustly raises our résumés' stock.) Well-rounded -- truly, not just double-major candidates -- students need not apply. The rugby and lacrosse club teams are on their last legs, gasping for air, and we dismiss it as changing with the times. The school makes the news not for something noteworthy and impressive, but because they ran their well-liked -- but only by students and peers, not by Pat Robertson -- president out of town on a rail for the trifling cross thing. We mock it, we write about it condescendingly, and then we forget it. The students are no doubt suffering the constraints of the era and the administration far worse than we did, and anyone of our ilk who squeezes through the gates of admission for some good times and a good education in a state school must certainly find themselves in some sort of intelligence-quotient-arrogance/social-skill-ignorance purgatory, grinding out their days until transfer, graduation, or death. But that's that. Meanwhile, the pleas for alumni donations become more vociferous every year, even as we wonder if it's really the most worthwhile of causes. But we accept it all the way.

And we make the best of it. We come back for Homecomings, but simply resume our pattern of isolation and consumption. We follow the teams, even as they let us down. We look for news items on the school, even as they tend to make us cringe. And many of us write the checks every year. And we enjoy it.

This is it, though. This is beyond what we are expected to take as persons even loosely affiliated with the College of William & Mary. This is a new low in the coolness factor ratings for the College, and I feel a bit lamer just for having been in these Sunken Gardens many a time. (Bangin' chicks and drinkin' brews, undoubtedly.)

Gheorghe: The Blog readers unfamiliar with our alma mater, feast your eyes on this atrocity and please go lightly on us in your future judgments of us.

Meanwhile, for those of us who ever harked upon the gale, or barfed upon the Crim Dell, or overpaid an ungrateful Greek for tepid swill through unclean taps into a cheap plastic cup, or strode the Colonial Mile down DOG Street wondering what it's all about and why we're here and not somewhere else with nickel drafts and beautiful, brainless hallmates with casual morals . . .

. . . well, here's another reason to cringe.

First, pirates...now this...

...when will the insanity end?
WEYMOUTH, Mass. — A man witnesses said was dressed like a ninja used a sword in an attempt to rob a dry cleaner on Main Street, police said. The man, wearing a ski mask and a sword in a sheath on his belt, walked into the Tedeschi convenience store at 1039 Main St. around 8 a.m. Monday, Sgt. Richard Fuller said.

“All the witnesses said he was dressed like a ninja,” Fuller said. “He was in all black including the black ski mask. And they said it was a ‘ninja sword’ (he was carrying).”

A clerk, alarmed by the man’s appearance, called police. When the man noticed her, he pulled his mask off and asked if she was calling about him, Fuller said. When she said she was, the man left the store and walked into nearby Galaxy Cleaners.

There, Fuller said he pointed a sword at the register and asked a clerk to give him all of the money inside. She told him she couldn’t open the drawer, and the man left the scene, Fuller said. Police are still searching for the man, who witnesses said appeared to be in his late 20s.
Stop the search...we found him:

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

If the Nats need pitching...

- and there's a slight chance they might - considering this guy in the 2009 draft wouldn't be a horrible idea:

W PORT RICHEY, Fla. -- Mitchell High senior Patrick Schuster tossed his fourth consecutive no-hitter on Monday night. The lanky left-hander struck out 17 to help his team beat rival Pasco High 5-0 in front of a full house of several hundred spectators. Schuster's streak began April 3. He's piled up 60 strikeouts in the four games, helping Mitchell to a 19-3 record. He's 7-0 on the season.

And look at that. He's already pitching in front of a larger crowd than the Nats currently draw.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Happy Election Day Monday

What, you didn't realize today was Election Day? Damn right it is, and it is the tightest Papal Election we've seen in years. Readers should vote early, vote often...and if you forgot whether you voted or not, vote again.

And here's one final campaign video for you before you enter the voting booth:

Saturday, April 18, 2009

It's all about me...and the NBA Playoffs.

I know it sounds weird, but I'm often inspired to write about sports by Jerry over at the Wheelhome. When he writes about sports, he does it intelligently and concisely, where I often ramble and end up feeling like I didn't fully express my point. After reading Jerry's post on the 1st round of the NBA Playoffs, I decided that I had some things to say about the Playoffs. And that I would try to get it done in less than 1,000 words. (I know, not bloody likely)

(Note: This was all written before yesterday afternoon so I didn't know Derrick Rose was going to turn in a performance for the ages in Boston, or that Houston was going beat the living shit out of the Blazers in Portland.)

5 Guys that I'll be paying special attention to

1. Chris Paul: Best little guard since Isiah, and that compliment still probably doesn't properly capture how awesome (and I do mean awesome) this guy is. Take a look at the Hornets roster. This team had no business winning 50+ games this year. As someone who still plays point guard regularly (and isn't 1/100th as gifted as Paul), I can tell you I try and steal at least one little thing from him every single time I watch him.

2. Brandon Roy: Probably my favorite player in the NBA right now. A smooth, efficient scorer with every skill you'd want in an elite wing player. He's a great teammate with a still developing taste for big crunch time moments. Every elite young perimeter player should be forced to watch tapes on Roy. His play in these Playoffs will determine just how far a young, inexperienced Blazers team can advance.

3. Rajon Rondo: I know people who don't like Rondo's game and/or don't think he's very good. These people are idiots. He has everything you could ever want in a point guard, other than a consistent jump shot (that's developing though). His defense and rebounding is better than any point since a young Jason Kidd. His continued development throughout the last year's postseason was a very underrated story in Boston championship run. With Garnett out, he's going to have to assume a greater share of the scoring, facilitation and leadership roles on this team. He's capable of taking his play to the next level (and did so yesterday). The question is: Will he do it consistently?

4. Dwyane Wade: As much as I love good guards and with the amount of television exposure to Wade that I get, you would think that I was a huge Dwyane Wade fan. I never really was though. I mean, I thought he was a terrific player but there were some holes in his game. Also, I think I was bitter over the way the 2006 Finals were officiated and downgraded Wade somewhat as a result. Whatever the reason was, consider me converted. He's been a force of nature this year. He's seemingly more athletic than ever and he's added a pretty consistent 3 point shot to his already impressive offensive arsenal. I have a feeling that he's going to average about 40 a game against the Hawks and carry a pretty average Miami team into the second round.

5. Dwight Howard: Honestly, I just put him on here so I could talk about the Magic. Ideally, Jameer Nelson would be listed here instead of Howard. As good as Rafer Alston has been for the Magic since his acquisition, this is where the Magic are going to miss Nelson most. He was the team's best, most consistent crunch-time creator and he was developing a knack for knocking down daggers before he went down with a shoulder injury. The Magic will struggle late in games without Nelson (Turkoglu is too inconsistent and has a tendency to get too out of control at times to be the main offensive initiator late in games) and that will be their downfall in the Playoffs. Dwight is great (and actually somewhat underrated nationally) but he's still too raw offensively (and too dependent upon others due to the nature of his position) to be the go-to guy for a team with Conference Final (at minimum) aspirations.

Guys who just missed my list:

Deron Williams:
2nd best PG in the game. If it wasn't for Chris Paul, the whole league would be going apeshit over for him. He's going to average about 30-12 on the Lakers in the 1st round.

J.R. Smith: The ultimate gunner. Talented, mercurial and probably completely fucking bananas. He will shoot it from damn near anywhere whenever he gets a decent look, regardless of time or score. Fun to watch and (I'm guessing) hell to coach.

Paul Millsap: He helped salvage my fantasy season when he averaged 17-9 over almost 3 months this season. He's undersized but he's a terrific athlete with a great motor. He's the best of a group of guys with similar games that includes Brandon Bass, Carl Landry, Luis Scola and a few others. He'll always get his and you never have to run a play for him. The Lakers don't really have someone to match up with him.

Rudy Fernandez: He's somewhat like a less selfish, less crazy yet equally dangerous version of JR Smith. He's constant motion without the ball in his hands and a very creative passer. I wouldn't be shocked if he and Brandon Roy are starting in the same backcourt (with Roy playing the point) in a year or two.

Derrick Rose: Added to this list based solely on yesterday's jaw droppingly unbelievable performance. I said it yesterday and I'll say it again: A bigger, stronger, bouncier version of young Tony Parker.

First Round Series that most interest me:

Nuggets-Hornets:
The most exciting player in the Playoffs takes on the most exciting and unpredictable team in the Playoffs. Plus, the Birdman is back baby! Maybe he'll even break out that Greg Brady perm that he rocked when he last saw him in the Playoffs.

Hawks-Heat: I said it earlier, this just feels like a series where Wade goes buck wild and carries that Heat to a victory. The reason he'll need to average nearly 40 to advance the Heat, in my opinion, is that the Hawks are vastly underrated. Joe Johnson's one of the top 10-15 players in the league and he's got a deep, talented, athletic group of guys to play with. I really hope this goes 7. (Note: Celtics-Bulls has taken on a whole new feel after yesterday. Hell, I could probably watch Rondo and Rose play one-on-one for 6 straight hours)

Conference Finals Predictions:

Lakers-Rockets:
Honestly, I have no clue who will advance to meet the Lakers in the Western Conference Finals. I'm just hoping its the Rockets. Here's why: (1) The Yao vs. Gasol/Bynum matchup is as good a matchup of elite bigs as we're likely to see in the Playoffs for a number years. (2)The Kobe-Artest/Battier matchup will be unbelievably intriguing on a number of levels and,(3) I want the national media to finally admit how overrated Tracy McGrady is as a winner and a teammate. If the Rockets can get the Western Conference Finals then at least it will be major topic of discussion.

Cavaliers-Celtics:
Obviously, I'm not feeling as good about this after Saturday, but consider this: The Celtics got nothing out of Ray Allen and Derrick Rose played the game of his life and, even with that, the Bulls needed OT (and Paul Pierce to miss a free throw with 2.5 seconds left in regulation) and a number great/clutch shots from Ben Gordon to win. I just have a feeling the Celtics are going to go into the "nobody believes in us" mode for the next couple rounds and somehow find a way to gut their way into the Eastern Conference Finals.

In a Missionary Position

The negativity is rampant here at Gheorghe lately, and I've been guilty of it myself. Not sure if it's because we just had Tax Day (and if you took a beating like I did despite not making a fortune, I feel your pain), if it was the Masters meltdown, or just "Dancing With the Stars" not going the way you dweebs want. But the frenzy of "I hate ____", "I wish ____ would die," and "_____ is a pasty, goofy, upstate New York Spicoli wanna-be with huge feet, a five-year-old's diet, and a wardrobe like Screech's" is starting to get over the top.

G:TB contributors are mandated to have a hard copy of our Mission Statement on them at all times, no matter what. G:TB readers are strongly advised to follow suit. (Zoltan, Shlara, Geoff, KQ . . . we can get you laminated copies for your use.) It helps keep you in touch with your "inner Gheorghe"; when you hit those crossroads in life, asking WWGD? is always a fine idea. Let the big guy steer your ship.

Wherever Gheorghes go, whatever they do, the Mission Statement is right there on their person. Even while playing croquet, handball, smear-the-queer, or snooker. While fishing off the pier, company or otherwise. While hang gliding over Jockey's Ridge, ballooning over Pike's Peak, or peeing over the third rail. Yes, even while showering, and yes, even during the physical act of love with spouses, girlfriends, or cousins. (The lone exception is when making love to oneself, 'cause that's just weird. Keep it in the other room with the television on while you do your thing.)

Rob has his G:TB mission statement attached to his remote. TJ uses his as a bookmark in his copy of If I Did It. TR wallpapered his bathroom with it. Mark has his tattooed on his forearm. I've made a series of cocktail napkins and beer koozies with it printed on them. In each of these cases, you can imagine what banged-up state the mission statements are now in . . . but it matters not.

It's ingrained in our heads, and also in our hearts. Dennis knows it in Latin. TR knows it in Pig Latin. Rob can recite it forwards and backwards. TJ can only recite it backwards (Rain Man). The point is that the very reasons this vehicle was launched 5+ years ago are words to live by, and words which we typically do live by. And yet . . . sometimes it can get away from us.

(As an aside, using "it just got away from me last night" as a euphemism for "so sorry I drank a liter of Jameson, called you the wrong name in public and in bed, punched your uncle in the throat, and vomited in your car's A/C vent" is a handy utensil.)

So, in an effort to get back to what this endeavor is really all about, we are re-printing the words of founding partner "rob" from way back in 2003. Here's hoping the cock-eyed optimism that it encourages will pervade our upcoming posts.
Mission Statement, or What's a Gheorghe, and Why Should I Care?

I don't trust anyone that can't laugh at himself. I think that Crash Davis was dead on, right up until he started talking about Susan Sontag, at which point I tuned out. I'm hopelessly addicted to the Boston Red Sox, even though I know it's not good for me. I believe that sports, like society at large, is full of self-important, egomaniacal windbags at all levels, and I intend to use this space to tilt at the windmills that threaten to suck all of the joy out of the things that I love.

This space is named, with love, for the most fun athlete ever to draw a paycheck from a professional franchise. Gheorghe Muresan, late of the Washington Bullets and New Jersey Nets, stood 7'7" and weighed 330+ pounds. He shuffled around a basketball court like a slightly more mobile version of Frankenstein's monster, with a splay-footed gait and elbows and knees that flailed about as if independently operated. His elongated, comically expressive face conveyed the unmistakable glee and amazement with which he viewed his place in the NBA’s firmament, even as he made the often numbing journey from rookie to veteran. He played a handful of NBA seasons with a modicum of success, being honored as the NBA's Most Improved Player in 1997-98. Most importantly, though, he played basketball and approached life with a pure, unadulterated joy that was, and is, unmatched by any other professional athlete.

Gheorghe's spirit and the joy with which he appears to approach life offer lessons for all of us about the important things. This space will celebrate those in sports and elsewhere that live with Gheorgheness, and skewer those that think they are more important than the game - be it sports or life. Gheorghe: The Internet Magazine, had a brief, meteoric run several years ago, flaming to earth in a blaze of apathy amidst rampant rumors of financial mismanagement. Gheorghe: The Blog rises like a phoenix from the ashes, or at least like a Weeble, to carry on the Gheorghian mission.
I'll take the first step in this new Era of Positivity™. Let's see . . . be positive . . . okay: Although I have never met Mark in person, I am positive that he is an incredible douchewhistle. (Just kidding, Mark. I am positive Greg's wrong.)

And finally, we are unveiling our newest official Gheorghe. She's Romanian, a singer/model, and she looks nothing like Gheorghe Muresan. Her name: Elena Gheorghe. Enjoy (and click on the picture to get the full, blown-up effect).

Guess what? Baseball still sucks...

Hopefully you can excuse my recent spell of absenteeism but, you see, I've been very busy. I mean, you can't just drive up to Bristol and murder Tim Kurkijan and John Kruk without a really solid plan and a reliable alibi. These things kinds of things takes lots of time to plan out. So, with that in mind, I'm taking today off in order to rest up a little and go over all the details of my upcoming "vacation". Why am I taking today off? Because your 2009 National Champion Florida Gators are playing their annual Orange and Blue Scrimmage today in beautiful, idyllic Gainesville, FL...and football is approximately 35 times cooler than any gay ass April baseball game. So grab a beer, your best Granny Smith apple and enjoy a sport that features athletes who "run", "hit each other" and aren't "fat fucking slobs". This should get you appropriately pumped...



And yes, I know this game is meaningless. Kind of like the first 3 months of baseball season.

Friday, April 17, 2009

"Kyle, I hate you, I want you to die..."

I am quite certain more than a few Kansas City Royals fans muttered those words around 9:55 PM CST Wednesday night. And they weren't directed at the young man in the green hat to the right. No sirree, Bob...they were directed at none other than Kyle Lynn (figures) Farnsworth, a man I have had the honor and privilege to "root" for as well.  Wednesday night was par for the course for Kyle, the man with the career 4.52 ERA and 1.41 WHIP.  He managed to give up three runs while getting only one out in relief for the Royals.

On the season, Kyle the Lead Obliterator has made four appearances.  In those stellar trips to the mound, this is his line:
3IP, 6H, 6ER, 1 HR allowed, 2BB, 0-2 record, 16.20 ERA, 2.40 WHIP

For his career:
The aforementioned 4.52 ERA and 1.41 WHIP, as well as a 30-50 record, 27 saves (excellent) and 23 blown saves (bogus), and let's not forget the 113 HR allowed.

The man is a menace to any bullpen he sets foot in.

Honestly, Dave Terry, if you're still out there, google yourself

Because this Friday's clip is all about you. But Greg, buddy, this one's for you. Or, as you like to say "Clark...ghift".

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Up with Rampant Juvenilia, Too!

Presented without comment.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

All You Zombies

This story got a bit of play last week, so apologies if you already saw it, but the combination of insanity and inanity proved irresistable to G:TB's editors.

(CNN) -- Woody Harrelson defended his clash with a photographer at a New York airport Wednesday night as a case of mistaken identity -- he says he mistook the cameraman for a zombie.

The TMZ photographer filed a complaint with police claiming the actor damaged his camera and pushed him in the face at La Guardia Airport, according to an airport spokesman.

"We're looking into this allegation and if it's warranted, we'll turn it over to the proper authorities," said Port Authority of New York and New Jersey spokesman Ron Marsico.

The photographer, who was not identified, captured the encounter on a small camera after his larger one was broken.

Harrelson, who is being sued by another TMZ photographer for an alleged assault in 2006, did not deny his involvement.

"I wrapped a movie called 'Zombieland,' in which I was constantly under assault by zombies, then flew to New York, still very much in character," Harrelson said in a statement issued Friday by his publicist.

With my daughter at the airport I was startled by a paparazzo, who I quite understandably mistook for a zombie," he said.

That last sentence is my favorite part. Of course it's quite understandable. Happens to me nearly every day. I've just been lucky to avoid gruesome death or assault charges. Carry on, Woodman, we need more of you.

Monday, April 13, 2009

I'm Not Sure You Can Handle the Truth

How many of you out there remember a little film called A Few Good Men? Based simply on the frequency of quotes from it bandied about the posts and comments of our blog circle (most popular: "You, Lt. Weinberg??"), it's fairly ingrained. Now . . . how many of you knew that it was based on a true story? Maybe you did, but I was unaware until last night.

Yes, the play which became the film was written by Aaron Sorkin ("The West Wing", The American President, Charlie Wilson's War), and apparently it's based at least in part on the tribulations of a young JAG officer (I chuckle immaturely every time those two words are uttered together) attorney named Donald Marcari.

So apparently Marcari is still practicing law, but not in historically bold circumstances toppling giants akin to a Colonel Jessup. He's in the private sector now, with an office not far from where I live. And as I was flipping channels last night, his advertisement aired on one of the local affiliates.
"As a young JAG officer--"
[And of course I laugh and can't wait to see who the young jagoff they're talking about is]
". . . Don Marcari put everything on the line to defend his clients. His story was told to millions of people in the movie A Few Good Men."
[Really? It was a true story? Huh. Wonder what this guy's doing now. Color me intrigued, or at least paying attention to to local ad, which in the TiVo era, I am not wont to do.]
". . . Today, Don Marcari and his partners fight--"
[Wait for it . . . wait for it . . . ]
"the insurance companies--"
[He's an ambulance chaser! No! LTJG Daniel Kaffee is now a friggin' ambulance chaser.]
"If you've seen the movie, then you know he will fight for you with unwavering passion. If you've been hurt, call . . ."
[Ugh.]
". . . and put a few good men to work for you.]
[Double ugh.]

And the pièce de résistance? Their URL.

www.handle the truth.com

I guess any questions as to whether there will be a sequel to the movie have just been answered. I know, times are tough all around, but I would just hate to see where Lt. Weinberg is slumming these days.

Go see the commercial for yourself. It's "COMMERCIAL TWO". And if you live in southeastern VA or NC and you've recently been hurt, I'd give him a call. Seems like you could do a lot worse than the guy who got Col. Jessup to admit he ordered the Code Red.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Caption This

We do a lot of goofy filler posts around here, but I'm not sure we've tried this one before...enjoy the pic below, and if you're bored as hell, fill up the comments with potential captions for this super awesome photo (sent to us by "Bullet for Life" Shlara):

Celebrating Donuts

Three hockey posts in a row. Sure sign of a lack of ideas. Of course, this entire blog is an exercise in creatively covering up a lack of ideas, so hockey's just part of the plan.

Don Koharski skated his final shift last night, whistling his final minor penalty late in the Capitals/Lightning game. Jim Schoenfeld sent over a bouquet of The Fractured Prune's best.

Thursday, April 09, 2009

The Greatest Thing in All of Sports

So I was in the shop, preparing to gear up the Hyperbole Engine, ready for an annual spin on the subject of hockey, specifically playoff hockey, super-specifically overtime playoff hockey when I realized I'd already written everything I wanted to say. And so, today we learn that it's not plagiarism if you have the permission of the author. From April 13, 2008:

The Masters and its annual Salmon-to-Capistrano vernal heralding rightfully headlines sports news this week. The NCAA Basketball tournament just capped off another frantic March with a thrilling title game (NOTE: Not true this year). The NBA's regular season draws to a close with a historically tight Western Conference race, and any number of terrific story lines (NOTE: partially not true this year). Baseball's long season has begun to slowly unfold. Mel Kiper's taken a shower and shed his bathrobe in preparation for his annual moment in the sun.

As usual, we continue to overlook the most consistently exciting moment in sports. Alex Kovalev got his barbaric yawp last night (NOTE: only true if you are in a coma), his slapshot ripping the net behind Tim Thomas' shoulder to give the Montreal Canadiens a 3-2 overtime win over the Boston Bruins. Kovalev's arms shot in the air, making the universal sign of victory as he spun back towards his onrushing teammates. And overtime playoff hockey delivered as it always does.

I'm no longer the hockey fan I once was, rarely catching a full regular season game even on television. Too many things competing for my time, I suppose. (NOTE: still completely true) But even as the my interest in the game has waned, I'm a sucker for playoff overtimes. The teams don't matter, for the most part, because the purity and intensity of the moment elevate the spectacle beyond partisanship (and because the Bruins, my putative favorites, have stunk on ice for years (NOTE: until now, at which point they will nearly certainly gack to the Habs or Rangers)). No other athletic competition offers the instant-by-instant potential for resolution, the razor's edge difference between victory and defeat. The speed of the game plays immensely into the equation, the end-to-end action riveting and the finality of the result brutally human, good and bad meted out equally and only sometimes fairly.

I remember watching with my father as the Islanders' Pat LaFontaine beat the Capitals with a wrister from the slot in the 4th overtime of a 1987 playoff game. Neither of us had a rooting interest in the game, but we stayed up until 2:00 am on Easter morning because it was overtime playoff hockey. I saw Keith Primeau beat the Penguins in the 5th overtime 8 years ago, and I couldn't care less about the Flyers. I leapt off the couch when Uwe Krupp won the 1996 Stanley Cup for the Avalanche with a goal in the 3rd overtime of Game 4 against the Florida Panthers, and while I love me some Uwe Krupp, the result of that game didn't mean a thing to me.

But the payoff was so very cool. (NOTE: some truths are universal)

Excuse to use a Slap Shot clip

Thanks to Work Jerry I will be attending tonight's Frozen Four games at the Verizon Center. I'm not gonna lie to you, I know jack squat about college hockey, but it should be a pretty cool event nonetheless. For those wondering, the match-ups:

Cinderellas at 5pm
#4 Miami (Ohio) (22-15-5) vs. #4 Bemidji State (19-15-1...yeah, I thought it was a made up school too)

Juggernauts at 8:30pm
#1 Boston University (32-6-4) vs. #3 Vermont (22-11-5)

I could pretend to give you a brief overview of these games, but seriously, I need to go bitchslap my Yankees on MLC, so if you have any desire to know even the least bit about the Frozen Four, peruse this David Albright article on espn.com. I learned all I need to know. Well, except the biggest question of all: This is a NCAA-sanctioned event at Verizon, will there be alcholol sales? Can someone get on that?

And finally, the aforementioned Slap Shot clip. A brief explanation for this particular choice: Dennis and I had our traditionally brutal NL-only baseball draft on Sunday morning, with, as Wheelhouse Jerry put it, "a gathering of middle-aged men in tapered, stonewashed jeans and extra-medium golf shirts emblazoned with the logos of communications hardware manufacturers." It is a long grind, and in an attempt not to jump out of my skin, I began the day as the draft auctioneer. Well, it didn't take long before someone tossed out the name of Nats closer Joel Hanrahan, and without even blinking an eye I dropped this Paul Newman line...what happened next shocked me and Dennis to the core. This room of relatively uncool gentleman not only got the joke, but they actually enjoyed the joke. And of course that meant I would run it into the ground for the rest of the day. And even find an excuse to bring it up again today. I'm the best.

Wednesday, April 08, 2009

The Ghoogles, starring Kal Penn

A vast and varied list of searches this past week...
  • mark mallory first pitch
  • step with pep to the back of the house look in all the
  • rustic trellis
  • im sweating like dom deluise
  • stan yagiello
  • haber feldman
  • terrence williams nba
  • tyler hansbrough's mamas affair
  • fresh prince tattoo
  • Heyba Heyba song
  • heavy muscular women
  • pauper to a pawn
  • todd bouman scsu
  • do fluffers really exist
  • john staluppi weight lifting
  • who was reportedly dubbed Leather Lungs harry caray
  • prepositions list Gilligan's Island
  • jordan Shafer home run last to homer in his first at bat on Opening Day
  • terrence williams
  • tony lister jr
  • tyler hansbrough's mom is a milf
  • and to answer your question
  • Anderson Hunt Point Shaving
  • why sleeves on some msu players tattoo
  • rob saban
  • i think im starting to peak now
  • David Newhan inside the park homerun 2004 clip
  • siena saints blog
  • mark mallory first pitch
  • stan kasten email address
  • todd bouman
  • where will terrence williams end up playing in the NBA
  • meet a stripper film
  • It's 106 miles to Chicago, we've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark and we're wearing sunglasses. Hit it. because I am leaving The Good Land for the weekend
  • scumbag millionaire
  • tatouage james heitfield
  • outsourcing
  • kumar goes to washington (four times)
  • charlie bronson in illinois ghost
  • charlie woollum
  • fred smoot gay
  • kids singing lonesome loser little river band
  • job sucks blog
  • dirk nowitzki suspension
  • curt schilling's wife
  • kelly tripucka best shooter
  • scumbag millionaire
  • moe howard baseball

Tuesday, April 07, 2009

Kumar Goes to Washington

And yes, that headline was way too easy for a blog as erudite as this one. Actor Kal Penn was named White House Associate Director of Public Liaison today. For real.

I'm not gonna lie. My first reaction was the same as yours. Namely, what the fuck? And then I looked into Penn's background, which includes double degrees from UCLA and ongoing graduate work in International Studies at Stanford. Now, my reaction is, what the fuck...am I doing with my life?

Should any of my right-leaning friends scoff at the idea of an actor contributing to public office in a meaningful way and decry this as yet another sure sign of the collapse of the Republic, you might cast a gaze backward at that icon of conservatism, the one who gets you all moist in places you don't talk about at cocktail parties. The Gipper did okay for himself, wouldn't you say?

Know Your Minor League Mascot

After last night's thoroughly disappointing coda to the college basketball season, it seems only fitting that we celebrate the nobility of a disgusting beast in today's KYMLM.
League: International (AAA)
Affiliation: Philadelphia Phillies

Self-Absorbed East Coast Elitist Commentary: I confess a sentimental attachment to the IronPigs (and not only because they share a nickname with a girl I used to accompany home in the wee hours of the morning during college). Over the past 15 years or so, my Dad's taken a liking to all things porcine, amassing a small hoard of pig bric-a-brac, ties, t-shirts, and stuffed porkers. I can't explain it, either, but it brings him happiness (and more importantly to him, I think, it brings other people happiness to give him pig stuff). He actually owns an IronPigs t-shirt, courtesy of his son. I'm not gonna break bad on the Pigs, not even a little.

Gheorgheness Quotient: 60/77 (The name is one of my all-time faves, but the Pigs lose a lot of points because of the lameness of their mascots and the garish wreck that is their website.)

Last Night's Game

Nicely summarized in this short Family Guy clip. Just picture Stewie in Carolina blue.

Monday, April 06, 2009

In Shlara We Trust

It's G:TB guest post time. Courtesy of Shlara, you are now looking live at tonight's title game...

There’s no way Michigan State is going to lose this game tonight.

The entire state is pulling for them—including the Big Blue loyalists here in Ann Arbor. And, if tonight’s crowd is anything like the one in Ford Field on Saturday, the fans’ raw passion could propel Sparty to the win. Of course, that "passion” on Saturday was assisted by 10 hours of tailgating in sunny, 65-degree weather. It’s snowing here today, folks. Nothing like spring break in Michigan! But, I don’t think the snow, or Carolina’s creepy robot-like pre-game warm-up routine, will deter Michigan State from their mission.

On Saturday night, the MSU players had to walk up the stairs by our section to get to their seats for game #2. Each time one of them appeared at the bottom of the stairs, all of the MSU fans in the surrounding 5 sections stood up to cheer them—it took me a few minutes to realize that these people weren’t applauding the 27th straight missed shot for Nova, and that they were thanking their team for such inspired play.

All of the columnists and sports pundits have been repeating, “this team is providing just the kind of diversion and inspiration that people in Michigan need.” Being here the last few days, I think they are right. And, after the GM debacle in Washington last week, they’d like nothing more they’d like better than to stick it to the Obama-favored Tar Heels.

I’m looking forward to all 70,000 MSU fans in Ford Field singing along to “One Shining Moment” and crying tears of joy around midnight.

Go Spartans!

G:TB's New "Adopt a MLB Rookie" Campaign

Last night, new Atlanta Braves CF Jordan Schafer welcomed himself to the bigs by hitting a home run in his first major league at-bat. In doing so, Schafer became the 99th member of this club. I've decided that hitting a home run in your first at bat in The Show is extremely Gheorghe*, and have made the executive decision for G:TB to adopt the man who will be #100 on this list. Now, this could take awhile...or this guy could display his pure gheorgheness by getting it done today. My 12 minutes of shoddy research puts these 3 guys on the list of potential candidates for slot 100 and adoption on Opening Day:

Colby Rasmus, Cardinals
Dexter Fowler, Rockies
Elvis Andrus, Rangers

OK, based on this list, I actually think we might have to wait until Baltimore calls up uber catching prospect Matt Wieters in June for #100. And by then this will all be forgotten I'm sure.

*There are always exceptions to the rule, so please ignore the fact that Elijah Dukes (possibly pictured to the right) homered in his first major league AB on Opening Day 2007.

If you didn't see this coming

you weren't paying attention



NCAA Championship Game Tonight. Carolina/Michigan St, 9:21pm tip. Perhaps Mr. "I hate baseball but will happily write 2,000 words on basketball" can throw a post up later.

Speaking of our tattooed contributor from America's Wang, it's Opening Day for Major League Baseball today and I for one am fired up. I eagerly await Charleston Chew's first start today as a Yankee. Non-stop baseball on the WWL leader today, from Whit's Mets to rob's Sox to my Yanks.

Another excellent segue opportunity...you might not hear a lot from rob these next ten days or so. He's got himself a temp gig over at the George Mason Patriot Center that's taking up a lot of his time.

Saturday, April 04, 2009

Saturday! Saturday, Saturday....


Final Four Saturday is without a doubt one of my top 5 favorite days of the year. I made my sister reschedule her wedding because it was going to conflict with Final Four Saturday (Luckily, she just hadn't realized this and once alerted to i, took no convincing in deciding to pick another wedding date). The entire Final Four, but especially the National Semifinals Saturday, is a great showcase for basketball. And, sometimes you even end up with some really entertaining games on the biggest of stages (If pressed I think I'd say my favorite Semifinal of the last decade or so was the Duke-Maryland semi in 2001).

Sadly, the arrival of the Final Four means college basketball is concluding and the shitbird known as baseball is upon us. (Yaaay! 200 consecutive nights of Baseball Tonight! Shoot me, please.) Each year, when this realization hits me, I do two things. First, I drink heavily and look for guys who look like Buster Olney to sucker punch. After that, I drink some more and reflect (like some kind of gay) upon the tournament that has passed. Evidently, I made some notes whilst doing this and from those notes I have compiled the official list of 2009 G:TB All-NCAA Tournament teams.


All-G:TB Team: This team consists of players whom we here at Gheorghe: The Blog love the most. (I have consulted a committee consisting of myself on all of these choices.)

G: Jonny Flynn (Syracuse)- Probably my favorite player in the country. He takes the ball to the hoop fearlessly and provided great leadership for a very good Syracuse team. If he stays another year he'll end up as a lottery pick.

G: Toney Douglas (FSU)- You know a guy is good if he plays at FSU and I like him. Just an assassin.

G: Eric Maynor (VCU)- The best floater in college basketball comes from probably the craftiest player in college basketball.

F: Chris Johnson (LSU)- The Tigers get more big, long, freaks of nature than any other school...by a wide margin. Must be something in the water in Lousiana. I mean, besides herpes.

F: Blake Griffin (Oklahoma)- The best player in the nation, obviously, but what gets him on this team are his ferocious dunks, non-stop motor (he must get the motor from him Mom...I kid.) and the way he keeps his mouth shut and plays ball.

6th Man: Trevon Hughes (Wisconsin)- He was already on this team, for obvious reasons, but then he went and knocked FSU out of the tournament with a ridiculous and 1 at the end OT. Thanks buddy.



G:TB All-Ugly Team: A collection of guys so ugly that they can never be allowed to all be in the same room at the same time.

G: Austin Johnson (Oklahoma)- It was already pretty bad for young Mr. Johnson but that awful mohawk was the icing on the cake.

G: Greivis Vasquez (Maryland)- You've seen this guy. Do I even have to say anything?

F: Demarre Carroll (Missouri)- It's fun to say somebody looks like the Predator, but even Cheryl Miller is scared of this guy.

F: Kyle Singler (Duke)- He's so pale even TJ and Greg feel bad for this guy. And why doesn't his hair lay down? If I met him on the street I'd be tempted to ask him where his helmet is.

F: Al-Farouq Aminu (Wake Forest)- The runaway MVP of this team. When I see him, I reminded of one of my Grandmother's favorite phrases: "He's so ugly his Mama had to tie a pork chop around his neck just to get the dog to play with him". I miss Grandma.

6th Man: Tyler Hansbrough (UNC)- Hyper. Gay. Muppet.


G:TB All-Old Team: Pretty self-explanatory, guys who look like they're Rob and Whitney's age.

G: Tyshawn Taylor (Kansas)- Making this team is quite an accomplishment for a freshman.

G: Tony Crocker (Oklahoma)- It's time for Tony to give it up and shave his head. And can I get a fucking explanation on the long sleeves? Please?

F: Sam Young (Pitt)- Not only does he look like's in his mid-30s, he also turned 24 in March. Meanwhile, a drunk like me graduated from grad school when I was 25. Nice work, Samuel.

F: Tyler Smith (Tennessee)- You don't run into a lot of guys with facial tattoos in college.

6th Man: Gary Wilkinson (Utah St.)- He's 26. And probably a virgin...



G:TB All-Burr High School Team. Burr went to high school with guys named Carter, Landry and Slater among others (Hi Slats!), and Burr's pretty much an elitist prick, so I imagine his high school like the prep school in School Ties...or maybe Dead Poets Society. Whatever. Anyway, this team is comprised of players who sound like they went to high school with Burr.

G: Garrison Carr (American)
G: Brady Morningstar (Kansas)
G: Connor Mullen (Cornell)
F: Micah Downs (Gonzaga)
F: Bryce Simon (American)
6th Man: DeJuan Blair...No...Just kidding. Can you imagine?

Well, thats it. You've got three more games of college basketball left and about another month before the NBA Playoffs really rev up. Lets hope we get at least one tight game tonight.

Friday, April 03, 2009

A little something different for our Friday clip

No need for hip hop this morning, as Cauc Hop discussion has been all the rage at G:TB Corporate this week. Instead, I present to you one of the most bizarre, yet vastly entertaining, things ever captured on video:



I can't post that without also linking to this sincerest form of flattery.

Thursday, April 02, 2009

The Cauc Hop: Semifinal Results!

After a lengthy delay, the semifinals of G:TB's First (and likely last) Cauc Hop are in. The results were surprising, sensational, scintillating and superb. So without further Adu, let us reveal the results.

3rd Bass (4) vs. Eminem (1)

This battle between old-school and new-school hip hop stalwarts had the makings of a rout, with the higher seeded Marshall Mathers, master of the improv rhyme battle, seemingly ready to send 3rd Bass back to the section of Oblivion where they've resided over the last fifteen years. However, judges penalized Mathers early for re-using the "your dick is so small, when you try to take a piss, it runs all over your balls" joke he first penned as the character B-Rabbit in 8 Mile. Undaunted by the gravitas of his opponent, an angry MC Serch laid into Mr. Mathers with an unending onslaught of digs aimed at his fights with Insane Clown Posse, his newly waxed chest, his rhymes about closets and his publicly documented divorce.

With a stunned Eminem up against the ropes, Serch made the tag to an antsy Pete Nice. And, to nobody's surprise, Pete Nice kicked Em in the grill and delivered The Gas Face, leaving a dazed and confused and defeated Mathers to stumble back home to clean out some more closets.

In a monumental upset, the bastions of old-school hip hop revel in underdog 3rd Bass' upset victory over Eminem. 3rd Bass surprisingly moves into the finals.

Slug (14) vs. Beastie Boys (2)

In another match-up seen as a likely rout, the Beastie Boys did not disappoint. The trio brought the goods fast and hard, giving the most rapid beat-down seen since Mike Tyson pounded a terrified Michael Spinks into the canvas in 1988.

(Random editorial note - That fight happened in June 1988, meaning we are approaching the 21st anniversary of the fight. Feel free to start feeling very old now.)

Slug barely had time to take off his hoodie before being pummeled. The Beasties coast into the finals, leaving Slug to worm his way back to his hometown of Minneapolis.

So we are left with this final match-up for the Cauc Hop:

3rd Bass (4) vs. Beastie Boys (2)

Stay tuned for the review of this epic old-school battle...likely to come by 2011.

Thursday Filler

There. Are. No. Words.
(Other than he probably ended up at William & Mary.)