Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Two meditations on a theme this morning, as part of G:TB’s staff heads to the beach for a hard-earned mini-vacation:

Rob:

Making your way in the world today

Takes everything you've got

Taking a break from all your worries

Sure would help a lot.

Wouldn't you like to get away?

Sometimes you want to go

Where everybody knows your name,

And they're always glad you came;

You want to be where you can see,

Our troubles are all the same;

You want to be where everybody knows your name

No, no, no, wait. I don’t want to go where everybody knows my name. I want to go where I can walk in barefoot, sit at the bar and drink 40 oz. Red Stripes and drinks served with plastic sharks full of grenadine, eat the freshest fish tacos and crawfish bites on the Outer Banks, enjoy the best chicken wings ever cooked within sight of the ocean, then roll my gluttonous self out the back door to play volleyball in the sand. That’s where I want to go.

Whitney:

If it's possible to find a little slice of heaven within the confines of Eden, that's what we've found at Tortuga's Lie. The stretch of coast from Corolla to Hatteras has sea-level high points galore, but we've uncovered nothing to unseat Tortuga's as the jewel in the crown. It serves as the primary (sole) watering hole for our annual pilgrimage to the 252 area code, and this hole is vastly greater than the sum of its parts. Out of this world fish tacos, Red Stripes, surfing videos, reggae music, license plate decor, volleyball pits, and a top-notch staff . . . these are all fine ingredients, but taken on their own, none stands out as a singular draw. Put them together -- and accompany the result with twentysome of your best thirtysomething friends surrounding the bar and holding court -- and it's everywhere I want to be. That it happens but once a year perhaps enhances the image in our minds; that we keep going back again and again without a sliver of letdown reinforces the legacy of the place. I'll be there at some point in the next few days, and my eager anticipation is palpable.

-----------------------------------------------------

And so, dear reader, if you find yourself in the 252 this weekend and happen to be wandering down the Beach Road in Nags Head around Milepost 11.5 on Saturday evening, poke your head in and say hi.

Ceai Complet: June 18, 2008

I managed to cobble together some clips of G:TB's elder statesmen, rob and Whit, at work. Enjoy:

Gheorghe vs. The Price of Oil

Everyone's talking about it, so this is nothing revelatory. But Gheorghe needs to address the problem and see what can be done.

Prices of this all-important liquid -- the nectar, the very lifeblood of American society, it seems -- continue to rise, thanks to global shortages of raw materials and the relationship of American big business with those parties in possession of this precious commodity. Somewhere in the mix, the independent businessperson and the American consumer get squeezed, and we're all starting to feel the pinch. You go to fuel up and glance at the price with a wince. You think about consuming less, then realize it's futile. We're all paying more during this worldwide crisis.

What am I talking about? Oil, of course. Well, what Dennis Boyd and his Mississippi ilk call "oil." Beer, dummy.

Quite obviously, the crisis at hand is the global hops shortage. In case you've been living under a rock and are blissfully unaware, a "perfect storm" led to a surplus of hops, prices dropping, and production being cut -- all just before a stretch of bad weather in Europe severely handicapped last year's hop acreage. So we've got a dire dearth of hops available for craft brewers, thanks to long-standing contract arrangements by the Big 3 (A-B, Miller, Coors) to get hops at cut-rates into the future. And that price bump gets passed along to you, the consumer.

On the upside, Bud, Miller, and Coors don't require an excess of hops for their "American light" style of swill. So you Silver Bullet homos connoisseurs are safe to keep sipping your suds at standard market price. But the hops situation is so bad (a 1994-5 Washington Bullets level of bad hops situation), the microbrewers are getting walloped, and inevitably, the price of consuming vast quantities of good beer has risen well beyond strained spousal relationships and the 36 waistline going the way of grunge music and the run & shoot offense. Dale's Pale Ale is $8.99 a six-pack in the local grocery store here in SEVA. I still contend that "I'm worth it" as I hoist a few sixers on the conveyor, but that's getting to be an even more difficult sell to those around me with every few cents the price goes up.

Here's what you can do:

Drink Globally, Think Locally. (Not as funny a bastardization as the Gogol Bordello song, but it works.) Start drinking the products of your local area. For Virginians, this includes Legend, St. George, and now Starr Hill breweries; microbreweries aren't just for the ski towns, hydroponic pot places, and jam band hubs any more, so most states have several. (Mississippi, as with just about everything else, I presume you may be screwed in this area.)

How does this help the hops shortage? It doesn't, directly, but supporting your local brewmeisters, just like your local farmers and vendors, will pay dividends for you the consumer in the end. Helping provide them relief from the hop-drought of '08 will be returned in spades, if not lower beer prices.

Invest in the hops market. Talk to your broker about putting your money in the hops industry. Then, when he stops laughing, have him buy you a $9 pint at Rock Bottom.

Stop drinking Coors Light. It's time to stick it to the man and tell those Holocaust Deniers in Golden, Colorado (a) that their cornering of the hops market doesn't sit well with you, and (b) that you're a good beer drinker with a discerning palate who expects more. Unless you're a 22-year-old blonde girl whose first name ends in "i" or especially "ee"; in that case, press on, dear girl. (Kudos to Coors on using Sam Elliott's voice-over on the commercials, though. Well played.)

Drink loads more pale ale and hop-heavy beers. Show the world that jump-starting production is worth paying more. Drink 12 at a time like it was your job. And do so near me, so by God, I won't have to be the drunkest lout at the party. Cripes, it's getting so that people don't get wasted at baby showers and kids' soccer games any more.

May you and yours see your way through these tough times safely.

A Beavis and Butt-head favorite

In honor of Judas Priest releasing their first album in over three years today (some sort of epic, double-disc concept album about Nostradamus...seriously), I give you this Priest classic, and one of Beavis' all-time favorite videos:

It's Gonna Be a Good Week

Because I'm gonna end it on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, one of my favorite places. In honor of that impending trip, this space will host an homage to the best local restaurant in all the world in a few days. Until then, though, we'll celebrate a few other things that make me smile, like Robert Trujillo's bassline styling, and Jenny Lewis', well, Jenny Lewisness.



















Photos courtesy of Pitchfork's coverage of Bonnaroo.

The scariest thing you'll see this Friday the 13th

Now that we've let Mark's inaugural G:TB post breathe for a little while, I felt it was time to share this small screen gem with everyone. It never ceases to amaze me how awesome local TV commercials can be:

David Stern is having a really, really bad week...

(Walks in through the door without knocking)

Hey, nice place you guys have here. (Puts lit cigarette out on the couch) Sure, I'll make myself at home. Thanks for the invite.

In case you don't know, my name's Mark and I'm the newest member of the G:TB family. Which is interesting, since I've met exactly one of these guys before. What can I say? I'm an overwhelmingly charismatic fella. Women want me...Men want to be like me. Or something like that. Anyway, I figured I'd use this morning to make my debut 'round these parts since I'm sure I'm the only guy who frequents this blog that was actually awake during the Celtics' stirring second half comeback last night. In case you missed it, and I bet you did, here's a quick summary of what it did to L.A.'s title hopes:



You know, the only way I could've enjoyed last nights comeback more is if James Posey had replicated that play on Japanese Beef Bryant. I don't know, I guess its something in me that doesn't care for cold, calculating, manipulative, duplicitous rapists. I'm old fashioned like that.

Wait, where was I? Oh yeah...the game. Well, TJ has been talking about how "Charmin soft" Pau Gasol is for weeks now and last night's second half only served to prove his point (Lamar Odom didn't exactly enhance his rep last night either). Boston played Posey at PF for most of the 4th and he came up huge, hitting a number of tough 3s, further cementing his rep as one of the league's most clutch playoff shooters. Kind of a Robert Horry lite, if you will. Due to the presence of Posey and Eddie House, the Celtics were able to effectively spread the Lakers defense out, which allowed Pierce and Allen to repeatedly drive to the hoop on that weak Laker frontcourt.

Offensively, the Lakers were a mess and Kobe couldn't do a damn thing to save them as Pierce hounded him into a 6-19 shooting night. Somewhere, Shaquille O'Neal was smiling. So thats it, folks. These Finals are over. Not officially. That will happen on Father's Day. Which will be a nice double "fuck you" to the Mamba. I mean, you know those aren't his kids right? Nope. They belong to Karl Malone.

When did Opie & Anthony start broadcasting internationally?

ROME (Reuters) - An Italian couple who were caught having sex in a church confessional box while morning Mass was being said have repented and made peace with the local bishop.

The couple, in their early 30s, were detained by police earlier this month after they had made love in the confessional box in the cathedral in northern Cesena. They were cautioned for obscene acts in public and disturbing a religious function.

Their lawyer said they had been drinking all night and realized they had gone too far.

The lawyer told the area's local newspaper on Wednesday the couple met with the local bishop on Tuesday night, asked for his forgiveness and that he had given it.

Last week the bishop celebrated a "Mass of reparation" in the cathedral where the confessional box incident took place to make up for the sacrilege.

I'm just curious, what was their first sign they had gone too far?

Can you believe it's been 14 years since he got away with it?

Yes, I have an unhealthy obsession with the luckiest man in the history of the United States criminal justice system. So of course I would know that 14 years ago today, on Sunday, June 12, 1994, Orenthal James Simpson went to the McDonald's drive-thru (in his Bentley) with Kato Kaelin around 9pm (cheap bastard even had Kato pay) and just over an hour later was gruesomely murdering his ex-wife Nicole Brown Simpson and her waiter "friend" Ron Goldman.

As Whitney so eloquently put it when we were helping O.J. find "Charlie, the Real Killer", "it's difficult to justify continually making light of a brutal double homicide, but this caricature of a human being warrants tongue-in-cheek mockery at all times." He sure does.

In that light, I present to you this ancient commercial starring today's featured double murderer (and an innocent 1970 Chevrolet Nova), wishing I had the YouTube editing skills to splice in some "Christine" footage (with Rollie Fingers look-alike Fred Goldman happily playing the Arnie Cunningham role):

Wait, I saw this movie

SHAWNEE, Kan., June 10 (UPI) -- A Shawnee, Kan., man said he evaded serious injury when a rogue nail fired from a nail gun embedded itself in his skull. George Chandler said he was building a lattice with a friend when the nail gun hose became tangled and fired off a nail, KCTV, Kansas City, Mo., reported Tuesday.

Chandler said he and his friend initially did not know where the nail had landed, but soon found the 2 and a half inch piece of hardware had gone into his skull on the top of his head. "It was just like a maybe like a sting, bite or something, you know," Chandler said. He said there was no blood around the wound and he was alert when an ambulance arrived and took him to a hospital. He said a doctor requested a very special instrument for his treatment.

"'Does anybody have a hammer, a claw hammer.' I thought he was teasing at first, but then he says, 'No. It went in like that. We can pull it out like that,'" Chandler said.

Doctors told Chandler's family that he could have faced paralysis or serious injuries to his eyesight or ability to speak if the nail had entered his skull a fraction of an inch lower. "Well I feel very lucky, very, very lucky," Chandler said.

I'm glad Dr. Nick was so quick to think of a totally safe removal process...using a claw hammer to remove a nail FROM A SKULL. Brilliant.

A week late on this, but..."Hey Vern!"

Yeah, so John Smoltz is done for the year, and possibly for his career. I always liked Smoltz, and in this guy's unqualified opinion here is a first ballot Hall of Famer (it's the 15-4, 2.65 ERA postseason numbers that seal it for me). But of course I'm not here to actually write something of substance about Smoltz - I'm here to bust out the "Separated at Birth" tag once again. It's not as spot-on as Dana and He-Man, but it's still pretty good. Behold:

Jim "Ernest P. Worrell" Varney and John Smoltz

Yep, this will save the Mariners season

The Seattle Mariners, ranked second-to-last in the American League in runs scored, batting average and slugging percentage (and dead last in OBP), decided to shake things up yesterday, firing hitting coach Jeff Pentland. Who cares, you say? Normally, not many folks outside the Pacific Northwest, but today you should care, because they brought 71-year-old Lee Elia in to replace him. Here's hoping the Mariners sink even further into an offensive abyss, setting up Elia Explosion 2.0 (if you're sitting in a cube like me, I strongly suggest you keep the volume low for this all-time classic blow-up):

Drew Carey would be so dissapointed in today's Ceai Complet

WESTLAKE, Ohio (AP) - A Cleveland-area principal says he's embarrassed his students got proof of their "educaiton" on their high school diplomas.

Westlake High School officials misspelled "education" on the diplomas distributed last weekend. It's been the subject of mockery on local radio.

Principal Timothy Freeman says he sent back the diplomas once to correct another error. When the diplomas came back, no one bothered to check things they thought were right the first time.

The publisher has reprinted the diplomas a second time and sent them to the 330 graduates.

Wait, so they spelled it wrong once, sent them back, and they were still misspelled a second time? Nice printing business.

Happy Birthday to G:TB's Founder

I was informed by Whitney yesterday that it is our diminutive blogfather's birthday today, so I thought, what better way to celebrate rob's birthday than with a walk down memory lane... with photos of course. (See if you can figure out our little buddy's college nickname from the pictures.)

Awwwww, here's rob nursing the first of many beverages:

As a young child, rob was really (really) into Star Wars. Can you tell?

For a brief moment in time (say, about 5 minutes after Arnold's tour de force performance as John Matrix ended), rob wanted to be a big strong army guy:

Nowadays, rob can often be found chillin' with the boys, some poker and booze on hand (hint: he's the short one):

And, this post wouldn't be complete without the photo rob insisted I post, showing us all how cool he really is on his special day:


*************
Kudos to Teejay for rustling up these old photos from Rob's relatives, and a happy 38th to the senior statesman of this endeavor. Here's hoping you retain all of your remaining internal organs in the next year, old man. --W.

Weekend Placeholder/Ladies Love G:TB

Been an odd week here at G:TB HQ. My office has been without power since Wednesday as a result of the "unprecedented" storms that rolled through the D.C. area. I'm feeling oddly disconnected from the world - a not altogether unpleasant feeling.

Because one of our faithful readers is concerned about the Ceai-heavy content around these parts of late, here's a quickly-conceived and poorly executed notion to take you into the weekend. Our friends from the Outer Banks gave us their top 5 macking songs a few weeks ago. Since we don't know from how to score with the ladies, here's Whitney's Anti-Top 5 - the Worst Hook-Up Songs:

5. Prodigy, "Smack My Bitch Up"
This works (poorly) on a number of levels - it's an awful sonic complement to tenderly whispered sweet nothings, and very few things say 'I Love You' like domestic violence songs.

4. Metallica, "Creeping Death"
See above, but replace "domestic violence songs" with "songs about death".

3. The Smiths, "Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others"
'Cause every girl wants to be reminded of her body issues, real or perceived, by a dreamy, moody rockstar she can't have because he finds her repulsive. Y'know, because he's gay, and all.

2. The Rollins Band, "Liar"
Subtle psychosis is a proven aphrodesiac.

1. Ween, "Spinal Meningitis (Got Me Down)"
Ween's misogyny is underrated. "The Blarney Stone" was in the running here, too.

And, as Whit accurately notes, "Anything by 2 Live Crew immediately goes to the top of the list". Unless you've got a really special lady. Take this list to heed, boys and girls, and go out and enjoy yourselves this sweltering weekend.

I was planning to list 5 as well, but I wanted to get something online before the sun went down. More to come, unless there isn't. Your additions are, as always, welcome.

You Know the Drill: Ceai Complet

SANTA FE, N.M., June 5 (UPI) -- Virgin Galactic, a New Mexico space tourism company, said it has received several requests from couples seeking to be the first to have sex in space.

Will Whitehorn, president of the company, said the approach of Virgin's first planned space tourism flight, which is expected to take place in 2009, has led to many curious couples asking the company about sex in sub-orbital zero gravity, The Telegraph reported Thursday.

"We've had a variety of people inquire about it," Whitehorn said of space sex. "One got in touch about a charter flight so they could be the first to have intercourse in space and get in the Guinness Book of Records."

Dr. James Logan, an expert in space medicine, said the zero gravity portion of the first space tourism flights will last only five minutes, leaving very little time for intercourse. He said couples would likely find sex without gravity to be more trouble than it's worth.

"Sex in zero gravity would more or less be a flailing exercise quite frankly," he said. "Sex in Martian gravity might be pretty appealing though."

What have we learned from this? Well, for starters, Dr. James Logan wants us all to know he's a bear in the sack. Five minutes not enough time? I disagree Doc.

I guess the other useful(?) piece of information is that sex on Mars might be appealing? Does Martian gravity make it seem like you're having relations in a vat of jello, cause honestly, I think that would be pretty damn cool. But that's just me.

I hope you can all read the tagline on that "Space Nuts" poster.

Ceai Complet: June 5, 2008

1987 is getting a lot of love this week, and it just so happens we here at G:TB have unearthed a classic 1987 Converse ad. Enjoy.

Ceai Complet: June 4, 2008

Enjoy the Loggins...Messina couldn't make it, something about having to work a double at FedEx Kinkos.

From the Mouths of Babes

Parenting, as those of you raising children can attest, is alternately soul-lifting beyond description and incomparably frustrating. Once in a while (okay, frequently, in my case) it's also amusingly humbling in the way it incontravertably illustrates the flaws and foibles of the parental personality - these little people speak a deep truth, even when they don't know it.

As my friends may be aware, I occasionally work blue. Every now and again, I may use colorful language. Often, sporting events involving the Boston Red Sox are the proximate cause, but equally often, I just don't filter myself very well. It is possible that my children have heard me during one of these infrequent episodes.

Case in point, we had the whole team loaded into the truckster last week, heading home from a Memorial Day visit to my folks. The iPod was on shuffle, and I didn't think much of it when the first notes of Rancid's 'Disorder and Disarray' came on the air. As my wife and I were engaged in a conversation, the topic of which is lost to posterity, my 6 year-old daughter interrupted in an urgent tone:

"Daddy, we shouldn't be listening to this song", she said.

"Why not, honey?"

Her matter-of-fact response: "The man just said 'What the fuck'".

At which point I casually skipped to the next song and stared straight ahead, in full knowledge of the fact that even a glimpse of my wife as she struggled to keep her composure would send us both into paroxysms of laughter, and completely eliminate any chance we had of imposing this particular discipline on our child.

I laughed even harder when I went online to find the actual lyric to the song in question and realized that there's not an f-bomb to be found. And then cried a little bit.

Be it resolved then, gentle reader, that I shall endeavor mightily to refrain from reenacting George Carlin's famous routine, that I'll work diligently on perfecting my use of 'darn', 'crap', and 'crud', that I'll learn the lesson my young daughter unwittingly taught me.

Though I must admit, even as this incident exposed me, once again, as a hypocrite, it was really fucking funny.

Ceai Complet: June 3, 2008

I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume that if this isn't your first time at Gheorghe: The Blog, you might be okay with what I term "Juvenilia." People falling down stairs is funny. Whenever someone, anyone, says the word "homeowner," you hear "homo" and laugh. When it's time to repair the gaps between bathtub and tile, it's simply yet another opportunity to talk about pulling out your caulk and amusing yourself with an array of related jokes. And it's all really, really funny, even as the mature (emphatically pronounced "ma-toor") people you know grimace and shake their heads in a condescending manner.

If you enjoy such Juvenilia, you will love the August-September 1951 issue of the Batman comic. (Worth mentioning that nothing's been edited for comedic purposes. A strict reprint.) The key panels are highlighted here (worth the full look), but here's a taste:

Ceai Complet: June 2, 2008

fill·er

n.

One that fills, as:

a. Something added to augment weight or size or fill space.

b. A composition, especially a semisolid that hardens on drying, used to fill pores, cracks, or holes in wood, plaster, or other construction surfaces before finishing.

c. Tobacco used to form the body of a cigar.

d. A short item used to fill space in a publication.

e. Something, such as a news item, public-service message, or music, used to fill time in a radio or television presentation.

f. A sheaf of loose papers used to fill a notebook or binder.
g. This post

h. Architecture An element, such as a plate, used to fill the space between two supporting members.

Songs to Learn and Sing

A little lagniappe for you to close out the workaday week. You all undoubtedly know of Zamfir, master of the pan flute.

His first name? Gheorghe.

This blog just took on a whole new set of meanings.

Ceai Complet: May 30, 2008

We almost had another Darwin Award winner...

What. A. Moron.

Man uses gun for backscratcher, shoots himself

A Fort Worth man trying to scratch an itch on his back used a revolver and accidentally shot himself. Jorge Espinal, 44, was drinking beer and playing poker around 3 a.m. Sunday in his home in the 3500 block of Montague Street, when he got up from the table and walked into another room, said Fort Worth police Lt. Kenneth Dean.

“He told officers he had an itch on his back and grabbed the first thing he could get a hold of, which was a revolver,” Lt. Dean said. “The gun went off."

Mr. Espinal went back and told his buddies that he shot himself. “They didn’t believe him until they saw the blood coming down his back,” Lt. Dean said. Mr. Espinal was taken to an area hospital, where he was treated and released with non-life-threatening injuries.

Bonus Afternoon Ceai

If you've ever wondered exactly how much damage a ladle beating can cause, the answer is apparently eight stitches worth. And, just like flopping in the NBA next year, ladle beatings will cause you to lose some yen.

Sumo wrestler has to take pay cut after hitting apprentice with ladle

TOKYO -- A veteran sumo wrestler who attacked a junior grappler with a cooking utensil has been ordered to take a salary cut for his violent outburst. Toyozakura, whose ladle-wielding assault left the 18-year-old victim bleeding and needing eight stitches, will take a 30 percent pay cut for three months, Japanese sumo officials said on Thursday.

The same punishment was meted out to gym chief Magaki for beating a junior wrestler with a bamboo sword in the latest in a series of incidents that has tarnished sumo's image. Toyozakura, 34, apologized after admitting he used a ladle to hit the apprentice on the head. "I asked him to do something, which I don't remember exactly, but he couldn't do it," Toyozakura said, according to Agence France-Presse.

Sumo dates back some 2,000 years and retains many Shinto religious overtones, but the sport has been plagued by scandal in recent months. Violent hazing, or beating during training, has long been seen as customary, contributing to the sport's struggle to attract new recruits. But there was a public outcry over the death last year of a teenage apprentice who was beaten with a beer bottle and a baseball bat.

Japan's government has weighed in on the issue, ordering sumo officials to clean up their act.

So, to recap, ladle beating = 30% pay cut for three months, and bamboo sword beating = same 30% pay cut for three months. That's some damn fuzzy math if you ask me.

And yes, you got me, I read this story and was just dying to throw up a shot of Fat Bastard from Goldmember. Sue me.

Ceai Complet: May 29, 2008

I hate to throw videos at you on back-to-back days (who am I kidding, I'd throw you videos everyday if I could), but I thought everyone would like to see the Big Ticket emasculate Theo Ratliff:

Ceai Complet: Greatest. Video. Ever.

It looks like the crack staff at Whitneypedia HQ missed this all-time classic when drafting their "USA for Africa/Live Aid" post:

Rock and Roll, Hoochie Koo

A few weeks ago Rob promoted the new Old 97's album, Blame It On Gravity. While I cannot officially endorse the record at this time, since it has yet to grow on me, I can and will insist you make your way to one of their shows this summer. In addition to the dates on the poster above, there are a series of dates to shows listed below, many of which coincide with G:TB's largely east coast fan base.

I have Richmond tickets (presale via the official website), and I'm investigating the possibility of making other dates. Based on my recent performances at local social engagements lately, that's a whole sideshow to any of these concerts. Just last Friday I heard a couple more new stories about my behavior at the Spoon show in April. Blacking out on Bermudian rum -- it's the gift that keeps on giving.

June 26 Waterfest Concert Series Oshkosh, WI
June 28 Summerfest Milwaukee, WI
July 18, 7pm Floore Country Store Helotes, TX
July 19, 8pm House of Blues New Orleans, LA
July 21, 7pm Work Play Theatre Birmingham, AL
July 22, 7pm Variety Playhouse Atlanta, GA
July 23, 8pm Mercy Lounge Nashville, TN
July 24, 8pm The Orange Peel Asheville, NC
July 25, 8pm The Visulite Theatre Charlotte, NC
July 26, 2pm Downtown Live at Moore Square Park Raleigh, NC
July 27, 7:30pm Toad's Place Richmond, VA
July 29, 7pm 9:30 Club Washington, DC
July 30, 7pm The Trocadero Theatre Philadelphia, PA
July 31, 8pm Bottle & Cork Dewey Beach, DE
Aug 1, 6pm Webster Hall New York, NY
Aug 2, 8pm The Wellfleet Beachcomber Wellfleet, MA

Ceai Complet: May 27, 2008

I eagerly await this "ripped from the headlines" episode of Law and Order:

Man: Neighbor killed by owl, not husband

DURHAM, N.C., May 26 (UPI) -- A former neighbor of a Durham, N.C., man convicted of his wife's murder claims the death was not caused by a human, but rather by an aggressive owl.

Larry Pollard claims his deceased neighbor Kathleen Peterson was killed by an owl attack in December 2001, not by her husband, novelist Mike Peterson, who is serving a life sentence in prison for the crime, the Raleigh (N.C.) News & Observer reported Monday.

Pollard, who formerly worked as a lawyer, said he has spent years gathering information that indicates Kathleen Peterson's wounds were caused by an owl, not by assault with a fire poker. He said that despite repeatedly informing the media of his theories, he has not presented his ideas to the Durham district attorney.

"I want it to be the best I have," Pollard said.

Durham District Attorney Jim Hardin, who led the prosecution of Peterson, said he has heard of the owl theory and discussed it with medical examiners. He said they dismissed the idea.

G:TB has obtained a police composite sketch of the suspect:

Ceai Complet: May 23, 2008

This guy stole Whit's retirement plan:

LONDON (AP) - A judge has reprimanded a British pensioner who plagued his neighbors by repeatedly playing Bruce Springteen's hit "Born in the U.S.A." at high volume in the early hours.

John Norman, a 61-year-old, was on Tuesday given a three week anti-social behavior order, or ASBO, after residents living close to his home complained.

Prosecutors told a court in Mansfield in northern England that officials received more than 100 complaints. Neighbors said Norman blasted out the Springsteen hit on repeat night after night.

Norman's ASBO, a punishment designed for troublesome youths, bans him from playing loud music for three weeks. The court can also impose a further ban and he can be jailed if he doesn't comply.

G:TB Celebrates America, The Grand Finale

So far on G:TB's Memorial Day walkabout, we've learned about Butler, PA, spent a few moments by the shore in Manasquan, NJ, and settled in for some quiet seaside reflection in Little River, SC. In this, our final pre-holiday travel post, the destinations take a back seat to history.

Before we get to that, though, we'll let Dennis talk about his weekend plans. G:TB's Inter-Regional man of mystery weighs in with a thought-provoking itinerary, examining the undeniable societal tension between want and need, luxury and necessity, Titleist and Nike:

On Saturday morning I’ll stay in Alexandria and walk in the park as much as possible. I’ll then drive to the nearest local grocer for cooking supplies in my hybrid car at a cool 35 MPH. When in my house that evening, I’ll have the windows open and the air conditioner off. After dinner, I’ll read books, sing songs, and tell tales of a world replete with renewable energy sources until I drift asleep.

On Sunday morning, I’ll wake up to a 32 oz. cup of Starbucks coffee. My friends and I will then each drive our separate SUV’s to a golf course 45 miles away and spend $150 for the rights to ride gas-powered carts around a 10-acre rock quarry turned lush green meadow.

On Monday, I’ll sit around wondering whether I’m an environmentalist or a masochist.

Whitney, meanwhile, will be hitting for the little-known Suburban Cycle, supping first in Ashburn, VA and then in Kensington, MD. Ashburn's the home of the Washington Redskins' training facility, Old Dominion Brewery (recently purchased by the soulless bastards at Anheuser-Busch) the first home I ever purchased, and...well, some nice jogging trails interspersed with a handful of tasteful strip malls and planned neighborhoods. Kensington, meanwhile, is home to Matthew Lesko, the question-mark-festooned latenight pitchman, and a lovely little community in its own right.

Speaking of festooned, the highlight of G:TB's Memorial Day this year, as the last two, is the District of Columbia's Memorial Day Parade. If there were even one iota of justice in the world, the trip down Constitution Avenue would be every bit as world-reknowned as the Macy's Thanksgiving Day and Rose Bowl Parades. Sure, balloon creatures, lip-synched pop songs performed by one-hit wonders, and flower-bedecked flatbeds have their own special appeal. But those cultural touchstones lack one thing: neither of those festive events feature the world's leading Abraham Lincoln scholar/impersonator.

In the words of Chris Farley, "Awwwwesommme".

Abe and G:TB wish you and yours a spectacular Memorial Day weekend. And a magnificent beard.

Ceai Complet: May 22, 2008

Pub urinal computer games launched

TWO Belgian beer fans have launched a video game named Place to Pee, which allows players to fly down ski slopes or kill aliens while relieving themselves at urinals.

Werner Dupont, a software developer and Bart Geraets, an electrical engineer, got the idea while drinking beers.

The Place to Pee' booth is designed for two users at a time and offers two games - blowing up aliens in outer space or skiing down a virtual slope.

Gamers hit their target by aiming at sensors positioned on either side of the urinal.

A specially designed paper cone allows women to play too, the inventors say.

Their Place to Pee logo resembles Manneken Pis, the little urinating boy fountain that is among Brussels' top sightseeing attractions.

Too bad Mayhugh's "stage fright" will prevent him from ever enjoying this. And I just changed my AL-only fantasy baseball team name to "Manneken Pis".

Ceai Complet: May 21, 2008

Sometimes they just write themselves...which is good, because I sure as hell can't write 'em:

Mexican donkey jailed for ornery behavior

TUXTLA GUTIERREZ, Mexico (AP) - A donkey is doing time in southern Mexico for assault and battery.

The animal was locked up at a local jail that normally holds people for public drunkenness and other disturbances after it bit and kicked two men near a ranch in Chiapas state, police said Monday.

Officer Sinar Gomez said the donkey will remain behind bars until its owner agrees to pay the men's medical bills. "Around here, if someone commits a crime they are jailed," Gomez said - "no matter who they are."

The owner, Mauro Gutierrez, told The Associated Press he would try to reach a friendly arrangement to pay the men's bills, estimated at US$420 (euro270).

The victims said the donkey bit Genaro Vazquez, 63, in the chest on Sunday and then kicked 52-year-old Andres Hernandez as he tried to come to the rescue, fracturing his ankle. "All of a sudden, the animal was on top of us like it was rabid," Hernandez said. Police said it took a half-dozen men to control the enraged burro.

Chiapas police have thrown animals in the slammer before, including a bull that devoured corn crops and destroyed two wooden vending stands in March. In 2006, a dog was locked up for 12 days after biting someone. His owners were fined US$18.

This might be my favorite "contrived morning post concept", er, Ceai Complet, yet.

G:TB Celebrates America

We'll hew close to the shoreline in today's travelogue, bypassing our new internet friends in the Outer Banks (and we'll be compiling our own list of songs at some point, and it's safe to say there won't be any England Dan) and heading all the way to Little River, SC, Home of the Annual Blue Crab Festival.

My parents' early-retirement homestead lives under the motto, There's Something Here for Everyone. Which is true, so long as everyone enjoys chain restaurants, rednecks, chain retail outlets, theme restaurants (chain or otherwise), and a disconcerting racial tension. The picture at left, courtesy of the town's official website, depicts the new post office. So let it not be said that the gentle breeze of progress has stilled in Little River's slow-moving waters.

I kid, I kid. (Dad, if you're reading, you realize that this congenital wiseassery is all your fault, right?) There's golf, too, by the large bucket. And beaches - miles and miles of really nice beaches, plenty of which are uncrowded and unsullied. The northern end of the Grand Strand is a quaint, slow-paced haven for refugees from colder climes - my kind of beachside community. Just don't wander too far south, or all that stuff I said above starts to apply in larger and larger measure.

Little River, though. That's all right by me, now that I've found a good cup of coffee and a place I can get fresh seafood and hush puppies on a paper plate.

Almost done with G:TB Across America, or whatever the hell we're calling this. I promise you, unconditionally, that you'll be stupefied and amazed by Thursday's finale. There exist pictures that will take you back in time, and forward in your appreciation for one of G:TB's own.

Ceai Complet: May 20, 2008

Really, it's not our intent to make this segment a Red Sox compendium. Merely a coincidence. We'd say that Jon Lester's efforts last night are worthy, though. And so we tip our cap to the Sox' young lefthander after his no-hit performance last night against the Royals.

Wally the Green Monster is a nice Gheorghian touch, dont'cha think?

G:TB Celebrates America

As much as we know you were itching to read about Myrtle Beach today, we’re gonna shake things up a bit. Mostly because someone else was kind enough to do the work.

Today, via the magic of the internet, we take you on a scenic journey to Manasquan, NJ, site of Rhymenocerous’ summer home and Memorial Day destination.

Among other things, Manasquan is noted as the town where Jack Nicholson went to high school. It’s a mere 5 miles from Bruce Springsteen's Asbury Park and but a single mile from Wall Township, where Eliot Spitzer's paid paramour grew up. Finally, Manasquan’s a mile from Point Pleasant, where the American Idol chick who took risque internet photos a couple years back grew up. Piper Perabo grew up there too. You all remember her from Coyote Ugly. The movie, not the collegiate dating technique.

Celebs and sluts. Welcome to New Jersey!

As for Manasquan itself, there's not much to say other than it has the best surf break in NJ and all the teenagers are burnouts. Most of the parents are veteran party animals themselves who own beach cruisers. They (our friend included?) use these cruisers to bike to the local bars or house parties, where they can get sloshed and teeter home on side streets without getting a DUI.

As for Rhymenocerous’ time there this weekend, he’ll be healthy and sober Friday night, healthy on his 5-mile run Saturday morning, dehydrated that day, very drunk that Saturday night (To quote him, instead of just steal his words, “I have a 50% track record of blacking out and/or vomiting on the nights of my runs because I usually start drinking by 4 PM and never stop until I fall down”), and very hung over that next morning.

On Sunday, he'll procrastinate about the long list of things to do at his new place, including fun items like painting, installing child seats on bicycles and spreading cedar mulch over the weeds growing around the perennials in the front yard. He’ll putter around in his yard and start to feel better as frozen margarita #2 kicks in by 5 PM. He’ll then make a quick drunken bike ride to the local supermarket to buy some red meat to cook up on his unnecessarily large and expensive Weber grill. (The Genesis. It’s so choice. If you have the means, I highly recommend it.) He’ll then drink until he passes out and/or gets put to bed by his wife. Hopefully, he’ll have some company during the drinking stage of the night, although it's sadly not necessary.

Ceai Complet: May 19, 2008

Welcome back Dr. Henry Walton Jones, Jr.

G:TB Celebrates America

With Memorial Day rapidly approaching, the G:TB staff will be spreading our whimsy to the four corners of the globe. Or at least to a few select resort destinations mostly confined to the Eastern United States. (While the silliness and immaturity of our worldview knows few metaphysical bounds, it is fairly geographically limited, basically encompassing the landmass from Nags Head, NC to Boston, MA. And Romania.) In celebration of the coming holiday, we present you with this series of travel primers.

First up, Butler, PA.

The seat of the cleverly named Butler County, Butler is the ancestral home of both Big John Studd and Bret Michaels. Little known fact: 'Every Rose Has Its Thorn' is an homage to Rose Pankowitz, Michaels' elementary school girlfriend and now proprietor of the Aunt Sarah's Pancake House in downtown Butler.

Butler's also memorialized on film, serving as the location for the legendary 'Night of the Living Dead'. G:TB's own Teejay O'Doul will be reenacting several scenes from the classic picture as he visits his in-laws in bucolic Western PA over the holiday season.

Next on G:TB's whirlwind tour: Myrtle Beach, SC

Ceai Complet: May 16, 2008

Fast-Food Workers Spit In Customer Drinks

EUNICE, La. -- Two fast-food workers at a Sonic eatery in Eunice spit into customers' drinks, a company representative said.

Several customers at the restaurant said their drinks were spiked with saliva.

"(My daughter) came up here and got a soda and come to find out some girls spit in the drink" father Joe Lawrence said.

G:TB has obtained exclusive footage of the incident:

Ceai Complet - May 15, 2008

You've all seen the video by now (it's here, if you spent yesterday on another planet), but we still celebrate Manny Ramirez this morning, because he's a singularly exquisite embodiment of the Gheorgian way of life. There's not one other player in all of professional sports who would think for a moment to high-five a fan in the middle of a play. He's goofy as all get out, and surpassingly good at what he does. We're half-way there.

(h/t to The Gowanus Rotisserie Baseball Gazette for the screen caps.)

Laissez Les Bon Temps Roulez

Love letters come in lots of shapes and sizes. Witness the following email, from one of G:TB's own to a friend of ours who'd sent an innocent email asking for recommendations on diversions for his impending trip to New Orleans. Ignore the first sentence, which is parry to the thrust of another friend's email. The rest of it manages in a few short paragraphs to pack in 10+ years of good times, good friends we have, and good friends we've lost in a mash note to a city.

From: Whitney whitneyxxxxxxx@yahoo.com
To: xxxxxxxx@williamandmary.org
Sent: Tuesday, May 13, 2008 5:35:12 PM
Subject: Re: Nawlins and vacation home

Clyde,

Chip is right. . . about my old girlfriend. Actually, she's a bloody nice girl and is actually in my current circle of friends, much to her husband's serious chagrin.

Anyway, about New Orleans. Chip is actually right about the music joints. I saw Wilco a couple of nights at Tipitina's Uptown in March and I am still reeling. Also check out the Howlin' Wolf, the Maple Leaf, and for the coolest little music scene in . . . . maybe America, check out a place called Le Bontemps Roule. Killer place.

Igor's is a place where I have seen God several times. A must, and the later you hit it, the better. It's in the Garden District. Go by the Columns down the street for a little more upscale (upscale frat guy) time. If there's an Aussie lady named Karen working at Igor's, drop my name. And maybe break the news to her that Dave Flynn is dead.

While in the Quarter, go to Pat O's if you must, but get your money's worth more at Tropical Isle (multiple locations). Hand Grenades (basically 150 proof Gatorade) will knock you on your ass. Beware/enjoy. BEFORE you do either of those, go to the Monteleone Hotel bar and have a Bloody or a beer there. There is a certain unique gimmick to that bar that's very much worth the trip. If you find yourself at Club Decatur in the Quarter and a Scotsman with a pony tail named Bryan is serving you, drop my name. And maybe break the news to him that Dave Flynn is dead.

For great eats, an enormous beer list, and a cool place to shoot pool and relax, definitely go to Cooter Brown's. End of the streetcar line on St. Charles. Last time there I ordered the Bayou Philly:

Bayou Philly ........................................................... $10.00
Gator Sausage, shrimp, grilled and topped with roasted peppers, onions, Pepper Jack and American cheese with remoulade sauce

F-ing kick-ass. I am pretty sure Christina the beautiful bartender who looks like Sandra Bullock (and loves me) is still gone to FLA, but if not, you're in for a treat. Cooter's is a staple for freshly shucked oysters, a good juke, and reloading on grub between binges. Get there.

Rock 'n Bowl, Midtown Lanes. Pain in the ass to get to, dingy as hell, it's old school bowling and cheap beer drinking with a band playing. Love it.

That's about all I can come up with off the top of my head. Miss that town. Have one for me.

Whitney

Ceai Complet - May 14, 2008

You well know that we don't take much seriously here, but we do love us some music, each in our own way. If anyone in the worldwide G:TB community happens to wake up in Houston, TX tomorrow, do yourself a favor and pop by Cactus Music at 2110 Portsmouth at 5:30 for an in-store appearance by the Old 97's. And if you wake up somewhere else, hurry over to your local music purveyor, online or otherwise, and pick up the Dallas foursome's latest record, Blame It On Gravity. Satisfaction guaranteed, or I'll buy you a Shiner Bock.

Ceai Complet: Hyperbole Edition

"LeBron James...WITH NO REGARD FOR HUMAN LIFE!!!"

They've never been 5 games above .500? Ever?

With yesterday's 8-5 win over the Los Angeles Angels of San Dimas High, the Tampa Bay Devil Rays are 21-16 on the year, just a game and a half back of the defending champion Red Sox in the AL East. More importantly, this is apparently the first time in franchise history the Rays have ever been 5 games above .500. I know they have sucked pretty hard in their first decade of existence, but I found this stat pretty hard to believe, so I went to my numero uno beisbol source on the web, baseball-reference.com, to confirm this Kurk Gem. Here's what I found:

1998: As it turns out, the '98 expansion Devil Rays were actually 4 games over .500 at one point in the season. That of course was when they were 10-6 on April 19, and Larry Rothschild went to bed each night dreaming of his Murderers Row of Fred McGriff, Quinton McCracken, Paul Sorrento and Wade Boggs leading his D-Rays to World Series glory. The 1998 Devil Rays finished 63-99, an astounding 51 games out of 1st place.

1999: Again, they made it to 4 games over .500, this time pushing it a week later into the season (11-7 on April 23). They only managed to get shutout 7 times in '99 (as opposed to 17 times in their inaugural year). The team finishes 69-93.

2000: Now this is tough to do (well, I thought it was tough...read on)- the Devil Rays were never more than 1 game over .500 in 2000, and that sadly was day 2 of the season, after Tampa beat Minnesota 7-0 to start the year. The D-Rays finish 69-92, and Larry Rothschild, against all odds, stays employed.

2001: Tell me if this sounds familiar. The Devil Rays win their opener to get 1 game over .500. And that's the apex of the season. Larry Rothschild is mercifully put to sleep 14 games into the season, replaced by Hal McRae, which is great for me, because now I get to post this epic meltdown:

Tampa Bay backslides, losing 100 games for the first time in franchise history (all 4 years of it). Tanyon Sturtze is the staff ace. Yep, Tanyon Sturtze...that's how you lose 100 games.

2002: Hal McRae, captain of the Titanic. The Rays go an atrocious 55-106 in '02, after actually starting the year 3-0 (obviously 3 games over .500 is their high point). They lose a whopping 33 games by 5 or more runs. Our boy Tanyon Sturtze goes 4-18.

2003: Welcome aboard Sweet Lou...to a 63-99 mark that drove you so bonkers you dyed your hair at some point (I think...that might've been 2004...but I'm too lazy to google "Lou Piniella dyed hair"). Lou's '03 club joined the 2000 and 2001 D-Rays in the "Start 1-0...never get another game over .500 again" club. Pretty terrible name for a club if you ask me. The D-Rays go 5-21 in June...and manage a 3-15 interleague mark. Ugh.

2004: Holy shit, look, a 70 win season (the first in franchise history). The team gets to 2 games over .500 - on July 3rd no less (40-38). They have a 12 game win streak. They go 15-3 in interleague play. The stupid Mets trade them Scott Kazmir for Victor Zambrano. Lou's got them going in the right direction, Tampa is turning it around, etc. etc...

2005: ...um, not so fast my friend. Tampa Bay finishes the '05 season 67-95. They get to 3-2 on the young year, and are never more than a game over .500 again. Piniella threatens to kill multiple people throughout the season, including several of his players. Somehow Jorge Cantu hits 28 bombs and drives in 117 runs.

2006: Lou is gone, Joe Maddon is in, and here comes another 100 loss season (61-101). On April 16th they're 7-6 and 1 game over .500 - that's the best they have to offer. Tampa Bay goes 20-61 on the road.

2007: They got all these young kids, they're supposed to turn the corner, Sports Illustrated throws them on the cover as the team of the future...and we get a final record of 66-96. Yep, I feel like a broken record - Tampa gets to 2-1 on April 6th...and that's it again for games over .500. If you're scoring at home, that means in 6 of their first 10 years Tampa Bay has never been more than 1 game over .500 at any point in a season.

2008: It took until season 11, but the magic barrier was finally broken. 5 games above .500 for the first time ever. Well played Rays, well played.

Ceai Complet: May 12, 2008

There's bad days, and then there's what happened to Justin Hill of Rock Island, TN last Tuesday:

ROCK ISLAND, Tenn. (AP) - One moment, Justin Hill was turning into his driveway. Minutes later he was being flown to a hospital as his home went up in flames. Then he got a traffic ticket.

Hill, 42, got into a crash after turning into the path of an oncoming car Tuesday evening, said Tennessee Highway Patrol Officer Monte Terry. Hill's wife heard the crash and ran outside, leaving the kitchen stove, where she had been cooking, unattended.

Within minutes, their Rock Island trailer was on fire, and firefighters who had responded to the accident found themselves fighting the blaze.

The rural central Tennessee home had extensive damage. Hill was treated at the hospital and released, but he was cited in the accident for failure to yield.

I mean, the cops couldn't have cut the guy a break on the ticket?

Long Distance Dedication

Here's hoping you enjoy this when you wake up somewhere strange tomorrow morning:



(h/t to Andrew Sullivan, my favorite gay, British, conservative blogger)

Ceai Complet: May 9, 2008

Politics really isn't G:TB's bag, baby. But this is too good to pass up on a Friday morning. From the unlikely source of Beliefnet.org comes this gem, an homage and a dig at the same time:

A Democratic primary voter enters Clinton for President headquarters.

Voter: Hello, I wish to register a complaint.
(The man behind the counter does not respond.)
Voter: Hello, Miss?
Clinton Chief Strategist Geoff Garin: What do you mean "miss"?
Voter: I'm sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint!
Garin: We're closin' for lunch.
Voter: Never mind that, my boy. I wish to complain about this candidate what I voted for not two days ago.
GG: Oh yes, the, uh, the Hillary Clinton ...What's,uh...What's wrong with her?
Voter: I'll tell you what's wrong with her, my lad. Her campaign is dead, that's what's wrong with her!
GG: No, no, she's, uh,...she's resting.
Voter: Look, matey, I know a dead candidate when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now.
GG: No no she's not dead, she's, she's restin'! Remarkable bird, Hillary Clinton, idn't she? Beautiful plumage!
Voter: The plumage don't enter into it. Her presidential campaign is stone dead.
GG: Nononono, no, no! She's resting!
Voter (pointing to delegate-math statistics on CNN): Now that's what I call a dead candidate.
GG: No, no.....No, she's stunned!
Voter: STUNNED?!?
GG: Yeah! The voters stunned her, just as she was wakin' up! Hillary stuns easy, major.
Voter: Um...now look...now look, mate, I've definitely had enough of this. That campaign is definitely deceased, and when I voted for Mrs. Clinton not two days ago, you assured me that her total lack of movement was due to her bein' tired and shagged out following a prolonged squawk.
GG: Well, she's...she's, ah...probably pining for Yankee Stadium. She's a big Yanks fan, you know.
Voter: PININ' for YANKEE STADIUM?!?!?!? What kind of talk is that? Look, why did she fall flat on her back on Tuesday night?
GG: Hillary Clinton prefers keepin' on her back! She's a fighter, an underdog. Remarkable bird, id'nt she, squire? Lovely plumage!
Voter: She's not pinin'! She's passed on! Her campaign is no more! It has ceased to be! It's expired and gone to meet its maker! It's a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! If Hillary Clinton hadn't nailed herself to the Democratic Party perch she'd be pushing up the daisies! This campaign's metabolic processes are now history! She's off the twig! She's kicked the bucket, she's shuffled off her mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible!! THIS IS AN EX-PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATE!!

Fed Up

Geoff and I decided to take the advice of those annoying hipsters t-shirts and we have resolved to stop bitching and to start a revolution. GET INVOLVED...
http://paymoreforlessbayless.blogspot.com/

Ceai Complet: May 8, 2008

Get well Dalton/Bodhi...and I can't thank you enough for this gem:

Note to the MLBPA: You're Idiots

I just caught this story on espn.com, and it pissed me off to no end. Does the MLBPA really not understand why guys like Barry Bonds are unemployed? Let Gheorghe help you out, MLBPA general counsel Michael Weiner (how appropriate) - here are the 7 guys listed in the sidebar...why don't we help Mr. Weiner (chuckle) understand why these dinosaurs are jobless (here's a hint Weiner...I'll give you three letters..."P", "E" and "D"):

Barry Bonds - I'm going to have to restrain myself from using this phrase 6 more times, but are you fucking kidding me? Who in God's name wants to bring this surly cheat into their locker room? Forget that the guy could be going to federal pound you in the ass prison any day now...he's a horrendous teammate and a media tsunami. You think he would be a positive influence on the young Rays? Marlboro Man Leyland doesn't even want to go near him. Come on...the guy's unemployable because he's the second most deplorable person on the face of the earth (for anyone who knows me, you know who #1 is). Let's just move on before I overnight this letter bomb to Mr. Weiner.

Roger Clemens - Is the MLBPA serious? You're joking me, right? I can't even address this. Instead, I will direct you to Tim Keown's archives, where has written not one, not two, but three fantastic Clemens rip jobs over the last few months (I'd link you to Lupica's column from the other day but I despise that Fraggle).

Jose Mesa - Ah, Joe Table. He of the 7.11 ERA and 1.54 WHIP last year. Gee, I have no idea why someone wouldn't want this rapist in their bullpen. I also found it comical he got to be on MLBPA's list of "big-time players who haven't gotten a major league contract this season". I'm sorry, Jose Mesa is a big-name?

Mike Piazza - Old. As. Dirt. Probably a juicer as well. If the home of aging DHs, Oakland, doesn't want you around, there's gotta be a reason.

Sammy Sosa - Failure to speak English has probably limited his contract negotiations. And maybe they are blackballing him, but I don't give a shit. But at least he left a positive legacy for the youth of America (or, er, Korea).

David Wells - Can't push himself away from the table long enough to talk deal. 5.43 ERA and 1.54 WHIP last year - gave up 201 hits in 157 IP. Sucks donkey balls. Need me to create a sucktitude chart for you Mr. Weiner?

Kenny Lofton - OK, this might be the only truly employable guy on this list. In fact, he'll probably be on someone's team after the All-Star Break. So great job MLBPA...you're 1 for 7. You're the Chris Burke of players association complainers.