Springsteen Pays Tribute to a Fallen Friend (Long)

I'm not sure how many ardent Springsteen fans there are among the multitudes of G:TB readers, but I thought this story was worth relaying.

G:TB has always been a big fan of Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band. Sadly, the band recently lost their long-time keys player, Danny Federici, to a fatal form of melanoma. Bruce gave the eulogy at the funeral. The speech is so good that it warranted inclusion on this web site. Bruce came through in a giant way to pay tribute to his long-time friend and bandmate. The text of the eulogy is included below. We hope you enjoy it.

"FAREWELL TO DANNY"
Bruce Springsteen's Eulogy to Danny Federici
April 21, 2008
Red Bank, NJ

Let me start with the stories...

Back in the days of miracles, the frontier days when "Mad Dog" Lopez and his temper struck fear into the band, small club owners, innocent civilians and all women, children and small animals.

Back in the days when you could still sign your life away on the hood of a parked car in New York City.

Back shortly after a young red-headed accordionist struck gold on the Ted Mack Amateur Hour and he and his mama were sent to Switzerland to show them how it's really done.

Back before beach bums were featured on the cover of Time Magazine.

I'm talking about back when the E Street Band was a communist organization! My pal, quiet, shy Dan Federici, was a one-man creator of some of the hairiest circumstances of our 40 year career... And that wasn't easy to do. He had "Mad Dog" Lopez to compete with.... Danny just outlasted him.

Maybe it was the "police riot" in Middletown, New Jersey. A show we were doing to raise bail money for "Mad Log" Lopez who was in jail in Richmond, Virginia, for having an altercation with police officers who we'd aggravated by playing too long. Danny allegedly knocked over our huge Marshall stacks on some of Middletown's finest who had rushed the stage because we broke the law by...playing too long.

As I stood there watching, several police officers crawled out from underneath the speaker cabinets and rushed away to seek medical attention. Another nice young officer stood in front of me onstage waving his nightstick, poking and calling me nasty names. I looked over to see Danny with a beefy police officer pulling on one arm while Flo Federici, his first wife, pulled on the other, assisting her man in resisting arrest.

A kid leapt from the audience onto the stage, momentarily distracting the beefy officer with the insults of the day. Forever thereafter, "Phantom" Dan Federici slipped into the crowd and disappeared.

A warrant out for his arrest and one month on the lam later, he still hadn't been brought to justice. We hid him in various places but now we had a problem. We had a show coming at Monmouth College. We needed the money and we had to do the gig. We tried a replacement but it didn't work out. So Danny, to all of our admiration, stepped up and said he'd risk his freedom, take the chance and play.

Show night. 2,000 screaming fans in the Monmouth College gym. We had it worked out so Danny would not appear onstage until the moment we started playing. We figured the police who were there to arrest him wouldn't do so onstage during the show and risk starting another riot.
Let me set the scene for you. Danny is hiding, hunkered down in the backseat of a car in the parking lot. At five minutes to eight, our scheduled start time, I go out to whisk him in. I tap on the window.

"Danny, come on, it's time."

I hear back, "I'm not going."

Me: "What do you mean you're not going?"

Danny: "The cops are on the roof of the gym. I've seen them and they're going to nail me the minute I step out of this car."

As I open the door, I realize that Danny has been smoking a little something and had grown rather paranoid. I said, "Dan, there are no cops on the roof."
He says, "Yes, I saw them, I tell you. I'm not coming in."

So I used a procedure I'd call on often over the next forty years in dealing with my old pal's concerns. I threatened him...and cajoled. Finally, out he came. Across the parking lot and into the gym we swept for a rapturous concert during which we laughed like thieves at our excellent dodge of the local cops.

At the end of the evening, during the last song, I pulled the entire crowd up onto the stage and Danny slipped into the audience and out the front door. Once again, "Phantom" Dan had made his exit. (I still get the occasional card from the old Chief of Police of Middletown wishing us well. Our histories are forever intertwined.) And that, my friends, was only the beginning.

There was the time Danny quit the band during a rough period at Max's Kansas City, explaining to me that he was leaving to fix televisions. I asked him to think about that and come back later.

Or Danny, in the band rental car, bouncing off several parked cars after a night of entertainment, smashing out the windshield with his head but saved from severe injury by the huge hard cowboy hat he bought in Texas on our last Western swing.

Or Danny, leaving a large marijuana plant on the front seat of his car in a tow away zone. The car was promptly towed. He said, "Bruce, I'm going to go down and report that it was stolen." I said, "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Down he went and straight into the slammer without passing go.

Or Danny, the only member of the E Street Band to be physically thrown out of the Stone Pony. Considering all the money we made them, that wasn't easy to do.

Or Danny receiving and surviving a "cautionary assault" from an enraged but restrained "Big Man" Clarence Clemons while they were living together and Danny finally drove the "Big Man" over the big top.

Or Danny assisting me in removing my foot from his stereo speaker after being the only band member ever to drive me into a violent rage.

And through it all, Danny played his beautiful, soulful B3 organ for me and our love grew. And continued to grow. Life is funny like that. He was my homeboy, and great, and for that you make considerations... And he was much more tolerant of my failures than I was of his.

When Danny wasn't causing chaos, he was a sweet, talented, unassuming, unpretentious good-hearted guy who simply had an unchecked ability to make good fortune and things in general go fabulously wrong.

But beyond all of that, he also had a mountain of the right stuff. He had the heart and soul of an engineer. He learned to fly. He was always up on the latest technology and would explain it to you patiently and in enormous detail. He was always "souping" something up, his car, his stereo, his B3. When Patti joined the band, he was the most welcoming, thoughtful, kindest friend to the first woman entering our "boys club."

He loved his kids, always bragging about Jason, Harley, and Madison, and he loved his wife Maya for the new things she brought into his life.

And then there was his artistry. He was the most intuitive player I've ever seen. His style was slippery and fluid, drawn to the spaces the other musicians in the E Street Band left. He wasn't an assertive player, he was a complementary player. A true accompanist. He naturally supplied the glue that bound the band's sound together. In doing so, he created for himself a very specific style. When you hear Dan Federici, you don't hear a blanket of sound, you hear a riff, packed with energy, flying above everything else for a few moments and then gone back in the track. "Phantom" Dan Federici. Now you hear him, now you don't.

Offstage, Danny couldn't recite a lyric or a chord progression for one of my songs. Onstage, his ears opened up. He listened, he felt, he played, finding the perfect hole and placement for a chord or a flurry of notes. This style created a tremendous feeling of spontaneity in our ensemble playing.

In the studio, if I wanted to loosen up the track we were recording, I'd put Danny on it and not tell him what to play. I'd just set him loose. He brought with him the sound of the carnival, the amusements, the boardwalk, the beach, the geography of our youth and the heart and soul of the birthplace of the E Street Band.

Then we grew up. Very slowly. We stood together through a lot of trials and tribulations. Danny's response to a mistake onstage, hard times, catastrophic events was usually a shrug and a smile. Sort of an "I am but one man in a raging sea, but I'm still afloat. And we're all still here."

I watched Danny fight and conquer some tough addictions. I watched him struggle to put his life together and in the last decade when the band reunited, thrive on sitting in his seat behind that big B3, filled with life and, yes, a new maturity, passion for his job, his family and his home in the brother and sisterhood of our band.

Finally, I watched him fight his cancer without complaint and with great courage and spirit. When I asked him how things looked, he just said, "What are you going to do? I'm looking forward to tomorrow." Danny, the sunny side up fatalist. He never gave up right to the end.

A few weeks back we ended up onstage in Indianapolis for what would be the last time. Before we went on I asked him what he wanted to play and he said, "Sandy." He wanted to strap on the accordion and revisit the boardwalk of our youth during the summer nights when we'd walk along the boards with all the time in the world.

So what if we just smashed into three parked cars, it's a beautiful night! So what if we're on the lam from the entire Middletown police department, let's go take a swim! He wanted to play once more the song that is of course about the end of something wonderful and the beginning of something unknown and new.

Let's go back to the days of miracles. Pete Townshend said, "A rock and roll band is a crazy thing. You meet some people when you're a kid and unlike any other occupation in the whole world, you're stuck with them your whole life no matter who they are or what crazy things they do."

If we didn't play together, the E Street Band at this point would probably not know one another. We wouldn't be in this room together. But we do... We do play together. And every night at 8 p.m., we walk out on stage together and that, my friends, is a place where miracles occur...old and new miracles. And those you are with, in the presence of miracles, you never forget. Life does not separate you. Death does not separate you. Those you are with who create miracles for you, like Danny did for me every night, you are honored to be amongst.

Of course we all grow up and we know "it's only rock and roll"...but it's not. After a lifetime of watching a man perform his miracle for you, night after night, it feels an awful lot like love.

So today, making another one of his mysterious exits, we say farewell to Danny, "Phantom" Dan, Federici. Father, husband, my brother, my friend, my mystery, my thorn, my rose, my keyboard player, my miracle man and lifelong member in good standing of the house rockin', pants droppin', earth shockin', hard rockin', booty shakin', love makin', heart breakin', soul cryin'... and, yes, death defyin' legendary E Street Band.

Don't Pity the Fool

While Rhyme-o finishes up what appears to be War and Peace Deux, and before I go watch clips of Josh Hamilton's Home Run Derby assault, I thought I'd share this gem with you. I find myself saying this a lot with our latest interweb offerings, but really, there are no words:

Did B.A. Baracus just throw a bible at two kids, FROM A TANK?

Happy Bastille Day

I hate to push Biz down the page, but if there was ever a day to use this rob- and Whit-friendly clip, it's today. Go and tell your master that we have been charged by God with a sacred quest...

Givin' Him the Bizness

So I'm watching Yo Gabba Gabba with the girls on Saturday morning, sucking down coffee in an unsuccessful effort to clear the wine-induced cobwebs from my head, when what should pop onscreen but the most excellent children's segment this side of They Might Be Giants' Podcast for Kids?

Boys and girls, I give you Biz's Beat of the Day. Teejay will soon be recreating this for G:TB.



Bpfff haah, bpfff haah, bpfff, haah, indeed.

Ganders, Geese

G:TB is nothing if not an equal opportunity source of information. And since our friends over at Queen Beaches took a very gender-specific approach to this topic, we find it only fair to celebrate the distaff side of the rock and roll aisle. (Although, ladies, a less fey picture of Rhett Miller might help his case a bit more. And I love me some Rhett Miller. In a purely heterosexual and totally jealous way.)

My tastes run to singer-songwriter types, generally speaking, so the following list omits some of the more bubblegummy pop chanteuses of our time, as well as Lita Ford and Wendy O. Williams. ‘Zombie’ makes me want to break things with my bare hands, so no Dolores O’Riordan. Kate Pierson just turned 60 (!), so I’m afraid she just misses - I compensate for my shallowness with self-deprecation and charitable works. And my work ethic runs to lazy, so the list will almost certainly whiff on a few obvious entries. (Hey – that’s why we have a comments section.)

And so, in no particular order, one blogger’s take on the female singers that tune my guitar.

Michelle Branch didn’t do much for me until she teamed up with Jessica Harp and started recording as The Wreckers. ‘Leave the Pieces’ was one of the great tunes of 2006, and its’ singer charted on this all-important GTB list immediately after the song’s release. ‘Course, the Wreckers are no more, so she may fall off this list after we forget we’ve done this once and try it again in 18 months or so.

As will become apparent, the late 80s/early90s were the formative years in my appreciation for lady lead singers, starting with Tanya Donnelly of Throwing Muses, the Breeders, and Belly. (That’s a hell of a trifecta.) ‘So take your hat off, boy, when you’re talking to me/And be there when I feed the tree’. I have no idea what that means, but I like the way she sings it.

I’m aware that this is a cliché, but most clichés have legitimate roots. Liz Phair stands about 5’0” and used the lyric ‘fuck like a volcano’. So there’s that. She’d be higher on the list if she hadn’t recorded that inexplicable (and dreadful) pop album a few years ago.

From a purely vocal standpoint, this argument begins and ends with Neko Case. Her voice will raise the hairs on your arms and make a strong man need to take a seat and think about his place in the world. Combine those pipes with that sultry look and playful range, and I’m more than sold.

G:TB has already celebrated her once this month, but Jenny Lewis is always welcome here. Smart lyrics, big, big voice, and a smoking hot, um, guitar.

Heading back to the 80s again for Belinda Carlisle. Remember that ‘Heaven is a Place on Earth’ video? Me, too. Me, too.

And finally, the winner and still champion, the Bangles’ Susanna Hoffs. That tiny, vulnerable voice combined with just the right amount of dirty girl and those killer eyes? There’s no sense in fighting it. She’s topped my list since she walked like an Egyptian, and even though the competition’s getting fierce and she’ll be 50 next year, she’s still number one.

Happy Birthday to The King

And I do not mean that overly creepy mascot Burger King keeps assaulting us with. I of course mean the King of Siam himself, Mr. Yul Brynner (well, sure, we can't actually wish him well, since he's been dead for 23 yrs, but rob and I were sure our target demographic was dying for some Brynner song and dance):

Ernest Evans must've really needed the money

Your morning entertainment, courtesy of Prince Markie Dee, Kool Rock-Ski and Buffy the Human Beat Box:

Ponson is Hervey. Hervey is Ponson.

After The Wonder Years ended in 1993, the cast of this fine show went in several different directions. Fred Savage ("Kevin Arnold") started seeing Phish shows and smoking bowls in the crowd. He eventually moved behind the camera and directed an Academy Award winner in the epic Daddy Day Care. Josh Saviano ("Paul Pfeiffer") became the inspiration for the character Millhouse in The Simpson and (allegedly) became Marilyn Manson. Or a friendly Pi Lam named Spector.

And what about veteran child actor Jason Hervey ("Wayne Arnold"), you might ask? Well it appears that he tired of the fame and adulation he received in Hollywood. He changed his name, moved to Aruba, ate a lot of fried food and learned how to throw a baseball. And throw it hard. Eventually, he got noticed for his throwing skills. The Orioles gave him a shot at becoming a big-league pitcher. As did the Giants, the Orioles (again), the Cardinals, the Yankees, the Twins, the Rangers, and the Yankees (again).

Ponson is Hervey. Hervey is Ponson. Some extra Ponson photos are included below for comic relief. Enter your favorite title for both photos into the Comments sections. Funniest entry wins a date with Teejay!

Themes to Me

You know what you don't hear much any more? Not that we listen to the "radio" these days, but you don't often have a TV show with such a good theme song that they play the extended version on the radio. Back in the 70's and 80's, it wasn't uncommon for a good show with a catchy theme song to have it heard around the dial. Joey Scarbury's "Believe It or Not (Theme from The Greatest American Hero)" getting the airtime it did is clearly a phenomenon of days gone by. And it got me thinking . . . what are the best TV theme songs of all time?

I guess for me, the best ones are generally the themes most like real rock & roll tunes. And yeah, there are some obvious exceptions to that rule on my list. But let's be clear, when I am compiling this best-of, I want good songs, not songs that remind me of good shows. Cheers is is my favorite show of all time, and its theme song has been fundamentally involved in a couple of the silliest stories in my arsenal, but Gary Portnoy's piano bar classic isn't on this list. It's mellow, soft, and kind of lame when not leading into Sam, Norm, and Screaming Vikings. "You take the good, you take the bad" might conjure warm memories of sleepovers and doing each other's hair (Teejay), but that doesn't make it a very good tune.

As always with any definitive list the Gheorghians produce, there are inevitable omissions based on my being intoxicated at the time of compilation (now), so feel free to chime in with your favorites. And we'll tell you why you're wrong. In the meantime, here goes:

The Best TV Theme Songs of All Time

Honorable Mention:

Hill Street Blues - One of the songs I was talking about that spent a good deal of time on 1980's radio. Great show, good song, but a bit too close to elevator music to make this list.

The Equalizer - A Stew Copeland electronic percussion-fest for an underrated show. Close to making the Top 20, but Sting paid us to snub his former drummer.

All In the Family - Such a good show, and such a classic element of it, it'd be easy to include the Carroll O'Connor/Jean Stapleton duet in the upper echelon. But how often would you pop it on the hi-fi?

Magnum, PI - Vintage 80's guitar-based instrumental, and the sight of TC's chopper would be incomplete without this audio backdrop. Watch TJ air-guitar it for a special treat.

The Odd Couple - Neal Hefti composed this standard for the film; it was so good they reprised it for the TV show, and it's still damn solid.

The Pink Panther - Speaking of theme composers, they don't get much better than Henry Mancini. We've already heard from a few outraged G:TB readers that this song deserves inclusion in The List, but we opted for a different Panther-related theme -- a better one.

Sesame Street (1970's Closing Theme) - The Gheorghers had to dig deep for this one, but it was worth it. Back in the day (that'd be our heyday, our formative years) the PBS cornerstone had a fairly funky, fairly rockin' tune as the closing credits rolled. Not too many folks recall it, but those who do remember it well. We've got an mp3 of it at G:TB HQ for the reminiscent or curious.

CHiPs - Superlative cheese. Synthesizers emulating motorcycles. Awesome.

WKRP in Cincinnati - Baby, if you've ever wondered, wondered whatever became of me . . . that's crap spelled with a K-R-P.

Taxi - "Angela's Theme," as it's formally known, is too soft for our Dick Clark Rockin' Top 20 Countdown, but for fans of this Whitney Top 10 show, it's a classic. (Editor's Note: there's a borderline questionable phrase in that last sentence, but we're comfortable enough with our bedside stamina to leave it in.)

Starsky & Hutch - Very cool dudes, very cool car, pretty cool theme song.

Barney Miller - One of the most retardedly funny stories of my college years involved Abe Vigoda as Fish; sad to say, it's a fairly inside joke, but I'll tell it to any takers over a few beers.

Laverne & Shirley - Schlemiel, Schlimazel, Hasenpfeffer Incorporated. In case you ever wanted to know how those words are spelled.

What's Happening!! - Bown, bown, bown . . .

The Young Ones - Not as good as the musical guests they had, but better than Cliff Richard.

The Munsters - Yeah, the Addams Family's song was more memorable, but the Munsters' was better.

The Andy Griffith Show - Nope, it didn't rock, but it was pretty friggin' good. Did You Know??? Rob could not whistle until college.

The Twilight Zone - A creepy kind of cool. Like Teejay after a few trips to the papal elector pew.

Bonanza - True Fact: Bonanza's theme song original words, words that included:
"We chased lady luck, 'til we finally struck, Bonanza. With a gun and a rope and a hat full of hope, planted a family tree. We got hold of a pot of gold, Bonanza.With a horse and a saddle, and a range full of cattle, how rich can a fellow be?"
So now you know why they went with the instrumental.

Get Smart - There was only room for one spy show theme in the Top 20, and Maxwell Smart's tune missed it by . . . yeah, hilarious.

The Muppet Show - Extra points for inventing words in your theme song ("muppetational"), and you know how much we at G:TB love the muppets. So I'm not sure why this didn't make the list. But I've been dkrgning too much to care. (Typo left intact for effect. Wow.)

Beverly Hills 90210 - Rob absolutely loved this song. He'd do the queer little hand claps at the beginning. This is a fairly mediocre theme song, but I just wanted to mention that part about Rob.

Quantum Leap - Okay, so this may be a case of liking the show and therefore including the theme. I seem to remember it being something akin to muzak. Oh, that Ziggy.

Law & Order - Funky slap bass in the middle of the song really does it for me. Logan & Briscoe, best team.

Crime Story - A poorly done remake of a stellar 60's song, but still pretty cool.

Bosom Buddies - A poorly done remake of a stellar 70's song, but still pretty cool.

The Office (US or UK) - Both versions of the show have/had excellent theme music. I forget now which goes with which, so I'm lumping them together and recommending them both.

The Young & The Restless - Dear Credibility, It's been nice knowing you. Take care. Yep, I like this song.

The X-Files - Taking a page from the Twilight Zone, a theme to match the tone of the show. Nerds loved it.

NYPD Blue - I think this was Mike Post's last good theme song. Or maybe he didn't do this one. Or maybe he's done something more recently. Teejay, get me some backdata, stat.

Wonder Woman - Dear Credibility, It's been so long, I hardly remember what you looked like. Say hi to Steve Trevor for me.

Love Boat - Aaaand, love . . . won't hurt any more. It's an open smile on a friendly shore. Kudos to whichever Airplane! movie celebrated this one.

Greatest American Hero - An all-timer, but it's really not as good a song as you remember it. Sorry.

Special Honorable Mention

Benny Hill - File this one thoroughly under "Juvenilia," but there is simply something about the Benny Hill theme song that makes me laugh every single time. Mere mention or imitation of the song makes me think of fast-motion scenes of Benny chasing scantily clad co-eds in some ridiculous scene that culminates in that little old bald guy looking bug-eyed at the camera. So wonderfully lowbrow. So good. [Also somewhat of a had to be there situation, but I audibly, repeatedly (10x) "sang" this song in the direction of Vidal Sassoon's dinner table while I was shnockered to the gills in a New Orleans restaurant. 'Cause, you know, he looks like that little old guy. Yeah, my wife and Vidal's cronies found it just as unfunny.]

And here we go... The Top 20

20. Hong Kong Phooey - The number one super guy had a whale of a theme song. Scatman Crothers crooning over some gongs seems like it wouldn't hold up . . . but it does. Fan-riffic.

19. Night Court - Funky 80's theme is a surprise choice here, but we'll stick by it. Claves as a theme song instrument is uniquely successful. Quon Lee as a character was not.

18. The Sopranos - A3, aka, the Alabama 3, aka we got our break with The Sopranos theme song and did nooooothing with it. Woke up this morning, got myself a gun.

17. The Incredible Hulk (Closing Theme) - Yeah, so this one goes against my earlier claim of songs that rock. It's just so good. You'll get teary just thinking of David Banner thumbing it down the road after another attempt to fit in. I have another inside joke story about this one - also involving New Orleans.

16. The Dukes of Hazzard - Waylon Jennings. 'Nuff said.

15. Batman - Neal Hefti gets a mention once again. The old Adam West show was one of my boyhood favorites, and the theme song was an all-timer. Pow.

14. The Inspector - This cartoon was an underling to The Pink Panther, and as a show it doesn't quite hold up in recent viewings, but the theme song is worth TiVoing and replaying. Trust me.

13. Sanford & Son - My wife got me some sessions with a personal trainer in February, and he hurt me so bad I couldn't walk. At a cocktail party soon thereafter, this song came on the iPod in my honor as I ambled around like Fred Sanford. Yeah, yeah, very funny, but I was just impressed that I wasn't the only one who had this song handy.

12. M*A*S*H - Suicide is painless, it brings on many changes. And the actor best suited to play Rob in Gheorghe: The Blog: The Movie is undoubtedly Gary "Radar O'Reilly" Burghoff.

11. Welcome Back, Kotter - John Sebastian's song actually spent some time atop the charts if I'm not mistaken. It resonates with me now as I have returned to the town where I was deemed Class Clown (as good a lyric as any) lo those many moons ago.

10. Simon & Simon - If you think Magnum had a better song, you're wrong. If you thought Jameson Parker was destined for more success than Major Dad, you were wrong. If you don't dig on the rollicking guitar work of this 80's theme, you are so very, very wrong.

9. Monday Night Football - Hell, no. Not Hank Jr.'s rendition. Not even close. I'm talking about dun-dun-dun-DUN, the faux-horn-based ass-kicker from the 1980's that actually gave grown men chills when it aired before a big game. I love Junior and his rowdy friends, but the switch to his crap from this classic was criminal.

8. Knight Rider - New wave synth techno crap. Awesome. Hasselhoff.

7. The Lone Ranger - Dan Rather once quipped, "An intellectual snob is someone who can listen to the William Tell Overture and not think of The Lone Ranger." I concur completely, and let me just say that this is probably the only time Dan Rather will find himself quoted at Gheorghe: The Blog. (Excepting the transitive properties enacted if I list my 20 favorite R.E.M. songs.)

6. Miami Vice - Jan Hammer, where are you now? Though cigarette boats, jai alai, and that girl with the fruit hat's gargantuan cans occupy your visual, the music sticks with you. Worth sticking around for if you stumble across the opening scene of any Vice episode.

5. Mission: Impossible - The definitive spy show song. It's the James Bond Theme of TV. This blog will self-destruct in five years, by the way. I blame TJ.

4. Hawaii Five-O - It's not just Jack Lord's 'do that has me tuning in. It's not the long awaited "Book him, Dan-o." It's not a Chin Ho sighting. It's the song. So great.

3. Fat Albert & the Cosby Kids - Heyba, heyba, heyba, whaddaya sayba. How those kids could make music this good with an old radiator and some garbage was always beyond me. I wasn't careful, and I did learn something, but never that.

2. The Kids in the Hall - Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet never ascended much beyond "the band that did the Kids in the Hall theme," but no matter. Their place in history is now etched in the annals of G:TB. So says the Flying Pig.

1. The Rockford Files - Could it be any other? Really? This Mike Post masterpiece is the one you'll scan the TV listings just to watch the opening theme. It's the one that they played on the radio in three-minute extended version form in the 1970's. It made Jim Rockford cooler just by association. It's the song I heard that made me want to write this inane post. It is . . . The Greatest TV Theme Song of All Time. Probably.

Ceai Complet: July 7, 2008

Courtesy of the fine folks at Defamer, we present to you yet another YouTube clip involving Muppets and/or audioanimatrons:

Gheorghe loves America...duh...

Since we decided to honor Canada Day a couple of days ago, it would be a minor travesty if the good folks here at Gheorghe didn't at least spend a minute or two honoring America on our nation's Independence Day. There's really nothing I can say that hasn't been said a million times over already. America's great, patriotism is underrated and boozing all day and watching shit blow up is about the finest way I could ever imagine to celebrate this glorious nation of ours and all the liberties it affords us. So, do your part today. Eat too much, drink too much and laugh your ass off when your drunk buddy nearly blows his hand off with a pack of black cats. Sure, you can do that any day of the year, but can you do it and not be a full fledged neighborhood pariah whilst doing so? On July 4th you can...



America...Fuck Yeah!

It's the End of the World As We Know It

Sometime in August, a scientist at the European Organization for Nuclear Research (CERN) will flip a switch on the innocently named Large Hadron Collider, and millions of infinitesimal particles will race in opposite directions around a 17-mile tube. Two months or so later, many of them will collide, and a) scientists will begin learning an immense amount about the physical world or, b) the resulting black hole will crush all Earth-based matter into a ball the size of this period. Either way, it’ll be a big moment for humanity.

I’ve read Angels and Demons, so I have a healthy skepticism about both scientists and the Swiss. All this scientific method/neutral party business is a perfect front for all sorts of nefarious undertakings. Recall, if you will, that it was a Swiss firm that offered the NCAA $1 billion to market a college football playoff system – a move that allowed the NCAA to claim patriotism in declining the offer. Without the Swiss, we’d have a real playoff system today. And I don’t know which is worse: the BCS, or the instantaneous destruction of an entire planet.

G:TB brings this issue to your attention today not to frighten you, but to give you a unique opportunity. If we’ve only got a few weeks to live, let’s go ahead and do it right. Kiss that girl. Get that tattoo. Tell your boss what you think. Sing Avril Lavigne songs out loud in public (okay, toughguy, as if that picture doesn't make you think dirty thoughts). Invade Iran (like that ship hasn’t already sailed). Dance like you’re drunk and drink like you want to dance. In the (somewhat ironic) words of Michael Hutchence, “live, baby, live”. And then when nothing happens, just point people to this post and you’ve got a built-in excuse. Gheorghe: The Blog, delivering win-win solutions since 2003.

When I Win the Lottery

I’m gonna donate half my money to the city, so they have to name a street or a school or a park after me.

Wait, no. That’s what David Lowery’s gonna do. I have no real desire for public acclaim. My tastes run more to the experiential. So when I win the lottery (for the sake of argument, let’s say I walk with an after-tax lump sum of $100m, because, really, anything less isn’t worth the effort, and let’s assume I can get 5% a year on that money in a CD of some sort, giving me at least $2m after taxes in income each year, even though it’d be less if I spend some of the lump, and let’s further assume that this parenthetical thought will end at some point in our lifetimes, freeing us all up to keep reading), here’s what I’ll do:

I’ll quit my job. Natch. Sort of a no-brainer, that one. But I don’t want to sit around and do nothing all day, as I get bored really easily. To combat the boredom, I’ll buy a minor league baseball team, preferably one in or near either a coastal location or a college town on the East Coast. The Charleston (SC) RiverDogs fit the bill, and have the added benefit of being in Charleston, which is a terrific town. Cost: $3m or so for a Class A franchise, according to a recent Forbes.com survey.

Since I’ll be spending a significant amount of time in Charleston, I’ll need a condo there, which will probably set me back $1.0m or so, ‘cause I ain’t goin’ out like no punk bitch.

And while I’m not really into fancy wheels, my current ride does have 130,000 tough miles on it and I can’t be spending my hard-earned money and newly-valuable time heading back and forth to the auto mechanic’s shop. So maybe a Tesla S for kicking around town and Mini Cooper for commuting between my world headquarters in Northern Virginia and the new Charleston compound. Let’s pencil in $100k for automotive purchases.

I’ll set up a personal distribution system for Oskar Blues Brewery in Lyons, CO, so they can send me product on a regular basis. I figure a donation of $50k should keep me in Dale’s Pale Ale for the foreseeable future. And since I'll want a place to drink it where everybody knows my name, I'll buy a restaurant/bar for my friend Johnny, which is something I've always wanted to do. Call that another $1.5m.

A pause for pragmatism here for a moment, if I may. I’ll set aside $2.5m to take care of educational expenses for my children, my nieces and nephews, and the children of a handful of friends. If you’re not sure whether you’re one of those friends, you’re probably not. But you should remember this pledge when you see me next, because you never know where my magnanimity may land.

I’ll be making an annual trip to a major music festival, be it Jazz Fest, SXSW, Bonnaroo, Bumbershoot, or one of several others, and I’ll be bringing friends. We’re springing for luxury accommodations, because a man my age can’t be sleeping in the muck with all the neo-hippies. I figure $50k a year for the whole shooting match gets 15 of us to at least one great set of shows annually.

Because I won’t be driving to New Orleans, Austin, Whereverthehell, Tennessee, or Seattle, I’ll buy a fractional ownership in a Gulfstream for $250,000. I’ll also need it to go to the NCAA Final Four and the College Football National Championship game (but only after the BCS is abolished – I’m boycotting it until then).

I almost forgot about The Compound, the place we've always pledged to build if one of us strikes it rich. That's gonna take $20m or so to get up and running (less if real estate values out here in the country keep falling), but it'll have housing for at least 5 families and an inexhaustible supply of silliness and recreational equipment.

Man, $100m is a shitload of money. I’ve only dropped $28.5 large and I’m struggling to come up with new stuff to buy. I’m not a gadget guy. I don’t need a lot of fancy clothes since I won’t be working and all the t-shirts I need I can get at the aforementioned rock shows. I don’t care all that much to winter somewhere warm, because I like a little diversity in my seasons. I guess I’ll get a really good mountain bike ($5k), spring for an HDTV ($3k), and grab Red Sox and Nationals season tickets (the Gulfstream will come in handy for trips to Boston) for another $10k. I’ll set aside another $250k for travel, which leaves me with nearly $72 million with which to play. Okay, $60m – I suppose I’ll set up the Gheorghe: The Blog Foundation and give away a bunch of cabbage to organizations dedicated to making the world a sillier place (we'll focus heavily on kids' causes), and I'll establish Gheorghe: The Political Action Committee to funnel money to Gheorghey politicians (who will, admittedly, be hard to find). But at the end of the day, kids, I’m gonna need some help spending all this money.

Now I just need to start playing the lottery.

Jay is Gheorghe?

Not many people would imagine that rap superstar Jay-Z would be the kind of guy who would embrace the mission statement of this fair blog. Though, admittedly, that might have more to do with their collective ignorance of this blogs existence than their feelings and/or thoughts about his personal philosophies. Whatever the reason, Jay proved he is indeed truly Gheorghian in his take on life after Oasis' Noel Gallagher (he's still alive?) bashed the selection of the former CEO of Def Jam as the opening act at the legendary Glastonbury Festival in England by calling it "wrong".

As you'll see in the clip, below, actions truly can speak a thousand words and, in this case, provide a few hearty guffaws as well.



Bravo. Welcome to the world of Gheorghe, good sir.

Happy Canada Day, Redux

I am your father, Luke. Give in to the dark side of the force, you knob:

This bonus clip was requested by rob, eh:

NSFW (or anywhere else)

Short people got/ No reason to live

I guess Verne Troyer came up with a fairly convincing retort to Randy Newman's unprovoked screed.

The ultra-diminutive Troyer couldn't keep me out of the paint (I'd back his tiny ass under the rim all day long), but he just took a 1-0 lead on me in the increasingly competitive Number of Sex Tapes on the Internet category. (Note: that link isn't to the sex tape. I wouldn't do that to you. Hell, I wouldn't do that to me. But I guarantee one of you sick fucks clicked on it thinking it might be. Probably Greg.)

Randy Newman, meanwhile, is writing movie soundtracks and picking Whattaburger crumbs out of the fleshy folds in his pasty middle-aged belly.

Point, short people.

Sometimes the Jokes Write Themselves

A little weekend political absurdity to tide you over to Monday's regularly-scheduled absurdity:

Among the co-sponsors of the Party of God's once-more-into-the-breach attempt at a Federal Marriage Amendment: Larry Craig and David Vitter. Because who better to defend the sanctity of marriage between a man and a woman than a glory-hole connoisseur and an admitted purveyor of prostitutes? At least my hypocrisy has carefully considered boundaries.

Hey Knicks fans, remember the last foreign 7 footer you drafted?

Hint: He's the guy standing firmly on the ground. (Kudos to whatever YouTuber set multiple replays of this dunk to that Geto Boyz track)

Gheorghe loves the Draft...

Finally, the NBA Draft is upon us. Unlike many of today's sports fans I am an unabashed NBA lover and therefore an enormous fan of the NBA Draft. Around this time last year, TJ said to me that though the NFL Draft is the far more publicized and glamorized event, it was the NBA Draft which he really, truly loved. I could not agree more with that sentiment.

Has any NFL Draft pick sauntered on stage in an ensemble to rival that of Jalen Rose's famous pinstripe suit? Has the NFL ever given us two collegiate teammates picked back to back only to be swapped for each other five minutes later as once happened with Vince Carter and Antawn Jamison? The answers to these questions are, of course, NO. The NBA Draft has always been a special evening of franchise changing decisions, horrible fashion choices and loads of comedy. Honestly, I still get weak when I watch the videos of the Stephen A. Smith Heckling Society of Gentleman.



So with that in mind, I've decided to get tonight's festivities started with a G:TB NBA Draft Preview.

Guys I like (ngs):

Jerryd Bayless: I don't think he should be drafted in the top 2 or 3, but I am a big fan of Skip's bastard son. He's a combo guard who may or may not be able to make the transition to a full time NBA PG. However, he already possesses a good handle, terrific athleticism and a dynamite jumpshot off the dribble. Personally, I think he's better than Ben Gordon within a year or so with a shot at being an All-Star down the road. Comparison: Monta Ellis

Danilo Gallinari: I know Euro's drafted in the top ten haven't exactly set the league on fire but this guy is different (I think). He's a proven player in both the Italian and Euroleague where he led his team in scoring at almost 15 per game. He handles it well, gets the FT line and has good size for the SF position. As always, lateral quickness is a question but he feels like a guy who could be a nice point forward in the right situation. One more thing: His nickname is, apparently...Big Cock. Seriously. Comparison: Toni Kukoc

Brandon Rush: He's the classic fifth banana. He'll play great D, knock down open shots, he's a proven winner and he can play two positions. Plus, he's not a drunk like JaRon. He was never aggressive enough at Kansas but that will be an asset for him in the NBA because he'll be content to blend and do the little things on a successful team. I had hoped he would slip to Orlando but there's no chance that happens now. Comparison: Tayshaun Prince/Josh Howard

Chris Douglas-Roberts: His unorthodox game and average long range jumper will result in him falling farther than he should tonight. He's a scorer who will find ways to get 15+ per game over the course of his NBA career. He also provides a lot of length on the perimeter defensively. He doesn't do anything great, just does everything well. He'll end up being one of the ten best players in this draft as well as the best player ever to have the Magna Carta tattooed on his arm. Comparison: ?

Courtney Lee: The most underrated player in the draft. Trainer David Thorpe compares him favorably to Kevin Martin (who Thorpe also trained for the draft). He's a great shooter (over 35% from 3 every season at WKU) who can create his own shot and also plays great D. Apparently he's also as good a citizen as you'll find in this draft. If I had my way, this is who the Magic would take. (Which of course means they won't). Comparison: Kevin Martin (I'll fucking kill myself if he's anywhere close to Martin and the Magic pass on him.)

Guys I Hate (other than Burr)

Deandre Jordan: 6'10", athletic and still couldn't manage to average double figures on a mediocre Texas A&M team. Steven Hunter reincarnated basically.

Russell Westbrook: Keyon Dooling 2.0. He's more athlete than basketball player and he has no true position. He's too small for the 2 and doesn't handle it well enough to be a full time point. Have I mentioned that he can't shoot? Yeah, well, that too.

Joe Alexander: Maybe the first ever white guy who's flying up draft boards because of his athleticism. He had about 10 good games at the end of last year and now he's a top 10 pick? If you want to know why the Bucks are consistently awful, consider this: One of the reasons they're considering drafting him is that he speaks Mandarin and that would make Yi Jianlian more comfortable. Here's an idea, get a rub and tug installed in the back of the trainer's room at the Bradley Center. Not only will that make Yi more comfortable, you won't have to waste yet another top 10 pick.

Anthony Randolph: Why would anybody draft a raw, athletic forward from LSU at this point? Isn't that like giving a record/TV deal to the youngest Spears daughter? I mean, we already know how this story ends, right? Anyway, he's 6'10", 197 lbs. and its gonna be at least 3 years before he contributes. Well then, I can see why he's being hailed as a lottery pick.

Mareese Speights: The Magic are reportedly seriously considering him. Fuck. Me. Listen, I watched this guy at UF. He's got a ton of offensive skills. What he doesn't have is heart, a motor or any desire to play physical under the boards. He's exactly the kind of guy who gets to the league and packs on 25 lbs before his rookie season. Have I mentioned he's soft as fucking cotton? I wouldn't draft him anywhere before 25.

Donte Greene: He's a "great shooter". Oh really, is that why he shot under 40% at Syracuse this year? In fairness, he's not an awful shooter, just a gunner. And, though he shoots it well "for his size" I never saw a single other thing that he did well or even really attempted to do. If you're lucky, he's a poor man's Rashard Lewis. If not, he's the black Matt Bullard. If somehow you could give his jumpshot to TJ's boy Paul Harris, well, then you'd have a player worth drafting in the top 15.

Kosta Koufos: He's American but you wouldn't know by the way he plays or his name. Far softer than Speights, which is quite an accomplishment. If I had to guess, I'd say he's Primoz Brezec. I really wish he would've stayed another year so we could've watched the Timberwolves take him in the top 5. We've all been robbed of a magical moment because this damn kid didn't want to spend another year staring at Thad Matta's pockmarked face.

Concerns (aka: Players I like but have reservations about)

Derrick Rose: Am I the only person who doesn't think he's a surefire pereniall All-Star PG? I feel like a lot of people have been seduced by his athletic gifts and aren't remembering that he only averaged 5 assists a game in an offense that was tailored to his strengths. He's a great penetrator (though he's no Greg) and a terrific defender but that jumpshot is clunky and he hasn't displayed Kidd/Paul/Williams level court vision in my opinion. I think he's a lot closer to
Tony Parker than anybody is realizing. Now, Parker's no slouch but most of us would have a different opinion of him if he were expected to be one of the league's best pure point guards.

Michael Beasley: I could honestly care less about his "character issues". I think they're overblown. Most of them were immature pranks. He's never been arrested or fought with his teammates (that we know of). I guess what I'm saying is this isn't Eddie Griffin we're talking about. My concerns arise from the fact that he's only 6'8". More than likely he's going to have to play SF in the NBA. Does he have the perimeter skills off the dribble to play out on the wing? If so, I've yet to see it. Furthermore, how's he going to defend NBA athletes on the wing? He's already known as a below average defender and that's without venturing to the perimeter and matching up against the world's best athletes. I don't think his skills translate as seamlessly to the NBA as most people assume. He may be successful but it will be a very rough transition for him. There have been a ton of player comparisons made with Beasley. Guys such as DC, Carmelo & Glenn Robinson and there's some truth in all of those. However, the one I've seen since early last year is Wayman Tisdale. Seriously, look at the size and the collegiate stats. If I find out Beasley plays the bass I'm asking for Chad Ford's job.

Eric Gordon: He's an undersized 2 who can't play anywhere else due to his below average handle. He's also a terrific athlete but I have trouble seeing him being able to take full advantage of that athleticism because of his inability to create his own shot. In order to be highly effective in the NBA he's going to have to have an offense tailored to his strengths ala Rip Hamilton or Reggie Miller. Will a team be willing to do that for a 19/20 year old?

Darrell Arthur: He's one of the most skilled big men in the draft. Unfortunately, he's not as big as once thought. He measured out at 6'7" at the predraft camp in Orlando. For a guy who has always been a 4, its tough to see him being extremely effective down low at 6'7" and with a frame as thin as his. Additionally, he's often been criticized for not going 100% all the time. Some GM is going to have to really be sold on him to pull the trigger on a guy with this many questions in the middle of the first round.

Mario Chalmers: I liked Chalmers a lot coming into the draft process. He's shoots it very well and was probably the best defensive guard in the country over the past two seasons. However, he has somehow jumped from a late 1st/early 2nd round pick all the way up to the late lottery in many projections. Hold the phone...how is this possible? He never played the point at Kansas and now he's a top 15 pick as a PG? I know being a PG in the NBA isn't as complex as it once was but don't NBA GMs want to try and get themselves a natural point? Chalmers could be very effective on a team like Cleveland where he'll share ballhandling duties and do a lot of spotting up around the arc, but there are only a few teams where he'll be able to fill a role like that. Unless he goes to a perfect situation I can see him struggling mightily to even see the floor for a year or so.

Players most likely to emerge from the stands like our hero:

1. Jason Thompson: Local kid. He has unexpectedly shot up draft boards and now looks like a mid to late first round pick. I've got a good feeling here.

2. Ante Tomic: He's 7'2", Croatian and likely to go in the last 5 picks of the first. Sounds good to me.

3. Joey Dorsey: I wouldn't bet against Joey Dorsey doing anything tonight, including getting arrested at a club somewhere in either NY or Baltimore after the draft.

So, thats it. I'm sure you're bored to tears by now so take a break, grab a nap and meet me in the comments tonight for some hot draft action...

Lazy Man's Load

Because a) we're big fans of the Daily Sentence of Dave and b) muffins are part of a healthy Ceai Complet, we bring you today's Sentence in its entirety in flagrant disregard for copyright laws and common courtesy:

"Yesterday, there was a giant spread of junk food in the English office, and as usual, I was drawn to the worst thing on the table-- a box of glazed mini-crullers-- but just as I was about to put the donut in my mouth, some other impulse took hold--DEMONS OUT!-- and I whipped it as hard as I could across the room at the little metal trashcan and, to the surprise of the people in the room, it went in . . . and I think my relationship with junk food will be different now: I have conquered the urge to be a glutton, and my reward is that I am now unerringly accurate (although two periods later I did eat six mini-muffins, and I cut each one in half so that I could have more surfaces to coat with butter)."

Gheorghe-Approved Summer Tunes

The hazy, lazy days of summer brings many pleasures to the team here at G:TB – warm weather, baseball, more daylight hours, sunshine, less guilt about drinking during the day, swimming, fishing, golfing and girls in their summer clothes, to name a few. With the onset of driving season now upon us, many of you readers have recently besieged our inboxes, looking for new tunes to crank in your fuel-efficient vehicles while you cruise the open roads.

We strive to broaden the musical horizons of our vast readership on this fine June day by mentioning a trio of up-and-coming artists whose cassettes have been firmly entrenched in our hi-fi stereos. So sit back (or lean forward), enjoy and seek out some of these artists on iTunes if you are so inclined.

Adam Green – Start with the booming gospel-singing voice of a young Elvis Presley. Mix in a physical resemblance to Phish’s Mike Gordon. Garnish with the stage presences of Tiny Tim and 1970’s Ozzy Osbourne. Mr. Green may be a puzzle wrapped in an enigma, but he is a wonderfully unique and gifted songwriter. You may know him from the Moldy Peaches or from some of the songs in the soundtrack to Juno. His songs are short, weird, humorous and catchy. His live shows are extremely entertaining because his voice is good enough to overcome his schtick, and because his backing band is tight.

Tunes to dig into from Jacket Full of Danger album: Nat King Cole, Drugs
Tunes to dig into from Sixes & Sevens album: Twee Dee Dee, Morning After Midnight

Vampire Weekend – The first album from these guys is a gem. Not one fart of a tune amongst the eleven tracks. The songs are all over the map, and we mean that in the best way possible. They pay homage to Peter Gabriel in one tune, echo Sublime in another and even manage to weave a string section into other tracks. They are a bunch of Columbia grads who are receiving a lot of buzz in the US and the UK. They’ll be on the road for a while. Not sure when they come back to the States.

Tunes to dig into: Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa, Oxford Comma, A-Punk

Langhorne Slim – This guy is a folk singer with a great backing band. The songs aren’t heavy, but they’re witty and catchy. Good stuff to enjoy with your favorite summer brew on a nice sunny afternoon. Or sunny morning.

Tunes to dig into: The Honeymoon, Spinning Compass, Rebel Side of Heaven

Bronson Arroyo has had better nights: 1 IP, 11H, 10ER, 1BB, 1K, 3HR

Last night, the Cincinnati Reds lost to the Toronto Blue Jays 14-1. Not a good showing by Dusty's crew. Especially Mr. Arroyo, who managed to become the sixth starting pitcher in baseball history to give up at least 10 ER while getting no more than 3 outs. Congrats Bronson - now you and Jason Jennings have something to talk about. I think a blow-up like this deserves the batter-by-batter breakdown:

Bottom of 1st: Bronson Arroyo pitching for Cincinnati
(I wonder what song I should start my set with at The Java Hut later? Maybe some Clapton? Wow, Marco Scutaro still has a job?)
M Scutaro reached on infield single to second.
J Inglett walked, M Scutaro to second.
A Rios singled to left, M Scutaro to third, J Inglett to second.
(Fuck, this is not going well at all. I've never even heard of that Inglett kid. And I think Dusty's sound asleep right now.)
V Wells struck out swinging.
(Yeah...maybe I'll start with "It's In The Way That You Use It")
M Stairs hit sacrifice fly to left, M Scutaro scored.
(Dude, not cool.)
S Rolen homered to center, J Inglett and A Rios scored.
(Ugh. I might hate Rolen even more than LaRussa.)
L Overbay doubled to right.
G Zaun homered to right, L Overbay scored.
(Can someone call down to the pen for me? Obviously Dusty isn't gonna do it.)
A Lind singled to center.
M Scutaro singled to center, A Lind to second.
(Seriously, Scutaro's up again? I wonder if Votto and Bruce will like the silk shirts I got them?)
J Inglett grounded into fielder's choice to third, M Scutaro out at second.
(Hallelujah. And get me the hell out of here.)
6 Runs, 7 Hits, 0 Errors

Bottom of 2nd: Bronson Arroyo pitching for Cincinnati
(God damn it, I don't want to go back out here. Dusty sucks ass. Christ, here comes that anorexic Rios again. Someone feed this guy a sandwich.)
A Rios homered to left.
(Not a steroid sandwich. Damn it. I wish I had my guitar.)
V Wells reached on infield single to third.
M Stairs doubled to deep right center, V Wells scored.
(I think I'll go with "Pretending" instead.)
M Stairs to third on wild pitch by B Arroyo.
(Hey, anyone watching? I did that on purpose. Earth to Dusty, get someone out here NOW!)
S Rolen doubled to left, M Stairs scored.
(Duuuuuuuuuuuude, not cool at all. Wait...wait...is that Gary warming up? Damn right it is. I can't wait to rock some acoustic guitar later.)
G Majewski relieved B Arroyo.

And of course Majewksi lets Rolen score later in the inning, giving Arroyo that nice round number of 10ER allowed. The line, once again:
1 IP, 11H, 10ER, 1BB, 1K, 3HR

Arroyo's ERA rose an entire run after this stellar performance (he's still winless in June too). Hit the showers kid...and start packing your bags. You're not long for this Reds team, no matter how awful you pitch. And last night, well, last night was truly atrocious.

Ebirt Og

Since G:TB just broke through into the mainstream with a mention in one of the nation’s most prestigious collegiate alumni magazines, we felt it appropriate to step up our game...to new heights of ridiculousness. Hark upon the gale, friends.

In Memoriam

Fuck
Shit
Piss
Cunt
Cocksucker
Motherfucker
Tits

Man, I use 6 of those 7 on a nearly daily basis, and only my highly developed sense of chivalry prevents me from using the other one. It would be a fitting eulogy if even one major news outlet actually ran that list in its entirety.

The other side of the spectrum...

This time of the year is known for a number of things in the sports world, one of which is undoubtedly the overhyped and under watched NCAA Tournament finale known as the College World Series. With the College World Series also comes a cadre of second tier announcers employed by ESPN. One of these announcers is former MLB pitcher and world class douchebag Orel Hershiser. Now, you might be asking yourself, what could somebody possibly have against Orel Hershiser? Are you still bitter about the 1988 World Series? No, but my story does begin not long after Hershiser cemented his legacy by obliterating the vaunted Oakland Athletics steroid addled lineup.

Like many of my compatriots here at G:TB, I was an avid baseball fan in my youth. As often happens, this fandom led to me also being a voracious baseball card collector and autograph seeker. I grew up in Florida and spent much of my spring traveling to various Spring Training games as this was often my only chance to see my heroes up close and personal. The famed Dodgertown, located in Vero Beach, was just short of an hour south of my hometown and thus was my most frequent Spring Training haunt. Through my times at Dodgertown I met players such as Pedro Guerrero, Steve Garvey, John Wetteland and many, many more. Yet, none of these players' stature compared to that of Orel Hershiser during the Spring of 1989.

As an autograph hound, I knew all the tricks of the trade. Get to the games early, address the players by "Sir" or "Mr. (insert last name), and when the games are filled with nobodies go out and see if you can find a star or two off the beaten path like, say, watching some of the minor league players on the back fields. This last piece of strategy is exactly what led me to find Mr. Hershiser one fateful spring afternoon.

I couldn't believe my luck as I approached the World Series MVP standing by himself. With pen and ball in hand, I patiently waited for him to finish speaking with a Dodger coach and gently tapped him on the arm with my hands extended and asked if he would sign my ball. Hershiser turned around, looked down at me and said, "Sure, just let me run back to the clubhouse. Wait for me right here and I'll be back soon."

As a naive 5th grade student, I was ecstatic. This would be a day I'd remember forever. "Just wait until I get home and show my old man tonight", I thought. So I decided not to go back in the stadium and watch the game that had just begun, instead choosing to wait as I had been instructed. So I waited and waited and waited. It seemed like all afternoon that I stood out in the hot sun playing catch with one of my friends as we waited for one of baseball's brightest stars and (supposed) good guys. Finally, about 3 hours later, Orel emerged from the clubhouse and started walking in my direction. I excitedly held the ball out towards him and exclaimed, "Mr. Hershiser, I waited for you will you sign my ball now?". Sadly, it was not to be, this arrogant prick stopped in his tracks, looked at me and said, "Uh yeah, I've got somewhere to be right now ". With that, he turned towards the player's parking lot, jumped in his BMW and sped off.

I was crushed. I'd been turned down for autograph's before (Yogi Berra once shot me down three separate times in Spring when he was a coach for the Astros), that was part of the deal. However, I couldn't accept the fact that this asshole had told me to wait for him, and after I had waited all damn day would still not give me an autograph, even though he was no more than five feet from me after he had emerged from his extended stay in the clubhouse.

As I look back on it, this day was the last time I ever looked up to professional athletes. It was, in many ways, the end of my youth. Shortly after this, I stopped seeking autographs and actually gave up baseball altogether. (Though that had much more to do with my Mendoza-esque hitting ability). But there's one thing I'll never give up...and thats my complete and total hatred for Orel Hershiser. Some people like to use the phrase, "I wouldn't piss on him if he were on fire." Well, I hate Orel too much for that. I would piss on him if he were on fire. Then I'd grab some gas and a match and set his sorry ass on fire all over again.

Thanks a lot, fuckstick.

A Fine Good Morning to You

In groggy honor of a far-too enjoyable weekend, we start the week with Bocephus' lament:

"...and the hangovers hurt more than they used to...". Amen to that, brother Hank.

Guess Who's Back?

It's seven games and counting for the New York Yankees as they prepare to do battle with the Cincinnati Reds this weekend. As one of two Yankee fans (and the lone denizen of the Dirty Jerz) on the G:TB editorial staff, I felt compelled to throw some love to my boys in the Boogie Down Bronx for coming to life and rattling off some wins against the mighty Houston Astros and Whale's Vagina Padres. There have been many agents responsible for this recent run, so we give thanks and praise to Johnny Damon, Mike Mussina, Alex Rodriguez, Hideki Matsui, Jason Giambi's moustache and Mariano Rivera, among others.

But the purpose of this rambling post, cranked out between the bleary-eyed coffee chugging and occasional loose stool excretions that come when one has too much scotch on their sofa while watching bad TV the night before, is not to laud the famous Yankee veterans.

It is to let the world know that I have come to terms with my man-crush on one current Yankee hurler.

He is neither slim nor shady, but Joba Chamberlain is my Yankee hero.

The wife of Rhymenocerous and I both are infatuated with the chubby former Cornshucker from Nebraska. We welled up at the stories of Joba playing catch with his wheelchair-bound, polio-stricken father, Harlan. Father would catch and throw with his one good arm. If Joba made a bad throw, he would be the one to run down the ball. He forced himself to be accurate. A legend was born. Joba overcame poverty with Harlan, playing with used equipment his father could find at yard sales to help his son pursue his passion. And Joba overcame weight issues, developing from a chubby high schooler who couldn't get the attention of his baseball coach into a fireballer at the community college level who earned a free ride to the University of Nebraska.

After blazing through three levels of minor leagues in early 2007, his first twelve months with the Yankees have been impressive by any measure. He relieved when they asked him to do so. He switched to starting after they asked him to do so. But more impressive than anything else, he has stood up and faced the pressure of being a 21 year-old rookie phenom in New York better than most anybody else. Each stint as a starter has been successively better than the prior one. Joba yet may develop into the first "must-see" young starter in New York baseball since a young man named Dwight Gooden started mowing down the National League in 1984.

So I'll let you Sox fans have your Papelboners. I'm content with my fuzzy lion on the mound.

G:TB salutes you, Joba. Just keep laying off the donuts.

Ceai Complet: June 20, 2008

I'm devoid of all energy and thought today. So, you get this:

The Fresh Prince of Chicago

So does this make Bill Walker Beasley's Carlton?