You know, I'm a rather brilliant surgeon...Perhaps I can help you with that hump...

What hump?

It's a lovely humpday here at GTB...

Barry Bonds, you just don't know when to quit do you? The balloon-headed wonder feels we should all contribute more money to Katrina victims and spend less time wondering when exactly he started taking performance enhancing drugs (a chilled Bonds '86 anyone?)? Can we please get a VH1 reality show with Raffy and Barry visiting a different town each week, lying through their teeth while taking batting practice with local youths? Good work Nats fans too for booing that arrogant fuck...

Not good for the Nats, though, is their playoff outlook. Yep, that is indeed a giant fork sticking out of Joey Eischen's back. As if their struggles weren't bad enough, apparently we have some issues in the Nats locker room...
The Washington Nationals suspended a volunteer chaplain and distributed an apology from outfielder Ryan Church yesterday, two days after Church was quoted in a front-page Post article as suggesting that Jews are headed for eternal damnation.
You'd think the guy named Church would avoid stuff like this. I seriously cannot believe Frank Robinson's head hasn't exploded yet.

And for anyone out there looking for a career change, how would you like to JOIN THE MOST ELECTRIFYING COMPANY IN THE ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY TODAY!

Too much of a good thing? NEVER. Keep it coming VH1...I know Carrot Top and Yahoo Serious have their fingers crossed for Season 7...
NEW YORK, Sept. 20 -- Here's the story of seven celebrities who are moving on up to a de-luxe mansion in the Hollywood hills into television's most incredibly 'surreal' viewing experience. The mammoth sixth season cast of VH1's ratings juggernaut "The Surreal Life" includes the man who's band made Shrek rock, STEVE HARWELL of Smashmouth; the actor who made George Jefferson more famous than that other Jefferson, SHERMAN HEMSLEY; the original video vixen, TAWNY KITAEN; the wildest rock and roll axeman ever, C.C. DEVILLE from Poison; Playboy TV's covergirl, ANDREA LOWELL; and the XX and XY of the Arquette family, ALEXIS ARQUETTE.
And this season, SPECIAL GUEST STAR FLORENCE HENDERSON joins the show as the cast's full time and on-call therapist/advisor. Yes, America's number one television mom will take this wild bunch under her wing and help them through the strains of reality television.
Who writes these press releases? The guy who DIDN'T get the WWE job? C.C. Deville is the wildest rock and roll axeman ever? Really? And didn't Tawny Kitaen try to kill Chuck Finley last year?

Cue the Chuck Mangione

Wow. Last night, sometime close to 1 AM, when I was holding my fists in the air, yelping with glee, and generally acting like a dancing nancy in front of my television, I realized the benefit of never having let my allegiance to the team waver. Yep, I loathe the owner with all of the venom of any good fan. Sure, I realize the squad is mediocre, having wagered a case of beer on their finishing with 7 or fewer wins this season -- and still feeling safe. But at no point did I even pay lip service to the notion of reducing my 100% all-in fan status, unlike some of my esteemed colleagues. I can't actually say I blamed them, but it really shouldn't be an option. (I learned that during baseball season.) So when last night's win appeared out of nowhere -- and make no mistake, in an otherwise dreary season, a win like that can make the season -- I reveled in the moment like it was 1999. (The last time the Washington Redskins made the playoffs, duh.)

Because the Redskins' last decade has made me a spiteful, bitter shell of my former self, I had begun compiling a list of F-U's to be issued this morning, from the Cowboys [who, as Joe Gibbs said, were treating the Skins like a Homecoming patsy, what with retiring the numbers of "The Triplets" (appropriately candy-assed moniker) at halftime] to Madden & Michaels for their one-sided telecast for 56 minutes, to the legion of columnists and reporters who mocked the Ramsey/Brunell exchange and treated Coach Gibbs like he was a confused old man who belonged somewhere other than a football sideline. I had ill will for all of these people, but then I remembered that up until the last four glorious minutes of ball last night, they were right. So I pocketed my nastiness and decided to simply smile about the outcome.

And I'll be doing that all day.

How The Jets Win

In case you missed Herm Edwards the other day, he has decided his football team needs to stick to basics, or else they will get pummeled much like last week at KC. How does Herm plan to stick to the basics? Why with a sheet of paper labeled "How The Jets Win" of course. Read up boys, and hope Nick Saban doesn't get a hold of these gems:
*Smart/fast/physical.
*Run the ball/stop the run.
*Protect the ball/take it away.
*Solid special teams/no foolish fouls.
*****
How about those Washington Nationals? Just when I had given them up for dead and accepted the fact I was buying Whitney a case of beer, they go and sweep Whit's Mets and position themselves to (possibly) squeak into the playoffs. Starting relievers two days in a row certainly doesn't cry peak performance, but hell, they're hanging around, 2.5 back in the Wild Card standings (3 back in the Loss column). If they can go to San Diego and take 2 of 3, they are in prime shape to steal the WC in the final weekend (when they get Philly at home, and it's well documented the entire world hates Philadelphia). Got Wilk?
*****
Has it occurred to anyone else that Curt Schilling and Keith Foulke might've signed the same boilerplate agreement with Satan as Kurt Warner once did (and to a lesser degree Voshon Leonard)? I realize Red Sox fans can die happy now, but it sure seems to me like those two guys will never be the same again...and I guess to Boston fans it doesn't really matter...and of course in two weeks time as Schilling and Foulke dominate the Yankees to keep them out of the playoffs this will seem like an absurd paragraph, but what the hell, just wanted to throw it out there.

What, no happy ending?

Apparently, today is the Health Fair at work (Butt, you came by the Cracker Factory a day late), and my boss just sent me upstairs for a massage. And let me just tell you, that...was...fantastic. However, I now have absolutely no desire to do any work at all. I just want to take a nap. Where's Costanza's carpenter when you need him?
***
As if we needed more proof that he is the weirdest guy on the planet, I give you this Michael Jackson nugget...
Michael Jackson rented out an entire water park in Dubai so children and their parents could have fun for free. The reclusive superstar, now based in the middle east, baffled onlookers at the Wild Wadi park, wearing a white lycra body suit that exposed just his nose and eyes. A lifeguard tells British newspaper the Daily Express, "He looked even stranger than usual. His body is very skinny and lycra does him no favours."

Tuxedo Tom Simspon Checking In

OK, I am indeed back, and I am now a married guy, having wed the FMD in the Outer Banks on Saturday (which I guess makes her the FFMD*). The winds of Ophelia were strong to quite strong, but that didn't prevent the regularly scheduled beach wedding from occurring. Special thanks to the law firm of Simspon, Dennis, Broka, Carlino & Sharkey for their solid work as best-man/grooms-dudes. I'd thank my family for coming as well, but they are about as likely to read GTB as Carrot Top is to win an Oscar. While I'm on the thanking train, credit must go to Arthur Murray, as the FFMD and I took a few cram session lessons so we (who am I kidding, so I) wouldn't embarrass myself on the dance floor (and yes, it cost me one Angry doubleheader, but as you can see, my no glove/no hit approach obviously wasn't needed). Fred and Ginger we ain't, but it went pretty well (meaning I didn't fall down or throw the new wifey into the band set-up). I am pretty sure a good time was had by all, but frankly, that was the fastest week of my life and everything is a complete blur. It's a shame there won't be many photos or video of the event...oh wait, my bad, did you say 7 hours of unedited video? Right...props to Whit for the wedding scenarios below, I got quite a kick out of them while I checked my email on the worst computer ever made in the Dare County Library (I assume Whit made it safely to the Cape and didn't tear his sac jumping fences in restaurant parking lots?). GTB should be back to it's regularly scheduled nonsense by tomorrow - right now I need to sift through 212 emails and voicemails, and most importantly, catch up on the prose at the Wheelhouse, MLC, Hot Action, MLT and Duffman Speaks (just wanted to see if you were paying attention). Seacrest out.

*Kudos to DC reader MH, Esq. for the new acronym (it's Former Future Mrs. D - wordy but effective)

And now I introduce, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas James Simspon!

In a delightful, yet breezy, ceremony in Nags Head, NC, the Senator Tom Simspon of New York was married to Jennifer (danger is her middle name) Wilson. Among featured guests were your humble author, Dennis (who, along with fellow lammie/usher, Derek Broka, performed masterfully at escorting 69% of the female wedding attendants to their seats, including TJ's almost 18-year old unnamed cousin - whoah), one James Freeland, about 25 slightly overweight Alabamans, Satan, the usual slew of uncomfortable Aunts and Uncles, everyone's good friend Ophelia, and Vanilla Ice (whose female stunt double performed at the reception in one of the greatest live renditions of "Ice Ice Baby" ever witnessed - brought the house down).

The entire weekend was a whirlwind affair with a pleasant mixture of responsibility and silliness. We managed to behave as badly as possible amidst the commands of our senior drill instructor/wedding coordinator. The cottage which played host to nearly 20 guests, the welcome dinner, rehearsal/rehearsal dinner, and ceremony was an ideal setting. Complete with a gourmet kitchen for Tom to indulge in his culinary delights and a game room on the bottom floor, which provided the backdrop for 2005's beerpong Comback Players of the Year (keep an eye out for the season on DVD entitled: "3D: Dennis, Derek, Domination".

My complements to all involved - even with backstage passes all seemed well put together - the little touches always tickle me too, like the personalized M&M's, the flip flops that leave an imprint in the sand reading "Just Married", the bite-sized meatball subs as appetizers, etc. Even the foxtrot lessons appeared to have paid off...

So, from GTB, congrats my man.

And there was much rejoycing.

TJ's Wedding Week, Part 2

Today's scenario:

TJ and Jennifer are getting ready to tie the knot at their destination wedding. Unbeknownst to them, an old flame has just realized for the first time that he still has those old feelings and has decided to attend the wedding at the last second and reveal his love, even though he regretted the original invitation. Once he arrives, however, it's clear that this wedding is supposed to happen, and that the happy couple are truly that. He sits quietly in the congregation as the vows are exchanged. Stunningly, however, when it's TJ's turn, he is heard to utter, "I take thee, Swint." The guests are aghast, and the minister turns to Jennifer, asking, "Shall I continue?"

TJ's Wedding Week, Part 1

In honor of Gheorghe workhorse TJ Simspon's wedding next Saturday, we're sending him off with a series of congratulatory posts. In them, we who cannot attend the North Carolina wedding will theorize how the big day is going to go down.

Today's projected scenario:

After engaging in a torrid, illicit affair with his girlfriend's mother over Labor Day weekend, TJ and his bride-to-be are torn apart mid-week. Her parents arrange for her to marry someone else (Dennis in a cameo role) on Saturday, but TJ shows up during the ceremony, bangs on the windows overlooking the church nave, and they run out of the church and into his beat-up, K-car jalopy that he starts with a screwdriver. After a quick hit off a potato, they drive off together.

Chances of this becoming reality: 53% Stay tuned for other possible outcomes.

George Bush Doesn't Care About Black People

At least that's what Kanye West thinks. See, the problem with live television is that it's, well, live. That thunking sound you heard last night was the result of several dozen jaws hitting network control panels and executive desks in unison as West capped off his bizarre screed on NBC's disaster relief telethon. Think Mike Myers beat his agent with a used Wayne's World t-shirt after having to stand next to West, dumbly transfixed and clearly wondering why his Canadian ass got dragged into this shit?

We're not gonna get all political on ya'll in this space - lots of digital ink is getting spilled in the service of power in plenty of other corners of the blogosphere - but the Hurricane Katrina race card is on the table now, and the next week will be interesting to watch. Good thing TeeJay's headed somewhere without an internet thingy.

Introducing Mr. and Mrs. T.J. Wilson

Oh, wow, did I find TJ Wilson. Now you HAVE to take her name . . . you've always been"The Stampede Kid" to us, anyway.

I'm looking for Ray Finkle...

So much to type, so little strength to do it. This is my last day at GTB for awhile, as I am off to marry the FMD in Nags Head, NC. A week at the beach of boozing and schmoozing is just what the doctor ordered (and the wedding thing is a nice touch too). In my absence I hope Dennis and Whitney can hold down the fort (and maybe founder Rob can pop in as well). I plan on hitting the local library once or twice, and if some wedding week wisdom comes to mind, I'll share it with the world wide web. Seriously, write more stuff about your wedding...tool.

And that's right folks, I'm drunk right now (courtesy of a great time with Butt, FMB, and FMD) (ooh, second parenthesis - Whit, beer at Noon time?) I forgot to mention that the DJ last night at the Ugly Mug is the best DJ ever to walk the planet Earth. Apparently, he's also the DJ at the Mad Hatter (Jerry's REAL Nirvana) and he's the king of classic rock. Journey, Chicago, Boston...Foreigner. The man's a god damn genius.

Raaaaaaaanch!

Happy Fucking Birthday Mr. F-B-I Agent Keanu Reeves...I found this humorous...
Sometimes Credited As:
Norman Kreeves
K.C. Reeves
Chuck Spidena

If Snoop Were a 17th Century Poet...

The following quote is from an upcoming Johnny Depp film about an infamous poet, the Earl of Rochester:

Rochester: You've cut me down, I must confess; but in your mouth my balls must rest.

I might have to see this one. Could be alot of poop jokes in a British accent - always gets a laugh out of me. Then again, I think American Dad is funny...

Jerry's Nirvana

I think young Flantzini is going to make lots of friends here.

I am alive and well, brain seems to be functioning a bit better, which means I hope to bore you later on with tales of OJ and Lohan. First, I need a big cup of java and an artery-clogging breakfast sandwich (which reminds me, how fucking freaky is that Burger King "guy"? He recovers fumbles for TDs?). Second, anyone got a generic/sample RFP they want to send GTB? He seems to have something called "work" to do today. Bumming...
...
...
...
Raaaaaaaaaaaanch!

Update: Thanks to the world wide web for several "suggestions" of RFPs. I must say though, I think I've found a winner.

Raaaaaaaaaaaaaanch!

Man, I'm not even allowed to be hungover for 72 hours around here. Yes, AC was fantastic, and yes, it did quite a number on my internal organs, and yes, my wedding is less than two weeks away. Props to all those that made it to AC and made the Showboat our personal playground for the weekend (round of applause to Social Chair Dennis for a job well done). I lack both wit and intelligence today (how is that different than any other day you say?) but let me just say that the new Wendy's Ranch Tooth commercial is the greatest commercial of all time (and I'm 99% sure that is Adam Corolla doing the voice). If you have not had the pleasure of seeing the Ranch Tooth ad, I strongly suggest you board yourself up in your house until you do. I'd add something about baseball and the wild card races, or even college football starting up, but seriously, do you know how long it just took me to type this????
Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaanch!

Eddie! I would like to talk to yououuuuuuuuuuu! HALF! I want HALF Eddie!...All right, forget Katie and Tom, it's Mariah and Eddie time. Carey and Murphy were seen canoodling in Miami over the weekend, according to my inside sources (otherwise known as the New York Daily News). Here's hoping these two crazy kids can make it in the topsy-turvy world of celebrity dating. Don't worry, GTB is here to keep you informed...by scouring Page Six daily for updates.

Have You Seen Me?

LOST: One twentysomething blogger of some notoriety, best known for publishing Gheorghe, a blog about nothing. Last seen in the company of a group of males in Atlantic City, NJ, spouting movie quotes and calling people "donkey." If spotted, please lure him in with light beer, News of the Weird headlines, and OJ jokes, and direct him to resume his job at Gheorghe before his sea of readers go elsewhere for their witty commentary and puerile wisdom. Please encourage him to abandon delivering posts on his other blog, Confessions of a Manchild in Betrothal-Town: The Deepest Fears and Intimate Secrets of a Fiancé, where he's been chronicling his passage either into the land of matrimony or massive nervous breakdown. Sure, it's more compelling reading over there, but come on, we need our J.R.-Rider-smoked-pot-out-of-his-nephew's-baby-booties updates, man.

Let's have a bachelor party with chicks and guns and fire trucks and hookers and drugs and booze!

1984, or as I like to call it, The Year of Hanks. Tom was swimming with the fishes, tagging the sweet mermaid ass of Daryl Hannah, but better yet, he was tearing up the screen (along with 80s heart throb Adrian Zmed) as lovable bachelor Rick Gassko in the aptly titled hit Bachelor Party. What does this useless, rambling intro have to do with anything? Well, in a few hours, some other solid citizens and I will be hitting that gem of a city Atlantic City for my own bachelor party, and I am looking forward to some O'Doul's, the newest issue of Atlantic Monthly, and a few games of bridge. One other question - anyone know where I can rent a barbituate-taking donkey?

Gentlemen...start your boners...MLB made this one easy. On Wednesday they announced Viagra will now sponsor the Comeback Player of the Year Award. A match made in heaven.

Hi, come on in! Drugs to the right, hookers to the left...This is the greeting I imagine Tom Sizemore giving everytime he opens his door. Over/Under on how long before that guy kicks the can?

By the way, my name is Tim and I'm always available. I also do engine work on BMW's...To multi-talented media mouthpiece Curt Schilling, who has never met a media appearance he didn't like. Curt is apparently shocked and appalled that Raffy Palmeiro sat next to him and lied before Congress. Pitcher, doctor, social conscience...douchebag. Can someone please mute Curt before he lectures us on the war in Iraq or the AIDS crisis in Africa? He's MLB's Bono, minus the cool sunglasses.

Goatate, batboy!!

A batboy who took a dare to chug a gallon of milk has been suspended six games by the Marlins.The batboy drank the milk in the alotted time frame (an hour), but couldn't hold it down. Brad Penny, the instigator in this dare is not happy with the suspension, and has a good point. ''It's kind of ridiculous that you get a 10-game suspension for steroids and a six-game suspension for milk,'' Penny said.

In a related story, Jeff Weaver vomited on himself after failing the Saltine Challenge. He is also an admitted psychopath. But, we love him. Wouldn't it be fun to spend some quality time in the Dodger clubhouse - not a very boring place to be. Between, Milton Bradley's general insanity, Jeff Kent's racial slurs, Jeff Weaver's imaginary friends, and the batboy performing circus tricks I can't imagine a more stimulating environment.

GTwiB Notes

I can't call them Poopy anymore eh? The Kansas City Royals showed me...and though the A's should be downright embarrassed losing to the Royals, props to those guys for coming out and fighting like it was the playoffs. The streak ended at 19 straight losses, and was promptly followed by 2 wins over a supposed playoff contender. Right now, the A's look like the hoops team that just came from 30 down to tie the score in the final minutes, only to be exhausted and end up losing by 8. They're outta gas (something the FMD probably wishes I was out of...OH). All flatulence aside, GTB apparently has the ability to mock the Royals into wins, and jinx the Nats into more terrible losses (and in case you haven't noticed, Frank Robinson is getting VERY grumpy). Whitney is looking for the ultimate double dip: a Mets playoff appearance and a case of PBR.

Man, I never saw this coming - Jeff Kent and Milton Bradley are going to kill each other. Kent criticized Bradley over the weekend, Bradley now says Kent doesn't deal well with blacks. From everything I've ever read or heard about Kent, he is a humongous asshole and a redneck to boot. But here's the thing...Milton Bradley is FUCKING CRAZY. Seriously, crazy. Given the Dodgers season has been over for quite awhile, I cannot wait to see how this plays out, because there is no way this is a dead issue. I mean, I am fully expecting a complete meltdown in the dugout in the next week or so. Perhaps a baseball bat to the head even. Good times.

I've been watching "Wanted" on TNT the last few weeks, and I highly recommend it. Fast paced, good action sequences, serviceable dialogue. The one catch - you need to get over the fact Lumbergh (Hello Peter, what's happening...) is the boss of this elite task force.

Bye bye jackass Bob Huggins. Never thought much of him as a coach, and won't be sad to see him go. But I do wonder what kind of dog and pony show the Cincy administration is running. Why the hell didn't they just get rid of him in May when they decided not to renew his deal? If the answer is they enjoyed hanging him out to dry, I like it.

Our one link today comes from GTB non-reader James of NYC. I'll let him set it up..."Most shocking thing about this article is that Gooden can still be driving a 2004 beamer."

Hot Mutton Action and a Million Lettuce & Tomatoes

In case you haven't visited Michael Jack over at Hot Action (linked at right), he's got some big news -- a veritable watershed moment coming up for this corner of the blogosphere. There was some debate as to exactly how many cases of wine it took to convince Selene to make a pitstop in Swintville, but the consensus was somewhere between "truckload" and "vineyard." This should be an exciting summit, and Hot Action lives up to its name once more. I look forward to the chance for The Johnson Group to "Convene with Selene."

As for what to do, there's always the extremely uplifting combo of Holocaust Museum & Vietnam Wall. Good times.

I know TJ's disappointed -- he's more of a Gracie fan, but it's still big news.

Ditka vs. God in a golf match...

Dit-ka! I am off to Chicago for work, my first time in the home of Da Bears, so why not pay homage to Bob Swerski and his band of Super Fans. Still one of the greatest SNL bits of all time...

* Well, Poopy dropped Number 17 in a row last night. By the time I return from Chicago, these clowns could be knocking on the '88 Orioles' door. Last night, Poopy threw 21 year old Zack Greinke at the Mariners. The kid's made 25 starts this year. He's 3-14 (leads the AL in losses, and yep, he was once a member of my fantasy team). Thank god (for him) he's old enough to drink.

* There hasn't been a whole lot of Nationals chatter lately, so I thought I'd throw the boys a bone. Apparently, the start of another sure-to-be wretched Redskins season means ignoring a team that is only 1/2 game out of the NL wild card. Their demise was vastly exaggerated. All Houston's recent tear did was give them a 1/2 game lead in the wild card race? Big fucking deal. That wouldn't concern me a bit, and here's why - 25 of the Nats final 38 games will be in the friendly confines of RFK, where they are 34-22 on the year. I see no reason why we won't be watching Nats playoff baseball while the Skins start 0-4 (well, other than the fact Frank Robinson continues to run Cristian Guzman** out on the field night after night). Brad Lidge has recently decided to join K-Rod and Mo Rivera in blowing very winnable games. The Phillies play in an atrocious ballpark, with a far more questionable staff than the Nats. The Marlins have yet to figure out the season began, and the poor Mets have guys kicking each others ass in the OF. I am looking forward to a few playoff posts about the Chocolate City Nine (especially if my Yankees continue to struggle to beat the D-Rays).

**Cristian Guzman Update: He was 0-4 Monday night (rain out yesterday), and he's now batting .188. However, he would be a star on Poopy.

"If I may shift gears for a moment gentleman, Coach Ditka vs. The Hurricane, who would win?"
"Ditka, Ditka!!"
"Hold on, Hold on, Hold on. The name of the Hurricane is Hurricane Ditka..."