Ceai Complet: Commenter Shout-Outs

Anytime you can make "Cornbread" Mayhugh laugh for 10 minutes and it's not a Ziggy cartoon, you've done something right. In that light, this one's for you sir - similar hairdos, similar masculinity:

Ceai Complet: May 1, 2008

This morning on CNN.com, I can get a t-shirt with the headline, "911 Dispatcher Falls Asleep During Call", but I can't get one with "130-million-year-old poop sells for $960". That's a journalistic travesty. Somewhere, Buzz Bissinger is yelling at a potted plant.

Gheorghe: Ceai Complet

SCRANTON - Penguins minor-leaguer Nathan Smith has been suspended for one game after being arrested for running naked in downtown Scranton early Sunday. Wilkes-Barre/Scranton coach Todd Richards said yesterday that Smith will sit out Game 1 of the Baby Penguins' second-round playoff series, which begins tomorrow, as punishment for his actions. Smith, 26, was charged with third-degree misdemeanor counts of indecent exposure, open lewdness and disorderly conduct and a summary offense of public drunkenness after running out of a group of men and "streaking" toward police officer Michael Marino at 2:29 a.m. on Adams Avenue.

The streaking is fine, but Baby Penguins? That's embarrassing.

(Note: Ceai complet is a traditional Romanian breakfast staple, consisting of a light meal of rolls and butter. It's also our new daily dose of silliness and absurdity - a part of a healthy, balanced blogging diet.)

Bite Me, Randy Newman/J...E...T...S...Jets, Jets, Jets

Worlds colliding here at G:TB HQ today, as Teejay's New York Jetropolitans signed the epitome of small-package anti-Randy dynamite to a free agent deal. Boys and girls, welcome G:TB's new favorite NFLer, Danny Woodhead.

Jets sign NCAA career rushing leader Danny Woodhead

OMAHA, Neb. (AP) — Chadron State running back Danny Woodhead, the NCAA's career rushing leader, signed a free-agent deal with the New York Jets on Sunday night, according to the player and his agent.

Agent Chris Gittings said he and Woodhead thought the Jets were a good fit after teams passed on the 5-foot-7 1/2 running back during the draft, mostly because of his size. Woodhead ran for 7,962 yards in four seasons for the Division II school in western Nebraska.

Terms of the deal for the two-time Harlon Hill Trophy winner were not immediately disclosed, and the Jets would not confirm the signing.

"I'm more than happy with what I got," Woodhead said.

Woodhead, who worked out in the weeks leading up to the draft in his hometown of North Platte, wasn't invited to February's scouting combine and wasn't among the 27 running backs drafted. But he was impressive during his pro day in Lincoln, running a 40-yard dash that was timed between 4.33 and 4.38 seconds, recording a vertical jump of 38 1/2 inches and bench-pressing 225 pounds 20 times.

Woodhead will be competing for a roster spot at a position that already includes Thomas Jones, Leon Washington and Jesse Chatman.

The Jets have played a number of undrafted free agents in recent years, including guard Brandon Moore, punter Ben Graham, wide receiver Wallace Wright, fullback Stacy Tutt, tight end Joe Kowalewski and defensive lineman Mike DeVito.

"We're the land of opportunity," general manager Mike Tannenbaum said in his draft wrapup news conference Sunday night.

Gittings said it was frustrating that other small running backs were considered better draft prospects than Woodhead. Rutgers' Ray Rice is 5-8 and was taken by Baltimore in the second round, while Georgia's 5-9 Thomas Brown was drafted by Atlanta in the sixth. Also drafted were Michigan's Mike Hart (listed just under 5-9) and California's Justin Forsett (5-8).

Asked whether he thought size matters in the NFL, Woodhead said: "I don't, but you're also talking to a 5-7 1/2, 200-pound running back."

You Better Kiss Me, 'Cause You're Gonna Miss Me When I'm Gone

Last night I got home from work and mowed the lawn. I came inside, washed my hands, and poured myself a beer. A Brooklyn Brewery East India Pale Ale, to be precise.

It was my first beer in two months.

Gentlemen, I say this to you in the interest of brotherhood: do not take our golden mistress for granted, for she is a giver of life and health, a solver of problems, a dealer of hope and warm comfort. I pray you never have occasion to take a hiatus like the one I just ended, but should it come to that, sleep securely in the knowledge that that first quaff is a nearly-religious experience.

Tonight, I plan to drink an entire bottle of red wine. Just for old times' sake.

Because these made me laugh...

...kudos to my work colleague a few cubes down for unearthing these gems:
And...

And you thought we were all out of Gheorghe clips...

It's already a long, dreadful Friday morning. So nothing could have made me happier than to open an email containing this interview with our Romanian overlord (try to ignore the doucheyness that is Tim Brant):

[Tremendous hat tip to Deuce of Davenport for sending us this clip. Especially since it's the first time I've ever received an email from "Chimpanzee Rage"]

As the only Catholic on this dais (I believe)

I thought it was my job to share with you the candid pic I took of the Pope last night in a rather questionable area of DC (I was of course in this downtrodden area to do charity work...nothing sketchy at all). Let's just say Your Holiness might have some 'splaining to do this morning:

This Is The End

I'll lean on the work of famed singer, Hall of Fame boozer and faux poet James Douglas Morrison to convey my feelings on the imminent departure of Isiah Thomas as Head Coach/General Manager of my New York Knickerbockers:

This is the end

Beautiful friend

This is the end

My only friend, the end

Of our elaborate plans, the end

Of everything that stands, the end

No safety or surprise, the end

I'll never look into your eyes...again

The Isiah Era has been a particularly painful one for all Knicks fans. I was moved enough to buy a partial season ticket plan for the team last year solely because I wanted to heckle him. Unfortunately, the team showed enough of a pulse to keep naysayers like me at bay until the last quarter of the season. This season unfolded with a glimmer of hope, although the presence of Zach Randolph is a minor glimmer at best. Despite his bad reputation and his apparent lack of a neck, many (like me) thought the team would compete in the mediocre Eastern Conference. Alas, it was not meant to be, leaving fans to ponder the state of this pathetic franchise.

Can you picture what will be

So limitless and free

Desperately in need...of some...stranger's hand

In a...desperate land

Donnie Walsh has now entered the picture. Cablevision brass has portrayed him as a white knight who will bring character back to this franchise. But one look at him makes you realize that this knight looks like he's ready for an electric wheelchair, not a gallant steed. The best we can hope for from him is sensibility. We would define this sensibility as shedding salary, shedding deadbeats, drafting wisely and picking a logical head coach. It doesn't take much more than that to get your team to 40 wins and a sniff at the playoffs. With a potential Top 6 pick in this year's draft, the team might have a drastically new identity in six months. That's about all we can hope for these days.

So Isiah, as you leave MSG with all that guaranteed cash in your pockets and that shit-eating grin on your face, remember that this entire city hates you and the fuckhead owner who put you in charge of anything.

It hurts to set you free

But you'll never follow me

The end of laughter and soft lies

The end of nights we tried to die

This is the end

The Audacity of Elitism

Here at G:TB we rarely delve into the world of politics. Frankly, the entire endeavor is the antithesis of the Gheorghian creed: politicians by definition, it seems, take themselves far too seriously and so do the various hangers-on, court jesters, and media types that make their livings as remorae to the hyper-self-centered sharks that run the country. G:TB is not a place for political debate - there are a ton of great salons on the web chock-full of insightful commentary that skews exactly to how you, the reader, want your own opinion validated. (And not for nothing, I do love me the entertainment of the horse-race aspects of our political system, so that's not a swipe, just an observation.)

So consider this momentary detour a brief glimpse into the abyss before a return to your regularly scheduled ridiculousness. (Stay tuned for an exposition of the following thesis: Todd McShay is to Mel Kiper as the Chickenhawk is to Foghorn Leghorn. Seriously.)

Friend of Gheorghe Jon Stewart weighed in Monday night on the ongoing contretemps regarding Barack Obama's purported elitism:

You know... I hear what you're all saying, but doesn't "elite" mean good? Is that not something we're looking for in a president anymore? You know what, candidates? Come with me [to Camera 3].

I know "elite" is a bad word in politics, and you want to go bowling and throw back a few beers. But the job you're applying for? If you get it, and it goes well... they might carve your head into a mountain. If you don't actually think you're better than us, then what the fuck are you doing?

Well, I mean...if you put it that way.

"Go-Go-Gadget Arms"

That's it. I'm calling Julian Wright "Inspector Gadget" from now on...

Huzzah!

We're unabashedly celebrating one of our own today. Teejay went above and beyond this weekend to capture this:

Do be sure to ask him how in the comments.

Celebrating the Moment

The Masters and its annual Salmon-to-Capistrano vernal heralding rightfully headlines sports news this week. The NCAA Basketball tournament just capped off another frantic March with a thrilling title game. The NBA's regular season draws to a close with a historically tight Western Conference race, and any number of terrific story lines. Baseball's long season has begun to slowly unfold. Mel Kiper's taken a shower and shed his bathrobe in preparation for his annual moment in the sun.

As usual, we continue to overlook the most consistently exciting moment in sports. Alex Kovalev got his barbaric yawp last night, his slapshot ripping the net behind Tim Thomas' shoulder to give the Montreal Canadiens a 3-2 overtime win over the Boston Bruins. Kovalev's arms shot in the air, making the universal sign of victory as he spun back towards his onrushing teammates.

And overtime playoff hockey delivered as it always does.

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

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

But the payoff was so very cool.

Things I'd Like to See Gheorghe Ride

Last week, Rob graced these pages with "Things I'd Like to See Gheorghe Drive". Because I am an immature idiot, I thought the logical progression would of course be "Things We'd Like to See Gheorghe Ride."

Door #1 - the Idiot item:

Door #2 - the Immature item:

Door #3 - the Whitney item:

Now, can someone please tell me how to permanently erase the search terms I just used on Google to find that second pic?

Gheorghe's Title Game Prediction, Distaff Version

I've got two daughters, as does Whitney. We'd be remiss in not previewing tonight's Stanford/Tennessee national championship game, using Teejay's fictional character-inspired construct as our guide.

I saw a little bit of the LSU/Tennessee national semi on Saturday night (what can I tell you - I was in the throes of a relatively painful upset stomach and I needed something to dull the pain), and it was a dreadful exhibition of sloggy pace, poor shooting, and sloppy ballhandling. Other than that, the women's game is quite exciting. At least Stanford chucks the ball up (in a cute shotput kinda way) early and often. And for that, we like the Cardinal to prevail, 77-74.

Stanford (you can tell me Tara Vandeveer doesn't look like Beaker, but you'd be wrong) vs. Tennessee (no fictional homage would be any better than this eye candy)

Oh, and free throws are huge.

Gheorghe's Title Game Prediction

Rob says he's too busy to get some words up about tonight's game, so he made the awful mistake of telling me to put something together. Yep, this is what I came up with...I've got Panthro 74-72, and I'll be over at Mark's web establishment hoping all night that Packer gets hit with a piece of falling debris.

Memphis (Panthro) vs. Kansas (Chaka Khan)

Not Your Average Jimmy

In the interest of maintaining a well-rounded blog devoted to silly things that entertain us, we're taking a little detour today into the world of skaters, their gear, and Spike Jonze videos.

Skater culture has never really appealed to me, though I marvel at the things these rubber-limbed acrobats can do (and I could pick Tony Hawk out of a lineup). Nevertheless, there's something about the combination of stunts, music, and cinematography in this video for Lakai shoes that has me completely addicted.

(via Pitchfork)

Thursday Morning Schadenfreude

A little snippet from the box score of last night's 9-6 Orioles win over the Tampa Bay Rays:

Game Information
Attendance - 10505
Game Time - 3:15
Temperature - 55
Umpires - Home - Alfonso Marquez, First Base - Andy Fletcher, Second Base - Mike Reilly, Third Base - Bob Davidson

The announced crowd of 10,505 was reportedly much higher than the actual number of fannies in the seats, and even worse, represents the single lowest attendance mark in Camden Yards history. With the O's in a much-publicized rebuilding mode (though frankly, who other than Tim Kurkjian will be able to tell the difference between the 2008 O's and their predecessors of the past 10 years?), I don't think it's much of a stretch to predict that 10,505 isn't the nadir. That's a mark that'll get broken several more times this season. You think anyone's coming to the mid-week O's/Royals tilt in early July with both teams 25 games under .500?

At the same time, 30 miles down I-95, the Washington Nationals just opened up a magnificent new ballpark. The Nats' ownership, executive team, and manager are building an organization from a fundamentally sound blueprint, blending patience, logic, and savvy into a widely-acknowledged franchise of the not-to-distant-future. The O's ownership, well, that's a story oft-told in these parts.

We want better for Orioles fans, but we want exactly what we're getting for the man in the big office upstairs in the Inner Harbor. Karma, she is a bitch.

Things I'd Like to See Gheorghe Drive

My neighbor just bought one of these.



I'm not really a car guy, and that's a hopelessly impractical vehicle for a suburbanite father of two with a 35-mile commute over major surface roads. Nonetheless, I'm completely jealous.

Although not many of you could go for a ride with me if I got one.

The Greatest Thing in the History of Ever

In our 4+ years here at G:TB, we've carved out a nice, if obscure, little niche celebrating the silly, sublime, and sub-popular. We've entertained dozens, though we've mostly entertained ourselves. Nothing in our thoroughly enjoyable blogging experience, though, prepared us for what we learned this morning.

A co-worker of mine is the daughter of Romanian immigrants (and a stunning Eurobabe, apropos of nothing). She knows of my love for all things Gheorghe, so in her. considerable kindness and wisdom (have I mentioned the fact that she's ridiculously hot?) she sent me a story today from the Gazeta de Cluj. A careful reading of the following agate type knocked us flat on our collective backsides, spasms of unexpected joy taking us on an extraordinary rendition to the innocence of youth. To wit:

Format NBA superstar Gheorghe Muresan tren cu local club parte U Mobiltelco înăuntru a prepara pentru un attempted întoarcere la American professional league. Muresan joc lui ultimul NBA joc pentru art.hot. Nou Jersey Nets înăuntru 2000 şi art.hot. league's Most Improved Joc înăuntru 1995-96. Denver Nuggets oficial Mark Warkentian, "El a trage cu cu mare touch. O mulţime de parte a putut află cameră înăuntru lor rotation pentru Muresan."

Courtesy of InterTran, that translates (hilariously, and frankly, stupendously) to:

Shaped NBA superstar Gheorghe Muresan has been training with local club side U Mobiltelco in prepared for an attempted return at American professional cradle. Muresan game him last NBA game for the networks of New Jersey in 2000 and was the league's Sample Improved Game in 1995-96. Denver Nuggets official Mark Warkentian said, "It always had glorious contact. Of series of commands could use a guy as it in their rotation."

It always had glorious contact, indeed. Boys and girls, listen very carefully: Gheorghe. Is. Coming. Back. And we're bursting with completely undeserved glee.

He just turned 37, but he's at least 10 years younger than Dikembe Mutombo. He was never in great condition, but he had a pretty complex experimental foot surgery a few years ago to alleviate the discomfort that caused him to retire in the first place, and if he's pain-free, he could give a team 15 minutes a night of competent offense, decent rebounding, and stationary defense. Dude led the league in field goal percentage twice, and averaged 10 points and 6 boards a game for his career. Keith Van Horn just got handed $4.5 million to sit on the bench and stare at the teased hairdos in the stands in Jersey. Why not Gheorghe?

This is, indeed, the greatest thing in the history of ever, and number two (a tie between cheese and the sound of sneakers on a basketball court) is well back in the distance. It's safe to say that we'll be tracking this development with some interest.

Holy Crap. You think we can get an interview out of this?