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0-19 in your last nineteen post-season AB's. Nice. Really good job. That's ok though, the playoffs don't matter. No one really cares about them that much anyway. Oh, and was there any doubt in my mind you would strike out on ball four with Abreu on 2nd in the 9th in what is essentially a must-win game? Actually, I thought you were going to ground out to third. But whatever, it doesn't matter because "a player isn't judged on post-season performance alone." Right. Especially not in New York.

So can you please, PLEASE not be such a bitch and get a hit in the playoffs one of these days. Seriously, we Yankee fans want to love you. Really we do. So stop tucking it back, put some pine tar on your helmet and drive in some fucking runs. Thank you.

Labels: ARod prefers "fresh" scented douche

In the magical place I work, we have no dress code. Well, mesh shirts and cock rings are frowned upon, but outside of that, they trust us to make sound wardrobe decisions. Jeans or shorts, and t-shirts are the garments of choice for me. What's my point? Well, I have this Chicago Bears t-shirt (pictured) that I occasionally wear to work. But it's a strange phenomenon. Everytime. I mean EVERYTIME I wear this shirt, at least one person looks at it and feels the need to say, out loud, "DAAAA BEARZ!" That's one person, minimum. Usually at least three. It's cute. In the same way rhinoceros attacks are cute. I get it, it was a funny skit. Let's move on. Every time I walk by the chubby girl who blew half of my company's finance department, I don't blurt out "FAAAT WHORE!" do I? No. I giggle quietly to myself and I picture them picking the remnants of a ham sandwich out of their pubes. But I keep it to myself.

Anyway, Bears are 1-1. I can't tell you how annoyed I was that we lost to the fucking Chargers, yet the Patriots defeated them soundly. Rex needs to learn how to handle that blitz, although his checking down seems to have improved. Big test this Sunday against the Cowboys. Their soft secondary should prove quite essential in the Bears plans of scoring touchdowns via the pass via Rex's arm via Bernard Berrian's hands. So if Rex can't produce, I will start to worry. I'm also glad the game is on NBC. One, because I think they do a relatively good job of covering the game. But also, because I don't live anywhere remotely near Chicago, nor do I have Direct TV (yet). So if I want to watch Bears games, I'm at the mercy of the networks, which sucks the fattest one you can imagine. Although ... if any Bears fan out there knows where I can watch a live stream of the game online and would like to fire me an email, that would be wonderful. Purely in theory though.

What has made my sweatpants bulge ferociously of late is that sweet, cuddly little Bears defense. In fact, for fun, let's recap the "running backs rendered useless" list.

LaDanian Tomlinson ... check.
Larry Johnson ... check.
Marion Barber III ... should be fun.

Granted LT is LT and still scored two TD's, but you know, whatever. Of course, the loss of Mike Brown makes me want to weep into my Gary Fencik replica jersey. But, sadly, this is nothing new. So, Danieal Manning, it's your time to shine sir. Alright, should be a good game on Sunday. Add as much clarity to the "who is the best team in the NFC" question as any Week 3 game could do. Bears are not good offensively. Yet. It will get better. Soon. My prediction ... Bears 31, Cowboys 10. That's right. 31-10. Hopefully.

Labels: Bears

Being the seventh son of itinerant peach pickers, it's needless to say that finances were constantly tight when I was a kid. It was used books, canned generic string beans (albeit French cut), Go-Bots, Hunt's ketchup and Mello Yello (how I longed for the sugary goodness of Mountain Dew). Along with these domestic bootstrapping efforts, came many more PawSox games than Red Sox games. And, I admit, over the years I came to love that decrepit old stadium in that dying mill town. Chock full of it's amateur oil portraits of old stars, endless supply of souvenir cups commemorating baseball's longest game and it's cigarette man billboard that was constantly in disrepair. I still have occasional, fond nightmares of that armless behemoth razing my childhood Little League field.

Anyway, there was a silver lining to my frugal childhood, as back in the day triple-A was actually a stepping stone in the progression to the majors rather than a place to stash old veterans, Americans returning from the Japanese leagues or those Bull Durham idols just not able to make that final leap. I remember feverishly praying that Rick Lancelotti would one day get his shot at Boston glory and cursing Lou Gorman to damnation each year that the Sox sent him down in spring training. Still, I was able to see a lot of young players learning how to adjust their cups, dribble chaw on their uniforms, glare at umps, ignore kids looking for autographs and generally grow into being a big league player.

Of course more often than not, the Sox would rather trade them for Larry Anderson, Mike Boddicker or Jeff Suppan than actually use these budding gems, so it just warms my cockles to see the Pawtucket pipeline gushing talent this year. Pedroia (sometimes it's easy to forget he's a rookie), Buchholz, Ellsbury, Moss, Cash. Okay, Cash might be a wee stretch and I might be jumping the gun on Moss. And Gammons would disagree, but Dice-K and Okijima are rookies, too, even if they never tasted the fine culinary establishments in Pawtucket.

Obviously, everyone was giddy over Buchholz's no-no, but his previous start against the Angels was almost as impressive, given the Orioles tendency to fold more easily than the Michigan defense (along with Greg's eclectic rooting tastes for the Bears, Yanks, and Celtics, there is also Michigan).

It would be nigh silly to consider keep Manny on the bench in favor of Ellsbury, just think of all the great pitches Papi would see, but I don't think you'd get many complaints about letting him steal at-bats from Drew as long as he keeps raking (Drew has to be hurt right? Cora has a better slugging percentage. Cora!)

Pedroia has more than delivered. It could not have been easy stepping in and starting at second base, especially after his April and May, but he has consistently shown himself to be a real pest and the guardian of Trot's dirt dog image.

Dice-K and Okijima have both earned their keep and I think Dice-K will continue to improve, but it can be brutal to watch him pitch. Glorious one inning, flat, batting practice pitches the next. Still, he's young and that consistent command could develop. At the worst he's a front end starter and it's hard to imagine the Sox with this type of lead without either of these imports.

For such a baseball rich town, it's not often that we get to see rookies come up and truly contribute (exhibit - Ramirez, Hanley). We hear about them and discuss them endlessly for years, but rarely see the end results in a Boston uniform. Every few years, we might see a rookie burst fully formed onto the scene, such as Nomar or Papelbon, but it's been a long time since the Sox have had a rookie class that truly added some value. Looking back at ye olde baseballreference.com, I think '87's group of: Burks (oh how I loved him -- I always thought there was a rule that the Red Sox couldn't steal bases before Burks), Jody Reed, Todd Benzinger, Sam Horn and Mike Greenwell are the next closest thing.

So while I wonder if Ellsbury has to shave once or twice a week, it's nice just see the Sox future on display in Boston, actually playing for our team. The only thing sweeter would have been getting the chance to catch a few games at McCoy first.

Labels: baseball, mike d, MLB, Red Sox

Noticed these for sale on Amazon the other night. I imagine they're quite popular with both University of Illinois sororities AND Chicago-area trannies. Either way, they're the panties that say, "SURPRISE!!!"

So, um, hello. How's everyone doing? Sorry I just sort of disappeared after the Super Bowl. But, I'm alive. And so is the Blah. I just needed a break from the whole "blogging" thing. Of course, the smart thing would have been to tell everyone that I'd be taking a 6+ month vacation instead of going the "randomly stop writing altogether" route. Which, by the way, is an awesome way to keep up site traffic. Ah well. But this "no new posts" nonsense has gone on long enough. Now you can tell your friends that the Blah is back. And watch as they stare blankly at you and say, "... what?"

By the way, thank you (I think) for all the emails asking if I killed myself because the Bears lost in the Super Bowl. I responded to some. But for the most part, I just avoided the Blah altogether. Which led to my inbox filling up with 13,000 or so emails. Seriously. Of course, only a sprinkling were from concerned readers. The rest were from eager, highly legitimate companies, and their tempting offers of "stvrech her out wit ur big dikk", "Cheap Meds, Guaranteed Results" and "Re: BSBB&q>!*!B2>?PPB". So if you didn't get a response, I apologize.

Anyway, I'm finding all of this "why I didn't write" nonsense a little awkward. The good news is, I had a lot of things going on. I didn't just sit in a dark room, wearing a Devin Hester jersey, rocking back and forth. For one, plans for redesigning the site have been set in motion. Of course, you see how quickly we do things here, so don't hold your breath (as they say). Also, my penis grew 2" ... wider. Oh, I did a lot of charity work too. In the late Spring, I walked around college campuses and let the hot chicks rub oil on my muscles. I also spent a little over a month teaching prostitutes how to parasail. I mean, you want to talk about rewarding ... those skanks sure are eager to learn.

So, the site is back. Maybe not "writing" "everyday" back. But back nonetheless. Although, I'm not so sure about Mike D. He may be relegated to "guest poster". He's been bunkered down somewhere designing this new-age vibrator with a 10,000 volt back-pack power generator. "The Regulator", I think it's called. I don't know. Anyway, it's my show now. So 60% of the time, I'll be writing every time. And I'm as happy as a girl scout at a pony show.

P.S. I couldn't decide what kind of image to go with. So I opted for "horse running on beach". Because it's romantic. Also because I couldn't find a shot of "horse shitting on beach". But I'll keep looking.

... Very soon.

Ok, so maybe I'm not quite over it just yet.

But I will be back to posting relatively regularly. Just wanted to take a little break last week. And since I know nothing about college basketball or the NBA, I figured I'd use the time to touch up on my ass-kicking skills. Oh and as for the whole Peyton and cock thing above? That's all alleged, of course. I mean, when it comes to ol' Mr. Chin Pimples, what do I know? Not much. That's what I say.

Wow. That fucking sucked. Seriously, that was awful. What happened? I mean, where did the Bears go? That wasn't them. It was one of those games where I couldn't comprehend what was happening. How did it go from 2nd and 1 to 4th and 23 in 7 seconds? I even changed my shirt at halftime. Wasn't enough. And like an optimistic asshole, I said (with complete seriousness) at the two minute warning, "If we run an interception back for a TD then recover the onside kick, we have a chance." Of course, the complete opposite of that happened. Fucking shit. That really, really, REALLY sucked.

Last year, when the Bears lost to the Panthers in the NFC Championship game, I cried forcefully wrote about it here. It was a post called Bears Lose. And, well, that Blows. In it, I compared the loss to having intercourse with a supermodel (sort of) and made some sort of poop/alligator comment ... it's how I cope. And while it felt like each member of the Panthers had just fired rusty shards of scrap metal into my testicles, I knew things would be ok. At the end of the post, I wrote this:

"...But hey, let's put things into perspective. The Bears may have lost the game, but mark my words: They have not lost their awesomeness. In fact, it's just the begining. This was a preview of things to come. You think Luke became a Jedi overnight? Did He-Man defeat Skeletor in one day? Did that kid who played Fez on that 70's Show get into Lindsay Lohan's pants in one afternoon? No. Their awesomeness grew over time. You think the Bears were good this year? You just wait. You'll be hiding under your bed by Week 7 next year ..."

Now they're in the Super Bowl. Can I see the future? We'll see. Prediction: Bears.

Labels: Bears, greg, Super Bowl XLI

You know what's cute? How everyone thinks the Colts and Patty Manning are going to win. It was incredible how everyone hopped on Manning's dick as soon as Indy made the Super Bowl. And while that's still the case, as the weeks have passed, the Colts bandwagon has slightly started to thin out. Yet, they are still the favorites. Check out the "SportsNation". Everything is red except for the entire state of Illinois, and a single blue dot in Massachusetts (Hi!). Of course, how can you really blame people, what with Indy's historical dominance in the postseason ... (pause, roll eyes for effect, pause a bit longer) ... And so the story continues. The Bears get no love. That's fine. Like I've said it before, I'd rather be the underdog.

So, as I read all these Super Bowl articles, from fluff pieces to game analysis to Peyton cock rubbing, there have been a bevy of "experts" who seem to have their own "How each team can win" ideas. But since I lack a pHD in "Vapid Bullshit" from ESPN University, I am probably not considered a card carrying member of the "expert" club. But I am an expert at kicking ass and wooing the ladies. So, you know, take that for what it's worth. Anyway, despite what the masses think, the Bears match up very well against the Colts. Here are a few things I think they need to do to win this game.

1. Master the Basics. Establish the run, benefit from the play action and exploit the Indy secondary, play tight, aggressive D and make sure the middle of the field isn't exposed. Of course, with all the "Dallas Clark must get involved in the middle of the field" articles, I don't think the Bears will be surprised by him. Ok, that one was easy. What else?

2. Get physical with the Indy receivers. Jam those bitches on the line. Rough them up. "Bam! Bam! Bam! All day long foot up a dog's ass." (Friday, 1995). Hopefully Manning Jr., Tillman & Co. have devoured vintage footage of Rodney Harrison putting on a "How to handle Marvin" clinic. Throwing him around like a ho who didn't have his money. Disrupt the receivers timing. Let the Bears D-Line welcome Manning to Miami the proper way.

3. Tea Bag Peyton Manning. It's all about getting into Manning's head. And I strongly believe that a salty ballbag slapped on Peyton's lips might do just that. Worth the 15 yard penalty? Probably. "Unsportsmanlike conduct. Number 96. Illegal lowering of testicles into facemask of the Walking Vagina. 15 yard penalty. 1st down." It's the little things. They sack Manning ... maybe they fire a fart into his mouth. Or maybe they just whisper sweet nothings into his ear like, "Eli is your mom's favorite." ... "I heard your dad jerked off Tom Brady with his lips" ... "I just wiped pre-cum on your towel." Things like that. Just to get him thinking.

4. Don't fuck up too much. Hold onto the ball. Tackle. Don't be stupid. "The Fundamentalios" as the Spanish say. When the Bears establish the run, play aggressive defense and take what's given to them, they win. They just have to play smart. Everyone is so "worried" about Rex Grossman all the time. But I think he'll be fine. So long as he isn't exhausted from plowing chicks all week. ESPN, of course, has to run these ridiculous and unimaginative "Who is the worst quarterback ever to lead his team to the Super Bowl?" polls. And of course, Rex Grossman is on there. Everyone seems to forget Sexy Rexy is in his first full year as a starter. And the Bears are in the fucking Super Bowl. Please, suck my dick ESPN.

5. Stop doing the "jump shot" celebration. This has nothing to do with winning or losing. More of just a general statement to the league. This is one of the most ridiculous celebrations I've ever seen. If you're going to emulate other sports, at least mix it up. Maybe pretend you're turning a double play, or firing a slapshot. Or even better, pretend you're bowling or playing darts. Can you imagine the confusion on everyone if Devin Hester runs a kickoff back for a TD and he pretends he's putting on the 18th hole in the final day of the Masters. Crouches down, lines it up. Crouches back down. Commercial break. Back to the game. Still lining up his put. Checks with Ogunleye. Crouches. Removes a piece of grass. Lines it up. Puts. That would be incredible. So please, enough with the jump shots. I know they've been dying down as of late. And I'm not like the haters of all that is fun NFL, I'm all for celebrations. Just come up with a new one. Unless it helps the Bears win. Then I don't give a shit.

Obviously, there are other things too. Mix up the defensive schemes. Confuse Patty. Don't stay in cover 2 all game, but don't overuse the nickel and be susceptible to the run. Blitz, but not too much. Don't force the ball downfield. Etc. There is more than just tea bagging Manning. But none nearly as entertaining. Unless they actually shit in his facemask, while he's wearing it. Might be a bit more than a 15 yard penalty though. Then again, maybe not.

Oh man, one more day 'till gametime. Super Bowl prediction post will be up by early afternoon Sunday.

Labels: Bears, greg, Super Bowl XLI