ROME IS BURNINGLet me address the rap that Karl Malone and Gary Payton are a couple gravytrainers looking to coat-tail their way to a cheap championship ring with the Lakers. That if they had any stones, they would have either won one where they were or would have gone and helped some middle of the road team win one. Wrong. Kevin Garnett, a future hall of famer bangs his head on the wall every year trying to lead his average team to an NBA title and he's never even been out of the first round. Fact is, a great player can't turn an average NBA team into a world champion and would be stupid to think he could. Michael Jordan thought he could and he couldn't even get the wizards into the playoffs in the east. They're free agents who have decided that winning is more important than minutes, touches and getting paid. They should be praised for that,not rapped. .Malone and Payton aren't gravy trains. Earl woods wearing a hat that says, "I'm tiger woods' dad" is a gravy train." Gravytraining is running around on the floor like a spaz, airballing a few free throws and then getting up at the championship celebration, dancing and speaking Spanish (insert quote). I look forward to that and a nice victory riot after the Lakers and their gravytraining vets win it all next year.
Former actor, motorcycle crasher and coke head Gary Busey has made some rather startling statements in the upcoming issue of maxim magazine. He says his life basically bottomed out the second he attempted to snort cocaine off his dog chili. Apparently Busey knocked a pile of blow onto the floor and chili roll all over it. The Buse says he then proceeded to take the straw to the entire dog. And said, "it's not a good flavor coming off a dog." I would imagine, it's not, g. Why don't you get yourself a cat and see how doing coke off a it compares to taking a long slow sniff off chili . I understand that this guy probably left a lot of his brains splattered across the pavement during that motorcycle wreck and probably has snorted away more brain cells than the entire 1986 Mets roster combined, but snorting coke off a dog? Are you kidding me.?! I would suggest rehab but at this point, would it really make a difference?
This week marks the 79th anniversary of the single worst decision in the history of baseball: the red sox decision to sell babe Ruth to the Yankees for essentially nothing. Yeah, that's the ticket: sell the greatest player ever. Look at the bright side chowds: the Yankees have won dozens of world championships and you have won, well, nothing. And Teddy Bombpop is hanging upside in a big metal pickle jar in Arizona. Yes, I'd say there is a curse. You make the worst move in the history of professional sports and you deserve to be cursed. And you can expect that curse to last at least another 79 years. You can go hunting for sunken pianos, have exorcisms and bring in witch doctors, but until the yanks decide to sell Derek Jeter, Jason Giambi and Mariano Rivera back to you for nothing, you aren't going anywhere.
Darryl strawberry: for being alive. Don't laugh, the Yankee switchboard was flooded after a report circulated that he had died in a hotel room. Nope, straw wasn't dead, just vacationining with his family at Disney world. Never has a guy done less with more and let some many people down. Not a horrible guy, but a guy with a horrible addiction. Props on being alive, Darryl.
Pedro Martinez: when he's not headhunting, or throwing the race card around, or forcing the team to re-negotiate his contract, red sox pitcher Pedro Martinez is a pretty good guy: he found a cell phone in a Toronto taxi cab , went into the directory, and saw a number to batman. He lobbed the fat man in tights a call and it rang into the national post's newsroom. The phone belonged to a intern who came to the yard and claimed it. Normally, you get your cell phone ripped and some degenerate dials up a bunch of overseas sex lines until you turn the phone off. Good job, Pete, I'm sure Alfred and robin appreciate it.
Counselors at the 4-h summer camp in Virginia: sheriff's officers were investigating allegations that counselors arranged fistfights between kids ages 9-13, charged admission to the brawls and allowed betting! Officials say the kids were told to lie to their parents after several suffered black eyes and one broke his hand. One father said "they pitted these kids against each other like a damn cockfight." No kidding. Moms is like, "oh my gosh, Johnnie, why do you have a Hasim Rachman growing out of your head. Gee mom, things just got a little rough at arts and crafts. However, as horrific as this is, technically, it's not a cockfight unless they strap little razors to their hands.
Randal Simon: was suspended for 3 games and fined $2-grand by major league baseball for taking his bat to that giant Italian sausage at miller park. From the looks of Randall, I guess we should all be glad he didn't try to eat the sausage, but taking a bat to a big sausage or a brat, is never a good idea. In fact, since you don't appear to be the sharpest tool in the shed, a piece of advice, don't hit anything with your bat except a baseball. There's nothing this guy won't swing at: balls in the dirt, balls at his eyes, giant pork products. Look at the bright side, Randall, at least now you'll be known for something other the teammate that john rocker allegedly called a fat monkey.
Bob crane, perhaps better known as Colonel Hogan of Hogan's heroes fame, would have turned 75 this week. Would have, except someone took a tripod upside his head several years ago and caved in his brain. I'm not sure why that person did that, but it might have something to do with the fact that crane toured the country trying to fulfill his insatiable appetite for anonymous sex, while at the same time add to his burgeoning collection of home porn which he also starred in. You can celebrate bob's birthday by logging on to his son's website and checking out some of his pop's porn before he got whacked. Afterall, isn't that what al gore had in mind when he invented the internet: it not to inform or educate the public: but rather as a forum for sons to mourn the loss of their brutally murdered fathers by selling their sex tapes for profit. Happy birthday Bob.