How do you say "She-Male" in Portuguese?

Oh, Ronaldo!! You're only supposed to juggle balls when you're on the pitch!!

Newt Warns of Doom and Gloom

Have you ever received one of those emails from family or friends that pushes the right-wing culture of fear agenda? I've had the pleasure of receiving many, especially since 9/11.

Here's a gem:



Let me start out with my own warning: Don't be surprised when none of you die from terrorist attacks, or Iranians.

That said, it's fair for Newt to be deeply worried. It's his job. And based on his life's path, it is no wonder that he feels this way. I don't blame him. There are some threats around the world and perhaps in cells in this country, and it is good that there are some people that keep an eye on this, for the time being.

For the rest of us, do we really need to be living in fear? I don't think so. I'd argue that it's not healthy and I would also argue that it we could do our part to safeguard our communities reaching out to the fringes in those communities; the more people that feel part of a place, the fewer of them that are going to want to shoot up a mall or something.

When a turtle, in fear, hides in his shell, how can he make friends? He can't, and he only grows more distrustful of the world outside - this is a defense mechanism.

Folks, we crawled inside a shell after 9/11 and the only times we've come out have been with guns drawn, and we're not going to change places like Saudi Arabia or similar by beating everyone up. School bullies, in the end, are the ones in the principal's office when their tactics catch up with them. I imagine the Sean Hannitys of the world think that the U.S. is the principal. I think there are bullies on both sides here - perhaps God, or fate, or whatever you believe in, is the principal.

Newt can make all the alarmist prophecies he wants. But what can meat and potatoes Americans do with his sage advice but quiver (and be motivated by quivering at the ballot box, thus continuing the current cycle)?

Honestly, touting fear is tired and my fingers are crossed for a different outlook, no matter who delivers it. I'm not saying ignore threats, but leave the threats in capable hands of people in government who won't cram fear down our throats. Rather make us the confident country we once were - heck it might even impact the economy.

Also, the point about Newt being more afraid of terrorists bringing down a city than he was of the Russians during the Cold War is an awfully convenient statement to make, and simple-minded at best. I can't help but think Newt's hindsight is tainted by the fact that he has the security of knowing that we survived the Cold War. Yet the present, by nature of being the present, is a bit unclear. That's why it's the present. It would be like me saying I'm more terrified of a mall shooter today than I was from riding SkyLab at King's Island in the 1980s (which killed one drunken park-goer in the early 90s). No sh*t, SkyLab doesn't exist anymore and is no longer a threat.

I disagree: the systems that the Russians had in place with hundreds or thousands of nuclear-weaponized missiles was far more dangerous than a bunch of low-budget terrorists, or even the Iranians and their goals. 9/11 was a big lottery win for those guys and will not be surpassed in death toll for 50-100 years. (side note: crazy Iranian dude would not trade the destruction of Tehran for the destruction of Tel Aviv. that is ludicrous.)

Finally - since none of us will die from terrorism or from a war with Iran or whatever, why the hell do we spend so much time fearing this? Consider turning off Fox News and switching on that Nightly Business Report show on PBS (is that dude with oiled white hair still hosting, or was he killed by terrorists?) Next year, give up that channel for Lent maybe.

In the words of Conway Bangs,

Stay Tricky.

Pie Charts

Reds Mourn the Departure of Wayne Krivsky

One thing is clear in the midst of the ass-kicking being applied by the Houston Ass-tros to the hometown Cincinnati Reds: the Reds players are crippled by their grief over the termination of General Manager, Wayne Krivsky.

After just over three innings, 187 pitches, and seven earned runs, starter Bronson Arroyo had to leave the game, too consumed by sadness for the fate of the man responsible for plucking him from a cushy existence in Boston and bringing him to baseball's newest wasteland, Cincinnati.

"It was pretty tough spotting my pitches with all the tears in my eyes," Arroyo said. "Of course I'd wipe them away, but then my hands were too wet to make my breaking ball effective."

"Let's face it, I can never repay the debt I owe Wayne," Arroyo added. "The situation in Boston was far too perfect. It has been an honor to come here, lose on a regular basis, and face adversity. It builds character."

Second baseman, Brandon Phillips, also confessed to being affected by his grief. Explaining how he could look so bad during his first inning strikeout, Phillips noted, "with all the tears in my eyes it was pretty tough to see that pitch I whiffed on for strike three was in fact a breaking ball ."

Left Fielder, Adam Dunn, was seen weeping in the dugout after being flat-out humiliated at the plate. Denying that his embarassingly bad strikeout was the impetus behind his tears, Dunn said, "Strikeout? Christ, I do that, what? Once every three innings? That doesn't bother me."

"No, it's this whole thing about Wayne," said Dunn. "Everyone assumes I would hate him because he traded away Austin Kearns. Truth is, Kearns is a douchebag, and everyone knows it. I hate that asshole. Remember when he showed up for Spring Training like 45 pounds overweight, and cried like a girl when he got sent down to Triple-A? And then his dad did the interview circuit, talking about what a travesty the whole situation was?"

"I've never seen any man cry like Austin Kearns did. Well, at least until the news about Wayne made its way around the clubhouse, that is."

"I've never seen any man cry like Austin Kearns did. Well, at least until the news about Wayne [Krivsky] made its way around the clubhouse, that is." -- Reds LF, Adam Dunn.

Right fielder, Ken Griffey, Jr., is one of the few Reds unfazed by the Krivsky news. Griffey hit his 597th homerun in the first inning. Asked for his reaction to the Krivsky news, Griffey said, "Honestly, I thought he had already retired. And I'm kind of embarrassed to say this, but I didn't know he was with our club. Regardless, his accomplishments speak for themselves. He is one of the greatest players hockey has ever known. So, 99, I wish you all the best."

Griffey: "Krivsky or Gretzky?"

An Inconvenient Truth .... About David Lee Roth, Vol. 2

Dateline: Cincinnati, Ohio, April 22, 2008

At two of the Queen City's adjoining entertainment venues, Great American Ballpark and the U.S. Bank arena, two forces from Southern California converged: the Los Angeles Dodgers in the former, and Van Halen in the latter.

Could this be coincidence? Could I care? Answers: yes; no.

Regardless, I was struck by the great irony: here was a man who - unbeknownst to most - penned one of the most anti-consumerism rants of 1980: "Everybody Wants Some!!" in a city known for its conservativism and in particular, its baseball team's general aversion to expanding its payroll.

Suffice it to say, I am sure that I was not the only one who thought, upon hearing that the Cincinnati Reds fired GM Wayne Krivsky, that David Lee Roth might be named Krivsky's replacement. It would certainly make a lot of sense.

David Lee Roth: a conservative's conservative. Make that a gay-sex-in-airport-bathrooms-conservative's conservative.

As I've noted here, and many more times privately to close confidants, DLR's party-boy image was a mask to the true DLR. In particular, the aforementioned "Everybody Wants Some!!" is one of the high points of Dave's socially conscious lyrical style. Let us undertake a critical examination.

With his ear squarely to the ground, Dave observes in song,

I seen a lotta people lookin' for a moonbeam.
Yeah, ya spent a lot. Ya got lost in the jet-stream.

Translation: where has your consumerism, your unyielding desire to acquire more and more, gotten you? It has gotten you "lost," specifically in the "jet-stream." The acquisition of material possesions, DLR postulates, is the proverbial road to nowhere.

But of course, "Diamond Dave" is not "holier than thou" here. The following passage shows the despair and frustration he feels as someone who cannot escape the trappings of consumerism himself:

But ev'rybody wants some. I want some too.
Ev'rybody wants some. Baby, how 'bout you?

(emphasis mine).

DLR was perhaps one of the most misunderstood social commentators of the twentieth century for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the style of music employed by the Van Halen brothers to be the vessel for DLR's message. Certainly Dave's own decadent behavior distracted from his message, although history shall not judge him harshly: had you seen the societal horrors Dave observed throughout the latter part of the last century, you would drink too. Heavily.

My continuing examination about David Lee Roth will lead you to conclude, as I have, that before there was Bono or Michael Stipe..... there was David. Lee. Roth. Not only the voice of a generation. The voice for all generations. If I may say so, when it comes to bringing Americans together, Barack Obama ain't got shit on David Lee Roth.

Who's Your Boss?

Listening to the Dodgers blow out the Reds tonight wasn't a total loss. While listening to Marty Brennaman laugh at Jeff "The Cowboy" Brantley discuss fried chicken, and how he'd drink gravy, for like the third or fourth game in a row, I was simultaneously reading the Reds blog of C. Trent Rosecrans. There, the former Cincinnati Post Reds beat writer, and current fan of anything Greg Dulli, made a strange allusion to Brad Penny, knee socks, and Alyssa Milano.

Merely seeing the printed name of the former Who's the Boss starlet caused unconscious Googling.

I always knew I liked Alyssa Milano... not sure why... actually that's not true, I've always known why I liked Alyssa Milano, but tonight I found reason to like her more.

Among the Google results, I found Alyssa Milano's baseball blog. It seems Milano is a big baseball fan, and even writes a blog dedicated to the Dodgers.

But are you a Dodgers fan, or do you just like the hat, Milano?

At Reds.com, I found you modeling apparel bearing the logo of the oldest franchise in professional baseball and a once-bitter rival of the Dodgers from the old NL West days. While I was mildly disappointed in failing to find you modeling a Reds bikini, the look in your eye and your wind-blown mane tells Reds fans everywhere that you just can't get enough of Bronson Arroyo's serenades the pre-cooked beef he's selling.

So, Milano, listen up and listen good. I know you read The Tricky Trail Times every morning from your trailer on the set of "Charmed."

Okay, so maybe that show was yanked from the WB like 6 years ago; still, I have a bone to pick with you, Milano. Your Dodgers may have squeaked (and by squeaked I mean utterly annihilated) by my Redlegs tonight, but I'm willing to bet you that the Reds will take the series.

If the Reds win, you have to go on a date with my brother, Freddy Park. If they lose I'll set you up with the best of my Hollywood connections. You've seen the movie, Super Troopers, right? No, not Starship Troopers.

Heck, if I win, I may just set you up with both.

I'm a generous guy.

Please write me at nanijcootsack@yahoo.com if interested in this bet.

Seriously, I watched "My Date with Drew," and I have more than a camcorder and $100; I've got a blog.

----

Update 1: Milano, I win! Pay up!

You might say, "But, Nani, they split the series!"

Milano, Reds win on aggregate, 11-10 (3-9 loss plus 8-1 win). Don't you watch Champions League? Email me for my brother's number.

Nani J. Cootsack reporting for Tricky Trail Sports

Tejada Reveals to Mom He Was Born Toddler

In a week in which the Dominican-born slugger for the Houston Astros revealed to his club that he is actually 33-years old, and not 31 as listed in the players guide, and that he lied to the Oakland Athletics when he signed at the age of 19, not 17, Miguel Tejada, who also informed MLB Commissioner Bud Selig that his "alleged steroid use, just alleged," began two years earlier than thought, phoned his mother in the Caribbean to let her know that he was actually aged two years and five months, when born.

In full weep, Tejada explained to "mi madre" that his accelerated human development and his development as a ballplayer began in her womb, that as a fetus he began fielding grounders with his barely formed appendages and using clotted debris from her uteran wall for a ball. "When you thought I was kicking, I was actually smacking line-drives with the umbilical cord," Tejada explained to the woman he said he owed "mi vida."

From the time of his birth, Tejada told his mother, his agent informed him that he would one day be a major-leaguer and that he would have to take certain actions to ensure that destiny would be fulfilled. Chief among them, Tejada must hide his real age, even from his family.

As he longed for his schoolboy days when he still suckled at his mommy's teet, Tejada sobbed, "Mi Mami, I was never your little Miguelito; I was always All-Star Shortstop Miguel Tejada."

In turn, Tejada, who hid the fact that he could not only walk erect at 4 weeks but could also steal bases while chewing tobacco, pretended to be a helpless baby by waffling around with the other infants with whom he was cribbed.

The infielder also apologized to his mother for his regularly crapped pants as late as age 11 while pretending to be a potty-defiant "terrible two." "Sorry mamacita, I never did math good and I thought I was still a bebe."

Tejada, despite his advanced age of 33, still wets the bed.

Nani J. Cootsack reporting for Tricky Trail Sports

George Stephanopoulos: Water Boy

Did anyone see the Clinton-Obama debate last night? What a fucking joke! Seriously, when whether or not one wears an American Flag lapel pin actually becomes the litmus test for being President of the United States, I am going to threaten to move to Canada. Yet, this is the kind of petty, small-minded questioning Barack Obama had to put up with for the first 50 minutes of the two hour debacle, -er, I mean, debate.

[Disclosure: I am an Obama supporter]

Leading the charge last night? George Stephanopoulos (or as I like to call him, Steffy, and sometimes even - with apologies to my main man, 'Dre Agassi - Steffi Graft). I know what you're thinking: where do I know that name? Oh, that's right, he was the White House press secretary during Bill Clinton's first term. Oh, and what's this?


Yeah....... How 'bout that?

What's that phrase? Um..... conflict of interest? Maybe that explains why he lobbed the question about William Ayers at Obama that was fed to him by Fox News' own Sean Hannity. Obama's response I thought was brilliant:

And the notion that somehow as a consequence of me knowing somebody who engaged in detestable acts 40 years ago when I was 8 years old, somehow reflects on me and my values, doesn't make much sense, George.

And then when Hillary couldn't help herself and piled on, Obama deftly pointed out that Bill Clinton had pardoned two convicted members of the late-1960's / early-1970's Weather Underground movement (of which Ayers was a member and to which Clinton was trying to tie Obama through guilt-by-association).

Jeremiah Wright, "Bitter-Gate," Ayers, and fucking flag lapel pins. George Stephanopoulos - still carrying the Clintons' water after all these years.

UPDATE: Obama has a fact-check page up on just how tenuous the connection is between Ayers and Obama, here.

UPDATE 2: A far more thorough and intellectual critique offered by a journalist, here.

UPDATE 3: A decidedly less intellectual critique here, although this is so funny, it almost makes the whole sorry-ass event worth it:

Rumored Reds Deal with Husband of Ex-Playmate

There is a pretty hot rumor tanning itself somewhere on a tropical beach in a scrumptious thong bikini that the husband of an ex-Playboy Playmate is near a deal with the Cincinnati Reds.

If the rumor, alluded to by Reds beat writers John Fay and Hal "The Real" McCoy, comes to fruition and the Reds sign Alica Rickter's hubby, it will be clear that the Reds are truly pulling out all the stops to bring winning baseball, or at least sexy baseball that's capable of batting .270 for less than half a season, back to Cincinnati.

Some might think that the husband of ex-Playmate Alicia Rickter is past even the twilight of his baseball career; but just a glimpse of Rickter will convince doubters that he's at least doing something right.

More will question Rickter's better half's ability to fit in in conservative Cincinnati after questions about the catcher's sexual orientation were raised years ago in New York and later in a less-than-popular Belle and Sebastian song. Again, one look at Rickter should right that school of thought.

Others cite the fact that Bob Castellini is not doing enough to fill stadium seats with the acquisition of a past-prime, sub-par catching husband of a supermodel. Those naysayers are forgetting that corn-dog devouring baseball fans will fill at least two adjacent sections of seats just to get a look at someone other than their frumpy, chili-gobbling wives. An ex-Playmate is a sure bet to bring in scores of Hudy Delight-swilling horn-dogs to Great American.

So Reds ownership and management have to weigh the pros and cons of the Rickter husband signing. The question they have to ask themselves is, "Does Rickter have what it takes to bring out enough sexually frustrated Reds fans to the stadium to drive revenue to the point of signing a real baseball player?" If the answer is "yes," then let's bring Rickter, with her husband in-tow, aboard the Little-to-Medium-Sized Red Machine.

Please answer the poll to help Castellini make the right call which could result in the best tail in Cincinnati since the Johnny Bench era.

Nani J. Cootsack reporting for Tricky Trail Sports

Local Soccer Team Celebrates at Moral Victory Parade (of Booze)

April 13, Atlanta -- Elated members of Sting SC, an Atlanta-based soccer club of yeomen, wasted no time reveling in alcohol-induced, celebratory repression of their 3-2 Perrin Cup Final loss to Atlanta Silverbacks Reserves earlier that day.

The team, uplifted by a steady diet of Stella Artois and repeatedly rationalizing how "we should have won," relived glorious moments from the game and downplayed the Silverbacks' success at the Tin Roof Cantina, a place that manager Jason Rousseau asserted "always makes us feel like champions, even when we've just screwed the pooch."

A steady parade of beer and liquor marched to the team's table and quickly goose-stepped into their bloodstreams, completely erasing memories of life-long dreams shattered.

Winger Mike Hobbes, fresh from a shot of Grand Marnier which he affectionately called "Grammaw," recalled his favorite moment of the final: "During warm-ups when Chad put on Soulja Boy, that really had me amped - that was just an awesome feeling."

"Many of us had just watched the Man U./Arsenal match and we were looking around wondering who would be our version of Owen Hargreaves," remarked utility-man Chris Thurner, pictured left and clearly feeling the effects of post-game fun. "To get the opportunity to dream like that is priceless. Just brilliant."

Others undercut their opponents' victory.

"Hell, I actually scored a decisive goal for them. That should count for something," said defender Garrett H. Browne, just as his swig of Gramma-mah kicked in. "The score should have been a tie - two and a half to two and a half!"

Goalkeeper Ben McKrayonzie concurred, "Yeah, and that ball was too high. Isn't there a rule about the ball traveling too high? I saw an Indians baseball game once and that was the case. They called a home run back 'cause the ball went too high. That ref was blind."

Some players immediately abandoned the defeat through blatant pomp.

Mats Sknoope, injured for the match, drinking since noon and already practicing for a one-eyed drive home, shouted, "Shzink! I can't believe we won!!! Shzink! The lads looked great from up in that crow's nest I was perched upon. Damn, what a game!" Despite reminders that his team had actually lost and that he was actually nestled up with a bottle of Old Crow beneath some gym bags on the sideline, Sknoope dismissed the claims and kept carousing, "Shzink! Go Reds! Who Dey! That referee should have had his white book handy! Waitress, do you have your white book? Waitress, you will not find my tab in the bi-laws! Who Dey!"

Another Stinger was equally delusional.

"I told the world the score would be 3-2," reminded forward Chad B, "and it was. I should join the circus and be a fortune teller."

A few of Sting's supporters also made merry at the moral victory parade.

"I just came for the drinks - I heard they might be free," explained one of them, Quentin Mostolder. "I don't even like these guys all that much."

Sales Director Predicts Soccer Victory over Goliath

April 11, Atlanta -- In what is likely the boldest sports prediction since Joe Namath predicted Super Bowl victory in 1969 for the New York Jets, an Atlanta sales director has been blessed with the clairvoyance to know that he and his group of average friends, otherwise known as Sting Soccer Club, will muster enough gumption to topple local and professional nemesis, Atlanta Silverbacks Reserves, in the upcoming Perrin Cup Final.

Sting striker Chad B announced his prediction to a global audience on the Internets through a hugely popular service known as Evite. Considering the amount of people who use the World Wide Cyberweb regularly, over 200 million domestically, "3-2 Sting victory" is likely to spread the world-over like wildfire and "Chad B" will become a household name. Sportscenter and Fox Soccer Channel will probably plaster their programming with the story during the lead-up to the match, which takes place Sunday, April 13.

So what do Bruhn's teammates think of all the commotion?

Sting Manager Jason Russell, pictured left, shrugged, "This is just Chad being Chad. Last year he made us write 'ocho cinco' on his jersey and once he sent Pepto Bismal to all the league referees; we're really not sure why he does what he does, but we keep him around so we can go to his house and watch sports on his big TV."

Team Swede, Kenneth M. Dahlin, stated, "Look, as long as we do what we do on Sunday, none of these shenannigans will matter. I'm just going to go out there and do what I do."

But not all took the prediction with indifference.

Czech-born hulk and winger Dany Stefansky lamented, "Chad continues to do a psyche-job on me. First, despite the muffin-top overflow from his waistband, he beat me in a sprint that forced me to wash jerseys all year; now this. God only knows what's next."

Media outlets have unsuccessfully tried to reach Bruhn since the prediction was first made. Chad's agent stated through a representative, Osei Appiah, who spoke partially obscured by some hotel lobby greenery, that her husband will not leave his basement where he is repeatedly simulating the Sting-Silverbacks matchup with video game FIFA '08.

The cryptic statement leads to speculation of how Chad originally arrived at "3-2 Sting victory."

In response to the brave soothsaying of the Sting striker, Atlanta Silverbacks forward Macoumba Kandji asked, "Chad who?"

Nani J. Cootsack reporting for Tricky Trail Sports

Gino, take the jag.

Playoff hockey starts Wednesday. Hopefully the Penguins play better than they act. (Side note, Colby Armstrong now plays for the Thrashers). (Video doesn't start until 9 seconds in for some reason).

Trade Decreases Cincinnati's Unintentional Humor Level

Former Red, John Coutlangus, reacts to a "goosing"

by then-manager, Jerry Narron.

Uh oh. Has the fire-sale already begun?

Today the Reds traded left-handed reliever, Jon Coutlangus, widely believed to be the first MLB player whose name sounds a lot like "cunnelingus." In return, the Reds obtained single-A outfielder, Daniel Perales, whose name merely sounds like "paralysis."

Most pro scouts descrbe Perales as, "Who???" The Reds will also receive three trinkets to be named later, likely to include a charm braclet, a popcorn scratch-and-sniff sticker, and a My Little Pony.

Guess It's Time To Pry That Thing From Your Cold, Dead Hands, Huh?

Gun owners everywhere mourn the loss of gun advocate, ass munch, and conservative shill, Charlton Heston, who died Saturday. The rest of us couldn't care less.

Personally, I don't give two shits about Charlton Heston, the actor. He starred in Ben-Hur, The Ten Commandments, and Planet of the Apes, three movies among many that mean nothing to me.

As a political activist, I don't know of many who could boast of a bigger political U-turn than this man. Read his Wikipedia page, here. It is pretty remarkable. In the '60's, Heston supported JFK, protested a segregated theater in which one of his films was debuting, and stood side-by-side, literally, with Martin Luther King, Jr., in supporting the civil rights movement.

But by the 1980's, Heston had officially transformed into the complete and total asshole those of us born in the 1970's and later grew to know and loathe: an opponent of affirmative action; a staunch advocate of gun rights, and self-proclaimed "culture warrior." Reading up on the man, his positions, and some of his speeches, he really was Rush Limbaugh (without a radio booth) before Limbaugh was Limbaugh - there is the irrationality, the hyperbole, the paranoia, and the endless self-victimization that has made the conservative movement the petty series of hate objects that it is today.

I mean, it takes a certain level of self-delusion to actually believe, as ol' Chuck did, that you can be a purveyor of the 'why-don't-we-white-guys-have-civil-rights-like-all-the-minorities,' line of shit that rednecks can't get enough of, and yet still boast of your experiences with Dr. King in the 1960's, as if it's all part of the same struggle for civil rights.

Luckily for him (and for us), he is no longer under seige from the godless, liberal, homosexual agenda-advancing, CNN-watching, New York Times-reading, Olbermann-watching, Huffington Post-reading, gun-opposing, abortion-enabling, terrorist apologists who have been out to get him and bring down all of midwest and southern America since the 1970's.

Top 5 Meaningless Bits of Vocalized Air from George Grande and Chris Welsh on 4/4

To learn more about famed Reds TV broadcaster George Grande, you might like to visit his Myspace site, or read his ostensibly accurate biography.

5. Chris Welsh listed about a 1,000 reasons why Pat Burrell runs the bases with his gloves in-hand; chief among them was that Burrell would prevent "chipping a nail."

4. To paraphrase Grande and Welsh describing Chase Utley, after his 2nd homer, "he's a gamer, a grinder; strong forearms, strong hands." I'm pretty sure the guys would love to have him up to the booth.

3. "Message sent, message delivered." Grande bestowed this poetry upon Reds fans after Javier Valentin laced a double down the right field line.

2. Color-commentator, and Grande booth partner, Chris Welsh actually compared a fan along the right field line, who was hit in the belly with a foul ball in a meaningless game, to Steve Bartman of Chicago Cubs lore. What?

1. George called Reds' 3rd Base Coach, Mark Berry, "The Bear." Three questions:
a. Has Mark Berry ever been called "The Bear" in his life?
b. Has Mark Berry ever spoken to George Grande?
c. Does George Grand know that my brother's nickname is "The Bear?"

Honorable Mention: "Hi, Hello, and Welcome," the trademark greeting with which Grande introduces all broadcasts. Also, late in the game, Grande lyricized about rising star Johnny Cueto: "Therrrrrrre's Johnny. Johnny looks good, Johnny B. Good, Johnny pitched good yesterday."

Delicious!

Some Fascinating Commercials during FSN Cincinnati Reds Broadcast

1. Farmersonly.com

Something tells me that Farmersonly.com doesn't advertise during Yankees games. Maybe during Royals games, maybe even Cardinals games, because you see, as indicated in their tagline, "city folk just don't get it!"

As founder Jerry Miller puts it, You don't have to be a farmer, but you do have to have good old-fashioned down to earth values." That sounds like code for something. I'm not sure what though.

2. Bronson Arroyo Rockin' Out for J.T.M. Hamburgers
I tried to find a clip of Arroyo's acoustic jam with hair flowing like he was in Tesla, but what I found was this, totally worth the :52 of your life. (seriously, I searched "site:youtube.com jtm bronson arroyo and this is what I - Rubber Band Girl; don't worry, it's safe, sort of)

Just add Chris Welsh, cheeseburgers and cheeserock to this photo and you can imagine the JTM spot.

3. Americheer - Seriously, a cheering competition promoted during baseball? What beer gut old fart on his couch gulping some Hudy Delight is gonna be interested in a gaggle of young, fit, tender... actually this makes perfect sense. Nevermind.

Cuetonati Reds

Johnny Cueto, please don't hang out with Chris Henry.

Oops I Did It Again

It's a Man's World!

First off, I am both honored and humbled to be included in this Mensa-ish type blog. The world will no doubt be a better place because of it (the blog that is). Rather than bore people with introductions (and please don't call me Stretch), I'll let the GodFather of Soul (may he rest in peace) do it for me...