Top 80’s MLB star

With Opening Day of the greatest sport in the history of sports less than a month away, it only seemed fitting to debate something about Americas past time. America’s past time? Some would say that would be better suited in explaining our countries penchant for putting its own in debt or engaging in International combat. What America most certainly is not doing is participating in an intense 9 on 9, firing rock solid weapons at each other. Or is it? No, no see unlike the former, we leave the latter to professionals. We here at LND, like to fancy ourselves as half hearted Americans. Men who care more about the New York Yankees than the original yankees (i.e. your fellow man). Men who would rather do long toss, than toss long grenades. Men who just might do a crowhop mid-stroll. Not that we don’t salute those engaged in combat, we just aren’t the types to do it ourselves.
When thinking of a new season of baseball, I always like to think about past greats. Seeing Prince Albert demand everything but a stake in Anheuser Busch in order to resign with the Cards showed me what amazing things All Star professionals can request. I mean, Pujols is arguably the greatest player of the past decade. He has set countless records with the numbers he’s put up these first years of his career and has become the standard of the modern great baseball player. Hopefully he never gets linked to the juice, because if so, the only hitters making it in to the Hall from my era are gonna be Biggio, Chipper, and Jete, and those mentioned below. Sad. 
In the 90’s it was Junior Griffey. From 1990-99 one would be hard-pressed to find any single player that could match his power, speed, defense, and all around baseball charm. I literally wanted to not only play like Griffey, but BE him. Hell, I wore his cleats playing baseball simply because he did. As a baseball nut, I had Griffey’s before I had Jordan’s. Name another soul on this planet in my generation that could say the same. Tough titty, cause you won’t find one.
What I could not determine though was who exactly was the best player from the 80’s? Who was the single player who constantly inflicted fear in opposing teams before even stepping in the batter’s box? Who had that combination of everything and still outdid themselves seemingly every game. I have just the candidates, but first, I’d like to eliminate those who lacked a key intangible, or just played too much in another decade. No need to try to squeeze someone in there who didn’t dominate the entire decade.
Here are those that didn’t make the cut and why:
Jose Canseco– for obvious reasons.
Andre Dawson/Ryne Sandberg– They eliminated each other by splitting votes. Sorry guys. Blame WGN for showing Cubs games.
Ozzie Smith- Baseball’s version of “The Wiz” could only defend and steal an occassional base. As fas as power goes, I think Kirk Douglas has a better chance getting hired as an auctioneer before Ozzie would have ever belted 20 homers in a season. (He had 28 in his career, total)
Wade Boggs- He had a chance based solely on his Chuck Norris like beard that he fashioned into a wearable mainstay. That was  of course until he latched onto the dynasty, lost the beard, sold his Red Socked soul to the devil, and subsequently rode off on his high horse, literally, after the Yanks ’96 title. Boggs+horse+Yankees= GTFOOH (Get the fuck out of here!)
Robin Yount- Sure he switched from one demanding position (SS) to another (CF) and got a gold glove at both. But just because you look like the prototypical 1980’s baseball player, complete with a mean ‘stache, that doesn’t make you the best. That, and I swear every time he came to bat I thought I was gonna hear Scarlet Begonias. Good song. Great player. In both cases though, not the reasons people cheered. (Touch of Grey will never be defeated and it has the best music video of all time!)
George Brett- Unfortunately, Pine. Tar.
Tony Gwynn/Cal Ripken- Played too much in the 90’s
Nolan Ryan- played too much in every decade
Kirby Puckett- He’s the G.O.A.T., but he played in the 90’s as well and because of him, killing El Presidente Martinez is the last item on my bucket list. Why? Because he took my hero out and it killed me. I’m not saying I was sitting in my room with Adam’s Song playing in the background, but I was pretty upset.  
So with the elimination of these greats, I ask you: Who was the best MLB player of the 1980’s?
Mike Schmidt
I had a tough time including him and not picking Robin Yount. I mean, they were basically the same player. Enormous power, excellent defense, and a ‘stache that rivaled Magnum’s. He got the upper hand though because he delivered a title to Philly. Something Yount could not do in Milwaukee. Plus I needed to shout out a Philly guy for my buddy Nate.
(and before some novelist cries that he played the entire decade of the ’70’s as well, to them I say, so what? My rules.) 
80’s credentials- Led MLB in homers (313), 6 Gold Gloves, 3 MVP’s, 8 x AllStar, 6 Silver Sluggers, 1980 World Series Title, solid mustache
Dale Murphy
Question. Who was the first NL Outfielder to win back to back MVP’s? I could give you a million guesses and you would have never come up with Dale Murphy. For this reason, and the fact that seeing him live at Fulton County at the age of 9 was my first MLB live experience, guaranteed his entry. (Although Ron Gant was the true star of that game, hitting two homers so far I think I found the balls at home in Alabama.)
80’s credentials- Back to Back MVP’s, 5 Gold Gloves, 7 x AllStar, 4 Silver Sluggers, and……… I saw him play.
Ricky Henderson
 Who was and still is the greatest leadoff hitter of all time? Yes, Ricky. He was faster than anyone before him and talked more trash than anyone since. He was the original collar popper. Nothing made a young Dunn happier than seeing him tee off, do that little hop while popping his collar, and seeing the opposing pitcher snarl in disbelief. Ricky defined so many things in the sport that he very well could still dominate today. And if you ask him, he should be. He is the alltime leader in like a dozen categories, but this neon filled decade was his true coming out party. Just ask a Jays fan about the ’89 ALCS. Oh you can’t because we don’t live in Canada. But I’m sure you catch my drift.
80’s credentials- 130 steals in 1982 (still a record that will never be broken and was more than 10 teams had total that year), .400 OB%, 8 x AllStar, 2 Silver Sluggers (he batted leadoff!), 1 Gold Glove, 1 World Series Title, uncouthed swagger and a mean curl to boot
So there you have it. You can choose to agree or disagree, but in the end, we are satisfied, because you are debating. Can’t you just smell the fresh-cut grass and damp leather. Ahh, baseball season is here.

Sh!t that makes you most f@cking angry

Shield your childrens’ eyes. Lead the elderly into the next room. Save the innocent now. LND is about to get profane. If you don’t like the potty mouth, then what the fuck are you doing reading Late Night Debates in the first place?

Why all the warnings? Because this LND staffer is having a baaaaaad fucking week. I just shat away $11,750 selling my old house (thanks for flooding the market with foreclosures, all you financial fucktards!), I got rear-ended by some New Jersey dickwagon and my dog ate a bunch of anti-inflamatories and had to get her stomach pumped full of charcoal to not die (for an additional cool $400) – and that was just Monday. And, to think, I’m going to Atlantic City this weekend. I’m sure that’s going to turn out well (To my friends: If I die at the hands of angry Eastern European strippers, avenge me.)

Before you offer me some cheese with all that whine, let me A) offer my pre-emptive “shut the fuck up” and B) concede that I understand there are plenty of folks who have it worse. I could be this guy. And you know what Mr. Tree Man is sitting there thinking? At least I’m not from Haiti.

What I’m trying to say is I’m not here to whine. I’m here to be angry. I’m fucking angrier than a constipated Lewis Black stuck in a rehab clinic with a strict no hookers policy. I’m angrier than Lou Ferrigno in Hulk makeup at ComicCon being asked by a 12-year-old if he’s ever met the real Hulk, Eric Bana. I’m angrier than…Oh, what? You get the point? Fuck you! I’m angrier than Dick Cheney after … well, I’m just angrier than Dick Cheney. That’s pretty goddamn angry, people.

And when I’m this pissed off, I just want to get more pissed off thinking about shit that pisses me off the most. So harness the rage, kick a puppy and soak in my flooding tub of darkness, bitches. Here is just a sampling of the things that really grind my gears:

That a crazy asshole killed Auburn’s 130-year-old live oaks on Toomer’s Corner


The greatest tradition I have ever experienced this side of Christmas is what takes place in Auburn, Ala., at a little intersection in the prettiest little village on the plains called Toomer’s Corner following every victory of the Auburn Tigers football team. The masses descend to unleash thousands of rolls of toilet paper in celebration. It’s a uniquely college experience, it’s euphoric, it’s as inhibitionless as showing your titties at Mardi Gras. It will also be no more.

Some crazy Bear Bryant-worshipping fucknad from the backsticks of Buttrape, Alabama, decided to act on a 20-year-old grudge by dumping enough herbicide on the famous 130-year-old trees to kill ’em dead. If I could punish this redneck dipshit, I’d just desecrate his Bear Bryant sex doll. But I hope the authorities of Alabama just set him free because Auburn has almost as many batshit crazy banjo-playing, mother fucking, sister fingering, Deliverence-looking fans as Alabama and I imagine they have something a little less penitentiary and a little more penetration in mind for the Tide Tree Poisoner.

That Glen ‘Big Baby’ Davis is 6’9 and can’t dunk

Seriously, Big Baby? I am 6’3, white and sit at a desk all day, and I can throw down a volleyball on a regulation 10 foot rim. Your horrific attempt at a breakaway dunk is pathetic enough to just make me sad, but the fact that you are 6’9 makes that perhaps the most significant dunk fail in NBA history.

Big Baby is a fairly lovable guy. He cries when Kevin Garnett gets mad at him. He looks like Shrek. He seems like the kind of guy who would start giggling if you whispered the word “poop” in his ear. But this isn’t about Baby. This is about being a 6’9 professional basketball player with less ups than Stephen Hawking.

John Boehner’s crying rag

For fuck’s sake, man! You’re the fucking Speaker of the House of fucking Representatives! Man the fuck up and stop crying. You’re not winning hearts and votes with your fake ass routine. You just look like a walking advertisement for lithium. Every politician on the planet knows you save your big cry for the press conference after you get caught cheating on your wife, but this fucking douchebag is out there crying over votes to make Ronald Reagan’s birthday a national holiday. Man, I hate that fucking guy.

New Jersey

Fuck you for wasting 90 minutes of my life on the way from Philadelphia to New York, you peanut-in-a-piece-of-shit looking waste of space. The only thing worse than the industrial stink haze that hangs in your air like the smell of vagina in a hot room after sex is your people. To experience the giant hair, orange skin and grating voice of the average New Jerseyan is to understand why the state leads the nation in number of people committing suicide by throwing themselves in front of commuter trains.


Cell phones

Just because I own a cell phone does not mean I am obligated to talk to you when you call me. The only thing I hate more than cell phones – people that won’t stop playing with their phones when you’re around them. Oh, no, don’t mind me, iPhone guy. I’ll just sit here and rub soy sauce on my balls while you message 17 people who are also probably acting like assfaces and ignoring the real life people sitting next to them.


Unnecessary sequels

Just stop already. Fuck me!





When the store is sold out of delicious Totino’s frozen pizzas

Goddammit, I am actually getting angrier just thinking about this.








Want to vote on which of these things make you the most angry? Fuck you – I’m too mad to put up a poll. Put up your own fucking poll.

Who Goes H.A.M.?

When the Super Bowl beer and nacho B.G.’s have ceased to cramp our styles, pun intended, LND usually likes to spend their post SB days catching up with those other non-football variables in life, like wives, and feelings. Not the crushing feeling of embarrassment that the Black Eyed Peas should have for being utterly terrible. Or the ickiness that Slash’s leg feels after being dryhumped by that dog known as Fergie. No, these feelings should actually make you want to not kill yourself. They should be unselfish. Why do you think Valentine’s Day falls immediately after the Super Bowl? It was some guy’s slick idea of having a whole day to apologize for not paying any attention to said partner for the last six months. Way to go buddy.  

Now, because yet another episode of House Hunters International just will not do, tricking said partners into a movie night with a good flick is always a solid move. Funny I should bring this up because this circumstance just  happened to one LND’er Monday after the SB. Since my second disc of Season 4 of The Wire had yet to arrive, I happened to stumble upon Casino for the 3,747th time.  Yes, I am utterly aware of how great this film is. Although there was one scene in particular that caught my attention this time around. Since the majority of sane people have seen the film I’ll explain the scene. Nicky Santoro is at the blackjack table and is getting housed. A phone call to Ace Rothstein from Billy Sherbert tells us that he has already lost a significant amount of money and is demanding another $50,000 credit. (Mind you, Nicky is being heavily investigated by everyone in law enforcement and isn’t supposed to be in the casino.) Nicky then starts raising hell causing Ace to come calm his friend down. Ace arrives, diffuses the situation by granting Nicky a $10,000 credit, and leaves. Or so he thought. Immediately after Ace leaves, Billy proceeds to eye Nicky. Mistake number 1. Before the old geezer can react Nicky rips the phone off the wall and proceeds to beat down a defenseless Don Rickles. Now, this would make most criminals leave immediately. I mean the heat on Nicky must be at boiling point now right? He just screamed on the HNIC and layed the smackdown on the casino manager. No, no, not Nicky Santoro. He simply walks back to the table and, after berating a couple more dealers, plays on. One word. Gangsta.

And with that I ask the obvious of all questions: What criminal character should have been caught or murdered long before they actually were? (If they were ever caught. hint, hint)

Nicky Santoro (Joe Pesci-Casino)

For the reason I named above. Forget about the fact he boned his best friends girl, was always over-the-top, and had one of the best BJ scenes EVER, this guy was the CRIMINAL. Who else has the ability to run Vegas when he wasn’t even supposed to be there!  Bottom line, it is true that there is not much that separates him from say Tommy DeVito in Goodfellas, but Nicky was a monster in his own right. Although, he did inevitably get his comeuppance in a scene that always makes me want to call my brother and say if he ever gets me beat down in cornfield, our relationship is dunzo.

Best line(s):

Nicky Santoro: Listen to me Anthony. I got your head in a fuckin’ vise. I’ll squash your head like a fuckin’ grapefruit if you don’t give me a name. Don’t make me have to do this, please. Don’t make me be a bad guy, come on.
Tony Dogs: Fuck you.
Nicky Santoro: This motherfucker, you believe this? Two fucking days and nights! Fuck me? *Fuck me?* You motherfucker!

Dexter Morgan (Michael C. Hall-Dexter)

I really debated on choosing Dex because of the obvious factors weighing against him. He not only works for the Miami Metro police department, but in its forensic lab. His closest companion, his sister, is a detective. He has been under the suspicion of a number of his colleagues. Wait a minute! These are the reasons why his being a serial killer are all the more amazing!  He bestied a fellow serial killer, just to get closer to him. He managed to have dozens of the bodies he dumped be discovered, and somehow finagled his way out of it. He even became the best friend of  Miami’s DA, who just so happened to want to join in on the fun. And he was the lone person at his wife’s murder scene, admitted to the murder, and didn’t get caught! A serial killer who kills criminals. Killer!

Best Line-“Harry was a great cop here in Miami. He taught me how to think like one; he taught me how to cover my tracks. I’m a very neat monster.”

Tommy “Bunz” Bundy (DMX-Belly 

I chose this character simply because of the absurdity of his actions, and the ridiculous statements that oozed out of his mouth like the ganja smoke from Lenox’s mangled grill. From his classic lines we know that Buns not only has never read a book (“Never nigga!”), but proceeded to then break down how Sincere simply cannot provide nourishment to his child by feeding him books. Whether he is busting security guards in the best opening scene of a film not named Saving Private Ryan, or busting a wholesome Taral Hicks’ ass in a bedroom scene that makes men envy and women fawn, he smoked, complained, and banged his way into the hearts of millions. Even if it was just a long music video starring DMX as himself.

Best line- “Fuck a book! Get Money.”

Colonel William Tavington(Jason Isaacs-The Patriot)

Never has there been a villain in a movie who I wanted dead from the first scene I see him in. OH MY GOD did this guy get under my skin! Who shoots a person’s son right in front on them and then sums it up with “stupid boy”.  Cold-blooded killers, that’s who. Not only did he have his next in command completely mindfucked, but he was smart as hell too. Why do you think one Heath Ledger is no longer with us? Overdose? Nonsense. It was the slick ass maneuvers of one of the Queen’s best assassins that took out the Joker. Let’s just say, the end of this film is the last time I cheered in a theater. Or for Mel Gibson.  

best line(s):

Colonel William Tavington: [Tavington’s searching for Martin] … I wish to know his whereabouts. So, anyone who comes forward may be forgiven their treason.
Colonel William Tavington: Very well, you had your chance.
[turns about to leave]
Hardwick: Wait!
[Hardwick tells Tavington everything]
Colonel William Tavington: Thank you very much. Shut the doors!
Hardwick: But you said… we’d be forgiven!
Colonel William Tavington: And indeed you may! But that’s between you and God.

Omar Little (Michael K. Williams-The Wire)

To effectively explain Omar, I’d like to tell you a story. When I was in the seventh grade, a couple of friends and I were out bike riding. As we rode through a neighboring residence, we proceeded to pass a “rival” group of eighth graders. One such upper classman was none too pleased that a friend of mine was now dating his ex. A few obscenities and fake tough gestures by yours truly later and we sped out of there, chests raised high. I thought that was the end of it. Oh, how the young are so naive. In school a few weeks later, as I left Home Ec and it’s oh-so-tasty “pizza”(which consisted of shredded gov’t cheese, red tomato water, and cardboard pads that resembled an eighth graders acne,crater-faced breakout), and proceeded to the bathroom, who should I bump into, alone, in the hallway. Yep, the main guy of the other crew. That alien ripping itself out of my stomach, just saw blue-and-red’s after drinking til 4 a.m., I’m literally about to cry right now, fear that hit me in that instance. That, ladies and gentlemen, is Omar.  

Best line: “Oh, you must be mistakin’ me for somebody who repeat theyselves.”

So, please help LND select the best criminal. And try not to wet yourself.

Best (or least lame) commercials of Super Bowl XLV

As someone who considers himself a serious sports fan, and who has been a faithful Green Bay Packers fan since Don Majkowski was tossing the pigskin to Sterling Sharpe, I must say I’m a little embarrassed to be writing a blog about the best commercials of the Super Bowl in the immediate aftermath of the Pack taking the Vince Lombardi Trophy back to Title Town. But dammit, I committed to writing this blog before the game and I’m not going to let the torture of watching three hours worth of 30 second clips that try way too hard go to waste.

And if the Native American-looking guy in Black Eyed Peas is willing to wear a magic spaceman suit with light up panels so that Fergie doesn’t kick him out of the group, then I can suck this one up and bloviate about some failed efforts to try and make me buy shit. And by buy shit, I mean buy cars. I did the math — in the four and a half hour Super Bowl broadcast, 20% was actual football game, 5% was animals acting like people, 2% was promo for Johnny Depp movies, 15% was Fox Network jerking off to the military and the remaining 58% was car commercials. Jesus, automakers, you have a couple of good months and all of a sudden you’re dropping cash on Super Bowl commercials like you’re Charlie Sheen in Hookers and Blow Mart. And Chevy was the worst offender. Hey, Government Motors, we remember that bailout, dammit. Wasn’t it like 12 days ago? Don’t you still owe me a few billion dollars?

I’ll give Chevy a pass, though. Automakers have to advertise to compete, and GM dropping $3 million per Super Bowl spot was still a better display of decision-making than putting BEP on at halftime. We all knew that performance was going to be atrocious so let’s give the Black Eyed Peas a little credit where credit is due. If Fergie didn’t make it painfully obvious enough, at least they were actually singing (hence them just standing in the middle of the stage. You don’t want to hear Fergie trying to sing while winded after an overexuberant bump-and-grind on Slash). And, because his contribution to BEP can’t be overstated, at least Native American dude provided solid entertainment standing there as a human Simon game while the “talented” members got to use the microphones.

Without further adieu, and as my beer starts to get warm, I give you the best, or least lame, 2011 Super Bowl commercials.

5.  “Misunderstanding” – Chevy Cruze

Why? Because old people are funny. You don’t do high brow humor with only 30 seconds in your pocket. You pretty much aim for the lowest common denominator, and old people are simply the low hanging fruit of low brow. Whether it’s old people pooping themselves or falling and not being able to get back up, nothing says LOL like the deterioration of the aged.

4. “Tiny Dancer” – Budweiser

Why Budweiser elected to make this a 60 second spot for three seconds of payoff at the end, I don’t know. But I guess I’d rather have 57 seconds of bad commercial, including forced gratuitous appearance of Budweiser Clydesdales, followed by three seconds of funny than just 60 seconds of bad commercial. This got me to thinking, though. Apparently, nothing can seem bad when it involves a large group of people singing Tiny Dancer. It makes me wonder: Did Almost Famous just trick us into thinking it was a good movie because of the group Tiny Dancer scene? Isn’t it suspicious how blatantly talentless Kate Hudson has appeared in every movie since starring as the precocious Penny Lane. People, we have been hoodwinked!

3. “Hungry Pug” – Doritos

Yesterday’s Super Bowl commercial comic gold: knocking people down. Today’s Super Bowl commercial comic gold: Pugs in slow motion. The best entry from Doritos’ Crash the Super Bowl contest has both paid tribute to its forebears and set the new gold standard in TV ad humor in one seamless effort.

2. “Poundin’ Beaver” – Bridgestone

You see, the guy saves the beaver by swerving to miss him, then some time later, the beaver saves the guy by gnawing down a tree to block the road and save him from driving into flooding river. Now that’s 30-second storytelling, folks. Of course, you don’t give a shit about the story, or the fact that the guy’s Bridgestone tires made it all possible, because who the hell even pays attention to what tires they’re buying? Ask any non-NASCAR fan what tires they want on their car, know the answer? “Uh, are those the cheapest ones?” Anyways, while you didn’t remember this commercial was about tires, you do remember it making you spit up 6 ounces of partially digested queso on your girlfriend’s cat when that crazy beaver gave the dude a chest pound.

1. “The Force” – Volkswagen

Heavy borrowing of iconic pop culture? Check. Funny animal faces? Check. Close up of creepy baby doll? Check, check and check. VW had the commercial comedy formula brewing on this one. In fact, I’d go so far as to say this was the only truly GOOD commercial of the entire Super Bowl. But watch the commercial again and pay particularly close attention to the Darth Vader kid’s body. You can not tell me that “kid” is not actually a midget! I am convinced, and that is why “The Force” is my pick as the best commercial of Super Bowl XLV.

Best Thing about the Super Bowl

Super Bowl Sunday is almost here and LND is here to tell you exactly how the first 10 minutes of the game will go – while everyone is talking about how badly Christina Aguilera butchered the National Anthem there will be a coin toss that the Packers will win and all of their fans in the crowd will go crazy.  The Steelers will kick off to the Packers and then half of the people at your Super Bowl party will immediately lose interest in the game and begin to talk about how good the cheese dip is or whether it’s funnier to call him “Rapelisberger” or “Rapistberger”.  More people will stop watching the game as the Packers drive for the next couple minutes before they punt the ball away and then when basically nobody at the party other than the people wearing Polamalu or Rodgers jerseys are paying attention this will happen: An extremely feminine voice (note – could be a female or could belong to an effeminate male) will shout “Everyone be quiet, the commercials are starting.”

LND is here to warn you – don’t be that lady voice.  You know why? Because the commercials suck.  They suck a big ol’ fat one.  Nobody else cares.  What’s the last Super Bowl commercial you can remember? It was the Bud-Weis-Er frogs and in retrospect that crap wasn’t funny either. In 1995 the commercials were funny because streaming video on the internet had not yet been invented and neither had DVRs. If you want to watch funny 30 second video clips go in the other room and watch YouTube or Funny or Die.  You’ll stop annoying everyone else at the party and the clips won’t be trying to sell you things you don’t need or already buy anyway. Here are four things you should be enjoying instead of watching Rapistberger, Ray Lewis and Justin Tuck dance with a lizard.

Food – The Super Bowl is the only day of the year where you can show up somewhere with a bag of chips and a jar of salsa, and in exchange eat chicken wings, seven layer dip, pizza, potato chips, chick-fil-a nugget trays, nachos, bean dip, veggies, hamburgers, hot dogs, baked beans, and a 10 foot long submarine sandwich. It is also the only day of the year you might get a chance to eat a football stadium made of twinkies, chips, and slim jims.

Beer – I don’t think an explanation is needed.

Prop Bets – If you don’t know what a prop bet is prepare to get hooked. These things are amazing.  Since there is only one game to bet on this day, Vegas needed more ways to generate cash flow in their sports books so they came up with bets on pretty much any aspect of the game you can think of and cross-action bets between the game and other sports.  These range from obvious ones like which team will score first and who will be the game’s MVP down to one’s you would have to be insane to bet on like who will win the coin toss.  Here are my favorite prop bets for this years game (note – you can actually wager money on all of these).

1. How long will Christina Aguilera hold the note “Brave” at the end of the National Anthem – over/under 6 seconds?  I’ll take the Over

2. Will there be a score in the first 3min 30 seconds of the 1st quarter? No way

3. How Many Times will FOX show Jerry Jones on TV during the Game – over/under 2.5?  I say Under

4. How Many Times will FOX mention “Brett Favre” on TV during the Game – over/under 2.5? I say Way Over

5. Who will the FOX announcers say has better hair on TV during the Game – Troy Polamalu or Clay Matthews? – I’ll go with Polamalu

6. What Color will the Gatorade be that is dumped on the Head Coach of the Winning Super Bowl Team? – yellow is the favorite at 3/2 odds closely followed by water. I’ll take the long shot on Red at 15/2 odds

7. Will a current NFL Player be arrested during Super Bowl Week? I’ll say Yes

8. Blake Griffin (LAC) Total Rebounds against Miami Heat (+7.5)vs. Pittsburgh Steelers Total Points – I’ll take the Steelers points

9. Rajon Rondo (BOS) Total Points + Assists against Orlando Magic vs. Green Bay Packers Total Points – I’ll take the Packers points

10. Will Fergie be dressed as a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader at any point during the Halftime show? I hate Fergie

The Game Itself – People will try to tell you that the Super Bowl is always a blow out.  Over the last 7 seasons the average margin of victory in the Super Bowl is 7 points. That’s only 1 score. These games have been great recently.  Stop pretending it’s 1995 again.  The people who tell you the game sucks are the same jerks trying to shush people during the commercials. Just punch them in the ear and then enjoy what will be the last football game you get to watch until September.

America, the Ridiculous: Greatest absurdities of our great nation

America, the ridiculous, how I love you. For all the great things about you that don’t ever need to be repeated again (I’ve had about enough of your pompous lip, amber waves of grain), even the things in this country that are utterly deplorable are so entertaining that you have to just shake your head and say, “Oh, America! You…”

Let’s try it out:

You: Hey, America, a cabal of private companies conspired to skirt every one of your safety regulations en route to a preventable disaster that killed 11 people and dumped 5 million barrels of oil into the Gulf of Mexico, utterly destroying the region’s fishing and tourism industry for at least a year. What are you going to do?

America: Well, sounds like we need to create some new jobs then. How bout we do that by opening up offshore deepwater drilling in the Gulf without making any improvements or changes to prevent the same thing from happening again? And gas prices are getting kind of high, so let’s talk about more drilling again!

You: Oh, America! You…

It just makes me want to sing about this magical land we share:

O beautiful for spacious guts,

For amber waves of peroxide hair,

For purple cartoon dinosaurs

With all your fruity flair!

America! America!

God damn, the absurdity

Are those Kardashians on my TV again?

From E! to M-TeeeVeeeee!

Well, now that I’ve got that patriotic flourish out of my system, let’s try to figure out the absolutely, most ridiculous things about our great nation.

1. Totino’s pizzas still only cost .99 cents

Depending on the cost of living in your neighborhood and the quality of your local Walmart, Totino’s deliciously life-shortening Crisp Crust Party Pizza’s are still readily available for under a buck. Let’s think about that. What are the inputs that go into delivering you a Totino’s combination pizza? Pig, cow, wheat, corn, cheese, plastic, paper. You’re telling me you can raise cows and pigs and process their nasty bits, chemically produce low grade cheese, grow wheat and corn and refine it down several steps into “crust”, put it all together in a factory, pump it full of more preservatives than Bob Barker, wrap it, ship it and power the freezers to store it, all for under a buck? There’s a lesson here you should probably fear about what goes on behind the closed doors of the American food manufacturing machine, but who are we at LND to question the down right magical, delicious and economic results provided by Don Totino?

2. Gun control? We’d rather be shot in the face!

Maybe we shouldn’t sell automatic assault weapons anymore? HELP, AMERICA, SOME COMMIE IS TRYING TO KILL THE SECOND AMENDMENT! No, no, sorry. My bad. How about we just do away with extended ammo clips, you know, because it typically doesn’t take 30 shots to shoot a deer or kill the guy trying to rob your house? HOW AM I GOING TO DEFEND MYSELF FROM THE TYRANNY OF GOVERNMENT, YOU SOCIALIST SOB! Oh, wow, didn’t know that was going to be a problem. Um, ok, I’ve got it. How about we just use readily available technology to identify who bought the bullet just in case, you know, that bullet is used in one of the 15,000 to 20,000 murders in the U.S. every year? I WON’T BE A VICTIM! AIN’T NO CRIME WOULD HAPPEN IF I HAD MY GUNS! Well, I guess I shouldn’t even bother bringing up having to conduct background checks at gun shows… DON’T TREAD ON ME! GO AMERICA!

Ah, yes, in a land where crazy people indiscriminately mow down whoever had the misfortune to be out trying to get that 2-for-1 special on chicken fingers more frequently than Sarah Palin passes on making a controversy about her, we are more worried about retaining our ability to overthrow the government by force than saving a few hundred completely savable lives. Soooo, gun crowd, you know it’s pretty easy to overthrow the American government, right? You just vote them out. Or, ask Tunisia, you just use Twitter. Ok, now that we’ve got that solved, I am starting a new nonprofit: I will set up a Twitter account for every Castle Law-loving, militia-joining redneck that turns in their home arsenal.

3. Justin Beiber pays $750 for his haircut

For reals, J-Biebs (a Canadian) reportedly pays American stylist Vanessa Price a cool $750 for EVERY TRIM of that massive mop-top. At one trim per two weeks, that’s only $19,500 per annum for upkeep of “The Bieber.” Now, I’m not going to hate on the kid because he made a hairdo that has existed for about 40 years into an international sensation, but this kid has got a long time to live and, for anyone who has followed the careers of Lindsey Lohan or Macauley Kulkin knows, that fame and fortune isn’t going to last forever. Someone needs to tell him how easy it is to blow millions on overpriced haircuts and the international army of 16-year-old dirty snatches trying to suck up all his coin like a cheap parlor trick at a rundown strip club. J-Biebs – hear me and hear me good: It’s called Flowbee. You can get the same do for the one time low, low price of  $83.

4. Public health care, definitely communist

Let’s get all John Locke, social contract on the peoples. Ok, let’s not. But how does it make sense that America finds universal agreement that the country should provide free public education to all and yet we should not provide free public access to stuff to keep you alive? Let’s ask loud yelling loves America guy again: FREE MARKET, BEST CARE IN THE WORLD, GOVERNMENT…NO INNOVATION, LONG WAITS, GO TO FRANCE COMMIE!

Ok, thanks for that eloquent explanation, loud yelling loves America guy. But has free public education stifled the thousands of high performing, insanely expensive private schools around the nation that give any attendee a massive leg up in life over their public school competition? Doesn’t seem so. So why can’t those wealthy enough continue to support private insurance plans and pay for the latest health care innovations, kind of like how rich kids at private school get a better education than poor kids at public school?

5. People still like Anne Hathaway

I was absolutely crushed this week at the news that Anne Hathaway had landed the role as the new Catwoman. How could Christopher Nolan, who to this point has directed one of the most amazing reboots of a series destroyed by Joel Schumaker, Jim Carrey and Arnold Schwarzenegger ever, make such a terrible casting decision?

Hathaway is the exact saccharin, silly, sugar sweet sort of thespian that destroyed Batman the first time when Schumaker took over from the appropriately dark Tim Burton. Seriously, just look at this woman’s filmography: The Princess Diaries (1 and 2)? Hoodwinked? Becoming Jane? Valentine’s Day? Rachel Getting Married? BRIDE WARS???? How does this woman keep getting work? Jesus, The Devil Wears Prada? Yeah, the devil made me watch that movie with my wife.

There is no greater testament to America’s endless capacity to forgive and love a girl-next-door face than the fact Anne Hathaway still has a career.

So, I ask you, America, it is your country. What is the most absurd thing about us?

To retire or not to retire?

For most Americans that slave at “working man’s” jobs this holiest of days can’t come fast enough. The day you can officially retire. And get paid for it mind you. Remember, unemployed is not retired.  Unfortunately, if you were born after 1975 the chances of you actually getting any Social Security is about as good as one of the Kardashian girls winning an all natural body contest. BTW, I was just walking down Park avenue in the city and saw an advertisement for the pretty one and the plastic one’s television show. I ask, exactly how are they going to “take” Manhattan. If I remember correctly, the Muppets took this joint years ago. Good luck battling Khlo…uh Miss Piggy for that shit. J/S. Yes, I joked the Kardashian’s again, but when you hate someone with every ounce of your soul it’s tough not to continuously find ways to insult them. Anyways, the point of all of this is to determine why, when most can’t wait to quit working, do athletes and artists seem unable to muster the ability to put ego aside and admit that they just ain’t got it anymore. On an average day most slop around like saggy titties on an August afternoon, waiting for the one time where they can validate their shitty record, simply so they can continue playing. (Here’s looking at you Favre.)  

And just in case you were fishing for a way to exacerbate their already sad situation, add the title of “former Champion” to the retiree. Forget about it! Most will give anything to taste that sweet morsel of victory again. Some will give a little too much. But can you blame them? Our society prides itself by ending out on top. Why do you think men shutter when they’re called “bottoms”. That’s not the same you say. Fine, then next time you get home and it’s GO TIME, tell your significant other you want to be the bottom. Yeah, I thought so.

So with this in mind LND asks the simple question of…….Which former “Champion” who is retir(ing)ed would have the best comeback career.

Evander Holyfield


The inspiration for this piece might not have a legitimate shot at resurrecting his career, but he will resurrect something. What that exactly is, I’m not quite sure. On a side note before I get into why he should or should not comeback, I do have to mention an interesting thought that just made me quiver ever so slighty. Doesn’t the former champs name remind you of a late 70’s/early 80’s R&B singer? I can just hear the radio commercial with the “We Are Family” instrumental playing softly in the background as the announcer yells….One Night Only! The Black Pack! Starring Barry White, Luther Vandross, Teddy Pendergrass, and….. Evannnder Holyfield! I can just see women fawning over this quartet. I mean I was born in 1981 and I am half black. Something had to sway my blonde haired, blued eyed mom’s mind. (therein lies the shudder inducing thought)  But I digress. This man just might have a shot at recapturing the crown though. I mean we’re talking about a man who head-butted his way to two victories over Tyson. (I saw the Tyson doc, and yes, Tyson was out of shape, but Evander might as well had been Zidane.) He slugged his way through real Heavyweight bouts with Lennox “I’m British, not Jamaican” Lewis and, and he managed to go this entire new millenium without sniffing a ring with either Klitschko brother. Do I even need to bring up his light’s out movements on Dancing with the Stars? Or his money cameo in Necessary Roughness. The man is a damn chameleon! Or, Evander Holyfield. Regardless, aided with performance enhancing drugs or not, he’ll do whatever he has to do to win. And with brass balls like that, I see a new champ* on the horizon.

* I could have petitioned for Ali, but come on man. Be serious. He wouldn’t even be able to hold his hand up to touch gloves. Ha, could you imagine. His shaky glove slowly vibrating across an opponents face like a spazzing eyelid. I shouldn’t laugh at the picture of this, but I like to laugh at things. Sue me. Who are you, the Hollywood Foreign Press Association? Get a sense of humor. Oh yeah, you’re reading our blog, so you already do.

Brett Favre (if he stays retired)

Since the majority of my every being thinks that this time is finally it, I will go ahead and add the penis flasher to this list. Yes, I know he has reneged on his declaration of retiring more than Hov, but just like S Dot, he actually had more in him to give when he came back. When Jay starts doing tracks with Soulja Boy Tell ‘Em or Wocka Flocka (whose name sounds like the sound effect PacMan makes when he’s eating blue ghosts), only then will he be in the state that Brett’s presently in. So in turn, no way in hell should Favre come back. Plus, could you imagine the sex scandal that he would bring about this time around? First time he fondled some masseuse’s(?). Second time he text his penis like Kanye. I bet the third time around he’d go all Screech and just drop a porno. Why not? He is Brett Favre. Admit it. You most certainly would watch his sex tape. At least we know the girl would be ball’s hot.   


Haha, I added this simply because I needed people to read something not rape related about him. But he did have sex with a teenager. Gross. He must not be completely healed from that headshot he took for the Miami Sharks. He did get his million dollars though, and Steamin’ Willie Beamon did drive them to victory, so you never know.

Queen (the band, not her majesty)

Why Queen? Because they were the first to proclaim in an awesome song  just how much they were champions. And dare I argue with the first fully “out”, but fully accepted musical genius in one Fred Mercury? I dare not. I can just see his band mates squeezing out a few more millions by standing his mangled corpse upright as the drug induced crowd, completely oblivious to the fact that Freddy Mercury died almost 20 years ago, all in unison start wailing ….”No time for looooosers, cause we are the Champiuuuns, of the woorrrld.” Glorious. Someone gets me that Ivory that Meth and Red had in How High, but I’s need the more purple one…. named Mercury.

All of these choices are plausible in their own way, but none top my true pick of a forgotten champion who never took his heart completely out of New Jersey……Daniel Larusso

Fuck Will’s kid and Amelia Earhart’s crippled ass, Ralph Macchio is the true Karate Kid/man. He’s as untouchable of a  champion as I have ever seen. He won the All Valley Karate Championship not by joining the faves (Kobra Kai), but by becoming a team of one (Miyagi Dojo). Reminds me of when GP and Malone tried to join that Laker squad only to get roundhoused by the better “team”, the Pistons. I mean we are talking about a guy who can’t lose. He’s no Parker Lewis, but things in Alabama did look bleak before Mona Lisa Vito broke down the obvious similarities between a 1963 Pontiac Tempest and his 1964 Skylark, both of which had metallic mint green paint jobs. Only someone who can break a half-dozen blocks of ice can muster this type of resilience. We are talking about a man who overcame a language gap to survive a typhoon, and in his third adventure, rescued a bonsai tree by repelling like 100 feet down a gorge , all while overcoming the wicked ways of Terry Silver. And remember, he accomplished this while also disguising the fact that little Danny Larusso suddenly had a five o’clock shadow and a lingering back problem, obviously from fighting. (Because he couldn’t have been like 35 when he did this movie!) This is a champion who dated not only Elizabeth Shue, but a Teen Witch to boot. Bottom line, not many people can call a grizzled old Asian war vet their “best friend”, but then again, how many people could get away with being a shower for Halloween. Just one. Ralph Macchio.

So there you have it. Who will it be? The soulful crooner\turned Heavyweight champ? A couple of sexually deviant All Pro’s? A long deceased lead singer fronted band? Or Joe Pesci’s nephew? You be the judge. If you need me, I’ll be over here, practicing my crane kick.

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