Two things about the Mets’ 5-4 win over the Giants on Tuesday night at big Shea.
1. Speed kills, and in baseball it can get you beat. Reyes puts the Mets up one with a single, then the threat of breaking for second base with rookie Tim Lincecum on the mound.
THIS JUST IN: That rook is as good as advertised. Late movement on a 95+ fastball and a 12-6 curve at about 80. Didn’t see a changeup worth mentioning, but for his first year in the Show, he can give the Giants quality starts with just those two pitches.
OK, back to ‘Rapido’ at first base. Lincecum doesn’t have a great move, he’s got quick feet and with Endy Chavez up, Reyes looked like he was just trying to time the break, but he didn’t need to when Carlos Beltran laced a ball into the right-field corner.
As soon as I saw where it was, I said ‘That’s a run’ and SF didn’t even try to get him at the plate.
The final straw, so to speak, isn’t even worth mentioning in terms of speed, but…
B. After watching Reyes not run all night, then walking him in the 11th, Armando ‘Smoke’ Benetiz must have believed he was going to go at some point.
I didn’t really see the balk that moved Rapido from first to second, but he would have stole it anyway. However the one that scored him from third, you can clearly see Smoke’s front knee buckle.
I’ve been using two nicknames, one is old and one is new. Rapido is Spanish for fast and can’t you hear the PA at Shea.
“Now batting, No. 7, Jose Rapido’ Reyes,” with a thick Spanish rolling of the r’s or something. Then the fans breaking into my favorite chant, adopted from the soccer pitch to the diamond…
Smoke is a different matter all together. He used to just throw smoke, 97 mph fastballs high, then mix it up with a high 80s spliter. He had some great years with the Mets, but the problem was he never got the big save.
Last night was a chance for a big save and after the balk, who didn’t see Delgado doing the walk-off dance? I mean, honestly, where there’s smoke, there’s fire and he burned their chances by trying to throw 92 past a big bat that just heating up.
Great game overall. Lost in it all is Oliver Perez’s performance. Three runs in seven innings, all on solo home runs with two in the first. The shot in the seventh could have been caught at the wall, but my rookie OF Carlos Gomez didn’t find the wall fast enough.
Fast turnaround for game two tonight and a full night for Mets fans to give Bonds a 65-35 boo-awe atmosphere. It’s funny how ESPN showed guys booing, but did start with one guy with a sign that read,
Brother Barry. We’re with you. - or something like that. Maybe because he knows if Bonds loses one tonight, all those same fans will either cheer with amazement at history or just shut the bleep up.
I’ll bore today about the latest book I’ve read, a small list no doubt, but I started this blog with a mention to Dexter, so I could talk about finishing Dearly Devoted Dexter, the follow up to Darkly Dreaming Dexter.
OK, quick review. The second book is darkly humorous like the first. Dexter moves on and deals with a new serial killer and the one cop who sees him as the monster he is, sneaking off at night as The Dark Passenger and killing those who deserve to die.
Anyway, it’s a quick read. I flew threw in less than a week, and that’s with a healthy TV and Mets addiction, plus spending time with the Mrs. The ending, like the first book, seems a little sloppy, in that for all the build up it just ends.
Happened the same way in the first book and maybe it doesn’t help that when you’re reading, you can tell the end is coming when the pages are lacking numbers in your right hand…
But still a quality read, something I put down The Day of the Jackal to get into and finish. Now I’ll try to get back to work at that thick paperbck…
From the Cameron Citizen-Observer
From May 27, 2001
THIS JUST IN: Growing up, I watched Patrick Ewing battle Chris Mullin in college. I became a Hoya fan when Alonzo Morning and Dikembe Mutombo were the Twin Towers.
Allen Iverson was the first Hoya that I followed into the NBA. I’ve been rooting for the 76er’s all season long, predicting an NBA Finals appearance. I’m here to officially announce that I’m off the bandwagon. For this year.
The Los Angeles Lakers are going to destroy whoever has the misfortune to join them on the court. The Sixers would give it a valiant effort, but with all their injuries and lack of another offensive threat, they might not come within 20 points.
The Milwaukee Bucks, on the other hand, have a winning record against the Lakers this year and they have the shooters to put up a good fight. Iverson will have other chances for his ring, like next year. The Bucks will not. I hope they get one shining moment this year, before reality sets in with Scott Williams, Ervin Johnson and Jason Caffey.
Baseball has numbers that act like nouns. 4,192. 61. 714. They have names, dates, places and history attached to them. Fumbling through old VHS tapes last week, I stumbled onto an old Sportscenter featuring one of those numbers.
Robin Yount was elected into the Baseball Hall of Fame a couple of years back because he was a consistent All-Star for years. On this edition of Sportscenter, Yount joined 16 other men in baseball history with 3,000 hits. He was the third youngest player to reach the mythical number, a guaranteed ticket to Cooperstown.
But the shocking thing was the treatment by my favorite channel. Yeah, it started the show, but they teased a US Open upset before getting to it. They showed Yount’s first three at bats against Jose Mesa of the Cleveland Indians, then added Bob Uecker’s radio call for the historic hit.
After flashing the final score, they returned to show two quotes from Yount’s press conference. The whole piece was two minutes thirty seconds, which comes out to about 11 percent of the show.
So what’s shocking? First off, the video feed was from BrewerVision, meaning there was no local television coverage. In fact, that means the nation watched the same high angle shot. No close ups on tearful family and cheering teammates.
Also, they spent 11 percent of 30 minutes. On today’s hour long Sportscenter, they would have came back to the top story at least twice. There wasn’t even a reporter at Milwaukee County Stadium to cover it live and this was only 1992!
The increase in media coverage has jumped leaps and bounds. Remember McGuire and Sosa a couple of summers back? We knew what Sosa was eating for breakfast and what color underwear McGuire’s son was wearing.
Unfortunately, it’s not just sports. If Elian Gonzalez were from Haiti, we never would have known his name. School shooting are horrible events, but they were going on for years in New York City and Detroit without CNN and MSNBC stopping their regularly scheduled babble to bring you the latest helicopter shot of kids running for their lives.
We have come to a point where technology allows you access to more than ever. In less than a decade, we have jumped some line drawn in the sands on sanity. We pay too much attention to items and events that don’t deserve the consideration.
There are Japanese ‘media organizations’ that will pay one million dollars for a naked picture of Mariners outfielder Ichiro Suzuki. National sports reporters admit that because Barry Bonds is surly with the media, he won’t go down in history as one of the greatest ever; regardless of his 500 home runs and three MVP awards. Ken Griffey Jr. says he’s actually terrified of the media.
I don’t have any answers, especially since I haven’t asked any questions. Tomorrow, I’ll turn on ESPN again and continue to watch trivial stories like a broken seatbelt or the latest Anna Kournikova sighting take precedent.
I’ll still go to sleep, dreaming of a day when people care enough to give their very best in everything they do. But I‘ll wake up knowing that day is long away. And that’s the truth.
The Mets have dominated teams not named the Atlanta Braves this year, so tonight’s game with Tom Terrific against Johnathan Smoltzie is a must-win game in May.
Yes, it’s May. Yes, the Mets and the Braves will still have three more meetings down the road and each team will likely make the playoffs, either as the division winner or the wild card…
But Not So Fast My Friend!
In a marathon, it’s always key to have a mental edge. Both the Braves and the Mets have young players and to show dominance in either way can only help or hurt the mental stability of young tikes like Jarrod Salty, Jeff Frenchie, Brian McCan of Corn, Jo se’ Can You C, David “The Price is” Wright and John “State of” Maine.
Speaking of things coming up young…
(I didn’t realize that what we were talking about?)
(Be quiet. I’m trying to get fired!)
NBC will air the final six episodes of “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip” starting tonight at 10 p.m. eastern, 9 central.
Studio 60 was a behind-the-scenes look at a SNL-type late-night variety show.
It originally followed Heroes, which created a sub-culture online that looks something like this.
It put me in the same place on Monday nights, kinds like my final two years of college when I would find Fuzzy, get fuzzy and flip between Monday Night Football and RAW.
Then the show’s rating slipped from a solid lead-in (TV Talk), and the writers went away from what wasn’t working, but kept me interested, and concentrated on the romance and relationships and watched the ship go down faster than the Titanic, the boat not the movie.
Long story short, I’m DVRing the Mets-Braves and Studio 60, hoping not to be disappointed by either although according to my Info button, NBC is airing episodes out of order, which is their right but already has me nervous…
I try to catch Jeopardy whenever I can, but where I live it comes on at 4 p.m. in the afternoon.
Clearly not the best time to be home, watching a game show, but I digress…
So I’m home yesterday, watching it and the returning champion was a black guy named Gil. Or Ray. I really don’t remember his name, but he had won $27,001 the previous episode and was up against some chick and a dude with a neck like an ex-Marine who shouted out answers and clues and such.
Anyway, it’s a pretty good game and I didn’t play too badly at home. Since I can’t bet a specific amount, when the Final Jeopardy topic pops up as “Sports Legends”, I scream - I’m betting it all, Alex - to no one in particular.
Here’s the question that the ex-Marine and Plain Jane got right and the black man got wrong, bringing shame to an entire generation.
Between 1977 and 1980, he won a high school championship, an NCAA championship and the NBA championship.
Sorry about the delay in this, but I’ve been too busy recovering from my hangover after Saturday’s win, meaning the Empire State Building will glow with Dodgers blue and Giants orange…
They just look like two pimps, don’t they?
Anyway, let’s start on Friday when Endy Chavez reminded everyone that he only shows up for big games. It started with a great play to cut down Johnny “I really should sit out because my calf is killing me” Damon at second base, getting Oliver Perez off to a great start.
That’s one of the greatest postseason plays in the history of the game. Right up there with Willie Mays over-the-shoulder catch, which few people remember is even cooler because his quick turn and throw kept the runners in position instead of moving up in a close game…
Point is, Endy beat the Yanks with his glove and the bat in Game one.
Game Two was Chavez again, forcing the Yanks to go to the pen early by hitting whatever rookie they dragged out there in the hand. Then D-Wright goes deep once and the gimp Damon helps on a second and the Yanks rally, but can’t get enough and the series is OVA…
Of course, it means nothing if the Yanks sweep the Sox and we can’t take two of three from the Braves, but…
I grew up in Teaneck, New Jersey; a suburban township of 40,000 people, about 10 minutes outside New York City. There was a dead end street right near my house that was our playground.
Labor Day was the first day of street football for us. We would play everyday, regardless of cars, numbers or weather. But when the ground cleared up, it was baseball season.
We would practice with someone hitting grounders and pop-ups. We would play games with no pitcher, just a bouncing tennis ball. We would play Stoopball, turning somebody’s front steps into a playing field. But the best of all worlds was Stickball.
I lived two blocks away from the high school. In the parking lot, there was a wall. About 200 feet away, there was a 25-foot chain-link fence. A box spray painted on the wall was the strike zone. The pitching mound was 60 feet, 6 inches away and I learned you could do some wicked things with a tennis ball. This is where I was most at home.
I remember one day we went up to the high school to “play two”. After the fifth inning of game one, we all looked up and realized the sky was ready to open up. We got to the seventh before we ran home soaked from head to toe. When the summer shower was over, we changed clothes and finished the game.
I played Little League and Babe Ruth and high school baseball, but never with the same energy and happiness that I played Stickball. By my junior year of high school, my friends had moved to basketball. I concentrated on making the varsity and getting into a good school.
Every college sport in Boston has a Beanpot Tournament and Fenway Park hosts the baseball version. I planned to walk on the Boston University team and hopefully, by my senior year, be good enough to swing at “the Green Monster”.
But 1994-1995 was the last season for baseball at my alma mater. Due to Title 9, the baseball program was dropped and women’s soccer became a varsity sport.
I can’t remember my last organized baseball game because I never thought it would be my last. When I got to college, I played basketball because you could always find a game. It’s a little harder to find 17 people, bats, gloves and a field.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss the game. Miss taking grounders off my chest and diving aimlessly after base hits. Miss taking an inside pitch the other way for a double in the gap. I miss running the bases and soft toss and cleaning my cleats with my bat.
So I have this piece of advice to the youth of the world. Play the games you love while you still can because they get harder to find, as you get older.
THIS JUST IN: Television is playing a tug-of-war with true sports fan right now. On one side you got the season finales of your favorite shows. On the other side, if you don’t watch a playoff game, you might miss a historic performance.
Tomorrow night might be the night the NBA single game scoring record might break. If you watch the ‘ER’ finale, you might miss an overtime goal in the Stanley Cup Playoffs. Even baseball, early in its long season, is providing drama on a near-nightly basis.
From A.J. Burnett’s no-hitter to Joe Randa’s walk-off grand slam to Sammy Sosa’s 400th career home run; America’s pastime looks better than the season finale of “The Sopranos” to me. Besides, HBO will play it again eight times in the next week and that’s the truth.
I wanted all the Yankee fans to get a look at the most complete shortstop in New York.
I wanted all the readers of this post, all two of you, to see the leader in the clubhouse for the NL MVP award.
I wanted to have a picture of the fastest man in the game today and the reason the Mets have a chance to sweep the Yankees into complete oblivion this weekend when they come to Big Shea.
INFIELD:
Robinson Cano is great. I’m a huge fan of Jeter and A-Rod is the best player in the game. The Yankees have this hands down, especially since Carlos Delagdo and David Wright are just now coming out of their early season slump.
OUTFIELD:
Let’s see. Hi-Dek Matsu, Johnny Damon vs. Shawn Green and Carlos Beltran. Yes, the Yanks would seem to have this hands down, but Alou and Greenie are playing well enough to make this a push in my eyes, maybe with a slight edge towards the Bronx.
PITCHING:
This isn’t even close. Need I talk about Carl Pavano, the ageless Mike Mussina and Andy “I wasn’t even good last year in the NL” Pettite?
The Hammer of God is a touch cracked in ‘Big Games’ and Billy Wagner has the credentials. While the starting pitching is young, Oliver Perez and Tom Glavine are going before John Maine, who has slumped after starting the year as the NL Pitcher of the Month.
The Yanks, who I’m watching lose to the White Sox in Chi-town, aren’t playing well and the Boys in Blue and Orange just scored five runs in the final inning to beat the Cubs.
The Mets are clearly a better ‘team’. Not necessarily the parts, but as the team, the squad from Queens is better. But this is the Subway Series. This is the eyes of the nation on Saturday and Sunday and this is the Yanks.
I love my team, but I would have to take the Yanks to win two out of three, if I was putting money down.
I’m late to write about this and I’ll do a better job in the fall with my TV rants, but…
- I’m sorry and glad to see “Gilmore Girls” end. For starters, I must thank my wife for introducing me to the girls from Stars Hollow because there is no way I would have plugged in…
If I hadn’t, I would have missed some of the best writing on TV. I didn’t watch “West Wing”, but did catch the short-lived “Studio 60″ and fell in love with the dialouge between characters. That’s what Gilmore did best.
Amy Sherman-Palladino was the culprit for the first six seasons, but left when the WB/CW didn’t ‘pony up the doe’. Good for her and bad for anyone who watched the show.
Season 7 was constantly sloppy and felt like it was patchworked together with scotch tape. The conversations slowed down and the timing moved more like a B-rate soap opera instead of the show that quietly straddled the line between comedy and drama for so many years.
After reading a review of the final episode I guess I’m OK with the finale, but even the end seemed just thrown together.
Yes the performances were excellent, but they always are. So what is that really saying? Whatever, it’s over and now we get to see a different side of Lauren Graham
Alexis Bledel is a fine actress. She was servicable in Sin City and held her own against a pretty stacked cast in The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.
Think about it, you had America “Ugly Betty” Ferrera, Amber “Joan of Arcadia” Tamblyn and Blake Lively, who’s a blonde.
Long story short, I think it’s sad that Amy didn’t get to finish her show, that the CW didn’t realize that without Gilmore, they’re stuck in the mud on Tuesday nights and nothing can protect Veronica Mars, that the supporting characters is what made the show great so writers that completely focus on the stars killed the essence of the show and…..
I’m really going to miss Paris Gellar.
She battled Rory at Chilton Academy for the title of “Most likely to attend Harvard”
Then the rivalry turned into friendship when they both ended up at Yale, which meant more of the great lines, faces and general attitude which made me jump back my DVR to hear whatever great line Liza Weil was to recite next.
There have been some great individual performances in the past couple of weeks. Randy Johnson striking out 20 batters in nine innings. A.J. Burnett of the Florida Marlins, allowing no hits but walking nine. Three Game 7’s in the Stanley Cup Playoffs. Vince Carter hitting his first eight three-pointers, on his way to 50 points. But to watch Allen Iverson score 54 points in Game 2 of the Toronto-Philadelphia series is remarkable.
At 6 feet, Iverson is regularly outsized and overmatched physically. True, there is no one as fast as him, but basketball is a tall man’s game. For him to be able to dominate is a testament not only to his ability, but also to his teammates and his coach, Larry Brown.
Brown has designed this team for Iverson to shine, surrounding him with role players. Scorers like Jerry Stackhouse and Larry Hughes were traded for this reason. Players like Eric Snow and Tyrone Hill start for this reason.
Regardless if Iverson is named the MVP this year, Larry Brown should be Coach of the Year for building and guiding this team as one cohesive unit towards one goal.
Fortunately, that goal was not back up vocals on Iverson’s CD, which, thankfully, has been pushed back since the season started. Few remember the chaos that nearly erupted at the start of this season, but even less know that Iverson is a poor rapper at best.
His attempt to join the ranks of other successful athletes in the music industry fell short because there are no successful athletes in the music industry. Wayland Tisdale tops the list and he hasn’t topped anything except scales since college.
Music is the soundtrack to life and sporting events are no exception. With the proposed rule changes in the NBA, the major difference between professional and college basketball next year will be organist vs. marching band.
That’s why I enjoy college basketball more than the pros. An organist or stadium DJ can hype up a crowd during long unnecessary breaks, like commercials. Unless the commercial is the Nike campaign, where pros and playground stars dribbling and dancing to a break beat.
Go to a soccer (or football) game in Jamaica, Brazil or Italy. There is a sound; a constant beat that accompanies the match.
Normally, you just watch a game, but music adds the need for another sense. That’s what I think Vince McMahon was going after with the XFL. They wanted a sensory overload with each broadcast.
Strippers, I mean, cheerleaders and fireworks and on-field cameras and microphones to pick up every bone-breaking hit. It was a good idea. There is a lull in the sports season right after the Super Bowl. March Madness is weeks away and the NBA and NHL seasons are slowly coming to a close. The XFL ratings were not that bad, when compared to Major League Soccer and the NHL. You know, sports people don’t watch.
Their major problem, however, was the national media coverage and their inability to separate WWF entertainment and XFL second-rate football.
Right now, my New York Mets are playing second-rate baseball. But as the defending National League Champions, once Fox starts it’s Saturday Game of the Week, they will be on TV. But it’s the rare occasions like last Saturday that I really appreciate.
The New York Mets were at the San Francisco Giants on FX Saturday Baseball. And I was covering the Cameron Track team at Platte City.
I have no regrets. It was my first track meet and I was pleased to see our young team perform well. But everyone I meet keeps asking me, “Why did you come here?”
The problem is, there doesn’t seem to be a correct answer. At least, an answer that will put the question to bed.
My answer is, I came here to cover high school track meets. I came here to see the smile of Tausha Cook after winning her 300-meter hurdles race. The cheers of support from teammates that can’t be heard across the football field, but still seem to reach their mark.
I came here to see and live in the Midwest. I came here to become a part of a community, by writing and reporting for its newspaper. I came here so I can raise my cat Smokey in a nice neighborhood.
As you can read, I have many varied opinions about the world of sports and I’m not afraid to share them. The topics may vary but it will always be within the world of sports. I’m not smart enough, yet, to talk politics.
But most importantly, I’m here to report on any sporting event that affects Cameron and its people, like a district track meet in Platte City. Whether the Mets are on TV or not; I can always watch Sportscenter and that’s the truth.
It’s been a while and I’ve got a lot to talk about, but I’ve gotta start with this past weekend…
While I could talk about my wife’s birthday (Happy Birthday, Baby or I could talk about my daughter’s reaction to receiving her birthday present of a new bike, basically a mean scowl and a question if there were more presents, I’m writing about what I experienced on Saturday afternoon.
I killed two hours and twenty minutes of my life and saw Spiderman 3
I hate being told about a movie before seeing it, and since I’m not a fat man in Columbia, I’ll try my best to review the film without giving anything away.
It’s a dark film. Dark with the introduction of Venom, an alien goo-like substance which arrives from space in a park right where Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson are enjoying some quiet time in the trees, thanks to a helpful web.
By the way, doesn’t Spidey have like Spidey-Senses and therefore would have heard/felt/sensed a comet-like meteorite rock land where the hell he was???
Anyway, the movie continues with other such random things — Why is Gwen Stacy’s character introduced and left to hang around with such a great lack of background?
Where is the Metaphysical Testing Facility located in New York City and how could a full control room of lab techs not notice a grown man standing in the Sand?
There are plot holes you could drive a truck through. It is about 20 to 30 minutes too long and as apted pointed out on “Ebert and Roeper” and most of the critics at Rotten Tomatoes, there are too many characters with too little development.
It seems to me they started in reverse, as in they knew what they wanted the final battle scene to be and worked their way backwards to produce it, but failed with the same strong foundation like its predecessors.
Despite all that, if you’ve seen the first two, you’re probably going to see the third and leave the theater justified with your money spent. It’s not the best Spidey film, but serviceable and I already know I’ll buy it just to complete the collection.
This is almost like the three X-Men movies. The first one was great, the second one was even better and the third was somewhat dissapointing. All in all, I left with a smile but it soon faded and I realize that I’m now waiting for just two films this summer…
Harry Potter because I listened to this book during a road trip with my wife and…
I was sitting confortably on a two person sofa, which requires putting your feet up. Monday Night Football sucked, but being on the Coast, Raw is War still wasn’t on yet. Without Met hi-lites, Baseball Tonight kinda loses it’s true meaning in September. Just as I turned to USA to watch the last minutes of “Walker, Texas Ranger”, the phone rang…
“Hello?”
“Wassup Kid? What you doing?”
“Nothing, just sitting on my ass.”
“You got any flow?”
“Like $8? We could catch a rack and chill in the park…”
“Nah. Let’s hit The Ship, get a couple of pitchers. Pick me up in 15.”
“Straight.”
When we got there, the game had already ended and a couple of cats had already locked down the pool tables. We got a pitcher and chilled. Kenny saw a cat he knew from back in the day. Actually, back in the day was three weeks ago when they had both f@ckd with their girls in two separate cars by the park, but that’s other sh!t. He was looking (I’ve said it before, once a dealer, always a dealer) and Kenny helped out. He laid off a nug and bought the next pitcher. Mike and Marc from Chi-town stepped in and gave me sh!t for picking the Giants that week. Last time I saw them, they asked me for advice. Like an idiot, he listened to me. We sat down and ‘kicked it’ while Kenny played pool.
Mike’s girl, Ann, was sweating the shirt and looking at me with those ‘f@ck me’ eyes. I found out later that that was Mike’s girl. Once again, I digress…
Convo varied until I turned it personal. Turns out he had a job he couldn’t keep and needed someone with a brain. $12 an hour was better than $7.50, so I perked up my ears. Plus this girl had some more info for me later on. They bounced without their stoges, so I lit one up with his lighter. He came back for the lighter.
Kenny wanted a shot of Jagermeister and The Ship didn’t rock that way so we moved up the block. The dive was in full effect from the start and two older chickes eyed us from the back of the bar. I picked a couple of songs off the jukebox and we headed back.
The next two hours seemed like 5. Millie, Kristie and the blonde were all twice our age, but chilled out just the same. I’m telling you, I love these older women. I keep getting older, they stay the same age…
Last call was a silent one, but it came all the same.
“You know you’re sitting in Albie’s chair. He’s 60 and hasn’t moved from that chair for 40 years.”
“Yeah, it’s like the old West saloons. You can see the whole bar and your back is to the wall.”
“You seem like a really calm person. Really mellow.”
“I try to be.”
“When was the last time you really got f@cked? I mean really f@cked?”
“I have 6 kids and I love my husband.”
“You know, you should really go far. You were quiet and observant the whole time.”
“Have a nice flight.”
“Are you cool to drive?”
We got Kenny’s pipe and headed for the park. Smoking in public is one thing. But smoking out underneath the stars is a completely different feeling. We climbed a batting cage and chilled in the net. Drunks are a weird bunch. You know sometimes they get emotional and say too much. But they don’t really lie unless necessary. Maybe that’s why Kenny opened up like a book, but then again I should have seen this coming. There is always the point when the sponsor finally fully accepts the guest into his or her world. Like Pacino and Depp, I was in and there was no looking back. It’s the kind of life choice that I was looking for; it’s temporarily permanent. Sometimes plans come together too perfect for words…
Anyway, I listen and at the end of the show, he reads emails over the air. I’ve always wanted to join the fun, but was waiting to add something funny to the conversation.
I think this is it:
I’ll start with Idol, which my wife forces me to watch. But after catching George W. and Laura do a PSA, do we have an “American Dreams” parody playing in real life?
Is Phil the lemur/alien going to reach the final two with a surge of votes from his home planet, only to rip off his mask from the ears when Bush shows up to congratulate the winner?
- It’s been a while, but you were talking about the lack of quality Keifer Sutherland movies and mentioned “Phone Booth“. The reason that movie sucks was because it was done before. Linda Fiorentino and Wesley Snipes starred in “Liberty Stands Still“. Same premise, but much better and released about six months ealier for home consumption.
- Lastly, you haven’t been as bad as most national pundits about bashing Barry Bonds during this whole steroids fiasco, but I’ve got one question, which might work better on PTI: What happens when Bonds breaks the record six weeks from now, then goes on to hit 55 out this year? Do we continue to think he was juiced or that he was juiced this year, after being tested by everyone from Selig to Mother Superior?
I’m under the belief that Bonds was one of hundreds of major leagues that used “performance-enhancers” (see Brady Anderson, but unless you throw everyone under the bus, you can’t just run over Bonds.
or I could talk about my daughter’s reaction to receiving her birthday present of a new bike, basically a mean scowl and a question if there were more presents, I’m writing about what I experienced on Saturday afternoon.
