I have a well-documented feud with baseball. For years I've dogged the sport like Larry Holmes dogged Trevor Berbick, decrying its general lack of excitement and the less than inspiring physiques of some of its stars. I mean, any sport that lionizes a human chode like Tony Gwynn deserves to be mocked--homey couldn't even pull off five pushups. I know at least five non-Richard Sandrak infants that could do more than that. The fact that someone with the upperbody strength of an eight year old girl can be an all-time great leads me to believe that there is something inherently wrong with baseball.
But this post isn't another one of my profanity-laced diatribes railing against an institution all y'all hold near and dear. No, this is something completely different. If American History X has taught me anything, it's that sometimes you have to sober up and take down the Nazi posters. Like Danny says in the movie, "Life's too short to be pissed off all the time". Though I will always thumb my nose down at the disproportionate level of bitchtits wielded by its players, and the soporific properties of actually watching the game, for the first time I am willing to acknowledge baseball's relevance. This isn't because I now find the game any more entertaining than I have in the past, but rather now I recognize its importance as a bellwether for our society.
For better or worse, baseball is our national pastime
Not because of the ridiculous umpire calls and not because of its bastard child--dizzy bat. No, I can reasonably call baseball the American pastime because its events take on more cultural importance than any other sport, though I'm not exactly sure why this is. I suspect a decent portion of baseball's universality comes from the fact that it's the one major sport that everyone can actually envision themselves playing at a high level. Both basketball and football are populated by genetic freaks of cock--7'7", 300 pound foreigners who look like the chinkified version of the Shawn Bradley MonSTAR...or, in football, Broderick Bunkley. To wit:
Yeah, I can imagine being slow, Chinese and uncoordinated. But slow, Chinese, uncoordinated and playing defense like a renegade windmill? That's just too rich for me.
In contrast, baseball has everyman heroes. This characteristic, which makes me revile the game is the exact reason that so many people can appreciate it. The only differences (Purely superficial) between the 5'7" bulldog at home plate and the spud snorting peanuts in the stands is the increased propensity to grab their junk and a big hankering for snus.
[Now for my whitewashed version of history]
The fact that baseball's demigods so closely resemble the average American gives the game its cultural significance. Some of the most culturally relevant moments in all of sport came from baseball. For example, Jackie Robinson's breaking down of the color line in baseball galvanized the civil rights movement and embodied the gradual softening of American racial attitudes.
(Wait, did I just sneak in two "Five for Fighting" videos in one post? Stttttrrrriiiiiii) And President Bush's first pitch at the first game following 9/11 has become the defining sports moment of the recovery period.
Of course, you guys probably realized this relationship long ago. However, I did not realize the entanglement of baseball's cultural and that of America at large until Manny Ramirez was suspended for juicing up with women's fertility drugs. At first I was in denial. I mean how could the man responsible for a commercial this brilliant be a cheater?
Then it dawned on me: We are all cheaters. Ok, that was a little dramatic. What I really mean is, we are all either cheats, or people too busy reaping the rewards of these shysters to punish their crimes. In this way, the spread of steroids and the public's reluctance to acknowledge the tarnished sanctity of the game mirror the ongoing problems in the American economy.
To illustrate my point, let's go back to baseball's late 90's/early 2000's apex. Baseball, suffering from post '94 strike cynicism and general ennui from the young fan base, was in a bad place. Enter the pine tar Cerberus--the troika of sluggers that electrified the fan base into returning to the nearly comatose game: Sosa, McGwire, and Bonds. Through Sosa and McGwire's home run chase, and Bonds' evisceration of previous slugging records, these guys made baseball relevant again. However, now all three are out of the game, with nothing but tarnished reputations and bacne to show for their troubles.
There were warning signs during their glory days--Sosa's corked bat and the rapid metamorphosis of Barry Bonds into a Ronnie Coleman-esque monster should have tipped us off. Unfortunately, lost amongst all the media clamor was the fact that these titan's feats were simply superhuman, buoyed doctored bats and doctored body chemistries (There are those who say that McGwire was merely using Andro, but I liken his refusal to "talk about the past" to this. By dancing around admission, you're merely proving that something is amiss. The exception proves the rule....or something like that).
It's hard not to look back on that era of baseball and not feel foolish. If someone sat you down fifteen years ago and told you that someone who'd never hit 50 homers in a season would suddenly reinvent themself to bash 73, while looking like a black Joey Kovar, you would have instantly cried foul. But somehow, with all the world watching, the ridiculousness of their deceits was obscured. In retrospect, it was an insult to our intelligence for these men to think that the rapid changes in their body and the mercurial rise in their production wouldn't be questioned. And yet they got away with it, at least for a little bit.
And this problem stretches beyond the aforementioned trio. Now, everyone in baseball is suspect, even the White Knight who everyone thought was above artificial enhancement. Even the dude who we all thought was too busy getting high to worry about 'roids. From here on out, any sudden fluctuation in production or additional striation in the ass will be met by scrutiny under the juice lens (See: David Ortiz).
The economic downturn parallels this pattern of performance and denial. Greedy people buying houses well beyond their means and snakes at investment banks like Bear Stearns making a profit off shitty investments were the McGwire and Bonds of this saga; Mortgage-backed securities and exotic loans their cream and their clear. All the while, we were all too busy reaping the profits of these people's labor to ask the critical questions: What is a mortgage-backed security, exactly? What happens if the housing market stalls? Can I really afford this house? The dollar signs in our eyes made us blind. The crisis even has its own Alex Rodriguez in Bernie Madoff, the man who made so many look foolish for believing in his clockwork-like yearly returns.
The story goes for both baseball and the economy: we should have seen this coming. At this point all we can do is acknowledge our past ignorance, trying to pick up the pieces where we can, and learn from our mistakes. I think it's high time that baseball expunge itself of all these cheatadores, and that the fan's learn to process information more critically, calling out inequities if they see them. I'm only really saying this because I hope Americans can learn to do the same.
[Addendum: This song played at the end of the Cubs game I went to last week. It's really annoying and pretty stupid, but I love it.]
Monday, May 18, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Heyheyhey...Adam.
If you run in my circles, you know I am freakishly (fegishly?) excited for this season of the Real World/Road Rules Challenge. Apparently this one is the Duel 2. I still would have to go to wikipedia to tell you what the differences between the gauntlet, the inferno, and the duel are, but that doesn't really matter. As long as we've got our usual dosage of high testosterone adonises threatening to pepper each other's sauces and a couple of chicks like this to keep the proceedings from getting too fegosh, I'm in.
Ever since I saw the trailer for this iteration of the challenge and analyzed the fight scenes with Makhtar for hours on gchat, I have been going around telling everyone to look at CT's myspace page and I've been proclaiming the Challenge my 3rd favorite sport to watch (Basketball and Football are the top 2...in that order...I think).
As you may have seen, CT and fego Adam get into it. Either Adam has a beta crush on Diem and is defending her honor, he's trying to goad CT into an altercation so the Rasheed Wallace of the challenges is DQ-d (Alton is something like the T-mac or the Terrell Davis of the challenges. Maybe the Miguel Tejada. This fegonomic comparison deserves it's own post.), or he's just plain stupid. Either way, CT absolutely ram jams Adam right in the eye. FANtastic. It also seems as though the altercation is allowed to go on the whole night and change venues like in Street Fighter (credit: Makhtar). That clearly signals to me that the producers know what they are getting when they invite a Manimal like CT onto the challenge and encourage the chaos that ensues.
Overall I am amped for this season to start. We at Fegonomics have theorized that this season will be more over the top than any in history because ever since (I believe) the Real World: Las Vegas, every season of the Real World or the Challenge has tried to outdo itself. This was until it reached its apex with Hollywood, which bursted the bubble and led to a subdued Brooklyn (JD's table smash and Ryan's PTSD aside). The Duel 2 is our stimulus package to return the Real World Universe to equilibrium.
Because Makhtar and I were both equally excited to watch the premiere and had nothing more interesting going on in our lives, we decided to have a little gchat while we watched and post highlights of what transpired. Enjoy.
The Fegonomist: Here comes the duel, baby!
Makhtar Ndiaye: Fuck I was watching Throwdown with Bobby Flay
Why are there so many whiteblack guys on G to gents?
The Fegonomist: I popped the chat out for this
In fact I will maximize
Makhtar Ndiaye: here it is
yes
The Fegonomist: i'm breaking new ground
Makhtar Ndiaye: this is your consciousness
for the next hour
The Fegonomist: it feels like the Architect's room in the Matrix
Makhtar Ndiaye: I'm gonna do it too
Makhtar Ndiaye: I can tell right now this is going to move too fast
for me
too much shit's going to go down in this episode
The Fegonomist: didnt you drink your 3 redbulls
Makhtar Ndiaye: haha
The Fegonomist: don’t worry about punctuation and spelling baby
Makhtar Ndiaye: no I'm going to want to do extreme sports afterwards
The Fegonomist: fuck TJ Lavin
Makhtar Ndiaye: I liked Jonny Moseley better, he had those all-american good looks
The Fegonomist: why does it have to be an xtreme sports guy. it should be rob dyrdek
Makhtar Ndiaye: no
bob burnquist
I dunno
rodney mullen
fuck I'm just listing guys off of Tony Hawk's pro skater II
[Evan mentions that every big guy in the history of the Challenge is on the Duel this season]
The Fegonomist: EVERY BIG GUY
Makhtar Ndiaye: hahahaha
not true
no miz
Isaac's not a big guy
The Fegonomist: I think he's there
Isaac is chiseled
and the coolest jew ever
Makhtar Ndiaye: no Miz is WWE tag team champion
he's got a no-compete clause
The Fegonomist: Upon hearing the rules butters exclaims "WHAT?!?"
Makhtar Ndiaye: Do the rules really matter?
The Fegonomist: No, but that's butters
Makhtar Ndiaye: yeah
The Fegonomist: He is surprised bc he never watched before
Makhtar Ndiaye: He doesn't get it yet.
Wait until Ruthie and Katie go ass to ass.
That's going to blow his mind
The Fegonomist: shauvon is gonna get it
you heard it here first
[Literally three minutes later, two people emerge from the bushes, giggling and zipping up their pants]
The Fegonomist: who is it
guess
oh nevermind
Makhtar Ndiaye: shauvon
ugh
The Fegonomist: wow
CALLED IT
Makhtar Ndiaye: hahahaha
COUNT IT
she's all bloated
The Fegonomist: who was the dude?
Makhtar Ndiaye: yeah that's the question
we need maury povich
oh
The Fegonomist: it was CT
Makhtar Ndiaye: fuck
CT
The Fegonomist: YES
Makhtar Ndiaye: CT
No
CT is heartless
The Fegonomist: MY BOY
Makhtar Ndiaye: fucking shauvon
do you think she's hot?
she's everything that's wrong with America
The Fegonomist: no not really
i mean the tata's are real
but she's not the type we go for
she's not like the little sister in Privileged
Makhtar Ndiaye: she's an over-inflated Cameron D
The Fegonomist: damn CT gave her the American Psycho
Makhtar Ndiaye: what's that?
The Fegonomist: i bet he was flexing
Makhtar Ndiaye: haha
Eric Bana in Munich
The Fegonomist: CT just pissed over the whole house
asserted his dominance
i want to study him
like the guy in freakonomics studied the drug dealer
Makhtar Ndiaye: Oh my god CT's fist is bigger than Adam's head
The Fegonomist: It sucks that Adam didn’t just drop like a sack of potatoes
Makhtar Ndiaye: Pummeled into the dust!
The Fegonomist: just goes ragdoll on contact
Makhtar Ndiaye: here's the question though--if CT went on Bully Beatdown, how much money would he make
The Fegonomist: i would pay so much to see that. Adam is the nerd
Makhtar Ndiaye: He’d get money, get paid if you got him muppet drunk
The Fegonomist: It Was All A Dream text: Again with the face hit!
[Adam is escorted outside so that CT doesn't break his orbital. Meanwhile, 17 people are holding CT back so he doesn't break Adam over his knee]
Makhtar Ndiaye: fuck he's coming out of his onesy
[Adam tries to get back inside]
The Fegonomist: hahahaha. evan grabs him by one arm
The Fegonomist: What is CT's athlete comparison?
Makhtar Ndiaye: Lorenzo Neal?
The Fegonomist: hahhha
Makhtar Ndiaye: Contextually within the framework of the challenge?
Pac Man Jones
The Fegonomist: hmm
Makhtar Ndiaye: Gotta be PMJ
The Fegonomist: Plus sheed
plus ray lewis
Makhtar Ndiaye: whoa
ray lewis is a saint
The Fegonomist: he said he doesn’t hit to hurt people
he hits to take their soul
Makhtar Ndiaye: that's kayfabe
The Fegonomist: Wow so CT is 240
Makhtar Ndiaye: yeah
are we assuming that he's my height?
The Fegonomist: 6 ft tall
Makhtar Ndiaye: because that'd make him a cheast
jesus
The Fegonomist: a chinese beast?
Makhtar Ndiaye: yeah
The Fegonomist: I am just fascinated by CT
Makhtar Ndiaye: god
You got a permaboner for him
The Fegonomist: He is just all id
Makhtar Ndiaye: he's like a distillation of all of roissy's philosophy
The Fegonomist: he's a pure alpha
and he gets diem to fall in love with him
despite all her logic
Makhtar Ndiaye: yeah that's fucking ridiculous
The Fegonomist: and the fact that she's so nice
Makhtar Ndiaye: he still has her on a string
The Fegonomist: it’s just the affirmation of all human mating psychology
the archetype
Makhtar Ndiaye: I’ll say, I like alton better though. I'm always one to bow down to the black athlete, but that might be a different argument.
The Fegonomist: the problem with alton
was that he flamed out
on his last challenge
he was like sammy sosa
he was so dominant for so long
do you remember the last one he was on
he sucked
Makhtar Ndiaye: no
The Fegonomist: i was actually depressed about it
The Fegonomist: it was like realizing my dad wasn’t as strong as hulk hogan
Makhtar Ndiaye: will this change your mind:
The Fegonomist: jesus
and he has a snake cock too
Makhtar Ndiaye: you know that for a fact?
The Fegonomist: he made irulan gasp when she saw it
Makhtar Ndiaye: each of his abs is like a dinner roll
you can just grab each of them individually
Makhtar Ndiaye: does nick have chris leak eyes?
The Fegonomist: what are chris leak eyes?
Makhtar Ndiaye: like those beautiful, grey eyes
The Fegonomist: waaaooooww
The Fegonomist: so adam and ct are gone
wow
fuckin bo jackson
Makhtar Ndiaye: MJ
The Fegonomist: its nick and mike
yeah
mj is mcconaughey
Makhtar Ndiaye: you scouted ahead?
The Fegonomist: I just remember from the preview i watched 70 times
Makhtar Ndiaye: hahahaha
The Fegonomist: ct again doesnt even get to do a challenge
Makhtar Ndiaye: he did this before?
The Fegonomist: yeah he fuckin punched davis
Makhtar Ndiaye: oh yeah
made davis cry
fuck
The Fegonomist: he was like hey davis can you take a punch
The Fegonomist: nick’s gonna have a kobe's pinkie game
Makhtar Ndiaye: haha
fuck Ryan's a snake for choosing nick
The Fegonomist: yeah fuck that
Makhtar Ndiaye: like he was rubbing himself to nick while he was soaking his hand
The Fegonomist: he really wanted to stay so he could go ass to ass with davis
haha
i want von to win
Makhtar Ndiaye: von wafer
why?
The Fegonomist: i dont like aneesa
Makhtar Ndiaye: she has nothing going for her
I guess
The Fegonomist: and i want von to get pounded again
[At this point our conversation has spilled over into the After Show; hosted by Mark with special guests Shauvon, Diem, Adam, and Mr. Id himself.]
Makhtar Ndiaye: is shauvon pregnant?
she just blown up
The Fegonomist: she's fat
ms piggy
Makhtar Ndiaye: I did not have sex with CT
oh wait
I had sex with CT
god damn it
The Fegonomist: did she give him an otphj?
The Fegonomist: Shauvon was so much skinnier in the challenge Von looks like Anna Nicole.
Makhtar Ndiaye: Anna Nicole show era Anna
I mean, I'll say I used to be attracted to her. I thought she was all dark and gothy. Now she's just another rollerpig
The Fegonomist: warpig
Makhtar Ndiaye: Who would win in an academic decathlon between Brad and Scott from
Brooklyn?
The Fegonomist: Neither would finish
Makhtar Ndiaye: If I ever got a six-pack, I would go after Jamie Chung. I'd take shirtless pictures of myself and post them on her myspace and shit.
The Fegonomist: you'd have to be alpha, though. No approach anxiety
Makhtar Ndiaye: yeah I mean it'd one of those "hey we're both asian" pickups.
Ever since I saw the trailer for this iteration of the challenge and analyzed the fight scenes with Makhtar for hours on gchat, I have been going around telling everyone to look at CT's myspace page and I've been proclaiming the Challenge my 3rd favorite sport to watch (Basketball and Football are the top 2...in that order...I think).
As you may have seen, CT and fego Adam get into it. Either Adam has a beta crush on Diem and is defending her honor, he's trying to goad CT into an altercation so the Rasheed Wallace of the challenges is DQ-d (Alton is something like the T-mac or the Terrell Davis of the challenges. Maybe the Miguel Tejada. This fegonomic comparison deserves it's own post.), or he's just plain stupid. Either way, CT absolutely ram jams Adam right in the eye. FANtastic. It also seems as though the altercation is allowed to go on the whole night and change venues like in Street Fighter (credit: Makhtar). That clearly signals to me that the producers know what they are getting when they invite a Manimal like CT onto the challenge and encourage the chaos that ensues.
Overall I am amped for this season to start. We at Fegonomics have theorized that this season will be more over the top than any in history because ever since (I believe) the Real World: Las Vegas, every season of the Real World or the Challenge has tried to outdo itself. This was until it reached its apex with Hollywood, which bursted the bubble and led to a subdued Brooklyn (JD's table smash and Ryan's PTSD aside). The Duel 2 is our stimulus package to return the Real World Universe to equilibrium.
Because Makhtar and I were both equally excited to watch the premiere and had nothing more interesting going on in our lives, we decided to have a little gchat while we watched and post highlights of what transpired. Enjoy.
The Fegonomist: Here comes the duel, baby!
Makhtar Ndiaye: Fuck I was watching Throwdown with Bobby Flay
Why are there so many whiteblack guys on G to gents?
The Fegonomist: I popped the chat out for this
In fact I will maximize
Makhtar Ndiaye: here it is
yes
The Fegonomist: i'm breaking new ground
Makhtar Ndiaye: this is your consciousness
for the next hour
The Fegonomist: it feels like the Architect's room in the Matrix
Makhtar Ndiaye: I'm gonna do it too
Makhtar Ndiaye: I can tell right now this is going to move too fast
for me
too much shit's going to go down in this episode
The Fegonomist: didnt you drink your 3 redbulls
Makhtar Ndiaye: haha
The Fegonomist: don’t worry about punctuation and spelling baby
Makhtar Ndiaye: no I'm going to want to do extreme sports afterwards
The Fegonomist: fuck TJ Lavin
Makhtar Ndiaye: I liked Jonny Moseley better, he had those all-american good looks
The Fegonomist: why does it have to be an xtreme sports guy. it should be rob dyrdek
Makhtar Ndiaye: no
bob burnquist
I dunno
rodney mullen
fuck I'm just listing guys off of Tony Hawk's pro skater II
[Evan mentions that every big guy in the history of the Challenge is on the Duel this season]
The Fegonomist: EVERY BIG GUY
Makhtar Ndiaye: hahahaha
not true
no miz
Isaac's not a big guy
The Fegonomist: I think he's there
Isaac is chiseled
and the coolest jew ever
Makhtar Ndiaye: no Miz is WWE tag team champion
he's got a no-compete clause
The Fegonomist: Upon hearing the rules butters exclaims "WHAT?!?"
Makhtar Ndiaye: Do the rules really matter?
The Fegonomist: No, but that's butters
Makhtar Ndiaye: yeah
The Fegonomist: He is surprised bc he never watched before
Makhtar Ndiaye: He doesn't get it yet.
Wait until Ruthie and Katie go ass to ass.
That's going to blow his mind
The Fegonomist: shauvon is gonna get it
you heard it here first
[Literally three minutes later, two people emerge from the bushes, giggling and zipping up their pants]
The Fegonomist: who is it
guess
oh nevermind
Makhtar Ndiaye: shauvon
ugh
The Fegonomist: wow
CALLED IT
Makhtar Ndiaye: hahahaha
COUNT IT
she's all bloated
The Fegonomist: who was the dude?
Makhtar Ndiaye: yeah that's the question
we need maury povich
oh
The Fegonomist: it was CT
Makhtar Ndiaye: fuck
CT
The Fegonomist: YES
Makhtar Ndiaye: CT
No
CT is heartless
The Fegonomist: MY BOY
Makhtar Ndiaye: fucking shauvon
do you think she's hot?
she's everything that's wrong with America
The Fegonomist: no not really
i mean the tata's are real
but she's not the type we go for
she's not like the little sister in Privileged
Makhtar Ndiaye: she's an over-inflated Cameron D
The Fegonomist: damn CT gave her the American Psycho
Makhtar Ndiaye: what's that?
The Fegonomist: i bet he was flexing
Makhtar Ndiaye: haha
Eric Bana in Munich
The Fegonomist: CT just pissed over the whole house
asserted his dominance
i want to study him
like the guy in freakonomics studied the drug dealer
Makhtar Ndiaye: Oh my god CT's fist is bigger than Adam's head
The Fegonomist: It sucks that Adam didn’t just drop like a sack of potatoes
Makhtar Ndiaye: Pummeled into the dust!
The Fegonomist: just goes ragdoll on contact
Makhtar Ndiaye: here's the question though--if CT went on Bully Beatdown, how much money would he make
The Fegonomist: i would pay so much to see that. Adam is the nerd
Makhtar Ndiaye: He’d get money, get paid if you got him muppet drunk
The Fegonomist: It Was All A Dream text: Again with the face hit!
[Adam is escorted outside so that CT doesn't break his orbital. Meanwhile, 17 people are holding CT back so he doesn't break Adam over his knee]
Makhtar Ndiaye: fuck he's coming out of his onesy
[Adam tries to get back inside]
The Fegonomist: hahahaha. evan grabs him by one arm
The Fegonomist: What is CT's athlete comparison?
Makhtar Ndiaye: Lorenzo Neal?
The Fegonomist: hahhha
Makhtar Ndiaye: Contextually within the framework of the challenge?
Pac Man Jones
The Fegonomist: hmm
Makhtar Ndiaye: Gotta be PMJ
The Fegonomist: Plus sheed
plus ray lewis
Makhtar Ndiaye: whoa
ray lewis is a saint
The Fegonomist: he said he doesn’t hit to hurt people
he hits to take their soul
Makhtar Ndiaye: that's kayfabe
The Fegonomist: Wow so CT is 240
Makhtar Ndiaye: yeah
are we assuming that he's my height?
The Fegonomist: 6 ft tall
Makhtar Ndiaye: because that'd make him a cheast
jesus
The Fegonomist: a chinese beast?
Makhtar Ndiaye: yeah
The Fegonomist: I am just fascinated by CT
Makhtar Ndiaye: god
You got a permaboner for him
The Fegonomist: He is just all id
Makhtar Ndiaye: he's like a distillation of all of roissy's philosophy
The Fegonomist: he's a pure alpha
and he gets diem to fall in love with him
despite all her logic
Makhtar Ndiaye: yeah that's fucking ridiculous
The Fegonomist: and the fact that she's so nice
Makhtar Ndiaye: he still has her on a string
The Fegonomist: it’s just the affirmation of all human mating psychology
the archetype
Makhtar Ndiaye: I’ll say, I like alton better though. I'm always one to bow down to the black athlete, but that might be a different argument.
The Fegonomist: the problem with alton
was that he flamed out
on his last challenge
he was like sammy sosa
he was so dominant for so long
do you remember the last one he was on
he sucked
Makhtar Ndiaye: no
The Fegonomist: i was actually depressed about it
The Fegonomist: it was like realizing my dad wasn’t as strong as hulk hogan
Makhtar Ndiaye: will this change your mind:
The Fegonomist: jesus
and he has a snake cock too
Makhtar Ndiaye: you know that for a fact?
The Fegonomist: he made irulan gasp when she saw it
Makhtar Ndiaye: each of his abs is like a dinner roll
you can just grab each of them individually
Makhtar Ndiaye: does nick have chris leak eyes?
The Fegonomist: what are chris leak eyes?
Makhtar Ndiaye: like those beautiful, grey eyes
The Fegonomist: waaaooooww
The Fegonomist: so adam and ct are gone
wow
fuckin bo jackson
Makhtar Ndiaye: MJ
The Fegonomist: its nick and mike
yeah
mj is mcconaughey
Makhtar Ndiaye: you scouted ahead?
The Fegonomist: I just remember from the preview i watched 70 times
Makhtar Ndiaye: hahahaha
The Fegonomist: ct again doesnt even get to do a challenge
Makhtar Ndiaye: he did this before?
The Fegonomist: yeah he fuckin punched davis
Makhtar Ndiaye: oh yeah
made davis cry
fuck
The Fegonomist: he was like hey davis can you take a punch
The Fegonomist: nick’s gonna have a kobe's pinkie game
Makhtar Ndiaye: haha
fuck Ryan's a snake for choosing nick
The Fegonomist: yeah fuck that
Makhtar Ndiaye: like he was rubbing himself to nick while he was soaking his hand
The Fegonomist: he really wanted to stay so he could go ass to ass with davis
haha
i want von to win
Makhtar Ndiaye: von wafer
why?
The Fegonomist: i dont like aneesa
Makhtar Ndiaye: she has nothing going for her
I guess
The Fegonomist: and i want von to get pounded again
[At this point our conversation has spilled over into the After Show; hosted by Mark with special guests Shauvon, Diem, Adam, and Mr. Id himself.]
Makhtar Ndiaye: is shauvon pregnant?
she just blown up
The Fegonomist: she's fat
ms piggy
Makhtar Ndiaye: I did not have sex with CT
oh wait
I had sex with CT
god damn it
The Fegonomist: did she give him an otphj?
The Fegonomist: Shauvon was so much skinnier in the challenge Von looks like Anna Nicole.
Makhtar Ndiaye: Anna Nicole show era Anna
I mean, I'll say I used to be attracted to her. I thought she was all dark and gothy. Now she's just another rollerpig
The Fegonomist: warpig
Makhtar Ndiaye: Who would win in an academic decathlon between Brad and Scott from
Brooklyn?
The Fegonomist: Neither would finish
Makhtar Ndiaye: If I ever got a six-pack, I would go after Jamie Chung. I'd take shirtless pictures of myself and post them on her myspace and shit.
The Fegonomist: you'd have to be alpha, though. No approach anxiety
Makhtar Ndiaye: yeah I mean it'd one of those "hey we're both asian" pickups.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
The Quarterback Position
How a team like the Texans was willing to subject themselves to 3-4 games of a chicken running with his head cut off may be beyond all of us, but I'm gonna try to inject some sense into the quarterback moves that have kicked off free agency. It's kind of a sports lull: MLB spring training is beyond boring, the freaks of the combine are over, NBA is in midseason but the playoffs aren't looming, college hoops is finally starting to heat up, and my mind is on the NFL.
With such a lofty title, I don't think the goal is to explain the quarterback position, but rather to rationalize the moves made, the fegos involved, and the thinking behind it. This is probably a little too serious of a post, but who cares.
Starting at Fego:
Matt Cassel.
Sage Rosenfels.
Dan Orlovsky.
The Other Players:
Daunte Culpepper.
Tyler Pigpen.
Tavaris Jackson.
Tom Brady
Kevin O'Connell
Matt Schaub
Regardless of whether or not this report is true, the pats probably got a good deal. They dump vrabel who is 34 and is a free agent next year, and free up their cap space by getting rid of Cassel. Grraaaayt. So they win, but who cares about the Pats. Why is Scott Pioli taking on what he knows is a dwindling talent in vrabel just to get Cassel?
Scotty Doesn't Know
While the Boston sports media had a collective jerk off session for Matt Cassel all season long, at one point half-joking that "we don't need Brady!", the normal people were thinking: "Ok, so this guy took an offense that Destroyed NFL records and turned it into an average to above average offense and won 11 games.
So now cassel gets to (apparantly) take over a KC team that is clearly rebuilding. Which is fine, except that once they are done retooling and Cassel is in his prime... let's say 3-4 years down the road, he's still the same guy who took the greatest offense of all time and made it human against a schedule softer than Big Baby. The only playoff teams he beat were a slacking Arizona team in week 16, and Miami. And it's not like Cassel is a candidate to improve this year. Sure, he hasn't started since high school, but looking at recent successful qbs who didn't start as rookies like carson palmer, Aaron Rodgers, Tony Romo, you're going to show in year one that you have the talent to make tough throws and be a passing threat in the NFL. Cassel's best attribute is his scrambling, but he doesn't scramble to pass, he scrambles to run because he isn't that good of a passer.
So far, Matt Cassel's career has been a bigger marketing success than football success. Somehow, the Patriots turned a career backup into a second round pick. The pats deserve more PR credit than anything by inflating the numbers of a mediocre QB to enhance his resale value. As was said in Tasty's earlier today: "There is no 'Value Added' in the Matt Cassel trade."
What did the Chiefs gain? A great backup QB and the assurance that they will not find or draft a playmaker at the QB position since they still have confidence in the backups, Pigpen and Croyle. In 2-3 years the chiefs will peak as a 10-6 playoff first round exit. At best. Scotty doesn't know.
Rosenfels and Guildenstern:
Because the Vikings have such a good team already, they need a QB who can make a few plays in the air. Tavaris Jackson is not that player. Gus Frerotte is not that player. If there's one thing to be said for Rosenfels, he can get hot and string some throws together. He is accurate enough to consistently make teams pay if they sell out for the run. Minnesota doesn't need a stud QB; they just need a competent one. Sage throws truckloads of interceptions, but so did Frerotte and Jackson. They also threw truckloads of wormburners to boot.
Sure, he doesn't have Andre Johnson-arms to bail him out, but Adrian Peterson should make up for that. That the vikings got him for a 4th seems like a no-brainer. That said, Rosenfels is a stopgap and they need to find a qb to pair with AP in order to be a dominant team. Still, a 4th rounder for what might ultimately be just a good backup qb isn't a bad move.
Tan Man Dan:
Without Detroit weighing him down, Orlovsky gets a fresh start. The Texans get to see if he actually has starting potential, while they knew that Rosenfels probably doesn't. So far, the Matt Schaub experiment has had mixed results. They are definitely a better team with him than without him, but the fact that he misses 4-5 games per year troubles me and now it troubles Dan Orlovsky. That makes the No. 2 QB an even more important position, and I don't understand the risk they are taking by trading a known commodity in Rosencrantz for a 4th rounder who won't contribute for a while if at all, and a quarterback who clearly hasn't gotten his fair shot with a crappy Detroit team, but has only shown horrible play on the field.
So you're thinking "A bunch of mediocre QBs moved, who gives a crap?". Fair Enough. Kurt Warner used to be one of those mediocre QBs. Not to mention the fact that all of these teams still need to draft QBs, it just doesn't seem like it anymore.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
He's Baaaaaaack
My Vegas Opus is a work in progress, but while I crunch the numbers on my Fegonomic analysis of our trip, I figured I'd get my prose back out into cyberspace with a running monologue while I watch this week's episode of the "Real World."
Scene 1
- Ah yes, there's always that one episode of every season that begins with a "State of the Messiness" montage of the house. This year the 3.5 women of the house seem to be the lazy culprits. A bit surprising, but I've never lived with females before and have seen some messy ass rooms in my day so maybe I shouldn't be so surprised.
- Wow, it's early on and now we already have our Magnavox "Moment that Makes Me Glad I Have a DVR"
JD is making some sort of chore flyer so that the chores of the house can be equitably divided. It reads:
"BROOKLYN ROOMIES
SOME TIME TODAY (SATURDAY) OR SUNDAY IF YOU CAN PICK ONE OF THE FOLLOWING CHORES AROUIND THE HOUSE THAT WAY IT IS A CALABRIATED EFFORT INTO MAKING OUR PIER 41 HOUSE CLEAN, NO CHORES WILL BE ASSIGNED TO ANYONE IN THE HOUSE NOTHING WILL BE ASSIGNED TO" and it stops there.
Now, I realize he hasn't proofread it or completed it and I'm no Bill Shakespeare, but this is the man who a mere episode or two ago was lauding his college education and denigrating Devin for dropping out. I'm not by any means interested in defending Devin's intelligence or honor, but "calabriated?" What were you even trying to say? Collaborative? That can't even be defensible as a typo, you just flat out don't know what you're saying. Let's just say if Dan from Miami is the Michael Jordan of intelligent gay men on the "Real World" and we're looking for his successor, JD is more Harold Miner than Dwyane Wade.
- JD is super excited about his cool gimmick. It's so cool and easy! The coolest way to do it! Cool! Baya isn't buying what he's selling. She says she "loves it" and then proceeds to trash it in the confessional booth. Bitch.
- Hearing Katelynn using words like "subscribe," "phenomenon," and "practicality" to try to sound like an intellectual makes me cringe more than I would imagine seeing "her" genitals would. Ok maybe not, but still it makes me uncomfortable.
Scene 2
- Supermarket webisodes...oh graaayyyt.
- Not surprisingly, Chet gets them fired for his obsession with "Just the tip."
Since this is the first time I've written about this iteration of America's favorite reality show, I'd like to take a moment to expound on Chet. The guy is all over the map. First impression, I actually felt bad for the guy. His Mormon upbringing had him snuggled up in the back corner of a Mariah Carey sized closet. (Come on, I know you've all seen that cribs. Bitch wouldn't show us that piano!) Butters and I would sit and watch the first few episodes and extract the lion's share of our enjoyment from Chet's ambiguously (guyliner to attract chicks) or unambiguously (the song - clip not available) gay moments. He was simultaneously infuriating because of his immature ignorance and his insistence on getting involved in other people's business. Also, his game with Scott's friend was a "first episode of the pick up artist" level attrocity.
Then, he was pretty decent with his interviews of Rete Rentz and some other band. Respect. Then, he tried to get tickets to TRL - his stated dream job was to host the (canceled) MTV late 90s early 00s staple. Moronic. Really, Chet? That's your dream job and you didn't know it was canceled? I hope the Grundle Bug is right and this is all an act. Otherwise, I'll chalk this idiocy up to your Mormon-ness. Really, nothing would surprise me at this point. Chet's in the laid off man's (too soon?) "Tyson Zone".
- JD and the ugly short-haired one (Ed. Note: Sarah) fight. Yawn.
Scene 3
- Ryan's going to film school to become "the next Spielberg." Color me skeptical. I'll give it to him though, he's putting himself out there with the music, his book, and now the film. Getcha artsy on.
- A key piece of evidence in the Chet: Undercover Fego investigation. He laughs after he claims to not be surprised that he was chosen to have a more demanding role in Ryan's 30 second film. So he is capable of facetious fegocity. Noted.
- Here, in its entirety, is everything going through aspiring actor Scott's head as this short film was...filmed: "
"
Glad we could get that inside peak.
Scene 4
- JD's chore plan is kind of lame, but these girls refusing to attend a meeting about it is just petty. I don't really like anyone in the house all that much at this point.
Ok, at this point my DVR decided to delete footage as I watched so I only have a random smattering of thoughts for the rest of the episode.
- Scott finally brings something to the table and hides the car keys. Bitches deserve it.
- This week's "Joke of the Week Made by a Tranny" sponsored by Right Guard is (paraphrased) "They are trying to bate me into this argument. They are really good at it. They are 'master baters.'" Well played, Katelynn.
- Oh here comes a house argument. I bet this is when JD smashes the table. You know, from the clip they've been showing since the preview show.
- Yep, smashed.
- Everything's cool again. Of course that means we get the gratuitous "Scott working out" scene. I wonder if these core exercises he does improves agility.
- JD once again calls the house a "family." I don't have the credentials to begin psychoanalyzing this.
- Katelynn, you are not a luxury cruise liner.
Scene 1
- Ah yes, there's always that one episode of every season that begins with a "State of the Messiness" montage of the house. This year the 3.5 women of the house seem to be the lazy culprits. A bit surprising, but I've never lived with females before and have seen some messy ass rooms in my day so maybe I shouldn't be so surprised.
- Wow, it's early on and now we already have our Magnavox "Moment that Makes Me Glad I Have a DVR"
JD is making some sort of chore flyer so that the chores of the house can be equitably divided. It reads:
"BROOKLYN ROOMIES
SOME TIME TODAY (SATURDAY) OR SUNDAY IF YOU CAN PICK ONE OF THE FOLLOWING CHORES AROUIND THE HOUSE THAT WAY IT IS A CALABRIATED EFFORT INTO MAKING OUR PIER 41 HOUSE CLEAN, NO CHORES WILL BE ASSIGNED TO ANYONE IN THE HOUSE NOTHING WILL BE ASSIGNED TO" and it stops there.
Now, I realize he hasn't proofread it or completed it and I'm no Bill Shakespeare, but this is the man who a mere episode or two ago was lauding his college education and denigrating Devin for dropping out. I'm not by any means interested in defending Devin's intelligence or honor, but "calabriated?" What were you even trying to say? Collaborative? That can't even be defensible as a typo, you just flat out don't know what you're saying. Let's just say if Dan from Miami is the Michael Jordan of intelligent gay men on the "Real World" and we're looking for his successor, JD is more Harold Miner than Dwyane Wade.
- JD is super excited about his cool gimmick. It's so cool and easy! The coolest way to do it! Cool! Baya isn't buying what he's selling. She says she "loves it" and then proceeds to trash it in the confessional booth. Bitch.
- Hearing Katelynn using words like "subscribe," "phenomenon," and "practicality" to try to sound like an intellectual makes me cringe more than I would imagine seeing "her" genitals would. Ok maybe not, but still it makes me uncomfortable.
Scene 2
- Supermarket webisodes...oh graaayyyt.
- Not surprisingly, Chet gets them fired for his obsession with "Just the tip."
Since this is the first time I've written about this iteration of America's favorite reality show, I'd like to take a moment to expound on Chet. The guy is all over the map. First impression, I actually felt bad for the guy. His Mormon upbringing had him snuggled up in the back corner of a Mariah Carey sized closet. (Come on, I know you've all seen that cribs. Bitch wouldn't show us that piano!) Butters and I would sit and watch the first few episodes and extract the lion's share of our enjoyment from Chet's ambiguously (guyliner to attract chicks) or unambiguously (the song - clip not available) gay moments. He was simultaneously infuriating because of his immature ignorance and his insistence on getting involved in other people's business. Also, his game with Scott's friend was a "first episode of the pick up artist" level attrocity.
Then, he was pretty decent with his interviews of Rete Rentz and some other band. Respect. Then, he tried to get tickets to TRL - his stated dream job was to host the (canceled) MTV late 90s early 00s staple. Moronic. Really, Chet? That's your dream job and you didn't know it was canceled? I hope the Grundle Bug is right and this is all an act. Otherwise, I'll chalk this idiocy up to your Mormon-ness. Really, nothing would surprise me at this point. Chet's in the laid off man's (too soon?) "Tyson Zone".
- JD and the ugly short-haired one (Ed. Note: Sarah) fight. Yawn.
Scene 3
- Ryan's going to film school to become "the next Spielberg." Color me skeptical. I'll give it to him though, he's putting himself out there with the music, his book, and now the film. Getcha artsy on.
- A key piece of evidence in the Chet: Undercover Fego investigation. He laughs after he claims to not be surprised that he was chosen to have a more demanding role in Ryan's 30 second film. So he is capable of facetious fegocity. Noted.
- Here, in its entirety, is everything going through aspiring actor Scott's head as this short film was...filmed: "
"
Glad we could get that inside peak.
Scene 4
- JD's chore plan is kind of lame, but these girls refusing to attend a meeting about it is just petty. I don't really like anyone in the house all that much at this point.
Ok, at this point my DVR decided to delete footage as I watched so I only have a random smattering of thoughts for the rest of the episode.
- Scott finally brings something to the table and hides the car keys. Bitches deserve it.
- This week's "Joke of the Week Made by a Tranny" sponsored by Right Guard is (paraphrased) "They are trying to bate me into this argument. They are really good at it. They are 'master baters.'" Well played, Katelynn.
- Oh here comes a house argument. I bet this is when JD smashes the table. You know, from the clip they've been showing since the preview show.
- Yep, smashed.
- Everything's cool again. Of course that means we get the gratuitous "Scott working out" scene. I wonder if these core exercises he does improves agility.
- JD once again calls the house a "family." I don't have the credentials to begin psychoanalyzing this.
- Katelynn, you are not a luxury cruise liner.
Quantifying Vegas
As I settled back into the real world, I knew I would be asked at least a dozen times, "How was Vegas?" That's an absurd question. Answering that kind of question requires a committed conversation, a storytelling session with a captive audience, or something of that ilk. You can't just be like, "Oh it was great, I lost a few hundred bucks but I nearly did coke off a stripper's ashya. See you at lunch!"
Needless to say I needed to come up with my stock answer that provided enough truth without explicity giving anything away. I settled on, "It was everything Vegas should be." And it was; it really was.
Of course, I can't keep it all to myself so I'm gonna throw my version of a recap into the Fegonomics pot. Since exposition is too hard, I'm also going to use a gimmick a la Mahktar.
We're of the empirical sort here at Fegonomics, so I'm going to use my recap to quantify our trip into a tidy number. Each of my memories will be plugged into my patented "Vegas Utility Metric" and will come out as a discrete positive or negative value. This is especially fitting because with Vegas there are few gray areas aside from the legality of available endeavors. Either something is decidedly awesome or it'll leave you some combination of bummed and creeped out. For instance: hot streak on the craps table - good. Getting badgered about club free passes by a worn out, over the hill Roller Girl - yuck. I haven't decided what that number will be used for, but I don't want to be like the major sports leagues and not record blocks and sacks just because it seems irrelevant now.
(note: I completely ripped this off of NY Mag's recaps of gossip girl. And yes, I realize I probably could have gotten away with not disclosing that information and come out looking less fegoscious, but as my 11th grade English teacher, Mr. Perry, would say...such is life.)
Our Digs: +7
The last time I was in Vegas with Mahktar, Dream, Oden, and Butters we stayed at the Las Vegas Club Casino. The moment you walked in you felt the second hand smoke. It was as if the oxygen systems used to pump life into the weariest of gamblers was replaced by a collection of chain-smoking, blue-haired grannies from Del Boca Vista pulled from the Wayne Newton ticket line. The clientele looked like the people in that first Vegas scene in Swingers. If I wasn't still in college, I would have felt old.
Moving to Planet Hollywood on the strip was just the right move for the karma of the trip. Newish casino, young crowd, plenty of ventilation. The right kind of environment that will lead you to look at your watch wondering it's time for dinner and seeing that it's approaching 4am. Instead of being next to the Girls of Glitter Gulch (Zounds!!!) it neighbored Paris and the Bellagio. We stayed in a basic room but it just felt sleeker. We had a plasma screen and some modern furniture. Minor stuff, but the room on a Vegas trip is really just used to set the mood for your day/night's adventures. And, of course, to provide the necessary venue for the token 6-way with a girl you get from one of those pamphlets the fine street salesmen hand out with numbers like 1-900-B-I-G-G-U-R-L on them. Which reminds me...
Street Urchins: -5
Walking down the strip during the day is a gauntlet of workers with questionable legality trying to hand you hooker brochures. We had the inevitable discussion about how much these people could possibly get paid for standing there and successfully handing out their pamphlet to one out of at least every 50 people. Guesses ranged from minimum wage to 1.50 an hour. Our favorite cab driver, previously mentioned by Mahktar, later settled it with the true answer: Nothing. (Unless you receive services from his girl) That's depressing. I informed my compatriots that they had the right to shoot me if my life devolved in such a way that resulted in me holding that occupation. Just a poor existence. I'd feel worse if they didn't all somehow have iPhones.
Blackjack Dealers: +25
I love blackjack dealers. They are one of my top 5 favorite vegas fixtures (Neither Sigfreid nor Roy occupies any of the other 4 spaces). It's hard to be lukewarm on a dealer. Either you love them or you hate them. Surprisingly enough, when I ran my regression analysis of the dealers I loved and hated, the correlation between money won or lost and my opinion of the dealer was not statsitically significant. My valiant, 150 dollar run on the last night of the trip that only left my grave 3 feet deep was made against a Spencer Pratt level twat. Some Eastern European guy who refused to smile and was called a "son of a bitch" by Dream. Then, the guy tried to pick a fight with Dream, attempting to escalate the exchange so that my man would be thrown out. F that noise. Luckily, Dream played it drunk by pretending not to hear the guy and the danger subsided for a moment there.
Just for fun let's run down the list of my top 3 favorite dealers.
3. Adam at Bill's gambling hall.
A Polish man with a never-subsiding smile. He even laughed at our lightweight babaayy outbursts and high-fived us when we got BJ. Bonus points awarded because I remembered him from the trip I made on my 21st birthday. Just the epitome of the good vibes dealer who wants you to win. The only dealer I tipped the whole trip.
2. Shui.
Shui came early on in our trip at another low-rent casino (we got jobs, but we ain't comp candidates yet). We were yapping it up with the guy and pronouncing his name like the reliable middle reliever in Major League 2. Of course, Mahktar is embarassed by us (he wasn't used to our role as casino jackasses yet), which is coupled with his need to defend every Asian guy from Saw. "Guys, it's "Shwee". First of all, who cares? Shooey is cooler and he doesn't seem to mind. Second, we asked him how it was pronounced and it was indeed the fun way. So, we got to laugh at Mahktar's expense while we all made some dough...good times.
1. Sophal.
I'm pretty sure I lost a considerable amount when Sophal was dealing. Feel free to correct me in the comments, but I think she was the starting pitcher in the Great Analyzation of 2009. Regardless, she was/is my Cambodian dream girl. It would take a far more eloquent man to adequately describe our fair Sophal but I'll put it this way. She was a combination of Ms. Swan, Tia Carrere, a bubbly anime character, and Vanessa Marcil (body type). Mahktar was enchanted enough to be drawn to Bill's Gambling Hall simply to wave hello to her (which we both wussed out on like giggling school girls. Not our finest moment.)
Laughing so hard I got a nose bleed, and there wasn't even any coke involved: +50
Not my story to tell.
Dexter: +15
Most notable celebrity sighting not involving the Olsen twins: -3
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Fego Goes West: Get Money Get Paid
Disclaimer: This is a freeflowing post that occassionally touches upon mature subjects, so a lot of links are NSFW.
So we've been a little delinquent in making a post about our trip to Vegas, but I've succumb to the constant peer pressure by Charles Haley's big unit, and decided to take an initial stab at it. In lieu of a Simmons-esque Vegas diary, I'm going to go the John Lennon/Yoko Ono route and get experimental on you jabronis. In honor of the Academy Awards, here's an Oscars-style awards list of the highlights of Vegas (Using the common award name formula, these accolades would be called the "Veggys" but we'll call 'em the "vaggys" cuz I like the sound of that better).
The Envelope please...
The Vaggy for biggest table jerk goes to....
(Tie) In Oden We Trust/Fegonomist/Makhtar N'diaye/It Was All A Dream/Butters and Fete Fentz
I don't know if the other guys will own up to it, but the five of us were a monkey finding a time machine at the craps tables -- completely overwhelmed, confused, and constantly making obnoxious noises.
Craps is by far my favorite casino game because it is inherently collaborative. There's nothing better than being the shooter and catching fire. Guys will constantly give you fist pounds, and girls will come up and dome you out to renumerate you for netting them a little extra pocket change. However, I think our contingent took the team sports concept of the game a little too far. Whenever the shooter would hit the point, I would get in my best ump stance, and yell "Striiiiiiiiiii" to the entire table (gun hand motions included). The rest of our guys would go crazy, too, acting like they've just seen this....or that they were Gus Johnson in this clip. Everyone else at the table would then give me a blank look and quietly collect their winnings.
Equally annoying was our tendency to yell out random incantations to educe the shooter to roll a certain number. This essentially devolved into us putting a new spin on our most annoying verbal tics. "Lightweight, baby" became Light-eight baybayyyyyy. The "Noice" guy's "Aw sick" became "awwww six" and Noice transformed into "Aw noine noine noine". Needless to say, it was pretty clear that it was amateur hour whenever we were at the tables.
That being said, I don't think that our transgressions were any worse than the emo poster child we saw at the Bill's gambling hall. Obviously a denizen of the emo/hipster lifestyle, we deemed this Fall out Boy wannabe, Fete Fentz (Fake Pete Wentz). Mistake #1: buying in for $20 bucks at the blackjack table. Mistake #2: obviously having no idea of how to play blackjack. Mistake #3: Do not talk about fight club. Truthfully, whenever we were playing, we had a vendetta against the other people at the table, but this kid was a piece of shit. He lucked into getting 21 after hitting like 7 times, the problem was, it took FOREVER for him to realize it. I could just the chimp with an abucus in his brain, trying to sum up 3+3+2+6+3+4. So, writing this, it sounds like we held an irrational grudge against this guy. What your forget is A. I really like hating people for no good reason. And B. We were ready to stomp this guy out Tupac style. Luckily he struck out in 4 successive hands, and got the hell out of Dodge before we could go east coast/west coast rivalry on him.
Biggest Disappointment of the trip was....
So, I bought one of the guys a tag-team lap dance at the streeep tease. I guess the concept was that these two mejicana performers were do his di-ack like the Hyenas did to Scar, just TEAR that dick apart (at the very least, I thought that they were going to go ass to ass [super NSFW]). What really happened, at least from what he says, was some pretty weak sauce. Just a bunch of eskimo kisses and lighthearted banter between the girls. I dropped $40 on that shit?
Don't feel too bad for this guy, because in the same night, he also had....
Moment of the Trip (Strip Club Category)
So apparently, after chatting up this stripper, Heather, at the after hours joint we went to, this person to be named later (PTBNL) got the lap dance of a lifetime. Granted, there was some hood rat shit going on at this place as it was--by far the dirtiest lap dances I've ever experienced, but this guy went for a RIDE. I got a dance from Heather, so I know that she demands that you smack her ass as you're getting a dance. Of course, PTBNL obliged, but at the same time, he quasi-sexily said "I bet you let all the guys do that". Her Response: "Yeah, but I don't let all them do this"--> and proceeds to stick her tongue down his throat. Now, unlike porn, I don't have an encyclopaedic knowledge of strip clubs, but outside of Brady from season 1 pick up artist, I've never heard of someone hooking up with a stripper. That's service with a smile.
Oh yeah, she also propositioned him to do get all coked up and doped up with him backstage. Unfortunately, he didn't follow through. Shit, that was the closest any of us got to going all gonzo (NSFW) in Vegas.
Most Unsettling Taxi Cab Confession goes to....
that sketchy cab driver that gave us a ride back from the Plaza.
Now, I'm used to the cabs in Boston. (i.e. I expect my cabbies to be austere Ethiopian immigrants who talk on their bluetooth headsets the entire ride), but I knew that these Vegas guys were going to be a different breed. I don't really know how to explain this guy except to say that he was acting like me during the walderness party where I hooked up with the lowest rated prospect in the land. Homey seemed straight up drunk.
First off, he was definitely getting all herky jerky behind the wheel on the highway. But the most distinctive tell of this guy was his jarring, unintelligible manner of speech. I think part of this was the fact that he knew that he was in the company of five young, virile human individuals, and was trying to tell the funniest stories he had, leaving himself in fits of laughter. That's all and good. People can laugh at their own jokes and stories--I'm the king of entertaining myself. But imagine someone with a full frontal lobotomy chortling to themselves and trailing off on every sentence...with lots of elbow jabs thrown in.
Miraculously, we were all able to piece together some of the anecdotes this guy was telling us. Apparently, he was involved with some sort of ride/dome exchange with some fresh-faced Ashley Dupree wannabe. Basically, this girl would call him up, and he'd pick her up and drive her to the desperate slob who was retaining her services....I'm not sure what he got in exchange, it was either a cut of her earnings, or the chance to go all Peter North on her belly. Anyway, he started talking about how this nubile young coed was all put off because, throughout the course of their gentlemanly arrangement, he'd never tried to piledrive her. He started making jokes about how he was too old to get his di-ack teased by this girl, which led to this really awkward exchange where I kept on making jokes about his impotence. I'm pretty sure I started throwing around the term "boner stipend"....yeah, ok, I don't really know how to play along with people making bawdy jokes. (Sidenote: I somehow doubt this guy's story as he looked like a cross between that piss-soaked homeless guy who wanted to fight me on the T and this guy):
The most annoying trend of the trip was.....
Constantly getting carded. Everywhere. What can I say, the Fegonomist and Oden we Trust are baby faces (Both in the wrestling, and actual sense).
The Vaggy for hottest white trash goes to......
Danica Patrick. I know, not Vegas related, but I just wanted to get that squared away. MORE:
Dumbest Exchange of the trip was....
We stayed at the Planet Hollywood, which turned out to be one of the best decisions we made the entire trip. One of the big value added pieces of the hotel is the fallaciously named "Pleasure Pit". Basically, this is an "Adults Only" section of the casino floor replete with pole dancers (who don't strip) and dealers dressed in pink negligees. In theory, this sounds great, but upon further examination, the concept is inherently flawed. Girls who want to pole dance and walk around in underwear, but lack the physical gifts to work the pole? Yeah, most of these girls ended looking like this girl, possessing the potential to be hot, but having some sort of deer in the headlights glaze that makes my johnson completely flaccid:
Anyway, one of the nights Butters is able to work his magic and get us onto the list at Tryst, the club at the Wynn (which is simply epic, by the way. The place was a hybrid indoor/outdoor club with a huge waterfall as the centerpiece). After doing a few rep's of Faderade, we headed to the casino floor. The Fegonomist forgot something in the room, so he and It Was All a Dream head back to the room, leaving the three of us in the Pleasure Pit. Earlier in the trip, I had noticed that one of the Pleasure Pit dancers had a tiny tramp stamp tat. I started my approach by waving at this girl with a vigor unseen since Forrest Gump jumped off his boat to greet Lt. Dan. She meekly waved back to the hulking, mute-drunk Asian guy from Saw.
Emboldened by my Popov Vodka fever dreams, I brazenly approached this go-go girl while she was unenthusiastically gyrating, leading to this exchange:
Me: "Hey, nice tramp stamp....what is it?"
Dancer: "It's the Japanese character for "Dance."
Me: *Raising Hand* "I'm Japanese."
...then I stumbled away. What can I say, ever since I've read "The Game," I've been money with the ladies. Speaking of which.....
Best Unfaithful Reenactment....
I'll be the first to admit it, I love an older woman, especially an older woman at a club. There's nothing better than a woman with latent sexual desires that can't be satisfied by her lightswitch husband. Nobody embodied this ideal better than Diane Lane in Unfaithful. She was hot in the early 80's in "The Outsiders." She was hotter in the 90's in whatever the fuck movie this was. But she was Super, Scintillating, SENSATIONAL in Unfaithful (All ridiculously NSFW). Given this precedent, I've made it my categorical imperative to bag an older lady. Vegas seemed as good a place as any. This led to some trouble.
While we were at Tryst, we decided to break up into splinter cells to divide and conquer the cloob. It Was All a Dream and I starting dancing with some pretty women who looked like they were within a standard deviation of our age. Still engulfed in the Faderade haze, I fail to realize that It Was All a Dream only danced with them for a couple songs before moving on. Stranded on my own, and lacking the motor facilities to move onto greener pastures, I just lurked on these women for what seemed like 3 hours. Somewhere along the way, I started dance talking to one of the older looking members of their group. Think a juiced-down Brenda James minus the D cups and perfect Aiss.
During the course of the conversation I was able to glean these nuggets from her: 1. She's 43 years old. 2. She has a 15 year old daughter. And 3. She's in Vegas with some old high school boyfriend that she reunited with on facebook (but I don't think that they were boning). Anyway, by the way that she's talking to me, I get the sense that she's digging the power dynamics and the "this is so fucked up, but I'm going to let my poos do the decision making" aspect of being hit on by a guy literally half her age. After talking to her like a broken muppet for the bulk of the night, the other guys finally find me, they're impatient and trying to book it to a streep tease. Under ordinary circumstances, I would have said that it was very nice to meet her, then given her an ass-out hug. However, we were in fucking Vegas, so I said "Fuck it, we'll do it live!," and asked for her number. Her response: "I could be YOUR MOTHER, get out of here!"
I haven't seen a denial that vociferous since these:
Long story short, this is life. This isn't Maxim Magazine.
So we've been a little delinquent in making a post about our trip to Vegas, but I've succumb to the constant peer pressure by Charles Haley's big unit, and decided to take an initial stab at it. In lieu of a Simmons-esque Vegas diary, I'm going to go the John Lennon/Yoko Ono route and get experimental on you jabronis. In honor of the Academy Awards, here's an Oscars-style awards list of the highlights of Vegas (Using the common award name formula, these accolades would be called the "Veggys" but we'll call 'em the "vaggys" cuz I like the sound of that better).
The Envelope please...
The Vaggy for biggest table jerk goes to....
(Tie) In Oden We Trust/Fegonomist/Makhtar N'diaye/It Was All A Dream/Butters and Fete Fentz
I don't know if the other guys will own up to it, but the five of us were a monkey finding a time machine at the craps tables -- completely overwhelmed, confused, and constantly making obnoxious noises.
Craps is by far my favorite casino game because it is inherently collaborative. There's nothing better than being the shooter and catching fire. Guys will constantly give you fist pounds, and girls will come up and dome you out to renumerate you for netting them a little extra pocket change. However, I think our contingent took the team sports concept of the game a little too far. Whenever the shooter would hit the point, I would get in my best ump stance, and yell "Striiiiiiiiiii" to the entire table (gun hand motions included). The rest of our guys would go crazy, too, acting like they've just seen this....or that they were Gus Johnson in this clip. Everyone else at the table would then give me a blank look and quietly collect their winnings.
Equally annoying was our tendency to yell out random incantations to educe the shooter to roll a certain number. This essentially devolved into us putting a new spin on our most annoying verbal tics. "Lightweight, baby" became Light-eight baybayyyyyy. The "Noice" guy's "Aw sick" became "awwww six" and Noice transformed into "Aw noine noine noine". Needless to say, it was pretty clear that it was amateur hour whenever we were at the tables.
That being said, I don't think that our transgressions were any worse than the emo poster child we saw at the Bill's gambling hall. Obviously a denizen of the emo/hipster lifestyle, we deemed this Fall out Boy wannabe, Fete Fentz (Fake Pete Wentz). Mistake #1: buying in for $20 bucks at the blackjack table. Mistake #2: obviously having no idea of how to play blackjack. Mistake #3: Do not talk about fight club. Truthfully, whenever we were playing, we had a vendetta against the other people at the table, but this kid was a piece of shit. He lucked into getting 21 after hitting like 7 times, the problem was, it took FOREVER for him to realize it. I could just the chimp with an abucus in his brain, trying to sum up 3+3+2+6+3+4. So, writing this, it sounds like we held an irrational grudge against this guy. What your forget is A. I really like hating people for no good reason. And B. We were ready to stomp this guy out Tupac style. Luckily he struck out in 4 successive hands, and got the hell out of Dodge before we could go east coast/west coast rivalry on him.
Biggest Disappointment of the trip was....
So, I bought one of the guys a tag-team lap dance at the streeep tease. I guess the concept was that these two mejicana performers were do his di-ack like the Hyenas did to Scar, just TEAR that dick apart (at the very least, I thought that they were going to go ass to ass [super NSFW]). What really happened, at least from what he says, was some pretty weak sauce. Just a bunch of eskimo kisses and lighthearted banter between the girls. I dropped $40 on that shit?
Don't feel too bad for this guy, because in the same night, he also had....
Moment of the Trip (Strip Club Category)
So apparently, after chatting up this stripper, Heather, at the after hours joint we went to, this person to be named later (PTBNL) got the lap dance of a lifetime. Granted, there was some hood rat shit going on at this place as it was--by far the dirtiest lap dances I've ever experienced, but this guy went for a RIDE. I got a dance from Heather, so I know that she demands that you smack her ass as you're getting a dance. Of course, PTBNL obliged, but at the same time, he quasi-sexily said "I bet you let all the guys do that". Her Response: "Yeah, but I don't let all them do this"--> and proceeds to stick her tongue down his throat. Now, unlike porn, I don't have an encyclopaedic knowledge of strip clubs, but outside of Brady from season 1 pick up artist, I've never heard of someone hooking up with a stripper. That's service with a smile.
Oh yeah, she also propositioned him to do get all coked up and doped up with him backstage. Unfortunately, he didn't follow through. Shit, that was the closest any of us got to going all gonzo (NSFW) in Vegas.
Most Unsettling Taxi Cab Confession goes to....
that sketchy cab driver that gave us a ride back from the Plaza.
Now, I'm used to the cabs in Boston. (i.e. I expect my cabbies to be austere Ethiopian immigrants who talk on their bluetooth headsets the entire ride), but I knew that these Vegas guys were going to be a different breed. I don't really know how to explain this guy except to say that he was acting like me during the walderness party where I hooked up with the lowest rated prospect in the land. Homey seemed straight up drunk.
First off, he was definitely getting all herky jerky behind the wheel on the highway. But the most distinctive tell of this guy was his jarring, unintelligible manner of speech. I think part of this was the fact that he knew that he was in the company of five young, virile human individuals, and was trying to tell the funniest stories he had, leaving himself in fits of laughter. That's all and good. People can laugh at their own jokes and stories--I'm the king of entertaining myself. But imagine someone with a full frontal lobotomy chortling to themselves and trailing off on every sentence...with lots of elbow jabs thrown in.
Miraculously, we were all able to piece together some of the anecdotes this guy was telling us. Apparently, he was involved with some sort of ride/dome exchange with some fresh-faced Ashley Dupree wannabe. Basically, this girl would call him up, and he'd pick her up and drive her to the desperate slob who was retaining her services....I'm not sure what he got in exchange, it was either a cut of her earnings, or the chance to go all Peter North on her belly. Anyway, he started talking about how this nubile young coed was all put off because, throughout the course of their gentlemanly arrangement, he'd never tried to piledrive her. He started making jokes about how he was too old to get his di-ack teased by this girl, which led to this really awkward exchange where I kept on making jokes about his impotence. I'm pretty sure I started throwing around the term "boner stipend"....yeah, ok, I don't really know how to play along with people making bawdy jokes. (Sidenote: I somehow doubt this guy's story as he looked like a cross between that piss-soaked homeless guy who wanted to fight me on the T and this guy):
The most annoying trend of the trip was.....
Constantly getting carded. Everywhere. What can I say, the Fegonomist and Oden we Trust are baby faces (Both in the wrestling, and actual sense).
The Vaggy for hottest white trash goes to......
Danica Patrick. I know, not Vegas related, but I just wanted to get that squared away. MORE:
Dumbest Exchange of the trip was....
We stayed at the Planet Hollywood, which turned out to be one of the best decisions we made the entire trip. One of the big value added pieces of the hotel is the fallaciously named "Pleasure Pit". Basically, this is an "Adults Only" section of the casino floor replete with pole dancers (who don't strip) and dealers dressed in pink negligees. In theory, this sounds great, but upon further examination, the concept is inherently flawed. Girls who want to pole dance and walk around in underwear, but lack the physical gifts to work the pole? Yeah, most of these girls ended looking like this girl, possessing the potential to be hot, but having some sort of deer in the headlights glaze that makes my johnson completely flaccid:
Anyway, one of the nights Butters is able to work his magic and get us onto the list at Tryst, the club at the Wynn (which is simply epic, by the way. The place was a hybrid indoor/outdoor club with a huge waterfall as the centerpiece). After doing a few rep's of Faderade, we headed to the casino floor. The Fegonomist forgot something in the room, so he and It Was All a Dream head back to the room, leaving the three of us in the Pleasure Pit. Earlier in the trip, I had noticed that one of the Pleasure Pit dancers had a tiny tramp stamp tat. I started my approach by waving at this girl with a vigor unseen since Forrest Gump jumped off his boat to greet Lt. Dan. She meekly waved back to the hulking, mute-drunk Asian guy from Saw.
Emboldened by my Popov Vodka fever dreams, I brazenly approached this go-go girl while she was unenthusiastically gyrating, leading to this exchange:
Me: "Hey, nice tramp stamp....what is it?"
Dancer: "It's the Japanese character for "Dance."
Me: *Raising Hand* "I'm Japanese."
...then I stumbled away. What can I say, ever since I've read "The Game," I've been money with the ladies. Speaking of which.....
Best Unfaithful Reenactment....
I'll be the first to admit it, I love an older woman, especially an older woman at a club. There's nothing better than a woman with latent sexual desires that can't be satisfied by her lightswitch husband. Nobody embodied this ideal better than Diane Lane in Unfaithful. She was hot in the early 80's in "The Outsiders." She was hotter in the 90's in whatever the fuck movie this was. But she was Super, Scintillating, SENSATIONAL in Unfaithful (All ridiculously NSFW). Given this precedent, I've made it my categorical imperative to bag an older lady. Vegas seemed as good a place as any. This led to some trouble.
While we were at Tryst, we decided to break up into splinter cells to divide and conquer the cloob. It Was All a Dream and I starting dancing with some pretty women who looked like they were within a standard deviation of our age. Still engulfed in the Faderade haze, I fail to realize that It Was All a Dream only danced with them for a couple songs before moving on. Stranded on my own, and lacking the motor facilities to move onto greener pastures, I just lurked on these women for what seemed like 3 hours. Somewhere along the way, I started dance talking to one of the older looking members of their group. Think a juiced-down Brenda James minus the D cups and perfect Aiss.
During the course of the conversation I was able to glean these nuggets from her: 1. She's 43 years old. 2. She has a 15 year old daughter. And 3. She's in Vegas with some old high school boyfriend that she reunited with on facebook (but I don't think that they were boning). Anyway, by the way that she's talking to me, I get the sense that she's digging the power dynamics and the "this is so fucked up, but I'm going to let my poos do the decision making" aspect of being hit on by a guy literally half her age. After talking to her like a broken muppet for the bulk of the night, the other guys finally find me, they're impatient and trying to book it to a streep tease. Under ordinary circumstances, I would have said that it was very nice to meet her, then given her an ass-out hug. However, we were in fucking Vegas, so I said "Fuck it, we'll do it live!," and asked for her number. Her response: "I could be YOUR MOTHER, get out of here!"
I haven't seen a denial that vociferous since these:
Long story short, this is life. This isn't Maxim Magazine.
Friday, January 30, 2009
A Mixed Bag of Tricks
If you're like many Americans, you'll always remember where you were and what you were doing around noon on January 20, 2009. It's rare that a tell-your-children moment resonates through the country with such overtones of hope and promise. The last time I was overtaken by a raw boost of national energy that wasn't in the wake of a tragedy Mark McGwire almost missed first base. While that exchange of emotions didn't work out so well, we're not here to "talk about the past." I myself am not much for politics because of its polarizing nature, but I can confidently say that Obama takes over the office with the potential to be one of the greatest leaders of our generation in a time where our country is desperately seeking any modicum of direction. Here at Fegonomics we respek the eloquent man but immortalize the black man doing his thing while simultaneously being cool (or so we hope) and invested in sports. Much has been made about Obama and his cabinet's low post skills and his "yes we can" stance on a college football playoff so I won't beat these facts into a more hackneyed submission. Instead I'd like to pay tribute to Mr. 44 with a list of the greatest mixed athletes of all-time. Once the parquet is finally laid at the White House, President Obama may even stand a chance of cracking the top 10 here, but until then let the white-black violin begin.
Jammin (Nod Ya Head) (Clean) - Black Violin
Honorable Mention: John Amaechi, Tony Gonzalez, David Justice, and Rosario Dawson (He Got Game sex scene)
10. James Blake - I don't really know that much about this dude except that he beat my favorite tennis player Roger Federer in the Olympics and is about as Americana as an athlete gets and frankly isn't that what this post is all about! I remember seeing a profile on Outside the Lines of the "Tiger Woods of tennis" and it wasn't about Blake but rather this guy. Since Young isn't a halfie the honor goes to Blake.
9. Jarome Iginla - I know what you're thinking "who gives a shit about hockey" and I totally agree that hockey has lost its edge since they stopped highlighting the puck inthe all-star game and allowed the foxtrax technology to go by the wayside. Either way, I'm still enamored by some of the blood spewing fight graphics in Wayne Gretzky 64 and any man that can garner enough fandom to get his own song deserves to be on this list. If Jarome was piledriving one of Sean Avery's exes I'd have him about 4 spots higher.
8. Tahj Mowry - A precocious erudite with limitless knowledge of string theory, space time, and quantum physics doesn't seem like a contender for this list, but consider his competition. 1. The Famous Jett Jackson is some 15 shades darker than I remembered from his Silverstone days even though he and his sea green eyes did lead Florida to a national championship he is disqualified on pigmentation conspiracy theory. 2. Had Halle Berry been the one fellating the cracker in Swordfish her appearance on this list would be based on the Heather Brooke Scale (NSFW). Mowry, currently 22, has had a penchant for seeing double his entire life. Born the younger brother of one of TV's favorite sitcom duos, this two sport varsity athlete in basketball and football knows what it takes to perform in the clutch. I'm still not convinced that his athletic accolades tower above his roles as TJ Henderson and Michelle Tanner's little twat best friend Teddy, but the kid's got game and an Italian dad, so he's in.
7. Hines Ward - The only guy on this list who plays in a stadium that is a homonym of his name, Hines Ward is known league wide as the consummate gentleman. The first Afro-Asian in the top 10, he inherited his congenial behavior from his Korean mother. If that's the case it must be his father's genes that led to his shortening of Ed Reed's spinal column and this ragdoll physics collision. Hines will probably break the 10,000 yard/800 reception/80 TD plateau next year putting him in pretty exclusive company, but it may take another 12 years in the league before he ever approximates anything close to this.
6. Jason Kidd - Half man half pitbull, this guy is straight up ugly. I mean his son had a prominent dirt lip by the age of 3! Maybe the caterpillar lip comes from ex wife Joumana, who used to notoriously kick the crap out of Kidd, who knows. When he wasn't spending his time getting bitch slapped in bathtubs, this guy could straight up ball. Known for honing his skills on the streets of Oakland, Kidd used to improve his passing accuracy by targeting windows on a building and narrowly throwing the ball above them to not shatter the glass. Although his offensive efficiency has always been questioned (career 40% shooter) he's one of the best distributors of our time and checks in at 3rd all-time in triple doubles with now over 100. The post Dallas trade J-Kidd has been the defensive liability everyone imagined, but any man who led a team with semi pooper-stars Keith Van Horn and Kenyon Martin to two straight NBA finals and has a sweet Tupac Mix gets my seal of approval.
5. The Rock - There are at least two other contributors on this blog that could probably write a 10,000 word synopsis of the Rock's plight from WWF champion to C-list celebrity, but that ain't me. What I've always loved about Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson was his ability to electrify a stadium with his charismatic mic presence and ever climbing eyebrow. He was one of the few wrestlers to have two signature moves and the only one featured in two versions of the Mummy. What some people might not know was that he played DT at the U and was actually a pretty good player. Aside from his rivalry with my favorite wrestler Austin 3:16, the Brahma Bull should forever be remembered for one of the greatest matches of all time....
Part 1
Part 2
4. Shane Falco - He can surf, he's a lefty, and chicks dig scars. What more can I say?
3. Derek Jeter - The captain and heartthrob of the Evil Empire, Derek Jeter is one of the most recognizable athletes in the country. Much acclaim has been given to his on the field accomplishments such as the 4 World Series rings, .316 career BA, and this play, but I think it's his off the field pursuits and pursuers that make Jeter such a lofty contributor to the mixed community. It recently came out in a book co-authored by Joe Torre called The Yankee Years that A-Rod has what amounts to a Man Crush on Jeter. I don't know if this means he gets wood beneath his jockstrap when Jeter undresses next to him or if he's jealous of the spotlight cast on him by the NY media. Either way, I have to jump on any chance to queue up A-Rod as a homo. Jeter has quite the track record of celebrity hookups from Scarlett Johannson and Vanessa Minnillo to the more recent rumors of everyone's favorite sweet heart gone skank Minka Kelly. But the most intriguing of all the starlets has to be Mariah Carey. This was the alpha couple of mixed relationships that could have reinvented the WB/WB genre and Mariah threw it away so she could learn the krump'd out choreography at the end of Drumline. That's a fucking shame.
2. Charles Barkley - Here's an anecdote from my childhood. As many of you know I grew up in Houston, Texas idolizing the Rockets and Hakeem Olajuwon. Back in the early 90's the Rockets and Suns always ended up meeting in the playoffs and I would sing "I Just Can't Wait to be King" every time Barkley went to the free throw line to distract him, and more often than not it worked. It think I was 6 or 7 years old when I was over one of my friend's houses watching a game and I turned to him and said, "Barkley is one of the best white players in the world." This incited some serious laughter from my friend's dad who went on to explain to me that Barkley was in fact black. (You have to understand that Barkley's skin tone is the exact shade as mine when I'm tan, and living in Texas I was perpetually tan.) Thereore, combining my original perception and the truth, Barkley ekes his way onto this list. Barkley is simply a freak, too unique to compare to any wishy washy Paul Milsap or other undersized PF. Barkley was Jordan's height and grabbed about 12 RPG for his career. Unfortunately, Sir Charles will be MIA from TNT for the next few months as he clears up his BJ riddled DUI charges. Just fucking enjoy this knuckleheads.
1. Tiger Woods - Currently standing as the richest and most successful athlete on the planet it only makes sense that the half Thai half African American Woods graces the top of this countdown. Not only is he my second favorite athlete ever, he stands as a true ambassador to his sport, much like Obama to our country. (Although the Fegonomist informs me that Tiger's public speaking at the inauguration was abysmal) Name it and Tiger has done it. Had kids with a smoking hot Swedish nanny, check. Made incredible chip ins and putts on the back 9 of the final round of a major, check and check. Been selected number 1 in the Racial Draft, fo shizzle. Made millions of kids want to learn how to juggle the pill on their club and smack it 200 yards, dunzo. Farted on live TV, hells ya.
Listen, Tiger won a US Open with a torn ACL and is only 4 major victories away from tying the Golden Bear as the best ever. I have a few Tiger Wheaties boxes and even attempted to Photoshop my face onto Tiger's on this ESPN the mag cover in a class once. Dammit I love Tiger, and you should too.
Jammin (Nod Ya Head) (Clean) - Black Violin
Honorable Mention: John Amaechi, Tony Gonzalez, David Justice, and Rosario Dawson (He Got Game sex scene)
10. James Blake - I don't really know that much about this dude except that he beat my favorite tennis player Roger Federer in the Olympics and is about as Americana as an athlete gets and frankly isn't that what this post is all about! I remember seeing a profile on Outside the Lines of the "Tiger Woods of tennis" and it wasn't about Blake but rather this guy. Since Young isn't a halfie the honor goes to Blake.
9. Jarome Iginla - I know what you're thinking "who gives a shit about hockey" and I totally agree that hockey has lost its edge since they stopped highlighting the puck inthe all-star game and allowed the foxtrax technology to go by the wayside. Either way, I'm still enamored by some of the blood spewing fight graphics in Wayne Gretzky 64 and any man that can garner enough fandom to get his own song deserves to be on this list. If Jarome was piledriving one of Sean Avery's exes I'd have him about 4 spots higher.
8. Tahj Mowry - A precocious erudite with limitless knowledge of string theory, space time, and quantum physics doesn't seem like a contender for this list, but consider his competition. 1. The Famous Jett Jackson is some 15 shades darker than I remembered from his Silverstone days even though he and his sea green eyes did lead Florida to a national championship he is disqualified on pigmentation conspiracy theory. 2. Had Halle Berry been the one fellating the cracker in Swordfish her appearance on this list would be based on the Heather Brooke Scale (NSFW). Mowry, currently 22, has had a penchant for seeing double his entire life. Born the younger brother of one of TV's favorite sitcom duos, this two sport varsity athlete in basketball and football knows what it takes to perform in the clutch. I'm still not convinced that his athletic accolades tower above his roles as TJ Henderson and Michelle Tanner's little twat best friend Teddy, but the kid's got game and an Italian dad, so he's in.
7. Hines Ward - The only guy on this list who plays in a stadium that is a homonym of his name, Hines Ward is known league wide as the consummate gentleman. The first Afro-Asian in the top 10, he inherited his congenial behavior from his Korean mother. If that's the case it must be his father's genes that led to his shortening of Ed Reed's spinal column and this ragdoll physics collision. Hines will probably break the 10,000 yard/800 reception/80 TD plateau next year putting him in pretty exclusive company, but it may take another 12 years in the league before he ever approximates anything close to this.
6. Jason Kidd - Half man half pitbull, this guy is straight up ugly. I mean his son had a prominent dirt lip by the age of 3! Maybe the caterpillar lip comes from ex wife Joumana, who used to notoriously kick the crap out of Kidd, who knows. When he wasn't spending his time getting bitch slapped in bathtubs, this guy could straight up ball. Known for honing his skills on the streets of Oakland, Kidd used to improve his passing accuracy by targeting windows on a building and narrowly throwing the ball above them to not shatter the glass. Although his offensive efficiency has always been questioned (career 40% shooter) he's one of the best distributors of our time and checks in at 3rd all-time in triple doubles with now over 100. The post Dallas trade J-Kidd has been the defensive liability everyone imagined, but any man who led a team with semi pooper-stars Keith Van Horn and Kenyon Martin to two straight NBA finals and has a sweet Tupac Mix gets my seal of approval.
5. The Rock - There are at least two other contributors on this blog that could probably write a 10,000 word synopsis of the Rock's plight from WWF champion to C-list celebrity, but that ain't me. What I've always loved about Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson was his ability to electrify a stadium with his charismatic mic presence and ever climbing eyebrow. He was one of the few wrestlers to have two signature moves and the only one featured in two versions of the Mummy. What some people might not know was that he played DT at the U and was actually a pretty good player. Aside from his rivalry with my favorite wrestler Austin 3:16, the Brahma Bull should forever be remembered for one of the greatest matches of all time....
Part 1
Part 2
4. Shane Falco - He can surf, he's a lefty, and chicks dig scars. What more can I say?
3. Derek Jeter - The captain and heartthrob of the Evil Empire, Derek Jeter is one of the most recognizable athletes in the country. Much acclaim has been given to his on the field accomplishments such as the 4 World Series rings, .316 career BA, and this play, but I think it's his off the field pursuits and pursuers that make Jeter such a lofty contributor to the mixed community. It recently came out in a book co-authored by Joe Torre called The Yankee Years that A-Rod has what amounts to a Man Crush on Jeter. I don't know if this means he gets wood beneath his jockstrap when Jeter undresses next to him or if he's jealous of the spotlight cast on him by the NY media. Either way, I have to jump on any chance to queue up A-Rod as a homo. Jeter has quite the track record of celebrity hookups from Scarlett Johannson and Vanessa Minnillo to the more recent rumors of everyone's favorite sweet heart gone skank Minka Kelly. But the most intriguing of all the starlets has to be Mariah Carey. This was the alpha couple of mixed relationships that could have reinvented the WB/WB genre and Mariah threw it away so she could learn the krump'd out choreography at the end of Drumline. That's a fucking shame.
2. Charles Barkley - Here's an anecdote from my childhood. As many of you know I grew up in Houston, Texas idolizing the Rockets and Hakeem Olajuwon. Back in the early 90's the Rockets and Suns always ended up meeting in the playoffs and I would sing "I Just Can't Wait to be King" every time Barkley went to the free throw line to distract him, and more often than not it worked. It think I was 6 or 7 years old when I was over one of my friend's houses watching a game and I turned to him and said, "Barkley is one of the best white players in the world." This incited some serious laughter from my friend's dad who went on to explain to me that Barkley was in fact black. (You have to understand that Barkley's skin tone is the exact shade as mine when I'm tan, and living in Texas I was perpetually tan.) Thereore, combining my original perception and the truth, Barkley ekes his way onto this list. Barkley is simply a freak, too unique to compare to any wishy washy Paul Milsap or other undersized PF. Barkley was Jordan's height and grabbed about 12 RPG for his career. Unfortunately, Sir Charles will be MIA from TNT for the next few months as he clears up his BJ riddled DUI charges. Just fucking enjoy this knuckleheads.
1. Tiger Woods - Currently standing as the richest and most successful athlete on the planet it only makes sense that the half Thai half African American Woods graces the top of this countdown. Not only is he my second favorite athlete ever, he stands as a true ambassador to his sport, much like Obama to our country. (Although the Fegonomist informs me that Tiger's public speaking at the inauguration was abysmal) Name it and Tiger has done it. Had kids with a smoking hot Swedish nanny, check. Made incredible chip ins and putts on the back 9 of the final round of a major, check and check. Been selected number 1 in the Racial Draft, fo shizzle. Made millions of kids want to learn how to juggle the pill on their club and smack it 200 yards, dunzo. Farted on live TV, hells ya.
Listen, Tiger won a US Open with a torn ACL and is only 4 major victories away from tying the Golden Bear as the best ever. I have a few Tiger Wheaties boxes and even attempted to Photoshop my face onto Tiger's on this ESPN the mag cover in a class once. Dammit I love Tiger, and you should too.
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