Thursday, August 31, 2006

Now my helmet's on, you can't tell me I'm not in space

The Bob Dylan cult of personality is rolling on with the release of his new album. I don't even know where to begin with Dylan. I respect him as a musician, but I think he is massively overrated. He made some good albums, he had his moment and he personified a short but important era in western music for white people. He rolled up like a cocky downtown hybrid of Van Ronk and Seeger and got the Hammond blessing- which is, in retrospect, a blank check for your liberal-guilt-genius quotient. Thus he was deified and, like the Grateful Dead he attracted a cult-like following incommensurate with his importance and the scale of his past success (that's not quite fair though, the Dead are way, way shittier than their following implies. I'll take Dylan's Christian shit over the Dead any day. Shit, I'll take Hall and Oates over the Dead).

If there's anything corduroy-wearing people all over the world can agree on, it's that Bob Dylan is a total fucking genius. The problem is that Bob knows that this is what you think (man-crush!), and now he is running on about 40 years worth of ego-maniacal asshole fumes. He hates you, but he can't live without you.

Like I said, I think Dylan is OK. It's just that there are plenty of other people out there that I think are as good as he is. They may not have blazed trails as hard as he did (in truth or in legend), but I like them just as much. Even if I thought Dylan the king, he's such a contemptuous asshole that I can't like him too much.

[If anybody read this blog, all sorts of sanctimonious somebodies would be trying to tear me a new one right about now.]

-In case you didn't read the Philadelphia Inquirer this morning and you, uh, want me to read it for you, here's some stuff:

-A slide show of some pigs flying around in helicopters and making sure the Lehigh party scene is dry as hell this fall.

-10 people got shot in Philly last night, including two with one bullet. Still, nothing colorful enough for a JS2000 Philly Crime Vignette. If you're gonna shoot motherfuckers, don't forget to renaissance it.

Thief of golden toys to an upset time away

Republican Congresswoman Katherine Harris, who was out for stardom as Florida's secretary of state in 2000's steamy, deviant political sex thriller presidential recount is finally making a real bid to convince America that she is a competent candidate for US Senate and a lawmaker with a wise and reasoned grasp of law and constitutional issues. From

Separation of church and state is "a lie we have been told," Harris said in the interview, published Thursday, saying separating religion and politics is "wrong because God is the one who chooses our rulers...If you're not electing Christians, then in essence you are going to legislate sin."

I don't really resent that quote as a Jew or even as a reasonable human being who values equality and tolerance. I resent that quote because I was a much happier, naive human being before I knew that James Madison, Thomas Jefferson and the other thinkers who developed the constitutional and philosophical structure of our country were actually feeding us a bold and salty dose of pre-Orwell Orwellian doublespeak. Do these godless, wig-wearing, blaspheming pornographers mock us so? But they did own slaves, so, uh, one plus for you founding fathers.

OK, try this: Look at the picture of Katharine Harris below:

Now read the quote again.

Separation of church and state is "a lie we have been told," Harris said in the interview, published Thursday, saying separating religion and politics is "wrong because God is the one who chooses our rulers...If you're not electing Christians, then in essence you are going to legislate sin."

Now look at this:
Ok, good.

-In other news, take a look at this Italo Disco lyrics site. When people who don't speak English transcribe the English lyrics of songs written by non-English speakers, it is truly a thing to behold. The main site also contains a special section for Croatian fans of Italo. Word.

P.S. I used to like the 2 fonts, 2 authors thing we had going, but blogger's formatting issues are making me crazy. Straight Arial from here on out, dun.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

So full of action my name should be a verb

Sorry I've been kind of AWOL recently. Been working on some metaMETA shit, working hard and getting ready for a cross-country road trip.
Oh, and some of this:
To go along with some of this:Can you blame me?
Just making sure my apparatus is up to status. I'll be sure to rap at you soon. Sayin.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

i wanna get to know ya

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Submitted for your consideration (mad late): Chukky Okobi's MySpace Page. It's not a surprise that he raps, and that a lot of it is shiny club shit, but I gotta mention "Steelers '06: World Champs." You just don't hear enough tracks about winning the Super Bowl that are strongly inspired by MOP's classic 1996 collaboration with Kool G. Rap, "Stick To Ya Gunz." (a) (mp3 coming)

(Let me pre-empt the "hey remember " moment, because I love me some Shaq Diesel, especialy the Wu-Tangy "No Hook" and the ever-so-1994 "Biological Didn't Bother." And his inexplicable beef with Mad Skillz (and, later, Ben Wallace) might be the finest moment of his career. Dude's fuckin with Kay Slay now, and I think it's safe to say Bun B, Shaq and Papoose makes for the strangest combination fathomable. Non-rap dudes: this is the juxtapositional equivalent of a steak served with pork chop and covered in little toy ducks.)

Unrelated bonus links:

-Todd Jones Blog
Thoughts from your favorite mustachioed closer.

-Westside Family f/ Edi Rama- "Tirona"
Why should you care about this Albanian hip-hop track? Because Edi Rama is the mayor of the capital of Albania. Sayin.


a) For that matter, you don't hear enough back-up centers working with Pittsburgh rap fixture Ron Noodles either.

Friday, August 25, 2006

I keep em comin back. We keep em comin back.

Skinny "Canseco" Friedman comes back 215 way with DJ Apt One for some more of that electro, disco and rap with bad words innit. Upstairs at the Khyber, 56 S. 2nd St. Philadelph-I-yayo.

Now everybody wave

Philadelphia Crime Vignettes as Interpreted from the pages of the Philadelphia Inquirer (pronounced: INkwaar) and Philadelphia Daily News (pronounced: Delly News)

Hot Night on the Block
Johnny T: I'll give yous a quarter of white if you lemme fuck ya girlfriend. Think about it.
Rob: [Smashes in Johnny T.'s skull with dumbell and wrench, cuts him up]

"Bloody Midday Attack"
K.R.: Youknowhatimsain you can't just do me like that, son.
G Mac: Man, you soft. Whatever, I'm gettin on this train.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

another armed robbery

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I saw Snakes On A Plane last night, about twelve hours after reading Chuck Klosterman's dissection of said movie. There's not much to add to his article; Snakes was supposed to be a "bad" movie, not surprisingly, it was just bad. That is, the entertainment value of this movie, including Samuel L. Jackson's inclusion in the project, is limited to the 10 second laugh somebody got from "wouldn't it be funny if Samuel L. Jackson..." and the 15 second laugh somebody else got from "yo they're actually doin it!" In execution, Sam Jack is perfect for the role, as is Julianna Margulies as the level-headed flight attendant who saves the day. And not perfect meaning bad, but perfect meaning good. You can't make a b-movie with a-list talent (ok b+-list, but don't front on ER).

DJ Gallo is pretty sorry on the joke tip, but his thoughts on Little League in his latest column are more or less the same ones I had about Snakes. Little League isn't Little League anymore because everyone can actually play ball. It's just another level of the minors. Where are the errors? Why isn't the coach's son, with his Christian Guzman-like abilities, leading off? Why aren't the winners being taken to Pizza Hut? Where's the flannel-clad kid on the bench who hurt his neck headbanging to Nirvana last night? Without these touches, you're just playing a much much lesser form of professional baseball. And, yet, if Aaron Durley skipped a game because he was grounded for throwing cherry bombs at the neighbors' dog, it still wouldn't be Little League. True Little League (whatup Chapel Hill Parks and Rec!), like every cult clasic out there, is a beautiful mess. You can't force it.



-I'll Sleep When You're Dead.
El-P blogs the making of his new album. A misreading of a list of guests on the album gets me wondering what kind of beat you make for a largely ignored Royals slugger. (Probably a very sad one.)

-Ian returns to blogging, writes game-changing assessment of indie criticism today.
Stab Paris Hilton.

-Santonio Holmes related to Fred Taylor.
In other news, my phd will be a quest to find the gene responsible for a broke-ass hamstring.

-Raul Mondesi, electricity thief.
Homeboy, your hair is fucking awful.

-The cover of Lupe Fiasco's album is insane.
This will not be my last word on this subject.

Blows are thrown, heads are flown like Pan Am

In the fifth installment of our Steelers season preview we project our gaze outward and talk about our good neighbors in the AFC North. See other preview sections here: 1-2-3-4(1)-4(2)
Cleve Brownies
Last Year: 6-10, missed playoffs
I usually don't have anything nice to say about the Browns, but they did go back to grey bars on their helmets this year, plus to you Cleveland. Grey helmet bars are classic and classy. However, they also got rid of those nice stripey socks on their home (road?) uniforms in favor of solid, two-tone jobs like everybody else. One minus.
On the football side of things, Romeo Crennel will probably get this ship in order, and he's been importing some of his former players to help him implement the hard-scrabble team-first philosophy that nauseated the fuck out of everybody when RC was in New England. That will probably take some time though, and considering I don't really even know who their quarterback is, this is probably not the year. Even the most ardent Browns fans have resigned themselves to failure in '06.
I have to admit, I was pretty excited to say some mean shit about the Browns, but I just can't make myself hate the new Browns with anything even approaching the intensity with which I hated the old Browns. The old Browns (read: Ravens) were a pretty decent team that played in a decrepit, cavernous stadium with deranged animalistic fans. Old Browns fans took road trips into the nether regions between Pittsburgh and Cleveland just for the chance of burning a Steelers fan's arm with a cigarette in a bar in Youngstown. Eric Metcalf would always rip the heart out of your team with a fourth quarter kickoff return for a TD. But now they have a mascot named Trapper whose favorite song is from the Space Jam soundtrack. In a way, I really do feel bad for them.
Predicted record: 7-9
Balt-ee-more Ravens
Last Year: 6-10, missed playoffs
The Ravens. Now here is a team that you can really feel good disliking. Smug Brian Billick. RayRay. Deion Sanders. Shannon Sharpe. Winning a Super Bowl. Being the real Browns. They were just built to be hated. It's a beautiful thing, really.
I'm not going to go into the whole "Brian Billick was an offensive genius in Minnesota but his Ravens teams can't play offense" thing. But I will say this: I think that having Steve McNair will give that whole thing a small reprieve when he runs a startlingly efficient ball-control offense for a few weeks. As is usually the case with McNair he will then suffer diminshed efficiency when he plays the last 7 games of the season with a collapsed lung.
People forget that Steve McNair is two seasons removed from being the league MVP on a team with no star receivers and he is a bona fide Steeler killer. If anybody knows how to torture the Steelers secondary (which, honestly, nobody has had any true faith in since Rod Woodson left), it is Mr. Alcorn State himself. Dude regularly beats down NFL defenses while playing through the most rediculous pain imaginable. This is a man I am afraid of.
Predicted record: 10-6

Cinci Bungles
Last Year: 11-5, lost to Steelers in AFC Wild Card Game
The Bengals (and fans) have been the whiniest bunch of sissies in all of sports for about 18 or 24 months running now: -Whining and moaning about the malice of Kimo von Oelhoffen as if he had shot Carson Palmer in the face and then peed on him.
-Carson Palmer and his "I Hate the Steelers" proclaimations via the media.

-Chad Johnson, who is amusing no doubt, betraying his wounded pride by predicting the outcome of every damn game like Nosferatu with fronts.
Just to give you an idea of how bad things have gotten:

Bootsy, get your people to pull themselves together and play some football. Jesus.
All that aside, the Bengals have a pretty good team (about 70% of which is in jail or licking taser wounds, but hey, who isn't?) and they did win the division last year. However, they need to either buck their crippling inferiority complex or shut their mouths.
Predicted record: 1-15 (just for being assholes)

In other news:

Jerry Colangelo and Coach K think that executing in the half-court is a strong metaphor for the war in Iraq. Or maybe the other way around. Either way, themightyjd thinks this is a bit, er, incommensurate with the actual importance of international basketball. I happen to agree and will go one plus by saying that Jerry Colangelo (who has made a life of owning pro sports teams in Arizona and paying people by the thousand to pray for George W.) is batshit crazy in that really scary way.

Monday, August 21, 2006

[Your name here] be sippin rum out of Stanley Cups

I just got that familiar feeling again. No not the burning, the other one. The feeling that the Pittsburgh Pirates did something really fucking stupid and they are about to get exposed. If Tom Glavine's pending blood clot test (rasta joke here) comes back positive and he has to sit down for the season or life or whatever the case may be, which lefty do you think is going to take his place in the rotation? Odds are it will be one of two former Pirates- Dave Williams or Oliver Perez.

Do I even have to explain beyond this point? In October, when the Mets run through the entire National League like a little plastic sword in a jar of olives, who do you think is going to throw a few 8 inning, 12 strikeout, 1 run games? If it's Dave Williams, I guess I can live with that. But you know as well as I do that it won't be Dave Williams.

I know Perez was bombing so bad that it became untenable to keep him, but sometimes I think the Pirates need to do exactly the opposite of what they think the "obvious move" is. I mean, that hasn't been working out so well for them for the last, oh, 14 years. I hate the Pirates so much.

In a related story, Steelers season opens in 16 days.

Live, from the Great Western Forum, May 17th, 1996

Saturday, August 19, 2006

Lookout weekend

-The Tech Support anniversary jam- the only place in Philly to seee John Madden eat a sausage dinner with his hands tied behind his back...while listening to Rob Base.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

Elvis was a hero to most

If you just keep talking and talking and talking, at some point you'll say something intelligent.

I guess that's how Bill Simmons keeps his job. In his Page2 piece yesterday, in between yammering on about his AL-only keeper league, the Red Sox and various 10 cent pop culture references (for chrissakes, stop reading Maxim and start listening to vinyl you goddamn fratboy) BILL SIMMONS MADE A FUNNY LIST OF STUFF. Here it is verbatim:

By the way, if you were covering the White Sox, wouldn't you make it your goal to keep asking Ozzie Guillen questions that could lead him to possibly giving loony answers? For instance, if I were covering the White Sox for the Sun-Times this summer, I would have repeatedly asked Ozzie for his opinion on the following things: tennis bras, "Brokeback Mountain," vasectomies, UFOs, Barbaro, menstrual cycles, dinosaurs, blogs, Suri Cruise, decaffeinated coffee, "Scarface," Celine Dion, breast-feeding in public, Ugueth Urbina, the plight of homeless people in Chicago, hybrid cars, steroids, movie theaters that still show X-rated movies, NASCAR, pro wrestling and Viagra. I would have worn him down, day after day, and gotten his take on every one of those things. This is probably why I never made it in the newspaper business.

Bill, you so crazy.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Liberally apply metaphor to affected area

In other news:
I can't figure out if Frank Deford is:
(A) a dapper old gent in the early twentieth century straw-hat mold or
(B) a real life version of Chris Walken's character in "The Continental" who might bait a woman with a scotch older than she is.


Also, Ron Ron tells the childrens when to kick ass and take names and when to not kick ass and still take names and when to kick ass but not request any names at all.

P.S. One of the most interesting/disturbing/gramatically free form things I've ever seen is the comments section of Ron Artest's myspace page. Are you a Tru Warier?


The Cl*v*l*nd Br*ns have a mascot named Trapper.

Make your own joke, kids.

Them couple of days your shit float I played you closer

This a counterpoint to the fourth part of our Steelers season preview. See other sections: 1-2-3

There was a time when even the most levelheaded, forward thinking individuals thought steel would rule Pittsburgh forever. There once was an age where the world could have been nothing if not flat. For years even I was fairly sure that Ronald Reagan was a robot fueled by a blend of rubbing alcohol the tears of negroes. But alas, truth was revealed as myth. Except the Reagan one.

Bill Cowher will not, cannot coach the Steelers forever. In fact, despite every bone in my body telling me to believe exactly the opposite of what Skip Bayless might be thinking, I can't help but capitulate to reason. You ask- what reason might that be?

Bill Cowher is 49 years old, and he doesn't know what he's done with his life. He's been raising children (his own and those of others) for over two decades now. He's got all the money in the world, but there ain't shit in Fox Chapel to spend it on. His daughters have left the roost, and his wife is probably pissed that he's been the one driving the Cowher train for a while now.

He's been experimenting with different facial hair patterns (see: Al Gore), dragging his family to crazy poker nights with Kid Rock and Hank Williams and impersonating himself. These are discouraging signs. His proteges, Dungy and Lewis are close to surpassing him, and he's watched his mentor play with his Martyballs in semi-retired seclusion after he burnt out with the Chiefs. Now, after last year's triumphant victory, Cahr's got nothing left to achieve in his profession.

So, I'm sayin' that the good money is on a retirement, if only to set the stage for a triumphant return when his successor Russ Grimm leaves to coach the Redskins in a few years. As much as I hate to say it, if I was in Cowher's position, I'd leave too. I know it kills Pittsburghers to see any change whatsoever, some people need it. Haven't you ever dreamed of one day making it out of Pittsburgh?

P.S. Does anybody else get that feeling that it's impossible for Cowher to leave in the same way that your Dad can never stop being your Dad? I love it when Cowher gives that look after a dumb penalty all like "I'm not angry, just disappointed."

Tuesday, August 15, 2006


This is part 4 of the Just Sayin Steelers season preview.

Understand this, sports media massive: regardless of what happens this season, Bill Cowher is not going to leave the Steelers. I don't care that his family has a new house in Raleigh. I don't care about the glory of last season. To the casual observer--hell, to the deeply engrained observer--all signs point to his departure. But it's not gonna happen. Let me break it down for you.

1) Cowher knows what will happen to the Steelers if he leaves.
Not to say he wasn't qualified, but I would wager Cowher's native Pixburgh status played a large part in landing him the job. High off a recent Superbowl victory, even a year later, that may be the only qualification for his replacement. A coaching vacancy right now could be filled by any number of local gridiron vets, but it should not shock anybody if Kenny's cousin Donny from Lincoln Place ends up at the helm. He did, after all, play linebacker'nat at Steel Valley. But Cowher does not only forsee Donny from Lincoln Place as his successor, he also knows this will begin the "Donny Era." Nobody knows the strength of blue-collar solidarity like a man who started Kordell Stewart for almost a decade, yet still kept his job coaching.

2) Cowher can't coach anywhere else.
This is not a Roger Clemens/Benedict Arnold issue. We would love and support the Chin wherever he went (except Baltimore, Cincinnati, Cleveland or Indianapolis), but it's hard to imagine the subtleties of his coaching technique translating well to any other NFL team. As it is, Cowher's gonna have enough trouble adjusting this year. One can imagine the sideline sounding something like this:


Willie Parker: Coach, my name's Willie. We went over this last year.

Needless to say, it would get ugly when yelling "GET EM TROY" doesn't hold up on defense, especially without his stash of IC Light tucked in Alan Faneca's gut.

3) Bill Cowher cannot stop coaching football.
He can't leave the Steelers, he can't go elsewhere, that only leaves retirement as an option. Are you for real?

Look at this man.

Look at him.

You tell me: what the hell is this man going to do if he's not coaching football? His daughter probably had the only baptism in history with a special teams coach.

4) Cowher cannot afford to feed both him and his chin.
Just sayin.

Monday, August 14, 2006

Chris Fuamatu-Bout to-fall-out

This is the third installment in our Steelers season preview.
Before I put JS2000 locker room correspondant Young Lyle Alzado to the task of trying to put together the all-time Steelers all-name team, I decided that some ground rules were necessary. First, you can't be some dude who sauntered into training camp with a stupid name just to get on this list. That means that Stefan Fatsis will never be on the Broncos all-time name team.

Second, you don't have to be good, but this can't be a team made up entirely of no names. For example, Alvoid Mays picked off 2 passes in 1995- he's in. Conversely, Rick Strom, despite having a sister who was my summer camp counselor, only attempted 20 odd passes his whole Steelers career. Plus his name sucks, so he's out. Fred Foggie- also out.

Third, you only qualify based on your name. Nicknames don't work. That's like giving the "Best Congenital Deformity" award to somebody who lost a leg in a bus accident. Nobody's mom names them "Night Train." If nobody actually knows your first name (e.g. John Fuqua- who's that?), that counts.

Lastly, guys from before the Second World War are also out because everybody back then had a name like Peaches McGee, so it wouldn't really be fair. Plus, nobody knows who those guys are anyway. So without further ado, the
JS2000's All-Time Steelers All-Name Team:

QB: Bubby Brister, 1986-92. Sorry Big Ben, but this is really all Bubby's got.

RB: Chris Fuamatu-Ma'afala, 1998-2002. Easiest decision I ever made.

RB: Amos Bullocks, 1966. Punchline to several Cockney jokes.
WR: Louie Lipps, 1984-91. Once gave me an autograph in the East Liberty Phar-Mor.
WR: Frenchy Fuqua, 1970-76. Known for dressing like Rudy Ray Moore and his inadvertant role in the Immaculate Reception.
C: "Buzz" Nutter, 61-64. No first name listed in Steelers player database. A lot of innuendo possible here.
G: Carlton Haselrig, 1990-93. Yo Haselrig, better call up Alfonso Ribeiro and thank him for helping you make the team. Didn't play football until college.
G: Duval Love, 1992-94. Like Luther Vandross, only for football.
T: Tunch Ilkin, 1980-92. Tunch's mother was Ms. Turkey in 1950 (Didn't make that up).
T: Urban Henry, 1964. All dudes named Urban are funny.
TE: Mike Mularkey, 1989-91. Former Bills coach a likely candidate to be the first Steeler in space.

LB: Hardy Nickerson, 1987-92. One of my all-time favorite Steelers.

LB: Rod Breedlove, 1965-68. Not a fan of rubbers, this one.

LB: Gene Breen, 1965-66. Quilting machine.

LB: Rico Mack, 1993. Rico. Mack.
S: Myron "Boo" Bell, 1994-97, 2000-01. Second most famous Myron in Pittsburgh.
S: Tony Dungy, 1977-78. Mad grungy.
CB: Alvoid Mays, 1995. Retired from football in order to hold up supermarkets in West Virginia. Never quite good enough for the phrase "Avoid Mays" to catch on. Never quite good enough at football, that is.
CB: Willie Williams, 1993-96, 2004-present. Not that funny until you realize his name is William Williams.
DE: Brentson Buckner, 1994-96. Has a bizarre shoe kissing ritual memorialized in a TV commercial.
DE: Orpheus Roye, 1996-99. Lawrence Fishburn's Morpheus really just a cheap immitation of this spatially transcendant special teams ace. Used to delight Cope with his special teams wedge-busting.
DT: Kimo von Oelhoffen, 2000-2005. Known primarily for his knee-splintering hit on Carson Palmer. Known secondarily for his gentle loving touch.

Special Teams
K: Booth Lusteg, 1968. Managed to hit 8 of 20 field goals in '68. No wonder he only lasted a year in the Burgh.
P: Shayne Edge, 1996. Tried to run once and got tackled for a 16 yard loss. Career lasted four games.
Head Coach
Joe Bach. 1935-36, 52-53. Switched on Bach.

Honorable mention: All Samoan Steelers not included here, Bill Mackrides (would have included him if he had played more than 4 games), Bam Morris, Dick Shiner, Tee Martin (bonus points for being mentioned in a J-Live song), Max Kielbasa (best yinzer name ever but violated some of the central rules), John Henry Johnson, Ray May, Franco Harris, Rocky Bleier, Amos Zereoue

Note: For those of you who surfed in via a drop from our good friends over at the Yinzer Ministry of Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, hahyinzdoinn'at? Schween, don't be mean to Kerns.

I request that you refrain from testing my gangsta

Hello from lunchbreakland:
Little Known Steelers Fact #2: Which Pittsburgh Steeler named Bettis holds the record for most rum-infused sheet cake eaten during halftime (with his helmet on)?

If you guessed Jerome, you are obviously not a true scholar of history. Purdue product Tom Bettis had a dynamite 1962 season linebacking with the 'Lers before he moved on to the Bears. Unfortunately, in 1962 there were no defensive statistics kept, save interceptions. Thus, I can only conjecture that Tommy Bettis recorded 49 tackles and 19 sacks in the third quarter, immediately after eating all that cake. The only Bettis not to be known by a transportation-related moniker, Tom had a 1-6 record as the interim coach of the Chiefs in 1977.

P.S. On my way back from lunch today, I saw the Germs walk out of the hotel in the PSFS building and into a tour bus. Pat Smear looked really high or tired or something. Then, all of a sudden, a lady in the street went on a massive tirade about how they were gonna take her baby away and put her in a shelter. She followed me into my building, where there are some social services organizations. Everybody got really uncomfortable- it was very upsetting. The net result was that I managed to encounter somebody from Nirvana and not realize it for about 90 minutes.


Friday, August 11, 2006

Keep it real, represent what? My nuts!

-Like Van Damme in "Breakin'", Big Benjamin is going to appear onfield in the preseason opener against the Cardinals for like two seconds.

-Joey Porter, was recently activated from the Physically (Emotionally?) Unable to Perform list. Peezy, we missed you. Say something crazy for us.

-I think I saw Rick Ross driving a late model Mustang on Market Street in Philly yesterday. He was bumping some re-mix of Hustlin' I'd never heard before. Then again, there are about 300,000 dudes with that beard in Philly.

-I'm going to DC this weekend (and then on to Ocean City, MD). I will be sure to dutifully report any Southeast Jerome sightings.

-I'm probably very late to the game on this but...I caught like 5 minutes of that "America's Got Talent" show. All the negative things I could say about bad American Idol clones and musings about how we just don't make 'em like Teddy Pendergrass anymore, there was really a dude on that show last night named Bobby Badfingers with a huge leathermotorcycleparadisegarage mustache. I didn't even see him perform, but the internet tells me he is a professional finger snapper from the Bay Area.

I don't want to listen to any of his music or watch a youtube clip of his performance on the show. It's so much better having an imaginary Bobby Badfingers that I can make into whoever I want. He has a leather bar on a yacht. He knows everybody who ever put out a record on Casablanca except maybe Parliament. He can be seen dancing in the background of the documentary
Maestro eleven times. Bobby Badfingers, we salute you.

-Part of having a job is finding out about all that humor on the internet targeted at people who wear collared shirts for a living. []

Thursday, August 10, 2006

big city of dreams

"Pittsburgh acquires Shawn Chacon from New York, prompting Pirates owner Kevin McClatchy to run around the office screaming 'we got a Yankee!'"

(from The Onion's 'MLB Trade Deadline Surprises')


Like James Bond in the octagon

Vast armies of haters have dismissed the Steelers' XL guerillla tactics as a fluke. Grudgingly, everybody agrees that the yinzers in black are a classy, smashmouf football team: old crochety family ownership, resistance to the forward pass concept, no cheerleaders, no mixed drinks. But success breeds contempt. Too many holes. Loss of the underdog drive. AFC North on the rise.

We at JustSayin2000, with our crack team of football analysts and locker room insiders (including Young Lyle Alzado, RoboNightTrainLane8 and Lil John Clayton) are here to bring you the truth about the latest edition of the Pittsburgh Steelers as only Pittsburgh ex-pats can (it's called perspective people). Today's report: The offensive backfield.

QB: I really don't want to talk about the whole motorcycle accident thing, it's been beaten to death. I could go on and on about the numerous unexpected ways BB7 could fall apart this season- accident-related rickets, consumption or pleurisy. But I don't want to picture Ben living out the season in head-to-toe Reebok gear, holed up in a sideline iron lung. I could speculate about the reconstructive procedures used to rebuild him (e.g. Robocop), but what can I say about modern cybernetics that hasn't been said a million times?

If Ruthlessbingle stays healthy, I think things will be OK. He did get beat up pretty bad last season on account of some poor protection, so if he can't take a knock anymore, Chazzie Batch could be thrust into what is basically the second most important job behind President of the United States. Chaz is from Homestead, and is thus the only Steeler who rides his bike to practice. I think that should give us all some comfort. In emergency situations, Omar Jacobs has great hair.

RB: Willie Parker is on a mission to convince the world he is being typecast as merely somebody who is extremely fast. He wants to take over in short yardage situations and on third downs. Frankly, Duce Staley is much better suited to short yardage. Dan Rooney's farts can knock Willie Parker over. If Duce starts eating a lot more sheet cake and entire turkeys like Jerome did, he should fill that role nicely. Expect Verron Haynes to see some time as a starter this year when everybody gets hurt at the same time.

Little Known Steelers Fact #1: Bill Cowher and Bill Brasky (who has a very extensive wikipedia page for an imaginary person) are actually first cousins. They are both named after their shared maternal grandfather William Finneran.

In other news:
-A thwarted terrorist attack over the Atlantic has forced the US to change the alert level to "Str8 Ballin'." No word on whether Juicy J has been contacted by government officials to attept to locate "dat Bin Ladden."

-Catch me DJing at Key West tonite. I'm gonna drop all the electro I've been stockpiling the last 6 months. Wear all that nylon mesh you've been keeping in the closet for so long.

-If you're not from Philly or under 30, this won't make any sense. If you are (and know Sean Agnew), this will make even less sense. It's Uhhhhhh.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Jeff Reed got the hood on smash.

There are now only 29 days remaining until the world distorts uncontrollably into a brain-melting ball of reptilian energy fueled by hops, trans-fats and sheer boredom. That's right, Pittsburgh Steelers football is here once again. All glories due to Allah.

To quickly bring everyobdy up to speed, last season the Steelers won the Super Bowl, definitively proving to the world that Pittsburgh is neither a boring city nor a dying city. All Pittsburghers were granted immortal life and sixty five cases of beer a piece. Every laid off steel worker got asked back to work. Upon punching in they were all given lap dances by former Channel 11 news team anchor Julie Bologna. Dogs shit Clark Bars. The sidewalks shoveled themselves.

In the seven-odd months since Super Bowl XL, Jerome Bettis of Detroit, Michigan retired, Big Ben mashed his whole self up in a senseless motorcycle accident, the Steelers drafted chronically incarcerated receiver Santonio Holmes, rumors of Bill Cowher's exodus began to swirl, Rolling Rock's brewery moved to New Jersey...and nobody gave a flying fuck. The Steelers won the Super Bowl. Let me repeat that. The Steelers won the Super Bowl.

But now it's back to business. The moment the Steelers start playing ball with the Dolphins on September 7th, the Super Bowl means nothing. That sickly, visceral "oh no" that accompanies a Kordell Stewart or Tommy Maddox duck doesn't just go away because we assumed our rightful place in the "lig." Last time I checked, guys who watched all four Super Bowls in the 70s would still pee themselves a little over a pre-season interception.

In Pittsburgh, a town where drag queens can diagram zone blitzes and housewives get kicked out of bars for physically assaulting Browns fans, we are in for another season of irrationality. So, over the next month, me and noixe will tell you everything you don't need to know about the Steelers- everything from Max Starks' throwback collection to Troy Polamalu's secret pregame Sparks ritual.

One for the...other ring finger.

noixe adds...
Greetings Deadspin readers. what it does? I'd like to thank my Mom and Optimus Prime for getting Just Sayin to where it is today. Anyways, if you like GW9K's ominous ramblings, you might also enjoy my thoughts on whether or not the stillers' 2007 season is being produced by a Hollywood studio.

Got dem internets

-The Cinci Bungles are the worst Johnny Cash song ever. "Who dey?" "Dey incarcerated." Insert joke about stripes here.

-JS2000 political analyst Dennis Coles reports a rumor that Joe Lieberman may be traded to the Republicans along with a 3rd round pick in 2008 for John McCain and future considerations.

-WhereHaveYouGoneAndyVanSlyke waxes poetic about the loss of Craig Wilson. Personally, I think Wilson should have been playing much much more over the last several seasons. Who cares if you strike out a zillion times? Until Bay came along, nobody else was going to hit 30 homers. How on earth do you let a .250-30-90 guy rot on the bench when you're losing 100 games a year? Anyway, the Pirates are in this vicious cycle where they presume that they won't win for at least three years, by which time Player X will be too old and a prospect will be due to replace him anyway. Guess we have to trade him. I feel bad for Craig Wilson and players like him. Losing really beats you down. The truth of it is: you can't have guys who only know how to lose showing your young guys how to play. I'm glad he got sent to the Yankees, where he can go to the playoffs and lose.

As for Chacon, the jury is still out on any pitcher who has spent most of his career pitching at Coors Field. We'll see. As with all these things, I'm not optimistic. Let me sum my thoughts on the Pirates by saying I'm going to put aside some time today to input all of this season's Steelers games into my Outlook calender at work.

-Piggybacking on that last thought: now that they're playing NFL preseason games again, I have already had the opportunity to use the following line several times:

Eagles fan: blahblahblahblah[sarcastically]Steelers.blahblahblah.
Me: Oh, wait. Did you win the Super Bowl last year?

I plan to milk this real hard. Milk it, milk it real hard. Like many of you, I can't stand the Eagles (or any other team located inside or close to the territorial boundaries of New Jersey) or their fans. I think my NFC team from here on out is going to be the Redskins (unless Clinton Portis is in any way disassociated with the team). I also like the Cardinals because Deshea Townshend once mistook Ryin Gaines for Larry Fitzgerald in an elevator.

P.S. That picture at the top of the page is Clinton Portis' mom.

Monday, August 07, 2006

I enjoy to make with the move it move it

So noixe used the day three days short of his birthday to totally shirk responsibility, foist mundane tasks onto his friends and make everybody listen to all his crappy ass records. Seriously, though, it was fun. Rockwell did his thing. I met an Argentine guy who talked a cabby into letting him drink in the cab by talking about soccer. Noixe and I annoyed everybody by communicating only in the form of Russian-accented rap lyrics. I saw a fat, bald hipster in hotpants. I walked up innumerable tenemant steps. I saw a Chinese man actually dressed like the racist stereotype of a 19th century Chinese man. As per usual, New York was simultaneously as cool and as dumb as possible all the time. I don't know how to deal. New York, you're awesome, fuck you.

P.S. Word verification upon posting this: "odehj" Ode to a Hand Job.

P.P.S. That robot is wearing Nikes. Yeah dots.

Sunday, August 06, 2006

Hit da flo like a maniac

While reading the Netflix user reviews of John Lurie's seminal faux fishing show "Fishing With John," I came accross this gem:

"Having expected to see FISHING, I found this the most offensive, ridiculous movie I have ever seen. The "absurdist" humor escaped me and the referneces to "woodies" totally out of place. And I am not a prude. My professional fisherman friends couldn't finish watching it either. Total piece of crap....don't waste your time!"

Obviously not a Tom Waits listener. For those of you who don't know 'bout "Fishing With John," musician John Lurie goes fishing with Tom Waits, Jim Jarmusch, Dub Defoe, Denny Hopper and Matt Dillon in exotic locales. Narration straight out of symphony-cast. On his ice-fishing escapade with Wilem Defoe, they can't catch anything and then "freeze to death" after they run out of toast-chee crackers. Brilliant. Not for non-music nerds or serious people. I remember Tom Waits putting a red snapper in his shorts at some point too.

Anyway, this got me thinking, somebody should hook me up with a marketing or programming rep at the Outdoor Life Network and/or BET. I've got an idea. It's called "Fishin' Wit' Jon" (I'm still considering "Fishin Wit' Jawn). Here's what I have so far:

Episode 1: Host Lil' Jon goes fishing with Cam in the Harlem River. Wearing unbuttoned Hawaiian shirts and sippin' gin, they keep losing lures. Eventually they seek out a local guide (Marco) who they dispatch to pick up a box of Garcia Vegas. More fishing, no luck. Marcos returns with blunts. While Lil' Jon rolls the kill, Cam catches a severely undersized smallmouth bass. They decide to retire to the limo and wash up for the evening.

The next morning they drive to Jersey and rent a small deep water yacht and a middle aged white guide from Bayonne...OK, this is where I ran out of ideas, but you see where this is going. It's going to take the campy irreverence of indie fake nature shows and integrate this with, uh, Lil Flip. Holla at me if you got backing for this.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

free yayo

Image Hosted by
rush rush.

Thanks to The Realests for uncovering the man whose mother was over 15 years ahead of her time with the grammar. I mean, one has to wonder if Northeastern wide receiver Ayo Yayo's middle name is "what it do."

Dude sounds like he should be cold lampin with Count Chocula, Boo Berry and the much maligned Fruit Brute, although I can't fathom a marketing scheme that would make a cocaine-themed breakfast cereal acceptable. Until that fateful day, our man Yayo will be "drawing, listening to music" and catching bombs from a fivesome of quarterbacks with inferior names.

And Mrs. Yayo--whoa--good lookin out in opting for "Ayo" instead of "No Homo," even if the name "No Homo Yayo" garners its possesor instant membership in the Diplomats.


Bonus: check out the kid's musings on Da Muzicianz and Purple City over at PopMatters.

The can take our lives, but...I am so...fucked up right now.

"'You mother f****r. I'm going to f*** you'....Gibson almost continually [sic] threatened me saying he 'owns Malibu' and will spend all of his money to 'get even' with me....'F*****g Jews... The Jews are responsible for all the wars in the world...Are you a Jew?'"

Mel Gibson has finally validated what many of us have long suspected. I know that it's easy to try and foist the blame for various world ills onto the Jews- war, hegemonic banking conspiracies, Fozzie Bear. But I have to say, we are in no position to take the world's DUI raps- it's just too much of a stretch. Too much hard evidence.

The good news here, is now that Mel's out of the (Jew hater) closet, he can make all those Nazi movies and have his long awaited war of the epics with Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg. Only this time, Herman Goering (Philip Seymour Hoffman) rides a horse through the White House and spears Franklin Roosevelt (Kenneth Branaugh) in the chest.