The Uncouth Sloth - born 2002, died 2006. R.I.P.

9/28/2004 01:50:00 PM by Rob

More babes of the Dubya-B

Because I don't have Skinemax, I have to make do with the PG rated Babes of the WB:

Bethany Joy Lenz, "One Tree Hill"

Megyn Price, "Grounded for Life"

YES, Megyn Price. Yes, she's the mom. She married young, OK? She engages my clutch, OK?

This is "Bond", a British string quartet with modern background beats. This intrigues the Sloth, both audibly and visually. They usually wear little more than this. They've been on a couple of commercials, Marshall Field's is one I remember.

Alyson Hannigan...from "Buffy", "American Pie", and I don't know all else...

....stop me before I post again!!

9/28/2004 11:08:00 AM by Rob

Shit-smeared orphan ass-lickers

The saberweens at BP think that the Cubs have a 79.6% chance of going to the playoffs, which is pretty certain at this point in time.

They broke out the old tried-and-true last night. Bludgeon bad pitching with homers. When we do that, we win, like, 123% of our games. I'm just hoping that we can resurrect the old formula a few more times, and squeak into the big dance.

I'll leave the thoughtful analysis to fellas like Cub Reporter. Today, I'm going to tell you what I think of the St. Louis Cardinals, who rolled over like coke whores last night for Houston.

It's bad enough that we still have to worry about shit stains like Jeff Kent and Roger Clemens. But if we had a REAL commissioner, who gave a rat's ass about things like competition and fair play, there would be an order for the goddamned puke-spewing Cardinals to play ball this week. There's no way the two teams should be allowed to conspire to keep us out of the playoffs. This isn't the motherfucking WWF..this is baseball, Porter, we play on a real diamond. Except for Rolen, they're all a disgrace to the game.

It starts with the crank-cooking pudwhack who shits out the lineup card. Sure, fucking LaRussa hates the obnoxious Dusty Baker. But isn't it the true test of just how much of a maxi-pad LaRussa is, when he comes out of it looking way more fucked up than Baker? You don't see Dusty getting all red, spitting, waving around like a raghead fertility dancer. LaRussa is a filthy-ass pig who dives in dumpsters behind proctologist's offices looking for something to eat, and spends his off days wiping his scabby, infected dick all over the curtains in fancy restaurants in St. Louis.

You know, like Denny's, Flying J, and Jack-in-the-Box.

For those of you who want to point out that it's pretty impossible to see HOW red Dusty gets, fuck off, man, we're NOT talking about Dusty here, we're talking about the cockbreath manager of the deadbeat knuckle-dragging daughter-raping Saint Louis Cardinals.

I guess bending over and taking it up the ass is no problem for guys like Jim Edmonds and Steve Klein. After all, they've been doing it for years. It probably didn't take much for the AssTrolls to talk them into it. I don't get why Civil War Veteran Albert PooHoles is rolling over and dying. I would think someone in love with his stats like him would relish the chance to punch holes in the ragarm fucks Houston is rolling out there these days. When Marlon Anderson is your entire offense, you know you're laying down like straight-to-video cumsluts.

They already have guys on their roster named Cody, Carmen, Randy, Cal, and Woody. The rest of them should go ahead and change their names to 'Kip', 'Biff', and 'Hunter' and go straight to male facial porn.

Well, Edmonds doesn't have to. He's already a household name amongst the Gay community. As is So Taguchi.

Disclaimer: the Uncouth Sloth has nothing against Gayness and the Gay community, in and of itself. His objection is against persons who accept money for sexual favors, whether in front of a camera or in an alley. Since the members of the St. Louis Cardinals are male in gender, as are the members of the Houston Astros, and since the Cardinal players chose to subjugate themselves to the Houston players in a misguided attempt to help them finish ahead of the Cubs, the perhaps unfortunate comparisons to Gay porn participants was drawn. The Uncouth Sloth apologizes to law-abiding Gay persons who prefer to keep their private lives private.

Monday, September 27

9/27/2004 03:19:00 PM by Rob

Magic Numbers

I have been informed by the saber weenies that the reason why you are not seeing any mention of 'magic number' is because the concept is invalid when there are multiple teams still in the running. It would only apply when all the teams but one are eliminated.

The Cubs have seven games left, and if they win out (uh-huh) they will win the Wild Card.

Other than that, there is uncertainity and chaos.

So, the number, and there's no magic in it at this point, is 7.

Baseball Prospectus gives the Cubs a 75% chance of winning the Wild Card, taking many, many things into consideration, including pitching matchups, weather, and the size and shape of Barry Bonds' pulled hammy.

I, myself, the Uncouth Sloth, have an appointment on a rooftop on Saturday. What if there's a clinchin' that day?

Yeeeee-FUCKIN-HAAAAA!!!

9/27/2004 10:15:00 AM by Rob

So much more than I can handle

You would think that one of the most exciting weeks in Cub history, that the Uncouth Sloth would be posting HOURLY, full of vim and venom about the hyper-critical wins and losses.

I apologize to one and all that I have not been up to the task.

Work has all of a sudden gotten busy, and I have also been involved in "being more emotionally available" for my kids, which included bringing them around for their grandfather's funeral (my ex-wife's dad). THAT, that was weird. Oh my lord...all of the reasons why I could not deal with those people, all the reasons why I eventually broke away from them...15 years of history all came flooding back in one weekend.

I also have a co-worker hassling me about something, and all-in-all, even though this should be one of the greatest weeks of our lives as Cub fans, I'm just not into it. Part of it is because I still have not accepted the Wild Card as a proper entry into the post-season. I still feel it is a consolation prize, for the tallest midget, the 'best of the losers'. I don't like it, because I can't follow it without considering the schedules of at least four other teams.

BUT...as Andy will so readily point out, the Wild Card IS, in fact, a valid entry into the post-season. You can win the World Series as a Wild Card. The Cubs will need to win more games in 2004 to qualify as a Wild Card than they won in 2003 as the Central Division champs.

And how many weeks can possibly compare to this one?

Yes, last year's last week, as well as the two rounds of playoffs, compare.

Before that? The last week of 1998, I guess, qualifies. The next-to-last week of 1995, where the Cubs harbored faint wild-card hopes, was pretty good. There were no suspenseful weeks in 1989. We won by 6 games or so, and the playoffs qualified as anti-climactic. The 1984 playoffs were certainly an emotional roller-coaster....and then you have to go all the way back to the early seventies. The 1970 team finished 5 games out. So did the 1973 team...but that team also finished with 77 wins (ugh?)

Before that, and considering the fact that the 1938 and 1945 teams won the pennant, the last time a Cubs team finished LESS THAN 10 games out of first place was nineteen-fucking-thirty-seven (1937)!?!

To conclude the point I am making, in the last 70 (seven-oh) years, there have only been 5 or 6 weeks that can compare to the one we are about to enjoy, as Cubs fans.

So please, don't get caught up in whatever personal doldrums I am swimming in. These are the days that we have hoped for...enjoy them, root for your tired, no-closer, no-situational-offensive team, and hope that they can manage to win one more game than the Giants and Ass-Trolls.

Especially, the Ass-Trolls. Go Dodgers, Go Brewers, and most importantly, Go Cubs!!

Friday, September 24

9/24/2004 08:40:00 AM by Rob

The Sloth's Quick Hits

A few short, random thoughts to get us started on another Big Cubs Weekend

- For those of you who have commented to "correct" me on my "Standings that Matter":
I am perfectly capable of going out to Yahoo! Sports and reading their Wild Card Standings...in fact, since THEY have it, why would I post it.

My point is that we are not competing against the Giants at this point. The Dodgers are a fucking train wreck, and they will end up finishing second or third in their division. I firmly believe that our two main competitors at this point are the AssTrolls and Dodgers. I get ten days for my point to become valid.

- According to complex mathematical calculations, the Cubs Magic Number is 8.

- Am I expected to say something profound about Greg Maddux that hasn't already been said? Ahh, geez. Well, you can have Clemens and the Unit, Maddux is the best pure pitcher I have ever seen, including Seaver, Jenkins, Sutton and Perry. Most of those guys had superior stuff - triple digit fastballs, nasty sliders, ungodly breaking stuff, sticky spit. All Maddux ever had was a plan to throw the right pitch at the right time.

The "15 wins 17 years in a row" is right up there with "most hits in the 90's" in the Hall of Concocted Milestones. But what else in life is this dependable? Your car? Nah. Your job? Hardly. Your wife? Unfortunately in my case, not often. Your dog? Not for 17 years...

- I know enough about Judaism to know that Passover and Yom Kippur are the highest observances in their year. Then again, Easter is the highest holiday in the Christian calendar. Christian ballplayers routinely do not take Easter off, but Easter is more of a celebration day. It is true that American business is geared around taking Christmas off, but football, basketball, and hockey players are routinely scheduled to play on Christmas. The Bulls in their hey-day were frequently asked to play on the NBC Xmas showcase game, and they did their share of griping about it.

It is the money that has ruined everything. It SHOULD not be our place to comment on whether Shawn Green's convictions should override the welfare of his employer. I don't think it is a 'day off' or 'equality' thing with him. He must really feel the need to atone. But for the money he is being paid, it seems to give people like me the right to suggest that he should atone on his own time. $11 million dollars IS a lot of money. Maybe the best way for him to atone is to actually earn his keep.

Thursday, September 23

9/23/2004 03:15:00 PM by Rob

Today's Standings that matter

As of THIS moment:

Dodgers 86 65 ---
Cubs 86 66 1/2
Asstrolls 83 69 3 1/2
PodRays 82 70 4 1/2

C'mon Giants and PodRays...beat LA and Houston tonight!! The Dodgers are dead and sinking fast.

9/23/2004 10:20:00 AM by Rob

This Just In:

John Kerry Sucks. Dubya Bush Sucks.

sigh...

9/23/2004 08:08:00 AM by Rob

Good glove, no hit, Sammy Sosa?

He went oh-fer again last night, leaving scads of runners in scoring position, and probably a younger, quicker man would have been able to make the same play without leaving his feet,

....but, OH! What a catch!!!

Considering the night he had at the plate, the score on the scoreboard, and their place in the standings, it's hard to imagine a more CLUTCH defensive play than that one.

The steroid-soaked 1998 Sam-me does not make that catch. Maybe there still is hope for him after all. Obviously The Gladiator is convinced that going all-out in the outfield is necessary. If someone can similarly convince him that cutting down on his swing, when the situation calls for it, is also necessary, maybe our last year of the Sammy Sosa era won't be so bad.

If he can go back to hitting, say, .300, with 30 doubles, 25 homers, and over 100 RBIs, AND play that kind of defense...I'd take that, right?

Right?

Well?

Ummmm...

AAAWWW! Who the FUCK am I kidding? He's a thick ass moron. He'll NEVER put aside his ego long enough to play situational baseball.

At least, not until he goes to the Yankees in 2006.

Wednesday, September 22

9/22/2004 01:53:00 PM by Rob

Just a thought

Wonder how long Survivor Rob's marriage to Survivor Amber will last?

Sorry, I already have "0 months - won't take place" in the pool.

9/22/2004 11:14:00 AM by Rob

Dumpster as closer?

Co-worker Vinco just left my humble cubicle.

Wanted to tell me what bugs him so much about LaTroy Hawkins. He can't stand him because he's one of them Gary, Indiana n****rs. See, Vinco lives in Highland, and has probably experienced hubcap swiping, hit-and-running, or worse at the hands of Gary, Indiana n****rs.

Not really, what bugs Vinco is that, in his words, "...he doesn't seem like he gives a shit what happens. He just throws the ball over the plate, and says 'here it is, go ahead and hit it, if you can.' And they do!"

Well, there's at least one flaw in Vinco's logic, namely, if Hawkins could have managed to throw one more strike to Rob Mackowiak last night, he wouldn't have walked nor scored three batters later. Another flaw is that he certainly DOES give a shit.

He made it very clear from jump street that, even though he was making three times the money Reg'lar Joe was making, that he was NOT the closer. Reg'lar Joe would do the heavy lifting, and he himself would handle the eighth.

In one of the biggest chicken-shit moves ever, almost immediately upon being annointed the closer in June, he calls a press conference to announce that he will not talk to the media anymore.

He is now 2 for 9 in one-run saves. 7 saves, blown, just of the one-run variety. That does not count tie games, two run saves, etc...he HAS five wins, and we all know that the easiest way for him to get a win is to blow a save, only to the point that the score is tied, and then allow the offense to bail his skinny ass out.

He has cost us several games this year. Of course, most closers not named Gagne do. He hasn't done a miserable job.

He's not sMel Rojas bad. Not Dave Smith bad. Not Billy Koch bad. Certainly not Kyle Farns #44 bad.

But in the end of September, and the month of October, you don't want someone whose fragile psyche is held together by old chewing gum closing out your close games.

Ryan Dumpster went out there and mowed them down in the tenth with all the drama of someone brushing his teeth.

I'd throw him out there again, today. We need to know, now.

Tuesday, September 21

9/21/2004 11:03:00 AM by Rob

Let them play!

Been doing my William Devane-insipred mantra all weekend. (How obscure is that for ya?)

Thank you all for your comments about the Special Olympics/Overinvolved Dad juxtapositional essay from yesterday. It really is hard for me to keep a cap on it, because 1) I am, forever, uncouth, and 2) when it comes to my kids, I know how much effort my wife and I put into making it possible for them to participate, and it infuriates me when I think I see less than 100% effort. I put 100% effort into paying for equipment, fees, etc, running them to and fro, and I expect the same out of them. I don't feel that they understand (or don't care) what MY expectations are. I guess the answer is to not invest so much of myself, so I won't feel resentful.

But that doesn't work, either, because there isn't a whole lot else going on with my kids that I can share in. My eldest is involved in school, sports, and playing grabass with his friends of both sexes, and not much else. My youngest, school, sports, video games and bad Japanese anime with HIS friends, and not much else. I can help with school and sports. The rest, I'm pretty much cut out of.

But it appears when all is weighed and considered, that rage plays no part in the process.

So, in the spirit of virtual lobotomization, I react lukewarmly about yesterday's split. On one hand, after winning the first game, there was no good goddamned reason why our so called "starters" shouldn't have bitch-slapped David Weathers all over the yard.

But on the other hand, I never thought Lame Mark Prior would have a chance against the man Too Good for Alyssa Milano, Carl Pavano.

So, I'm just going to Let Them Play.

Monday, September 20

9/20/2004 01:30:00 PM by Rob

Special Olympics, and the art of Ridicule

I went to my first Special Olympics event over the weekend.

As a VOLUNTEER, fucksticks.

There are several events in our area. Earlier this month there was a volleyball tournament, there will be cross-country skiing in January, basketball skills in Feb., basketball tournament in March, and the first of several track meets in April.

Saturday was the bowling competition, and I was placed in charge of (at first) a group of highly-functioning 16-29 year old girls, and when they finished, a second shift of 30+ year old women. Each group bowled three games apiece, and without bumpers, the girls all averaged about 55-60 pins, and the ladies about 75.

One of the girls started crying after one game, and wanted to see her grandma. We had to bring her over to the staging area, but everyone else had a great time! Gutter ball or strike, when they come back to their seats after their turn, everyone gives high-fives, hugs, applause, praise and nobody is cut out, left off or ridiculed. There is absolutely NO POINT in ridiculing such people, for they are trying their best, and criticism isn't going to squeeze another pin out of them.

I signed up for this event months ago, and it couldn't have been better timed, for the night before, my eldest son completely stunk out the joint in his fourth football game, in which his team suffered his first loss. I was so livid that I could not control myself in the second game. I yelled at the players, I yelled at the coaches, I yelled at the refs, and eventually, some old fucker in the stands yelled at ME to control my opinions, and of course, I yelled back.

Then, when my son came home, I yelled at him for playing like suck.

He gets high marks from his coaches for attendance and respectfulness, but even they can see that he practices and plays in an unmotivated manner. I know this, and whether or not I was just frustrated, or whether I really thought that my jumping down his throat was going to make him give more, but I let him have it.

But a funny thing happened. It made ZERO difference to him. He is going to do what he wants, when he wants, how he wants. He doesn't play for my approval. Who knows why he plays? But I was reminded of something during the bowling tournament.

No matter how much or how hard, or how cleverly I vent, it isn't going to help matters ONE DAMN BIT.

So, on Sunday, my younger one stumbled and fell all over the place in his game. I clapped and cheered.

Next Friday, when my elder one goes back out there, even if I see him firing out from his left tackle position and hitting nobody, like he does 75% of the time, I will clap and cheer.

I don't agree with it. It doesn't feel right to me. But it's all I can do.

Anyway, the Cubs have to win 10 out of their next 14 to make me happy. If they have 92 wins with one game left and they are still behind in the Wild Card race, then we all can lay our heads down, close our eyes, and sleep easy knowing that, with everything in a long season, they have done all they can to represent Chicago in the playoffs.

Fuck St. Louis. Fuck the Cardinals. Fuck Jim Edmonds, and fuck his trained gerbils.

Friday, September 17

9/17/2004 01:32:00 PM by Rob

Comments about the Cubs

Let's see, I covered Rick James and JAPs today. No, I am not trying to ignore the exploits of Aramis Ramirez. Note that he is the subject of my latest poll.

I'm confident I'm not going to start an argument by stating that you HAVE to sign him long-term. He is custom-built for the park. He may not have as quick reflexes as Mike Lowell, the Sloth's 2003 Wish Baby, but you don't have to have them on our slow infield grass, and his worth is compensated and then some by his superior power.

OK, he's gonna cost us. He might start out asking for $14M per annum for 5, and he may end up with $12Mx4 with an option. This is a $6M raise, which basically nullifies the gains from the Alex Gonzalez contract. I figure Alou is gone, and it definitely is a topic for another time how they will choose to fill the vacancies in LF, SS, and the Clement spot in the rotation. Will they make large enough offers to Nomar and/or Clement to encourage them to stay? Will they fill LF from within (DuBois) or go after a mid-level FA? But you have to make Ramirez job #1.

So Tuesday Corey wins it by himself, last night Ramirez wins it by HIMself, and in between, the boys pummel the Battlin' Buccos into submission. If you take the last three games as a sample (which many of our brethren typically do), this has all the markings of a special team, and a special year.

Tonight we have Zambrano vs. another jamoke I've never heard of. Which is not to say that the jamoke won't pitch a great game, for the Cubs periodically have the tendency to make aces out of asses. What defnitely works in our favor is the fact that the game is in Cincy, in their stuffy little bandbox, and even with the overgrown Adam Dunn wearing red, they can't swing with us. And, for sure, their pitcher isn't going to fight like Z will.

A few more of these in a row, and we have a legit reason to start going crazy.

So, as the President and CEO of When Will the Other Shoe Drop Enterprises, what's gonna happen? Just when I can't think of any logical reason why we should lose tonight, we'll find a way. How? Why? I wish I knew so I could ramp up my meds accordingly.

9/17/2004 08:55:00 AM by Rob

Cesar Tovar

It really isn't "happy cesar tovar". Just "cesar tovar". Well, it isn't Cesar Tovar, either. Cesar Tovar, of course, was a Minnesota Twin.

I guess what I am trying to do here is segue into a pic of Ivy Chat Chuck's favorite Jewish-American Princess, the pre-stoned Yasmine Bleeth.

I want a horny little Jewish Princess, with titanic tits, and sandblasted zits.

UPDATE: For Carlos Zambrano's Dad, Lindsey Vuolo, hott Jewish Princess #3:

Good call, Dad...I ain't no anti-Semite.

9/17/2004 08:38:00 AM by Rob

Superfreak, indeed

From E! Online:

By Charlie Amter

Rick James may have died of "natural causes," as his label announced the day after his death, but a Los Angeles county coroner's report released Thursday confirms the singer's last few days may have been anything but homeopathic. The coroner's office officially ruled James' Aug. 6 death "accidental," but also noted that no fewer than nine drugs were found in his system, including methamphetamine and cocaine.

As E! exclusively reported Aug. 7, James was spotted just days prior to his death at a Hollywood party using cocaine, and many of his friends privately were concerned that the former "Superfreak" was back to his partying ways before his untimely death. James and his family had maintained that the R&B/funk star successfully kicked his cocaine habit and was sober after years spent battling a crack addiction.

In addition to cocaine and crystal meth, the Los Angeles county coroner's report noted the presence of seven other drugs found during the autopsy--specifically Xanax, Valium, Wellbutrin, Celexa, Digoxin, Chlorpheniramine and Vicodin. No single drug was found in quantities that would establish lethal quantities, hence the accidental death ruling. The singer's official cause of death remains heart attack, according to the coroner's office. The 56-year-old had been suffering from several health issues, including diabetes, a stroke in 1998 and heart-related problems in recent years.

In ADDITION TO cocaine and crystal meth? What the Fuck?

Having taken 6 out of the nine, individually (no, I have not done coke or meth), any ONE of these is enough to fucking knock me silly. Vicodin made me violently ill, Celexa made me want to hang myself, and Wellbutrin made me want to sleep 24 hours a day. Xanax is pretty special, though.

Sorry, Doc. It was NO accident that all nine of these were in his system at once. I would NOT consider his demise accidental. But then again, this isn't LA.

Thursday, September 16

9/16/2004 03:40:00 PM by Rob

Rosh Hashannah

For Chuck, Bonnie Bernstein, and everyone else Jewish, happy Cesar Tovar.

Hah! Isn't THAT clever?

9/16/2004 09:59:00 AM by Rob

Naaaah, can't be

Am I supposed to believe that this was the plan all along? That the Cubs have broken up their offensive production like an olympic track relay team? That Alou would carry us in June, Ramirez in July, Lee in August, and now, in September, The Great Sam-me Sosa will carry the baton home, buddy?

That would be mother-fucking RIDICULOUS for me to say such a thing.

Jeezus, though. What if? Let's play make-believe for a minute, and imagine this was the case. How cool would it be if one big old egotistical man decided to carry the team on his back for the next nineteen games, 1967 Yaz style, and just kept winning game after game with relentless jacks and diving, flopping catches? How cool would it be to see this team win every last one of its remaining series, going 13-6 down the stretch to finish strong, with 92 wins?

Since the notion of beating the Cardinals at this point is about as likely as flying to Mars for lunch hour, ending strong and making the playoffs somehow is the most outlandish goal we can shoot for right now.

You will NOTE, I am not saying that they WILL do this. This is the difference between me and my guys, and them and their guys. To suggest that a club with the kind of offensive and relief inconsistency that the Cubs have, to declare that they WILL win 90+ games cannot bear up to the litmus test of good solid certainity.

All I'm saying is, wouldn't it be cool?

Just for once, God, this time, let us Cub fans live fat.

Wednesday, September 15

9/15/2004 02:03:00 PM by Rob

The Corey Game?

First of all, technology is scary, especially if it falls in the wrong hands. Anybody else read yesterday's comments....enough said about that.

Guess I'm gonna hafta think twice before declaring holy Jihad against anyone else.

Next of all, if anyone stumbles upon my Yahoo! profile, you will see that I live in Corn Hole, and that my favorite quote is "Two Dicks, wow!" Some explanation might be in order, real quick.

Yes, we have an awful lot of sophomoric, juvenile sexual humor in and around the Sloth. I live in a town that puts on the 'National Sweet Corn Festival' every second week of August. Thus, 'Corn Hole'. I used to live in a town named after its former main industry, coal mining. Thus, 'Black Lung'. The marginally industrious amongst us can figure out pretty much where I rest.

"Two Dicks, Wow!", was uttered by the marginally talented but well-built Bonnie Bernstein on CBS, during one of those pre-halftime quick-hit coach interviews, when the poor thing was juggling two conversations, one with Dick Jauron, the other with Dick Stockton. It isn't a quantum leap to re-image the context of the comment.

Now here's the question of the day...the idea was floated out on the Coven, do we call last night the Corey Game, like the famous Ryno Game of 1984?

Here's the thing...he did EXACTLY the same thing on Sept. 7th vs Montreal! Granted, he faced T. J. Tucker and Brian Meadows, instead of Bruce Sutter. You don't see F. Robby or Lloyd McClendon magnamiously calling him "Baby Ruth". Probably, most likely, remember, in 1984, we hadn't won DICK in 40 years, whereas now, we're relatively SPOILED by Cubs standards. In fact, most of us EXPECT playoffs this year.

I still am not convinced to stick my neck out for THAT notion. But, face it. What Corey has done TWICE in the last week, was just as special as June 24, 1984.

Not to rub it in any harder, Chuck, but since you started lighting up his ass, he's gone Lofton times 2 on us. I AM willing to stick out my dick on this one:

Corey is gonna be a player.

Tuesday, September 14

9/14/2004 03:56:00 PM by Rob

Plexiglass?

An open plea to my fellow sports fans:

I don't want to have to sit behind plexiglass, like they do in hockey, to watch a baseball game.

Let's take some events, not in order, just since 2000:

2003 - Yankees vs. Red Sox groundskeeper bullpen fight.

2003 - A's fan hits Carl Everett in the head with cellphone tossed from 2nd deck.

2000 - 19 Dodgers vs. Cub fans when a fan struck Chad Kreuter

2002 - Ligues vs Kansas City coach Tom Gamboa

2003 - Sox fan vs umpire Laz Diaz.

2004 - Rangers vs A's fans, pitcher arrested for tossing folding chair into stands

Now, people have been raining shit on the fields, walking out onto the field, picking fights with players and vice versa, since play began. So this really isn't a new thing.

But let's be honest, this is a new time, a new day. Since 9/11, we have such concepts as Homeland Security, and we have already given up some personal freedoms, such as the right to dash through airports, and for the right to utter the word "bomb" within 500 feet of an airport.

Pretty soon, we are going to have to live with plexiglass shields between us and the action.

9/14/2004 01:31:00 PM by Rob

Declaration of War

I'll tell ya what has toasted my taters today.

Doubtlessly, if you have visited the Sloth, you have heard of the Yahoo! Cubs Coven, the best damn Cubs discussion group ever, the home of such sage Cub minds as Berkeley Stew, Hawkeye, IowaFrank, Socherball Adam, and of course the most fierce and witty Brett Kuntz a/k/a BK, aka Campo, aka JoePep, aka Lurker, aka HarryChappas, and a host of other handles.

Around the time of the 1998 Wild Card, the forums and bulletin boards like CubsTalk, CBS Sportsline, and the Tribune's own were started and staffed by the brainwashed, the deluded, and the simply obnoxious...in other words, Generation X. The moderators of these boards were similarly lacking in history, perspective, and longevity. For those ass clowns, who were Cub fans since, I dunno, June, the Cubs were ALWAYS great, that at the time, they were constructed great, they were destined to remain great, and they really could not cotton to anyone who thought otherwise.

So much for free speech.

So, for those of us who would point out that Gary Gaetti was NOT a permanent solution at third base, that Jeff Blauser was not merely having a "little slump", or (in my own case) commit the blasphemy of calling Sammy Sosa a sideshow fraud and a steroid cheater...well, that would just get us TOS'd (tossed) from the board.

So Stew started his own board on Yahoo, invited a few of us thirty-somethings (and older) die-hards, issued the disclaimer for all to see (since he IS a lawyer) that this was a Thinking Fans Cub board, for those who actually saw and remembered the Bonham/Burris/Ontiveros era. Well, Stew actually saw and remembered the Lon Warneke era, but he never holds that against the rest of us.

Any and all attempts for the blue Kool-Aid swilling Cub lemmings to infiltrate the board have been dealt with swiftly, sarcastically, with prejudice and foulness immeasurable. It was during one such session that I was branded as an "uncouth sloth" by Hawkeye, and I must say, it was the best nickname I've ever received.

Well, yesterday, I put in my two cents worth out there. I have not posted lately, for the same reason why I've been avoiding comment out here, instead subjecting you to glossy pictures of actresses and long-winded essays on hockey games.

I fully expected the Cubs to win the division, to challenge for 100 wins, for the pitching staff to be dominant, and basically assume the personna and aura of the '85 Bears, '90s Bulls, and '98 Yankees. Due to injuries galore, an initial lack of a leadoff presence, and the constant lack of a closing presence, compounded by a stunning lack of fundamentals, a stubborn insistence of relying on the long ball as the only offensive weapon, and the remarkable lack of poise the Cubs have shown all year long, I am DISCOURAGED!!

The Wild Card is a complete crapshoot. So many things must go your way for it to apply to you, and under ANY circumstances, even the best (as in Anaheim '02 and Florida '03), the Wild Card does NOT suggest long-term dominance. Who actually thought the Fish were DOMINANT last year?

I would be happy to follow the Cubs with the blind devotion of a small child, if only they earned it. Nothing short of a true dynasty is enough to earn my complete unconditional faith.

Anyway, that's all I said. And then, some little frustrated newspaper hack from Indiana snots back: "Have a good winter. Me and everyone else will root the Cubs to victory!"

If you personally know of a Jim Hekel, who writes for some smalltown paper in Indiana, and if you can verify that he suffers from Down's Syndrome or some other kind of debilitating circumstance that limits IQ and the ability to reason, do NOT hesitate to write me, for I honestly DON'T get off on bashing the truly helpless people of the world.

Until that is verified, all I can do is sit and wonder who helped him log on, and how horribly filthy his keyboard must be, when you consider that most of the time, his fingers are either up his nose, or jammed up his ass crack.

Monday, September 13

9/13/2004 10:35:00 AM by Rob

Monday, September 13th, 2004

Forklift reports that Laura Prepon has gone blond. PREPOSTEROUS!!

Redheads just can't ever be satisfied with anything. This is especially true of their hair. 99.4% of them are CONVINCED that they would be so much happier as a blond, including my step-daughter and, on some days, my wife. Even after you stand on your head begging them not to do anything to them lovely red tresses. It is true, men either love 'em or hate 'em, a polarizing effect blonds and most brunettes don't have to deal with.

But, hey, just find one of the guys that love 'em, and leave it at that.

When did Amanda Bynes fall off of the All Majestic list? I blame Chuck, who not only called her ordinary looking (which I shrugged off), but noted that she is always hunched over. That, I couldn't shake off so easy, along with the fact that she is, ummm, much less of a guilty pleasure at 18 as she was at 17. The net effect of all of that, plus the fact that she isn't even the best looking chick on her own show,

bumped her cute little butt off of the All-Majestic.

Watched a lot of kid football this weekend. #1 son was part of a winning effort Saturday at Hansen Stadium on Fullerton and Central, less than 5 miles from where the Cubs pounded the Fishsticks. For nearly three quarters, while the head coach argued the entire afternoon with his assistant coaches over "headset etiquette", my son punished his taller and quicker opponent as we ran the option to perfection. But at some point, the coach decided that we were going to become the Dan Fouts Chargers, my kid missed one pass block, and coach decided that it was time for a change. They watch film today, and if they decide to pick on him for that ONE miss, I am going to get SOME kind of mad, for I KNOW what the fuck the big sour puss was doing all game long, and armed with that information, I realize that he wasn't even following the game, as much as he was looking 'cool' with his new headset.

C'mon, Tightshorts. You coach a small-town high school football team, you run the option, why in the hell do you think you need to wear a headset, to talk to your eye in the sky? That's like my wife and I calling each other on our cell phones in different rooms of our house.

Uhhh, not that we've ever....ahhh, forget it.

Well, gotta go for now, hopefully tomorrow I will have the poll updated, and...

..what?

What ABOUT the Cubs? I said they needed to win 3 to convince me that they were in it for the long haul. They only won 2. Going by my last pronouncement, they didn't win this MAJOR, major series, and as a result, I don't trust them down the stretch. Every quote I heard this weekend seems to re-iterate that they are themselves convinced that they are a power team, and they will continue to do it their way, and that they see no reason whatsoever to adjust to the weather.

Fine, whatever. Rot in hell, you conceited fucksticks.

Friday, September 10

9/10/2004 03:35:00 PM by Rob

Desipio and the Panic Button

Well, I did it. Out on Desipio today, I mashed down the big red Panic Button that has been blinking in front of me for weeks.

It's over. There is no chance. I can read the standings, and we are only a game behind as things stand now. But this was the biggest series of the year, Dusty plays the scrubs, and they rolled over and showed their bellies.

Surrender.

Game over. Turn around, and go back, to your miserable little lives.

9/10/2004 01:18:00 PM by Rob

Feelings

Nothing more than feelings.

I don't need to remind anyone here what the years 1984, 1989, 1998, and 2003 have in common. What I am going to discuss today was the feeling associated with each club, and then try to compare that to the vibe surrounding the current cast of Cubs.

1984 shall always remain the most special team I have ever witnessed, at least until the glorious day when we actually WIN a pennant, for up until that point in my lifetime, the Cubs never won anything.

I was a frequent bleacher guest that year, but the kick for me was not the illegally purchased suds. Though, it was nice. It might have been the surge of adrenaline of the last days of my youth, but those men stood as shining heroes, who could not possibly lose. I was there for the Sandberg game; I was there for the whole late season Mutts sweep. Once Sutcliffe came to town, the club took on a feeling of complete confidence. Nothing could stop them.

Glorious one-hit wonder boy: Rich Bordi

1989 was a different story: "scrappy" is the term I will forever associate with them. Coming back from 8 down to beat Houston, dealing with the loss of the entire starting outfield early in the year, waiting to see if Mike Bielecki's deal with Satan would hold up the entire season.

I knew they could not take the Giants in the playoffs, and I also knew that this was not the start of a dynasty. But after they zoomed into the lead around the first of August, I also knew that there would be no stopping them for the rest of the regular season.

Glorious one-hit wonder boy: who else but Les Lancaster, who was Kyle Farns with less zits.

1998 was all about Sammy. How can you not win when you have a guy with 66 homers and 158 RBIs in the middle of your lineup? But as you recall, we nearly let THAT one slip, until Neifi Perez of all people beat the Giants with a walk-off dongload.

Glorious one-hit wonder boy - Orlando Merced.

2003 will be known as the year it was all about the pitching, and please remember that at this time last year, whenever Wood or Prior went out there, he was automatic, and for most of August and September, so was Zambrano. At this point, I thought we could count on Maddux (until Wednesday) and Zambrano. Clement has broken down, Wood is still thrashing around, and Prior until further notice is disappointing.

I just do not have the same basic feeling we enjoyed last year. Last year, I went out here about four-five times, and stated that IF WE DID NOT WIN THIS SERIES, WE WERE DONE! And, every time, they came through. We passed all the big tests. This year, we are flunking all the big tests.

The last big test started an hour ago. If we don't get three of four, forget about any back-door entries into the playoffs.

Yes, fcabanski, I was thinking of you that last sentence, raging douchebag.

Thursday, September 9

9/09/2004 02:06:00 PM by Rob

One more simple analogy

Let's say I made $75K a year.

I don't, but just say I did. That's NOT enough money to buy my loyalty. That's not enough for me to forsake my family for my career. That's not enough to make my employer, good old Whipple Widgets, my lifestyle.

But 75K is nothing to sneeze at, either. I'm not going to fall out of bed and walk into another job making that kind of money. 75K pays the bills, puts a new roof over our heads, lets us buy name brand duds for the kiddos, unless I owned a doctorate degree, which I don't, you don't fuck with 75K.

Let's say that I work in a metropolitan area where traffic is a uncaring, unpredictable bitch, and say that this morning I came in at 20 after 8, when normally I should be in before 8.

My computer is on the fritz. I can't get on the mainframe to look at any of our source code. All I can do is contribute to the e-mail explosion in our company, surf the web, and write for this ever-entertaining blog.

Now, the boss is supposed to leave at 4. He usually fucks around here until 4:20. He gets in earlier than me, and he knows damn well what time I got in today. I would normally leave at 4, too. But as you know, I got in late today. He also knows that I am up shit creek without a paddle, and he probably can guess that I am actually sitting here typing in my blog.

Well, is it really going to matter one way or another if I get up to leave at 4? In truth, I'm not going to get any more done one way or another.

But WILL I leave at 4?

NO, I WILL NOT. I will wait until after the boss leaves, and even give myself a healthy cushion after that, in case he decides to get into a conversation in the lot. For I do not want to appear that I am slacking off, leaving early, putting my selfish desires to sit in front of my TV box earlier than I am entitled to. I am going to outlast the boss, so he can never say that he caught me leaving too early.

I make 75 grand a year, writing software.

Sammy Sosa makes that in an evening, for playing a kid's game.

But Tuesday night, he decided to cut work early, thus leaving us with the Great Calvin Murray to pinch hit in a Wild Card chase.

So for all you Sosa ass-licking syncophants everywhere, your guy QUIT on us!

Congratulations, you must be so proud.

9/09/2004 10:17:00 AM by Rob

It really WAS a miracle, kids

Recently, much is being made about the 1980 US Olympic Hockey Team, since a) they enjoyed their very own DisneyCorp feature film, b) they were cited as insipiration by the gold medal winning softball players and swimmers in Athens, and c) it was named the Top Sporting Event for the past 25 years by ESPN, as part of their little humble anniversary celebration.

If you're under, say, 30, and have no sense of history whatsoever, you might be asking yourself, "Can one event, 24 years ago, deserve all this hype?"

Oh yeah, baby, if anything, there is no way you can possibly over-hype the Miracle on Ice.

In fact, let's look at three distinct groups of people, and pick out the best and worst moments in American history.

The oldest generation of people alive today
Worst: Pearl Harbor
Best: V-J day

Baby Boomers:
Worst: Kennedy Assassination
Best: Man walks on moon

My generation:
Worst: Vietnam; also toss 9/11 on there
Best: Miracle on Ice

Gen X:
Worst: 9/11
Best: Lindsay Lohan turns 18?

I can really only tell the story from the viewpoint of a slightly-lower-middle-class kid living in the heartland at the time. I gotta tell you, things were bleak in my hood in the winter of the turn of the decade.

I didn't live in the most healthy household. My parents had more of their share of insecurities, fears, and neuroses. Everything that was going on seemed to be magnified, amplified in a household where nobody really, honestly had control of things.

The seventies truly sucked, people, at least for us. We're a little behind the curve, understand, so the decade starts with Vietnam (and, kids, if you think the Iraq war is a frivilous waste of life, at least there is SOME sort of tenuous cause behind it. To this day, no other reason other than sheer imperialist greed can be given for our involvement in the Asian jungles) and you got your conservatives pushing for the bomb, and your liberals pushing for peace. We also had the last remnants of the druggie sixties. Our hippies were in full force in '70 thru '73.

OK, then you got Watergate, and Nixon resigning office. That is followed by Ford's pardon of the crook, soon followed by Ford's pulling us out of 'Nam, and the mad rush of the 'red hoard' that filled the vacuum we left behind there. Then, with all the new veterans flooding the workplace, started the rise of horse-choking inflation, which then led to a major economic recession, and there were still enough Children of the Depression around to make a major, loud stink about how another Depression was right around the corner, and everyone was going to lose everything they ever worked for.

And, oh yeah, the Great Red Menace was lurking at our door. I wasn't around for all the atom bomb drills my parents did at school, and we didn't have a bomb shelter in our backyard. For any of you under drinking age, you always have known Russia as a poor place with bad weather, slutty chicks and a surplus of Members-Only jackets. As it turned out, they were more scared of US then we were of them.

But if you've ever dealt with a frightened animal, with its back to the wall is when it appears the most fierce. Between the SALT talks and Star Wars and what seemed to be a gigantic, irrational, hate-filled communist Russian force getting closer and closer every day, there was no reason for my folks to believe that we could stop them if they wanted to nuke us, enslave us, make us write our 'n's backwards and pour vodka on our cornflakes.

On the spritual front, every ne'er-do-well was hiding behind religious masks to justify whatever untoward means necessary. You had Southern TV evangelists soaking their congregations out of millions in the name of salvation. You have west coast proto-slackers hiding behind Eastern mysticism as an excuse to indulge in drugs, deviant sex, cult worship, mass suicide and whatever else they could think of. And, right under our own noses here in the great Catholic Bastion, this was the high time of the Pedophile Priests, hiding behind the pulpit and intimidating children into silence as they robbed them of their innocence and self-worth.

The seventies were also the time of genocidal dictators in Uganda, Cambodia, China, Chile. Untold millions died in purges every bit as crippling and gruesome as anything else mankind ever came up with.

So, basically, as the decade wound down, at our house, the government was corrupt, ineffectual, and not to be trusted. Our enemies were tougher, smarter, and more ruthless than us. We were spiritually bankrupted by Organized Religion, and Big Business threatened to turn the world into a smog-choked asphalt-paved parking lot.

Then, to top off the whole fucking sundae, a seventh-rate pissant tent show named Iran stormed OUR embassy, took OUR citizens hostage, and shit right in our faces. For months, we tried to reason with them, then bargain, then we tried to use force. Nothing worked.

I was 15 on the night of December 31st, 1979. I went to bed that night dreaming of the decade ahead, to driving, college, adulthood and freedom. My parents went to bed that night, honestly wondering if this New Year's would be the last. They honestly thought the world, at least the one they knew, would come to an end.

The decade of the '80s began that Friday in February when we beat the mighty, undefeated Russians on the hockey rink with our nameless, faceless college amateurs. We were finally able to avenge the 1972 basketball outrage. But, most of all, we finally did something right. Good actually WAS able to prevail.

Now, in retrospect, an Olympic hockey game, in the whole scheme of things, doesn't SEEM to be any more influential than a flea on a dog's ass. But, to me, and obviously to many, many others of my generation, it started a decade; a period of redemption and prosperity; and some may even be driven to say that it SAVED our nation.

I understand if you are, say, a family farmer. or a minority. Or Farrah Fawcett. If you are one of the above, this last statement will mean nothing to you. But when I went to bed on December 31, 1989, I was one HELL of a lot better off than I was ten years prior.

And the first domino that fell was the Miracle on Ice.

9/09/2004 08:30:00 AM by Rob

And now, the second verse, same as the first

You don't spiiiiit in the wind
Unless yoou wanna get slapped in the face

You don't piiiiiss in the wind
With piss stained trousers you can't go noplace

You can't cummmmm in the wind
oh hell, why not, its OK in any case

But you can't hiiiiit in the wind
And expect to stay on top of the wild card race.

And now, the second verse, same as the first....

You don't spiiiiiit in the wind......

Wednesday, September 8

9/08/2004 09:17:00 AM by Rob

Six simple rules for ~~spittin'~~ hittin' into the wind

Before I present the Six Simple Rules, I just wanted to let you in on a valuable tip. I have a flat-screen TV...not an expensive 'flat panel', just a tv with a flat tube. I picked it up last year, 20" Sanyo for the bedroom, for a buck-and-a-half. This tube also has a plastic 'filter' on the front, that serves kinda like netting.

Anyway, this kind of tv is highly resistant to breakage. I know this, because I tried my DAMNDEST last night to fuckin' cave the screen in. So I highly recommend it for its durability.

OK, without further eloquence,

The Sloth's Six Simple Rules for Hittin' into the Wind at Wrigley Field

1) Do not try to hit a homer into the wind.

2) Furthermore, when the wind is blowing in at you, do NOT try to lift the ball into the air, trying for a home run.

3) In a situation when the game is on the bags, and the wind is blowing right at your face, try to hit the ball low, on a line. Do NOT try to uppercut your swing to trying to hit the ball into the bleachers. You cannot do it.

4) When it is the ninth inning, and your name is Moises Alou, and you're 38 years old, and the bases are loaded, and it's two outs, and all it takes is a lousy motherfucking dink over the shortstop's head to win the game, don't hit the ball in the air.

5) Above all, when the wind is blowing in from the left field stands at 25 mph, and the first five times you mindless fuckmonkeys tried to hit a homer, the ball landed short of the warning track, and you have the entire states of California, Texas and Florida at your back wanting what you have, do NOT try to swing from your jock to muscle the goddamned ball out of the yard. I DON'T CARE if Corey hit one out. In case you haven't noticed, you drooling maggot, he hits the ball from the other side of the plate, and the wind isn't blowing up his ass. You CAN'T DO IT, so don't even try.

6) And finally, once and for all, I don't give a nun-fucking-shit about how big you are, even a BRAIN-DAMAGED slimy-assed inky squid is smart enough not to try to smash a home run into the teeth of a nighttime wind, especially not when you're playing a bunch of double-A misfits who can't seem to find the plate, the ball, or their own assholes with both hands and a seeing-eye dog, when the only fucking run you need is closer than I can piss, and a dribbly-ass runt single through the hole is all it takes to get him home.

Anyway, there you have it. The entire six simple rules for dealing with the Friendly Confines on a night like last night. One would THINK that the Great Sarge Matthews, highly-compensated hitting coach, would have gotten off his duff and taken the time to remind Alou, Ramirez, and Lee of this simple little chart last night, particularly in the bottom of the ninth.

If Sarge wasn't able to commit all six verses to memory, all he had to say to our glorious heroes was "keep it down and hard". That's what they're paying him upwards of a half a milldo to do.

Maybe he did, maybe not. God knows we aren't going to get the truth anytime soon from these butt-clowns. Nights like this, I just say fuck, they don't deserve to win.

Tuesday, September 7

9/07/2004 11:23:00 AM by Rob

Reprise "Amish in the City"

Mariam

Ruth

Yes, Carlos Zambrano's Dad, Mike D., and Chuck, if Ruth & Mariam were lounging on their towels on Oak Street Beach on a given Tuesday, they wouldn't even get out of the quarterfinal heats.

Here's the thing. Most guys believe sexual gratification is a function of beauty. That isn't quite correct. Sure, if your partner is beautiful, that may represent the fact that she is as a result unattainable, and if you are fortunate enough to couple with a beautiful girl, you are experiencing something that most people wouldn't.

But, I mean, Jenna Jameson is certainly gorgeous. But if you slept with her, exactly what are you doing that many thousands have done before you?

My last ex-wife was bludgeoned with the Ugly Stik, but I figured out that the kick was, that with her nun-like looks and attitude, NOBODY was going to get it from her, and I was...

So what's my thing with these two? They're AMISH, for cripes' sake!! How cool would that be, to fuck around with members of this throwback race of people...imagine the mindfuck of getting through with a girl of the closed society. When you pass them in their buggies, do you ever wonder what they got packin' underneath their simple garb?

No?

You sure?

Oh well, guess it's just me...me, the pervs at UPN, and some other dudes who watch the show every week.

9/07/2004 09:31:00 AM by Rob

He isn't bleedin' Cubbie blue yet

But, I suspect that by the end of the month, Ben Grieve will.

Alou 33, DLee 29, Sosa 29, Ramirez 29, Patterson 19, Walker 15, Barrett 14, Garciaparra (combined) 9, Grieve (combined) 7, Bako 1.

If Ben Grieve can step it up a little this month, we can end up with 9 guys with double-digit homers for the year. That's a lot of 4-ply jacks, and like it or not, that's your offense. If Garciaparra, Lee, or Patterson get on, one of the other guys might let him jog home. If the homers come, fine. Else, we aren't scoring, and the only way we can possibly win will be to outlast them shutout style, like the 11-inning affair last week.

Our offense is one-dimensional, our bullpen sucks cock, Mark Prior is not right and Dusty Baker may or may not sleep through games.

But, after all of that, the day after labor day, we are in the wild card lead. The Giants, our current closest competition, may overtake us, but they may also overtake the Dodgers and win their division. The Padres from the West are also in the picture, as are the AssTrolls and Fish.

The Dodgers, Giants and Padres all play each other a lot, which works in our favor.

The AssTrolls have won 10 in a row to get here right now. They're due to lose now. Watch them sink like a rock.

The Fish would scare me to death, except for the fact that they now have to play 30 in 27. That's a LOT of doubleheaders, Willis has been ordinary, Penny is now a hurt Dodger, Burnett is still floundering around, and Beckett...as he did last year, he pretty much jacked the dog all regular season. If he can flip the switch again...well, we will see.

Out of all the teams in MLB, the team we love may be best suited for the type of crisis we face: 28 games in 27 days. We have six guys that are legit starters, and super guys from the minors in a pinch.

After all the highs and lows this year, we are in position for something major. It may be a major letdown, or it may be a major triumph. I would have preferred it was WE who are 15 games up on the division. But, barring that, if you like your sports exciting, this next September has more promise than any September in the last 40 years.

Sit down, strap in, shut up, and ride.

Friday, September 3

9/03/2004 01:59:00 PM by Rob

Damn, that works great!

Thank you, Smitty, for THAT generous tip. Now I can post pretty much whatever I like.

MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

9/03/2004 11:13:00 AM by Rob

Russian School Hostage Crisis

My heart goes out to the families that have been torn apart by this savage act of terrorism.

Russian forces have killed 10 of the terrorists...nine were Arab?

Geez...who woulda thunk it?

Are these the last ditch efforts of a race of people about to be defeated? Or the culmination of logistics and planning by a stronger, more focus and angry foe?

Your Republicans would say the former, that we have terrorists running scared. Your Democrats would say the latter, that terrorists have more reason than ever to act desperate, based on our occupation of the middle east, and the rest of the world's seeming reluctance to make us stop.

I hate seeing the planes go down and the school plundered, as much as I hated seeing the planes crash into the twin towers and the Pentagon. People are needlessly dying, and it don't matter if they write their N's forward or backward. We are dealing with a race of hateful beings that don't even deserve to be called 'human', for their callous disregard for life.

As a response, freedoms are trampled, suspicions are framed, and the world is worse off.

9/03/2004 09:32:00 AM by Rob

Need a better picture

Actually, I need to get my ass off of Blogger and get a real host. So I can upload pictures, like the much better ones I have of THIS luscious sweetie, Elizabeth Bogush.

I watch Scrubs, saw her episode, dug her, but kind of forgot. The next time I saw her was on a K-mart commercial, of all things, where they have a lot of the WB actors wearing their clothing. She's the hot redhead in "The Mountain".

If you are me, a picture pirate, a digital leech, you occassionally get stopped and zapped by clever pic providers who either code their HTML, or shut me out after the fact. You can download their pics, for the most part, all u want, but frequently I get shut out by the more diligent ones. And, since I use Blogger, and can't get that hello! shit to work, I can't upload pictures, either.

I also have pictures in Bravenet, but I can't figure out how to link to it, either. If anyone knows how I can link to my pics in Bravenet, how's about dropping dime on the Ol' sloth, and lettin' me know?

Maybe if I post enuf pictures of babes, I will sicken fcabanski to the point that he will quit coming here.

Thursday, September 2

9/02/2004 04:14:00 PM by Rob

Uncouth Sloth postponed due to Hurricane Frances

Today's rant about the offensively challenged closerless Cubs has been postponed due to the need for caution in dealing with the massive hurricane about ready to run ashore in America.

I nearly missed the entire game last night, due to some early-school year running around, and only caught the best part, the bases-loaded wild pitch that scored the Cubs' first run in the 11th. From what I gather, I missed Kerry Wood's best game of the year. Too bad the offense missed it, also.

A few people in the hallway want to know what I think about Ben Grieve, Neifi Perez and Mike DiFelice. I dunno...I guess I thought it would be nice to have another catcher, on the days we are subjected to Bako, Barrett doesn't just have to sit there rotting on the bench. He can hit when needed, and we would have another backup waiting in case Bako gets run over by a steamroller.

Ben Grieve really sucks, and I hope in the end, we didn't give up too much for his services. I knew having a nearly automatic hitter like Hollandsworth was too good to be true. I wondered how in hell he ended up HERE?

It could be that a man too stupid to wear a shin guard over his leg, when out of all the millions of major league ballplayers who have ever strapped on body armor, Todd and his nerve-damaged leg would be the MOST appropriate one to do so? Florida must have thought they desperately needed the IQ boost in the dugout, that they achieved by default during his departure.

I just coughed up today $4000 for my son to wear metal braces in his mouth, so his teeth would look their best for the ladies. Forgive me for sounding a little bitter. My teeth are un-altered, and I've had SOOO much success in la amore.

Wednesday, September 1

9/01/2004 03:18:00 PM by Rob

This just in

I will be in attendance for the Labor Day Montreal game. Good seats, too. I'm pretty excited.

Maybe I'll be sitting next to Barb & Jenna...

...nah, no more pics for today.

9/01/2004 02:09:00 PM by Rob

Hoop Hoop Hooray

After Cubs baseball, high school pigskin and playing "London Bridge" with the twin offspring of powerful world leaders:

my favorite sport is college hoops, bay-bee, I need a Tee-Oh! Anyway, Yoni wrote, wanted me to check the site, I did, it's tight, feel free to get your Dee Brown on.

9/01/2004 11:06:00 AM by Rob

A quick question

We Americans are supposedly knee-deep in the bizness of ridding the world of Terrorism.

Well, it certainly appears that Russia is up to their necks in Chechen terrorism.

The same Russia that condemned us for chasing down Muslims in Afghanistan and Iraq.

We may say that Russia might bring some of that upon themselves, for their treatment of the Chechens. But would THEY not say that perhaps, WE bring some of our problems on OURselves, by who we choose to build alliances with in the Middle East region?

They haven't helped us.

BUT, we ARE in the terrorism-elimination business.

Do we help them?

9/01/2004 10:15:00 AM by Rob

It's up to me to find the good news out there

First of all. I know SOMETHING that would make me happy...

Yeah, yeah, oh yeah.

Let's see, what else is good out there?

Indians 22, Yankees 0?

That's good. Real good.

Maria Sharapova in the U.S. Open is a good thing.

Yeah, I'm REALLY reaching if I'm bringing tennis into the mix.

I'm trying to avoid speaking the unspeakable, prolonging the inevitable, as it pertains to our post-season hopes.

For, if we were to contend for the post-season, we are going to need more than a one-dimensional offense. If we hit homers, we win. If we don't, we don't score. This is not allowing the offense to keep the opposing pitchers honest. If I were managing a team facing the Cubs, I wouldn't throw them a fastball the whole rest of the year. I would force them to beat me with a walk...with small ball.

Don't blame Hendry, for he has stocked the team (expect for the 800-pound ape) with players renowned for making hard contact. But under the Dusty Baker/Sarge Matthews plan, they just swing from their jocks, and let the chips fall where they may.

For, if we were to contend for the post-season, we are going to run into some pressure-packed situations where we are up by one run in the ninth inning, and we will have need to rely on a man who can get those last three outs. Here, management HAS failed you, for it relied on Joe Borowski to recover, and he hasn't, and their backup plan was to call on elite set-up man LaTroy Hawkins, and he hasn't been successful.

For, if we were to contend for the post-season, we will only need four starters, and the fifth starter would serve an important role as long man and innings eater, as a stop-gap measure to avoid burning out the bullpen. Logic would dictate that you would keep your four most effective starters in the rotation; not the most decorated starters; not the ones with the biggest reputation; not the ones with the brightest future, but the four hottest starters NOW.

Therefore, if we were to be totally honest about the process, if I had to choose four starters NOW to pitch for me, I would take Maddux.

And Zambrano. And Clement. And Wood.

Leaving...Mark Prior to work the postseason out of the pen.

I guess he has about a month to prove otherwise.

One more for da road...

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