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

3/31/2005 01:29:00 PM by Rob

WWYD, part deux

Or is it part three, I dunno.

Anyway, on to the lechery:

- Angelina Jolie: once again, I don’t get it. Brad Pitt’d rather be with her, than his ex-wife? Why? She’s a dirtbag. After Billy Bob Thornton had her, I….just couldn’t.

- In a related topic, the Old Spice Deodorant girl? When she’s hot, she’s sexy? Suppose so, although I’d lump her in the Angelina Jolie School of Fashion and Beauty. She’s turned up on a lot of guys’ WWYD lists. Just to be contrary, I’ll push myself away from the table. Ha! See, I have willpower.

- But I ain’t got none for the red-haired chick on the Plug-Ins commercial. Man oh man, she’s straight hot. But when her husband walks in and has the 50’s sitcom flashback and she’s holding up a pie wearing an apron over her dress, her pearls and her made up face and hair…DAMN, June, I’d be a little hard on the beaver.

- Another red-haired girl, in the allergy medicine commercial, the small-faced one who’s watching the day-care kids at the park. She better be careful, if I catch her cute little ass under the jungle jim…grass stains are always hard to get off the back of a cotton t-shirt…

- I tried to watch “Little Black Book”, and eventually bailed during the scene when Holly Hunter throws Brittany Murphy under the bus. Naturally, you all know I’d do ‘em both, simultaneously if possible. But they throw in, for no extra charge, three ex-girlfriends for my perusal. Josie Maran played the first one that was supposed to be a supermodel? Eh. They ruined her, somehow. Another devotee of the Angelina Jolie school.

But the other two, the chef and the gynecologist…the chef was played as an “attainable hottie” by a Julianne Nicholson, who was in “Ally McBeal”, “Kinsey”, and a bunch of other stuff I’d never heard of. The OB/GYN was a Rashida Jones, who is a Harvard grad, but amongst her credits are “Strip Search”, “Full Frontal”, and “If These Walls Could Talk”. A Skinemax Sweetie, perhaps? Anyway, she kinda spicy, but oooh, I’d suck dem bones down clean.

- Did I already say I would just NAIL Mellisa Pace from the “Cortisol” commercial? If so, my apologies. But I would. Give HER a first-hand view of my belly fat.

- Someone, can’t remember who, sorry, was assuming that I would be all over the McDonald’s “women are like McGriddles” chick. So, let’s see, she’s like a McGriddle, warm and fragrant, but kind of greezy? So I can eat her in 2 bites and a nibble, and reach for another one? Guess that’s a solid point. Yeah, I’d eat her, I’d eat her out of house and home.

- Finally, let’s wrap up with sports babes. I finally caught some of Comcast’s Kerry Sayers. She’s kinda corn-fed, which don’t make it wrong to want to give her the ol’ pork-n-beans. But there’s always still Gail Fischer, and I’d wait in line for days to put in a bid to cover her with several coats of my special protein-based lacquer.

3/31/2005 11:10:00 AM by Rob

Just relax about Kerry Wood

His outing yesterday didn't quite compare to 5/6/1998, but he reported that all he had was his fastball and a change up, because none of his breaking stuff was working. I'll take a sip of Kool-Aid, and predict that he'll have his slider on April 8th. Don't worry about him...he's going to be pretty much normal Kerry Wood. He pitched, he isn't hurting, the golf-ball size hail didn't kill any of us, the sun rose this morning. We can calm down now.

3/31/2005 09:26:00 AM by Rob

Gluttony

If you average out what me, the Pope, and the late Terri Schiavo had for breakfast today, it would be a nice little repast of 250 calories and 17 grams of fat per person.

Yes, I had a Burger King Enormous Omelet Sandwich today, which I will always affectionately refer to as a "Grabber". It was one tastee sammich, although it wasn't the most gluttonous thing I've ever eaten. I'm not even sure I'd do it again, though. 50 grams of fat ain't nothing to sneeze at.

Speaking of gluttony, Roger Ebert gives "Sin City" four stars, and mentions that it has so much nudity that "you'd think the 70's had survived". Well, then consider that it features Jessica Alba, Brittany Murphy, Jamie King, Carla Gugino, AND Rosario Dawson playing hookers...damn, THAT's a feast.

More later, I just got told to put out a fire. Live Large and Prosper!

Wednesday, March 30

3/30/2005 01:58:00 PM by Rob

Terri Schiavo's Blog

You wanna go to hell, and you don't wanna wait in line, either? You want the express lane? Well, then, go here and laugh, you jacked-up zit-scratchin' freak!

She has a way with words, like any good blogger.

3/30/2005 09:53:00 AM by Rob

Spraying to all fields today

Some thoughts while I wait for the inevitable: Michael Schiavo suing to unhook the Pope’s feeding tube:

- I know when you first heard of

The Enormous Omelet Sandwich, the first thing that came to mind was: “This looks like something the Sloth would eat.” I’m sure this surprises nobody, but this does look really, really good. 730 big calories in one fell swoop…shit, millions of people in Africa don’t get that in a week. With my big fat ass wedged into one of the plastic seats at my local Burger King, both hands wrapped around this 1 pound bitch, I AM THE KING of all I survey!! Kneel before Zod!!

The name sucks, though. Can’t they come up with something catchier, like, say, “The Grabber”? You’re welcome, BK, no charge.

- The Cubs finally hacked up a LOOGY – he’s Cliff Bartosh, who posted a 4.66 ERA for the Indians last year. He cost the Cubs a #4 starter from their Class A team. Good Bye, Stephen Randolph. Don’t let the door hit you in the Ass, Will Ohman.

One problem: lefties hit .286 against him. Righties hit .268.

- Everyone has “their” TV show, and I decided that this year, I would have mine. I started out with the promising “Jack and Bobby”, but between the sporadic production schedule, and the long-winded feminist diatribes from the Christine Lahti character, I’ve pulled the plug. So now I’ve pinned my hopes on “Gray’s Anatomy”, and the first anatomy

holding my attention is the titular character (pun intended), played by Ellen Pompeo. The opening shot of the series sees her pulling herself off of the floor of her house, prying herself away from the dude she picked up last night, so she can go flush herself out, comb her hair, brush her teeth, and report for her first day of work as a medical school intern, where, voila, the dude that fucked her brains out the night before is her boss…in-treee-ging.

Anyway, CZ’s Dad, in advance, lay off of my shit. I can’t link to any smokin’ hott pictures of her here at work, like those from “Old School” or “Catch Me if You Can”, where she played the parts of attainably hot chicks who get fucked by the main character. Anyway, between her and Katherine Heigl, we should be ok here. Plus the missus likes the show too, always a plus.

- It appears that Prior will start the season on the DL, but he’ll be retro’ed so he can be unleashed on the 12th against the Padres. All in all, we’re in slightly better shape, Prior-wise, than we were last year. At least he will pitch in April.

- Finally, Richard Roeper in the Sun-Times puts in his nomination for “Sweet Home Alabama” as Greatest Rock Song of All Time. Always one to attach himself to the hippest of bandwagons, I only mention it because he does have a point. It is one of the handful of songs that is just Played To Death on the “rock” and “classic rock” stations, but unlike “Stairway to Heaven”, “Break on Through”, or “I Can See For Miles”, I don’t instantly punch the button when I hear the opening. I always listen to them scold Neil Young, like he was wrong when he wrote "Southern Man".

I sure as hell don’t agree with Greatest All-Time, but “Alabama”, up until now, has stood the test.

Tuesday, March 29

3/29/2005 09:55:00 AM by Rob

"He's AC-DC. He likes men...and boys!"

I've just always wanted to use the immortal line mouthed by Double D in "Saturday Night Fever" for something. Not too many people use the terminology for "bisexual" anymore, not since the popularity of Angus Young's rock band took off.

AC/DC, be it a rock band with a frontman who wears a too-small prep-school uniform with short pants, someone who has sex with men and women, or someone who roots for the Cubs and Sox, is a term with negative connotations, as something distasteful. Before you flame me, I'm sure Angus, Malcom, Bon and the rest named themselves after electricity.

Anyway, what the fuck was I talking about...oh yeah. Can you be a Cubs fan AND a Sux fan at the same time?

"This should be rich," you're thinking. "The Sloth is SOOOO objective about this one!" Well, could you guess that I have been to many Sux games? That I love the chocolate-filled churros? That I was a big fan of the Dick Allen/Bill Melton teams, not to mention the South Side Hit Men on 1977? Although the Cubs have always been #1 in my heart, for many years, I was on record as saying that I didn't care WHO won, as long as Chicago had a World Series?

For years, I would have easily characterized myself as a fan of both teams?

Even now, as I think of the American League franchise that plays at the Cell, I can't come up with too many bad, emotionally driven things to say. I can objectively look at them and tell you that their third baseman is kind of a bust, and that it is almost suicidal for them to have both the Big Skirt and Paulie Konerko on the same team. But I like their speed, their manager and the power that their two big, slow first basemen give them. Finally, I can't think of a better home for A. J. Eyechart, the most unpleasant motherfucker in the league.

But I am no fan of the Sux these days, no no no. Not so much for the on-field product, although I don't see them winning anything again this year. No, it's all due to the fact that I would bend over backwards to disassociate myself with the so-called "fans" of that team.

I have in the past alluded to my last failed marriage to the acne-scarred spazz from Mt. Greenwood. Naturally, she, her snarling dykey sisters and dumbshit brothers, and her shitty folks were all Sux fans, as were their drunken neighbors, as were the rest of the genetically shortchanged sawed-off ethnic fuckmonkeys that would line the streets for the Southside St. Pat's parade. They held their own parade because none of them are genetically capable of navigating a vehicle north of their own oversized ballpark, so therefore they can't attend the one in the Loop. That, and the fact that whatever precinct of police that patrol the Loop usually doesn't take kindly to open consumption of alcohol and crystal meth at ten in the morning on a Sunday, the way they tend to overlook such things in Beverly.

Anyway, I would chew off my arm at the shoulder joint rather than ever again having to associate with the garlic-chewing, bushy-mustache wearing, wallet-chaining, bungalow-dwelling, antihistamine-cooking fucks who can't spell their own last names, root for the Goddamned fighting Irish, and still bleed from their assholes because the Bidwells took the Goddamned Chicago Cardinals out of Comiskey 43 years ago.

Whether you see them avoiding the "neegroes" at the Chicago Ridge Mall, collecting up packages of Sudafed in their rent-subsidized apartments in Alsip, or beating people with table legs in Bridgeport, I don't want any part of them. What's more, if you listen to Chicago sports radio, which most of you do, pay attention when one of their kind actually succeeds in punching in the ten numbers correctly. 90% of the time, what starts out as an inquiry about the Sux ends up being an editorial about how the media favors the Cubs.

On occassion, I meet someone who actually likes the Sox on their own merits. I can boast two friends who I can truly call a Sox fan. The rest are all anti-Cub fans.

For someone to truly be a fan of both teams, they would have to be able to connect on both levels, and my point is since the prevalent position of "Sox Fan" is actually "Anti-Cub Fan", then to connect to both is itself a contradiction. You can't truly love AND truly hate the Cubs. Hell, most of us die-hards hate the Cubs at times over the course of a typical year, which aligns us pretty closely with that contradictory being I'm describing here. For example, I hate like hell the fact that LaTool Hawkins will close for us this year.

But it don't make me queer. Or a Sux fan. Does it? Nahhh.

Monday, March 28

3/28/2005 10:09:00 AM by Rob

and his chin had dropped to the floor

With the Illini down by 15 with four minutes left, the man had just about seen enough. Just like the century-old Cub curse, the Illini just can't seem to find a way to beat the Arizona Wildcats. Sooner or later, the boys in orange figure out just who they're up against, and give the game away in the last. Typical, just typical, business as usual for Illinois sports fans.

The man got up off of the couch, intending to return the empty popcorn bowl to the sink, and he took the precaution of bringing the remote control with him. "The Quiet Man" was on AMC, and he'd figure to catch the end of it to try to take his mind off of his troubles, just as the titular character was trying to do in the movie. As he got off of the couch, Luther Head hit a three. Garbage points, said the man, as he headed to the kitchen.

The bowl clattered in the sink as Head hit another three. The man could already hear the sports reports tonight, where 'the close score was not indicative of the way the Wildcats dominated the Illini, especially in the second half'. But almost as soon as he thought this, the Illini held yet again, and the 5 foot 11 Dee Brown came up with a putback to put them within seven.

The man could not press the channel button. With days to think about it, he was able to reason that he couldn't because he didn't think he was watching a real game. Sometimes, his kids would play NBA 2K-whatever with "fouls" turned off, because they thought it was fun to reach in every time on defense, to strip the opponent every time down the floor, and win games with scores like 176-9.

As Head scored after a steal, Williams drove for a basket and then made a steal and fed Brown for another basket with 45 seconds left, the man felt like he was just watching another one of his kid's video games. Every time Arizona would come down the floor, the Illini guards would just reach in and take the ball away, just like if some big guy in the sky turned "fouls off".

After Jack Ingram deflected an inbounds pass, Williams hit a 3-pointer to tie it with 38 seconds to go. The man had not moved from his spot behind the kitchen counter, just leaning against it with one arm, while his other hand held his remote, his finger on the channel key, and his mouth wide open, his chin resting on the floor.

The most incredible four minutes in Illinois basketball history had just taken place, and the man said nothing, felt nothing, thought nothing. Was there any doubt Illinois would outscore Arizona in the OT? Even as the last second shot came up short, the man felt nothing. The game had been won five game minutes before, it was just that nobody had told the refs that yet.

Today, I'm thinking if I were an Arizona fan, I might be knocking at the door of the NCAA headquarters in Kansas, or whereever it is, gripping my shotgun in a menacing manner, demanding to know HOW in God's name there were no fouls called during that last four-minute flurry of activity? Certainly a team with that many NBA-caliber stars could hold onto the ball unless they were being brutally manhandled, hacked, mugged, FOULED?

I'm glad I saw it, I'm glad I froze, and couldn't pull the trigger on "The Quiet Man", and as I sit here, I think Louisville looks five times stronger than we do.

But who was Number 1 all year? Ca$h.

Friday, March 25

3/25/2005 11:13:00 AM by Rob

The De-Evolution of Man

by Mothersbaugh, Mothersbaugh, and Casale, 1978, DevoSongs (ASCAP)

THEY TELL US THAT
WE LOST OUR TAILS
EVOLVING UP
FROM LITTLE SNAILS
I SAY IT'S ALL
JUST WIND IN SAILS
ARE WE NOT MEN?
WE ARE DEVO!

WE'RE PINHEADS NOW
WE ARE NOT WHOLE
WE'RE PINHEADS ALL
JOCKO HOMO
ARE WE NOT MEN?
D-E-V-O

MONKEY MEN ALL
IN BUSINESS SUIT
TEACHERS AND CRITICS
ALL DANCE THE POOT
ARE WE NOT MEN?
WE ARE DEVO!
ARE WE NOT MEN?
D-E-V-O

GOD MADE MAN
BUT HE USED THE MONKEY TO DO IT
APES IN THE PLAN
WE'RE ALL HERE TO PROVE IT
I CAN WALK LIKE AN APE
TALK LIKE AN APE
I CAN DO WHAT A MONKEY CAN DO
GOD MADE MAN
BUT A MONKEY SUPPLIED THE GLUE

ARE WE NOT MEN?
WE ARE DEVO!
ARE WE NOT MEN?
D-E-V-O
WE MUST REPEAT
O.K. LET'S GO!

Thursday, March 24

3/24/2005 02:28:00 PM by Rob

I googled "cute", and this was the first thing that popped up

For them who likes a little Asian flavor...little sucker don't need no soy sauce or extra napkins, either.

Ai is nude all over the place, too...no bukkakke, however. Of course, if I'm wrong about that, don't be a bitch, and let me know.

3/24/2005 12:44:00 PM by Rob

Is Kerry a man's or a woman's name?

I cannot possibly make any of this up.

Kerry Wood reported to work on the morning of his important pre-season start, which Cubs management has been looking forward to as a key indicator of his fitness to start the season in the rotation. Cubs training staff, however, held Wood out of today's start after he complained of a sore back, caused by a bad night's sleep.

"We don't see the need to take any chances", stated Larry Rothschild, pitching coach. Wood may pitch in a simulated game tomorrow. Dusty Baker, Cubs manager, still hopes to have Wood pitch the home opener on April 8th, but "we haven't had the chance, you know, to stretch his arm out over a number of innings here in Arizona. Dude."

The Tribune web site is holding a mini-poll next to the article, asking readers what injury Wood will suffer from next. Include were "groin", "toothache", and "sore neck".

No word on whether Wood will be backing out on his participation of the Scottsdale Theatre Group's production of "Oh, Calcutta!", scheduled to premiere tonight at the Scottsdale Civic Center.

3/24/2005 09:16:00 AM by Rob

Fire him, kidnap him, kill him, I don't care...

Been a long time since The Uncouth Sloth has had to declare jihad on someone, but by the power vested in me by the tortured souls of 97 years of Cub fandom, I DECLARE HOLY JIHAD today on...

...Phil Rogers of the Chicago Tribune.

I am normally hesitant to even wipe my ass with what he writes, for fear that my butt will somehow become stupider. He makes Jay Mariotti look like Dave Halberstam, on an everyday basis. If it isn't dumb trade rumors, it's equally inane concern about also-ran teams like Colorado and San Diego.

But today's collection of shit-stains and monkey-spunk tracks has got to take the cake as the all-time low of lows for this extreme waste on our natural resources. I wish we could unhook HIS feeding tube.

On several levels, this bothers me.

Level 1: why would anyone really give a fuck about the single season home run title?
Level dos: why would anyone in their right minds even think that Bonds and McGwire were unclean, while SamMe remained pure?
Level tres: Why would you even enhage your brain cells to even concoct such a scenario as he has today?
Level cuatro: ...and, then, write about it?

Look, Philly? For all of their faults, Bonds and McGwire somehow were made aware of the notion that when you say something that isn't true, under oath, that it is wrong, and bad. In some strange, pathetic way, both of them still have some semblance of a conscience.

Sosa has none. I don't know if he thinks he's exempt because he had to play catch with oranges when he was little, or if he thinks he has more to lose, both financially and spiritually, if he admits his guilt. But for Phil Rogers to actually think it was necessary today to publish the thought that Sosa is entitled to hold the single-season homer record, makes it crystal clear to me that Rogers lacks the intelligence necessary to hold a high-profile position as a sports authority. In other words, he's a fucking HACK, and get rid of his stupid ass NOW!!

DIE, Rogers, DIE!!! Ul-la-la-la-la-la-laaa!!!

Wednesday, March 23

3/23/2005 02:30:00 PM by Rob

Pet Peeves

I recently bought a car. Fortunately for me, I fell in love with some quite particular, and pursued it with single-minded purpose. Paid damn near sticker price for it, too. But all my memories of taking possession of my shiny new black Volks Jetta TDi are good ones. I highly recommend one, especially if you commute long distances. It is comfortable, responsive, tight, the stereo wails, and for a supposedly under-powered fuel mileage vehicle, it has lots of giddyup. Even if diesel is now $2.38 a gallon for me, at 42 MPG, I’m still doing ok.

But what if you were starting from scratch, trying to figure out what is best for your situation, you know, in your life? So you bop on down to a Chevy dealer, if you will.

Once there, you have your choice of the following:
• Aveo sub-sub-compact
• Cavalier sub-compact
• Cobalt compact
• Malibu mid-size
• Malibu Maxx hatchback
• Monte Carlo full-size coupe
• Impala full-size sedan
• Corvette sports car
• SSR car-truck thing
• NEW! HHR pie-wagon PT Cruiser-type thing
• Avalanche SUT
• Colorado mid-size pickup
• Silverado full-size pickup
• Blazer fleet SUV
• Equinox small SUV
• Trailblazer mid-size SUV
• Tahoe full-size SUV
• Suburban giant SUV
• Astro van
• Express van
• Uplander sport van thing
• Venture minivan

Whew…22 different lines of cars. You know that Pontiac also lists most, if not all, of these. There’s also Buick, Cadillac, Saturn, Hummer, GMC.

If someone made me the King of GM, I would simplify on day one. I’m not laying anyone off, at least not on the assembly lines. Why not boil the 6 remaining domestic nameplates down to, say, 3. A value car division, a luxury car division, and a truck division.

My new Chevrolet would have: the current Chevy Aveo, Chevy Cobalt, Pontiac Grand Prix, Saturn Vue, Buick Rendevous, Chevy Trailblazer, Chevy Corvette, Venture minivan and Pontiac GTO.

My new Buick/Cadillac division would have: Buick Lacrosse, Buick LaSabre, Cadillac STS, DeVille, SRX, Escalade ESV, and XLR convertible.

My new GMC would have a full-size van, mid-size truck, the 1500, the 2500, the 3500, the Yukon, and the Hummers.

So, I’ve cut my nameplates by half, the models by two-thirds. Efforts can be concentrated on streamlining of administrative functions, more hands-on production and inspection, more continuous and ‘global’ design, tighter product quality, and better service.

Then, once I was done there, I would hope to Ford/Mercury/Lincoln to do the same thing, then finally, Dodge/Chrysler/Jeep.

I mean, shit, what if Burger King made 22 kinds of hamburgers….ok, bad example.

3/23/2005 11:23:00 AM by Rob

Final Four Picks

I am currently in the middle of the pack on the one NCAA pool I did enter, and I made a mistake when I posted. I meant to have Gonzaga in the Final 8, but I had Louisville beating them on the sheet on my desk, but I have Gonzaga in my Final 4 on the Desipio pool. Oh well, that really doesn't matter that much, for the rest of my Alberquerque region is an "Andromeda Strain"-level nightmare.

Other than that, I am looking forward to the Illini beating whomever straggles out of New Mexico, and I am also still waiting with baited breath for the big-ACC slugfest between fellow blue North Carolinian schools Dook and UNC, with Coach K losing to my Fighting Illini in the finals, 65-50.

EYE-ELL-ELL....

I was hoping I would wake up this morning to the news that it was all a big hoo-hah, that Reg'lar Joe's wrist was not broken, kinda like how Mark Buerhle's foot isn't broken anymore. No such luck, there weren't millions of South Side Irish praying for Joe's wrist like they were for Mark's foot. A miracle has occurred on the South Side. A-a-a-a-men, Alleluia...

Maybe they're the bunch poised to end their own decades-old curse. Right now, that's how I'm leaning. It's gonna be a L-O-O-O-O-O-NG year...you know, people who snort crystal meth can stay up 48-72 hours straight ripping on Cub fans

Tuesday, March 22

3/22/2005 03:48:00 PM by Rob

If you're not buying negative, stop reading NOW!

...because, today, I'm selling.

Before I really get started, I am a little scared that the Illini didn't just raise up and put the screws to their first two opponents. But, they have a lot more to talk about today than, say, Bill Selfish's team, or Charlie Vanillawafer's team. Beating Nevada is big, yes. I am on the record today somewhere, Desipio or someplace, as saying that Bruce Pearl may NOT be an Seeping Anus, he may just be an okay guy, who once did an Seeping Anal thing. Nevertheless, I regard the Illini/UWM game as a test, because if the Illini can't jack up for THAT, then how in the world are they going to get up enough to beat Duke or UNC?

Now, on to the Polish Wonder, his propensity to use his meat hand to snare batted balls, and the impact it has on the ~~1985~~ 2005 Cubs.

I'm not going to rip on his sweaty ass for doing something so stupid, for that would be the height of Hypocrisy, since I have injured myself doing the very same thing. But I don't make two milldos of American dollars with my right hand, and if I did, I think I would take great pains to make it Second Nature to pull it back when balls fly at it. Which, let's get right down to it, is good advice, if you live on this side of Boystown.

Now, for all you statheads and pollyannas who get all bent out of shape every time someone says CURSE, feel free to shit in the stew.

THIS WAS THE YEAR, friends. We have an all-star left side infield operating on a one-year contract. We have an entire outfield, one-year-contract. The only locked-in lineup regulars are DLee and Barrett. There are only two possible outcomes for the 2005 Cubs:

- Incredible glory
- Even more incredible angst, gnashing of teeth, and excuse-making, finger-pointing, blame-fixing, and incriminating.

For, unless they win something this year, based on the amount of media attention they receive, the amount of money spent by management, and the reputations of nearly every single last person involved, there is no way they go down quietly.

Nomar - has to prove he can come back to the near-HOF levels he once performed at.
Ramirez - has to prove he can produce while making the big money.
Walker - has to prove he is an everyday player.
DLee - has to prove that he is not the latter-day Fred McGriff, empty stats.
Barrett - has to prove that 1) he can hit in the majors, 2) can handle a pitching staff, and 3) has the mental fortitude to lead a team
Wood - has to someday meet his potential
Prior - yes, Prior, the Francheezie himself, has to prove he isn't injury prone
Zambrano - has to prove he can control his emotions
Rusch - has to prove that he is not a 1-13 caliber pitcher
Dempster - see Prior
Hawkins - has 2 problems, 1) has to prove he has balls, and 2) has to prove that he isn't a raging assclown
Borowski - has to prove that he DIDN't sell his soul to Satan for 2003
Burnitz - has to prove that he CAN play somewhere else besides Coors field
Patterson - wants to prove that he is Barry Bonds. The club wants him to be Lou Brock. His main job - to prove that he isn't BOBBY Bonds.

Finally, the manager has the MOST of all to prove. He came here with the reputation of a winner. The reputation of being able to handle superstars, while also being fair to the mere mortals. He also had the rep that he couldn't win the big game, which he only fed after the 2003 NLCS.

Last year, he lost control of his team, plain and simple. The players lifted their kilts and shook their dicks at him.

So he got rid of everyone he thought was a problem. OK, partyboy, it's ALL you, now.

Well, folks, this isn't going to go well. When Prior and Wood got hurt, it was bad, but in theory, we had other guys that could do their jobs, maybe, half as good, while they were out. So it wasn't the Greek Tragedy that losing our closer is, because there isn't a soul on the team that can do what Joe Borowski, Polish Prince, did in 2003.

Maybe Kerry Wood COULD, if he was so obliged. But as of now, he doesn't THINK he's a closer, and neither does anyone else on the team. Sure as shittin', LaTroy Hawkins doesn't think he's a closer. No man in big-league history has done more to convince his managers and his public that he isn't a ninth-inning guy than Hawkins. If Dusty puts him in there, then he should be IMMEDIATELY fired, because Hawkins has done everything short of putting a fullpage ad in all three metro-newspapers, featuring a picture of himself bending over, grabbing his ankles, with a little flag bearing "I am not a closer" sticking out of his cornhole.

Not having a reliable closer dampens enthusiasm faster than anything else in the game. Oh, this isn't going to end well, my friends. There's nobody they can trade for, without gutting what little offense we have left. Does Billy Beane want three of our pitching "prospects" for Dotel? Fuck it, do the trade, go ahead. I could give a birdshit less about our so-called vaunted farm system. Do it. But Dotel's a setup guy, too, just like Hawkins. He can't close, either.

The Tribune would fire Dusty with one year left on his contract if he can't guide this bunch to at least a playoff berth, and at least one series win. Because, barring that, the fucking wheels are flying off of this bitch, and last year will look like a group hug on Oprah!

3/22/2005 11:27:00 AM by Rob

Quien es mas macho?

El Joe Borowski, who broke his bare hand trying to stop a batted ball

El Mark Buerhle, who broke his foot shagging flies

El Mark Prior, who inflamed his ulnar nerve throwing a baseball

~~El La~~ whatever…Michael Jackson, who has been hospitalized with such ailments as the flu, which has caused him to be late to his own sexual abuse trial three times.

I mean, shiiiit, if you or me were late once, we’d get thrown in the slam. Guess money talks.

Or, of course, the judge figured that Wacko would LIKE being locked up with a bunch of men who are inclined towards gay sex.

If he’s found guilty, I don’t think he should go to jail. They should put a bunny suit on him, smear cow blood all over him, and let him loose in the woods in some Red state somewhere.

Monday, March 21

3/21/2005 11:14:00 AM by Rob

Short and sweet

Not feeling well today, I apologize.

Wonder why kids want to be major league athletes? Want to know why a kid would take drugs to enhance their performance on the field of play?

THIS is Tony Gonzalez' girlfriend. She WAS Jeremy Shockey's girlfriend, until that dill pickle moved on (to what? Greener pastures???) She has a thing for tight ends.

Don't we all?

Anyway, Mark Prior can chew my assrim. I can barely catch my breath today, and I'd go out there and pitch, if they wanted me to.

Happy first day of spring, boys...time to play!

Friday, March 18

3/18/2005 09:07:00 AM by Rob

BTW, a belated and hearty thanx to Kurt Evans, fellow GoatRider, fledgling novelist, and erstwhile American, who put together my new site banner. Now, God only knows I'd never wear a Bears jacket, let alone a SATIN one, like the Superfan does. But I think Kurt nicely captured Le Essence of Uncouth.

3/18/2005 08:48:00 AM by Rob

Always on top of the babe-age

Personally I think there should be a federal law against white people singing the blues if they are a) British, or b) not a resident of a trailer court or federally subsidized housing.

But ol' Joss Stone, here, she sings the blues. Now, pictures of her MIGHT be enuf for ya if yer truly desperate. But for the ultimate creemy experience, watch her videos...cause, if I were Dave Otto, I'd describe her voice as 'FILL-THEE'!!

On the radio, you'd think she was a big ol' black woman with Fattitude...watch her on the television box, you'd...you'd...

...what? Well, I CAN'T say. See, I'm puritanical at heart, and I don't allow myself to speak such things about underage girls. Joss isn't legal until early next month.

Then, and only then, I'll let you know what I think about this little home-wrecker...

Oh yeah, one more thing.

No laughing, now...well, fuckit. Laugh if you want. Butt I'm probably going to the show to catch "Ice Princess" this weekend. I'll give you one guess as to why.

Mmmm...skater's butt....

Thursday, March 17

3/17/2005 02:46:00 PM by Rob

Karn Evil 9

Something's not quite right about SamMe

The following is part of Samuel Peralta Sosa's prepared statement to the U.S. Congress, March 17th, 2005:

"Everything I have heard about steroids and human growth hormones is that they are very bad for you, even lethal. I would never put anything dangerous like that in my body."

"To be clear," Sosa added, "I have never taken illegal performance-enhancing drugs. I have never injected myself or had anyone inject me with anything. "

Welcome back, my friends, to the show that never ends, we're SO glad you could attend, come inside, come inside.

Right behind the glass, there's a real horse's ass, be careful as you pass, move along, move along.

What's the problem?

- Steroids AREN'T illegal in the D.R., SamMe's winter home.
- Steroids WEREN'T illegal in the MLB until 2004. Non-punishable testing started in 2003. Sosa probably wasn't using in 2003 or 2004.
- So he hasn't injected. Has he taken them orally? Even if we read it very closely, and take him strictly at his word, if he didn't INTERNALLY take steroids, could he have taken them TOPICALLY, via cream or gel or spray?

I can't believe Congress let this stand. Even a small-town rube could read between THESE lines.

C'mon, see the show....

3/17/2005 10:39:00 AM by Rob

Happy Green Beer to ya's all...

The Irish don't celebrate St. Patrick's day there, at least not like we do here, as an excuse to get spit-shining drunk. They don't need a saint's day to conduct what they consider to be 'business as usual'.

Actually, I kid. Ireland is doing pretty well for itself, lately. Not West Texas 1980 great, not Sheik of Yerbouti great, but pretty well. How do I know this? I dunno, I've had some relatives who've been there lately. God bless all the Irish today!

Is Kelly Clarkson Irish? I doubt it...for an American Idol, she sure has a lot of big hits out there lately. I watched the very first one on the very first season, picked her out as the prettiest, decided I didn't care for the show at all, and was not in the least bit surprised when she won. I've always had an unhealthy fascination for this young girl and her smokin' booty.

Chuck, this one's for you. Like I look at underweight girls all the time.

Anyway, today's a great day, and not because a bunch of mopes are probably gonna plead the fifth before Congress today. They really should have granted them immunity, if they wanted a snowball's chance in hell of hearing something juicy. Now, there's gonna be nothing. The biggest much-ado-about-nothing since Geraldo Rivera knocked down Al Capone's old speakeasy, or since the last Super Bowl halftime show...

No, today is the day that Bruce Weber's Fighting Illini takes their first step towards putting us on the College Basketball Map forever! During my long commute in today, I mentally tried to match up this team to the 1989 Flying Illini. Sure, Kendall Gill and Nick Anderson create big-time matchup problems for the smallish Dee Brown and Deron Williams, but James Augustine rules the boards, the shooting of the guard trio makes up for their height disadvantage, and Lowell Hamilton freaks out trying to guard Nick Smith and Jack Ingram off of the bench.

Today's Illini by nine.

Finally, tonight's the night I traditionally run my copy of "The Quiet Man", sit down for some corned beef and cabbage, swill beer, and by the time Sean Thornton gets done pummelling Will Red Danneher, the Illini will be tipping off in Indy.

Good times, y'all.

Wednesday, March 16

3/16/2005 11:13:00 AM by Rob

Things I am sick of

I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s completely had their fill of “steroids in baseball”. In fact, at this point, is there ANYONE who really still feels the need to poke this dead mule? I mean, anyone who isn’t a lawyer making money off of the deal?

I’m completely fed up with the annual spring training ritual of “What’s Wrong With Kerry and Mark?” Top shelf athletes are coddled and babied from the first notion that they may have a special level of ability. Since junior high, these two have been told how special they are, that they need to protect their gift.

I’m also tired of the notion that what THEY do can’t be compared with what I do. No, millions of people don’t watch me every day as I surf the net looking for Cubs news, arguing with TJBrown on Desipio, and occasionally design, build, and maintain management information systems. But I come to work every day, even though I suffer from moderate to severe anxiety attacks, migraine headaches, and a whole raft of minor mental ailments resulting from not getting proper rest. I can’t give 100% every day…in fact, I honestly can’t remember a day when I was completely whole.

But I was raised to honor my commitments, to meet my responsibilities, to do the best I could. I don’t mean to hold myself up as UNIQUE…hell, no. Everyone living in the cubes that surround me are dealing with some sort of hurdle that keeps them from being as sharp as they could be. But nobody coddled any of us, and told us that it was ok to call in sick, just because we had trouble focusing our eyes after an extended session of staring at the CRT.

What else? Well, I’m sick of hearing about the vaunted Cubs farm system. I was led to believe that there were legions of fine young arms ripening on the vines, to the point that we could afford to lose two of them via the Rule V draft. Sooooo…if we’re wondering if Wood and Prior will be able to start the season, should I expect to be able to plug in a couple of the best and brightest?

So what do we get? We’re told that Guzman isn’t quite ready, perhaps you’d like Sergio Mitre? The Meat Tray was never one of the ‘touted prospects’. I’m not sure WHERE he came from, and the only thing I can see that is keeping him in doubleknits is that Dusty likes his ‘California Cool’ attitude. Wellemeyer and Leicester are bullpen fodder, and nobody else is even mentioned. Where’s all the surplus young guns? 9 of the last ten drafts have been completely pitching heavy…and I’m not seeing the tidal wave of young arms itching to take advantage, now that there are questions about Wood and Prior.

To me, this is a total indictment of the minor league developmental process. Most of these guys were ‘can’t miss’ when drafted, and from Prior on down, there is no end to the variety of excuses offered up by Cubs Management. The Cubs’ farm system was the toast of the league two-three years ago. Shouldn’t I expect some fruit by now?

Finally, I’m sick and tired of political correctness. In the old days, if there was a drunk, or lunatic, in the corner muttering filth, you just walked away. These days, we all feel like we’re empowered to hand him a lesson on civility, as well as a dissertation on the social and financial costs of the damage his filth is waging on our little ears.

TV and radios are all equipped with tuning knobs, and internet browsers are equipped to the hilt with filters, safeguards, proxies, and the good old “back button”. If you don’t like what you’re seeing or hearing, go somewhere else, where namby pambies like you are welcomed, and cute little snow white ponies gallop in cotton candy pastures.

Tuesday, March 15

3/15/2005 10:13:00 AM by Rob

The Uncouth Sloth's three Favorite Tribune Employees

1. Carlos Zambrano

2. Aramis Ramirez

3. Julie Unruh, THE reason why I always have morning wood.

Now, the list of Tribune Employees I'm not so fond of:
1) Dusty Baker
2) Ed Sherman
3) Rick Morrissey
4) Paul Harvey

Monday, March 14

3/14/2005 03:00:00 PM by Rob

When the Cubs are stinking the joint out: there's always Food Network:

Giada Di Laurentiis' "Everyday Italian" is actually filmed rather than videotaped, so it has the softer, more dreamy vibe to it. And Rachael Ray, well, all the non-stop banter might drive a man nuts, but imagine givin' it to her so hard and so fine that she shut up!!

3/14/2005 02:11:00 PM by Rob

Country blues

In a close race, Jennifer Hanson wins, Tift Meritt places, and Jessi Alexander shows.

What needs to be in place for a winning 2005.

What we seem to have now, if the Chicago media is to be believed.

Looks like another long year, kids....

Thursday, March 10

3/10/2005 04:18:00 PM by Rob

March Madness

March Madness = more more MORE Erin Andrews on ESPN = The Total Package.

Bust out the whuppin' stick!

3/10/2005 01:27:00 PM by Rob

Hee Seop Choi and Ron Hassey go to White Castle

Pretty funny stuff, but even an Uncouth Sloth can't sit with his wife and his stepdaughter when the nympho wife of the inbred geek tells the boys that in order to have her, they have to have her together, and John Cho objects because he doesn't want "his balls rubbing up against" Kal Penn's, and Kal's firing back, saying "it's TWO holes...we get to use two holes, right?"

"Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle"...three Sloth turds out of four. Good guy flick.

I suppose I'm supposed to say something insightful, witty, or scatological about Kerry Wood today. Once again, I refer you to a few days ago, when I pleaded with the media to back the fuck off. First Nomar was out for weeks...he's just fine. Then Corey and his knee...nada. Woody and his shoulder? What, you think he should pitch through the pain in spring training? Don't even get me STARTED about Mark "Simulated Game" Prior.

I realize that the Cubs, in concert with their training staff, pulled a fast one on us last year. Prior's achilles was never the problem as much as his elbow was. We'll never know now how SamMe REALLY pulled his abdominal muscle. I realize it might be hard for you to listen to me say "Wait and See". But what choice do we have?

So what can YOU do to keep your mind from spinning totally out of control with fear and panic over who's actually telling the truth about the health of YOUR ballclub? What does the Sloth do? Well, we all know I like da young stuff, and WHO has more of IT, than the dubbya-B-B-B? Who ELSE has a show called "The Starlet"? If you guessed that I watch that show to see young chix, you would be CORRECT! DING DING DING DING!!

I mean, c'mon...yes, I despise reality TV. But it's called "The Starlet"??? It's like having a show called "The Beers" or "The monster poster-quality Dunks" or "The Bikers who beat the Shit out of Nuns"...how CAN it suck??

Unless they don't have any Starlets. But, fortunately, there are several.

Tonight, don't miss Michaelynne and the rest of them. Why, it's like a freakin' Chinese buffet, except none of that tofu shit or any of the weird shit made out of purple fish and grey mushroom.

Wednesday, March 9

3/09/2005 01:40:00 PM by Rob

Feel better about yourself!!

I'm going to sound like that broad in the anxiety center ads, but look...most of us have been through some tough times...some down times. Sometimes, you feel overwhelmed, you feel insignificant, you feel disappointed in yourself that you haven't amounted to more.

Maybe the love of your life is doing a cop in the parking lot of your neighborhood donut shop. Maybe you got fired from a high-paying gig for peeping oral porn on the job. Perhaps you were born under circumstances that, no matter how hard you have tried, you cannot ever seem to break through.

For sure, you all are fans of the most frustrating team in American organized sport.

But please remember, before you take that last step off the side of the pier, please know that no matter what, you haven't sunk as low as THIS guy to the left.

From playing catch with Dan Marino, to playing stuid songs wearing a gay western outfit, in close proximity to the total fucking FREAK wearing the big plastic Burger King head.

No matter how low you go, friends, you don't ever have to admit you did THIS!

3/09/2005 09:23:00 AM by Rob

This is really unnecessary

Don’t assume just because Congress is the highest form of government in the land, that they aren’t above a little sleazy, tawdry voyeurism.

God only knows, if SamMe Sofa stepped into a bottomless fissure in the Earth, and during his eternal fall from grace into Hell, he was repeatedly buggered by former rock stars who dyed their skin white, I would be just fine with that.

But is it really necessary for Congress to fucking subpoena him, Jason Giambi, Barry Bonds and others to testify about steroids? What is the purpose of this? It’s not complicated…these guys played baseball, and all of a sudden, they got real huge, hit a lot of home runs. Maybe they took steroids, maybe they didn’t. It was at the time illegal to possess such drugs on American soil, but it wasn’t illegal to have them in their system as they played in the majors.

Little by little, the game is cracking down on their use, and while there is still a long way to go, there is absolutely no reason to believe that the rules will go back to the way they were in 1998. The rules will either stay as they are now, or they will become MORE stringent.

As for the men involved, chances are, they are either no longer using any drugs designed to build larger muscles, or if they are, it is probably part of a process so complicated and in front of the curve, that members of Congress would not be able to properly and completely craft a line of questioning that would totally nail down the current use, which gives these guys a chance to squirm their way out of the trap.

Or, in the case of Sammy Sosa, convicted fraud, cheat, and wife-beater, he would simply lie his way out.

So what’s the point of the congressional subpoena? It seems to me to be little more than an unhealthy case of nosiness. Unprecedented? Hardly…when they were trying to pin Slick Willie Clinton down for abusing his powers of office, did they really HAVE to publish a brief detailing the activities of Willie and BlowJob Monica to the most debauched levels? When they were trying to determine Clarence Thomas’ fitness for his job as Supreme Court Justice, did they really HAVE to outline his video viewing habits? Ol’ Clarence likes to see skank ho’s get impaled by big long dicks? Who REALLY needs to know that?

Raffy Palmiero is no doubt besides himself because he is going to have to spend his wife’s birthday testifying before Congress. I hope to God that he isn’t forced to come back to Washington on Cindy Sandberg’s b-day for further testimony. That would just totally FUCK up his entire year….

Tuesday, March 8

3/08/2005 12:53:00 PM by Rob

Time for my semi-annual bath

All Sloths that hibernate for the winter need to get in the water to wash off the stank. So, before I go leave a bathtub ring thicker than a Mounds bar, let me just jot down on here the Things I Have Written on my Forearm With Pen:

- The Cubs think Corey Patterson is Lou Brock. He thinks he's Barry Bonds. He's probably closer to Bobby Bonds. Or Preston Wilson. Anyway, he shouldn't lead off.

- Joe Borowski is back to his old self. Please bear in mind, though, that even his 2003 appearances were Adventures.

- Frank Thomas is back in camp. I have 3/10 in the "When will Ozzie semi-accidentally insult Frank causing irreperable damage to his fragile ego?" pool

- Dear Jesus, thank you for sending your boy Kurt and his butch wife into the desert, away from us.

- Check furnace filter.

- I don't remember...does Maddux have any MORE "designated catchers" bouncing around the league for next year?

- SamMe Sosa got thrown out of an exhibition game the other day for bitching about balls and strikes while standing out in right field. I really don't know what that means, actually. But Steve Phillips, the former GM of the Mutts, doesn't think that the Cubs have adequately replaced Sosa. Maybe that's why Phillips runs for herbal tea and McGriddles for Mike & Mike on ESPN Radio now.

- There's no way they'll ever find Michael Jackson guilty, which is too bad. THAT would be the pay-per-view event of the new millenium: Jacko's first group shower in prison. You can BET there would be some 'Jesus Blood' drunk in there.

- Shannon Elizabeth, Katie Holmes, and Denise Richards are ALL back out on the market. What does that say? That Chris Klein, Charlie Sheen, and ESPECIALLY the shrub that was married to Shannon must all have balls the size of Clinchers on them, to think that they could do better...

- All we are say-ing, is give Jason DuBois a chance. And let Aubrey Huff be plan B.

- Courtrm 103B, 1:20. Bring $$

- I think the confused, cornfed blonde Sam who is the "spokesmodel" for Insight Cable would work for me, as I stand over her quivering flanks, running my hands down her waist around her very curvy hips, as they flare way out around me exposing a very ample opening for me to lean into, impaling her with my blazing hot turkeyneck, and as I sling shimmering ropes of joozeyfroot deep inside her, I would laugh very coarsely, and moan "uh, Sam, THERE'S your Rum Raisin." (Of course, unless you are a rural hick that gets Insight Cable, this means NOTHING to you. Sam would be the Tanya Memme of the rural set)

- It's gonna take a lot to scrub all of that off of my arm.

Monday, March 7

3/07/2005 10:51:00 AM by Rob

I don't have any boobs for you today, but

The whole "Rachel McAdams done up in forties' style like she was in the Notebook", coupled with the "Rachel McAdams was hotter than Lindsay Lohan in Mean Girls" and the "She was the stripper in the Hot Chick" has put her at the very top of my food chain. I'd get on my knees and pray to her God every night.

I liked what LaTroy Hawkins had to say in the paper today: that he is honest to a fault, that he learned something from last year, that if he had 2004 to do over again, he would do things differently, and that he is really happy that Joe Bo is on the mend. Hey, in my experience, for an athlete to admit he was wrong is akin to a supermodel admitting she's too skinny, or for yo' momma pushing herself away from the table. It doesn't happen often, and when it does, it surprises you greatly.

UPDATE In response to GROTA member Byron's SAT question in the Desipio Message board, "2004 is to 1985 as 2005 is to..." Well, I gotta take some exception to the construction of the problem, as it portrays racial bias.

No? Ok, not bias, then. Fact is, the 2004 team won 89 regular season games, and the 2003 team won 88. The 1985 team was a catastrophic collapse of old, frail, and drunken pitchers all falling down at once. I would more easily equate 1985 to 1999, which featured another spate of fallen pitchers making it necessary to trot out Andrew Lorraine, Micah Bowie, and, yes, Cap'n Tightpants onto the mound in starting roles.

The closet analogue we have to 2004 is perhaps 1970, the somewhat underachieving year after a monumental choke. So, I guess this makes this year 1971, another lackluster year where we contend yet come up short, all the while the clock is ticking on the shelf life of our nucleus.

So the correct answer to Byron is: 2004 is to 1985 as 2005 is to 1986, treating it as a straight math problem. This is the only possible response to be awarded points on this year's college boards.

Friday, March 4

3/04/2005 04:19:00 PM by Rob

Putting down my cup of Kool-Aid

BREAKING NEWS - Mesa, AZ: This just in!! Nomar Garciaparra hit by pitch, appears to be hurt badly, could be out 4 to 6 weeks! And, who knows how long it will REALLY be! This is JUST the kind of thing the Fresh New Cubs do NOT need!

If you were in your car or sitting in front of a tv tube yesterday afternoon, THIS is what you were treated to.

Good fucking Christ...I think I have finally figured out who to blame for 2004. And, in a related corollary, the Cubs cannot possibly win anything in a year after a successful one. Let me briefly explain.

The fucking guy got hit on the hand. He got a bruise. He may sit out a game or three. If it were September, he'd tape the bitch and play.

But the motherfucking Chicago press: the TV, the radio, the newspapers, the internet...Oh My God!!! I am actually starting to second guess the motivations of Moises Alou, Kent Mercker, and the rest of the assPolice.

Will the fuckstains in the press PLEASE CALM DOWN!! It is impossible for these guys to play in a vacuum. Please believe me, most of these guys are highly motivated professionals, who know why they're here, who have done this before, and they really, really, honestly don't need a bunch of short, beady-eyed, halitosis-breath, klutzy no-ball-playing closet cases CRYING WOLF at every little thing...clawing on every minor setback as THE STRAW THAT BROKE THE BACKS OF THE CUBS!!

They don't need to be second guessed, third guessed, fourth guessed, reminded, poked, prodded, cajoled, pressured, pressured, pressured into playing better, rising about the "CUBS CURSE" for the first time in a century.

I have seen the curse, and it is US, dammit? Don't you see? I KNEW when the yuppie turtleneck pudflap Bartman interfered on the fly ball...see, I hurt WORSE than all of you, and you know why?

To you, maybe we blew a game...or maybe a series. To me, I knew, I JUST KNEW, that the surrounding forces would not only thrash the life out of what was left of 2003, but they would also choke the life out of the next year, and beyond!! From the idiots who want to boil a ball in the spaghetti sauce, to the sawed off pipsqueak on the Score who thinks there's a hidden conspiracy behind everything, to the know-it-all in the booth last year who (although he was right, dead right) couldn't HELP HIMSELF but to make the manager look even STUPIDER than he already was.

If the fucking media won't just let it rest, it ain't ever gonna get better.

Nomar is fine, Prior is fine, they're the pros, not you scrawny wiry-haired refugees from the day school who couldn't throw the ball straight one time out of a hundred. Let them play, REPORT ON WHAT IS ON THE FIELD, and whatever goes on in the clubhouse, LET STAY IN THE CLUBHOUSE...

Thursday, March 3

3/03/2005 01:54:00 PM by Rob

Who needs them?

Oh well, I guess, if there was a bunch of bullies in your school, you know, real idiots who thought they were Better than everyone else, who made fun of all the dumb kids, the crippled kids, the kids from poor families who had to wear Kmart clothes, and the kids with poor complexions who looked like they would squirt like a mushy strawberry if you touched their faces...and for some ungodly reason, they took a liking to you?

If they'd ask you to join their little gang of insufferable assclowns, even though they'd spent the last 2 years laughing at You, bumping into you in the hallway without even attempting to flinch one iota...if they'd told you before that you weren't Good Enough, and you hated everything they were and everything they stood for? Would you come crawling with your tail dragging the floor, like a subservient whipped crack-addled cumslut? Would you become one of THEM?

Would you? Probably. You'd come Running!

So would Ron Santo, and I guess it's human nature, but its still kind of sad.

He and Gil Hodges, his Warm-n-fuzzy Noo Yawk equivalent, were 8 votes short yesterday for the HOF. Four of the current members couldn't even be bothered to mail in their ballot, and those non-votes COUNT! Granted, 4 is less than 8, but this kind of illustrates the attitude of many currently sitting in that "august" institution. I wonder if the lack of empathy, for that is the ONLY reason why a Ron Santo or Gil Hodges would be left out, comes from Bitterness from the way they themselves were installed.

By this, I mean the process where a Ryne Sandberg, the greatest middle infielder of his time, had to wait three years for induction, and Billy Williams, who was the equal of Hank Aaron and Willie Mays in his production in the '60s, waited longer than that. And, by no means, were these Cubs the only guys who had to suffer the indignity of not being "first ballot Hall of Famers".

I believe when you get in on the first try, it allows you to be far more magnanimous than if you felt you had to virtually scrape and crawl your way to the pinnacle. It makes you hold your ground far more zealously.

Mr. Santo, if by chance you or someone you are close to reads this, please accept my thoughts on your disappoinment, and please know that it is no disgrace, in fact, it may be a far more proud thing, to tell these assfucks to take their little Homo Club and shove it up their fucking asses!! Be confident in your place in the world, what you accomplished, and how you are regarded by all of Cub Fandom.

And, one other thing? I realize your announcing job is your lifeline. It wouldn't hurt you, though, to go part-time, huh? Maybe just home games and short trips? You'd still feel involved...honest?

3/03/2005 10:39:00 AM by Rob

Wow, I just didn't realize, I guess

I have always maintained that the Cubs were just a wee drop-in-the-bucket for a media conglomerate like the Tribune, but they'd like you to think otherwise:

Sosa deal puts dent in Tribune earnings
Cost of trade to hit 1st-quarter results

By James P. Miller
Tribune staff reporter
Published March 3, 2005

It's only spring training, but former Cub Sammy Sosa has already shown that he's an "impact player"--at least when it comes to the first-quarter profits of Cubs owner Tribune Co.

As sports-page readers know by now, the Cubs were so eager to send Sammy packing that they agreed over the winter to pay in the neighborhood of $16 million just to get out of the final year of the outfielder's contract.

The Cubs' parent company would presumably like to put the Sosa trade behind it.

But it can't. At least not until it releases its first-quarter earnings.

It turns out that the company has been put in the unusual position of having to publicly spell out, in its financial results for the period ending March 31, the multimillion-dollar cost of pushing Sosa out the clubhouse door.

"As you know, Sammy Sosa is now a Baltimore Oriole," Tribune Chairman, President and Chief Executive Dennis FitzSimons told a media-industry investment conference this week, in the company's first public discussion of the Sosa trade's financial effect.

"While this trade will not impact our full-year results," he said, "there is a timing impact."

Because the timing of the trade caused Tribune to "accelerate" the payment of Sosa's salary, FitzSimons said, the company's first-quarter net income will be reduced by nearly 3 cents per share--which works out to something over $9 million on an after-tax basis.

FitzSimons' disclosure Monday sent a chuckle rippling through the crowd of institutional investors, a number of whom were amused to learn that a major corporation's financial results could be skewed by the sudden departure of a baseball player.

"I hear some laughter out there," FitzSimons said mildly. "Sammy wasn't cheap."

The nation's investors primarily know Tribune Co. as a Chicago-based media holding concern with more than a score of TV stations and a chain of newspapers that includes such major-league dailies as the Chicago Tribune and Los Angeles Times.

But Tribune has also owned the Cubs since 1981, when it acquired the team from the Wrigley family for $20.5 million.

And historically, baseball has been very good to the company's bottom line: Fans either buy tickets from Tribune's Cubs subsidiary to watch games at Wrigley Field, or they listen to the team on a Tribune-owned Chicago radio station, or they watch them on a Tribune-owned Chicago TV station.

But rarely has the financial impact of a ballplayer-management dispute been enough to cause a publicly traded company to fine-tune its earnings guidance.

Here's how the Sosa saga entered the world of finance.

Over the winter, the Cubs decided that their aging and controversy-plagued superstar had to go. But there was a problem: Under a $72 million multiyear contract, Sosa was still owed $25 million by the Cubs.

If the team that acquired Sosa didn't agree to absorb that financial obligation, the Cubs would be stuck with the tab. So in order to clinch a deal with the Orioles, the Cubs stepped up the plate, financially speaking, by agreeing to pay $16.15 million.

Under that agreement, the Cubs will pay $8.15 million of Sosa's $17 million Baltimore salary this year. They also made about $8 million in severance-related payments to Sosa including a bonus payment for agreeing to the trade.

When asked about the Sosa affair's dent to the company's profits, a Tribune spokesman emphasized that while the first-quarter results will be hurt by the payout, the hit will be largely offset in the company's second and third quarters.

That's because the company has always been legally bound to pay Sosa under his old contract. Normally, those millions of dollars in big-ticket labor costs would have been accounted for during the baseball season, when Tribune normally records the cost of the Cubs' salaries. The trade with the Orioles pushed those costs into the first quarter--and into public view.

When asked to comment further on the first-quarter charge, Tribune officials said they couldn't discuss specifics of the Sosa trade's financial impact until the company files its 10-K annual report with the Securities and Exchange Commission on Friday.

Hmm-hmm. OK, for Frank and the rest of you who want me to just DROP IT about SamMe Sosa:

Look, I love what Hendry has done, I think the team is really, really close to what I want it to be, and I am waiting with baited (blood bait, precisely) breath for Opening Day. I am just AMAZED at to what lengths the Trib will go to discredit a man who made them JILLIONS of American Dollars with his steroids and his homers. You'd think maybe there would be a little Gratitude?

Naaaah, not in Big Bizness.

Wednesday, March 2

3/02/2005 08:14:00 AM by Rob

My apologies, one and all

I have been teaching class all week, and as always, it's a one-man do-it-yerself freak show up in here. So for all I know, the Cubs might have traded all of their so-called top pitching prospects for Vlad Guerrero, Billy Wagner, and Jolly Roger Clemens and his mentally disabled children. Hell, for all I know, the Bulls are in the playoffs, and the Bears went out and signed a major free agent.

Ha, yeah, I know, that's wack. Couldn't happen.

Just, you know, until tomorrow, when I get my life back, continue to wear your rose-colored Cubs glasses, and sip yer blue Cubs Kool Aid, because a year without Sam-Me is like a year without bills, baybee. It's all good.

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