In this week’s episode we introduce the hashtag #googlyboob and venture into why Batman villains never succeed in their evil deeds. Boston Strong in this week’s Super Dudes Power Show!
Category Archives: Sports
Super Dudes Power Show, Ep. 41: Bananas in Pyjamas
Filed under Events, News, Sports, Television
Super Dudes Power Show, Ep. 40: Louisville Battletoads
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Covering everything from Star Wars logic and upcoming films to the CMA awards and the NCAA championship game, this milestone episode is dressed to impress…so be impressed!
Also! Check out SEINFELD QUIZZO Wednesday 4/10/13 at Raven Lounge (1718 Sansom Street, Philly) 7PM
April 9, 2013 · 11:19 pm
Super Bowl Hangover
(written by Milly B. Chacon for The Sports Junkie Hippie)
Let’s put this Ravens Super Bowl win in context.
The Ravens are, almost unquestionably, a great football team. They just beat what most people would have suggested to be the league’s three best teams in three consecutive games, with zero of those games played at home. They did it without ever trailing by more than a touchdown, having been in the lead for the entire second half in New England and all night on Sunday in New Orleans. These were not fluke wins; the Ravens were the better team in each of the four contests, and had they lost any of them, it would have been an unfair result with the wrong team advancing. They didn’t enjoy fumble luck or close-game luck or even floodlight luck. They were every bit as brilliant as the confetti implies they were.
Which is why it’s even more important to really put this thing in context. As recently as New Year’s Day and as early as Halloween, you could have argued that the Ravens were a mediocre football team with very little fuss from folks who don’t consider purple to be a base color of their wardrobe. In Week 11, the Ravens could only muster up a three-point win over a Steelers team that had a gimpy Byron Leftwich at quarterback in a game in which their offense — the same one that looked unstoppable in the first half of the freaking Super Bowl — couldn’t even score a single touchdown. The following week, it took a miraculous fourth-and-29 conversion to push the game into overtime and for the Ravens to eventually beat the lowly Chargers in San Diego, in a game in which that same offense scored just one touchdown. A week later, they lost to a Charlie Batch–led Steelers team in Baltimore. They blew an eight-point lead in the fourth quarter against the Redskins in Washington, got embarrassed by the Broncos at home, and after finally showing up with a big win over the Giants, limped into the playoffs with a meaningless loss at Cincinnati.
If you think that tells you that the Ravens elevated their game when they needed to, I can’t agree. What it really tells us is that we know way less about teams than we really think we know. Every recent piece of information we had about the Ravens heading into the postseason suggested that they were a floundering team limping in by virtue of a successful start to the season, some lucky bounces, opposing injuries, and strong performance in close games. Baltimore started 6-1 in games decided by a touchdown or less, with its only loss to Philadelphia, of all teams, before losing their final three such contests. We had a clear curve for Baltimore’s true level of play, and it was trending further and further downward. And yet, from that point forward, everything we thought we knew about the Ravens was wrong. For every power rankings article you read in November and every set of odds you saw in December, nobody had any idea that the Ravens were capable of putting together a four-game stretch this good. Was “play like the best team in football” really a switch they were waiting to turn on during the playoffs? Or were they capable of this all along and just hadn’t yet exhibited this level of play?
This isn’t a new argument, either, or one of “peaking” at the right time. The Ravens are the 2011 Giants, or the 2007 Giants, or the 2010 Packers. They’re the reminders that you don’t get the full picture of a team and what they can do from a 16-game sample, just as you fail to get the entire story from a 16-game sample in other sports. The only difference is that those other sports get 66 or more games to reveal more about their teams. In football, we get 20 games max.
It’s because we know so little about these teams that it’s so important to try to judge them based upon their level of play as opposed to their win-loss record (and even that’s going to be flawed). Go back to that Ravens-Broncos game three weeks ago. If Rahim Moore hadn’t blown a seemingly simple coverage, Baltimore would’ve been out of the playoffs without anybody giving a second thought to how well they played. They would’ve been the plucky team who beat an over-matched Colts squad in the emotional cauldron of Ray Lewis’s final home game before giving the Broncos a tough match-up and coming up short. The seemingly impending breakup of the veterans on this team would’ve gone off without a hitch, with Lewis retiring and the Ravens moving on from the likes of Ed Reed and Anquan Boldin as rumored.
Even more stark is how different these teams would’ve looked if the 49ers had finished their comeback and won Sunday. Let’s say that the 49ers got off their second-down quarterback counter with Colin Kaepernick without calling a timeout, since it looked like it was about to steam into the end zone, and let’s pretend that the Ravens’ drive to tie/win fell short. Do you know who the Ravens would’ve gotten compared to? The Falcons, the team who blew an enormous lead that seemed to be slipping from their grip for most of the second half. Joe Flacco would’ve drawn comparisons to Matt Ryan for beating up the 49ers defense in the first half before only briefly succeeding in the second half. And Kaepernick? Well, he would’ve been the leader of the new Kardiac Kids, a team that just doesn’t know when to quit, a squad that has led nearly unprecedented comebacks in consecutive games. That line between winning and losing is so ridiculously thin, and yet it becomes the basis for about 98 percent of the discussion surrounding a team.
Of course, just as 16 games isn’t enough to get the total picture of a team, 20 games isn’t a perfect sample. For all we know, the Ravens could really be the league’s seventh-best team if we ran this season one million times. The question the NFL season seeks to answer isn’t who is the league’s best team; it’s who is the league champion. And in answering that question, the Ravens provided us with the latest reminder of one of the few things we actually do know about the modern NFL: As long as you make it to the playoffs, it doesn’t matter how you got there. And once you’re in the playoffs, you can throw just about everything you think you know about a team out the window.
Swap Meet
In the playoffs, every story line is ex post facto, with the process graded after the fact by whatever the outcome was. You know the stories. A team with a first-round bye is refreshed and full of energy if they blow out their opponents (often as big favorites at home), but rusty and lost their timing if they lose to their opponents, who don’t have anybody believing in them but themselves. It’s one of the laziest bits of analysis you’ll see about sports.
To extend that further, there are stories about the players in this Super Bowl that totally change by virtue of what happened on that fateful fourth-down call near the Baltimore goal line in the fourth quarter. In many cases, the players weren’t even on the field for the play in question, but it’s still enough to lock in narratives surrounding those guys that may end up defining or redefining their respective careers. Again, in many cases, that’s inaccurate. It’s worth evaluating how those players and their performances look in a vacuum; or, perhaps more interestingly, if the Niners had completed their comeback and pulled out a victory with a touchdown on that spot. A quick go-around:
Ray Rice wouldn’t be the only scapegoat for a Baltimore loss, but he would get plenty of attention for his third-quarter fumble, one that gives him nearly as many fumbles in the playoffs (five) as he’s produced during the regular season (seven). The fumble furthered the San Francisco comeback and set them up for a possible game-tying touchdown opportunity, only for the defense to hold the 49ers to a field goal. Don’t think the Ravens didn’t react to it; there was a reason that Bernard Pierce got a carry on that final possession. If the Ravens had lost, Rice would’ve been lambasted and forced to answer questions about his playoff fumbling habit for the next five years. Since they won, everyone forgets about the fumble and Rice’s fourth-and-29 conversion is used as the manifestation of Baltimore’s never-say-die attitude.
Jacoby Jones is an example of how postseason labels shouldn’t stick around for very long. Last year, Jones was the goat in Houston after fumbling away a punt against these very same Ravens. This year, he was the GOAT in Baltimore’s playoff run; Jones held on to that season-changing touchdown catch against the Broncos to tie the game, and on Sunday, he had a 56-yard touchdown catch and a 108-yard kickoff return for a touchdown.2 If the Ravens had lost, Jones’s heroic effort would’ve been an afterthought amid a crushing loss, but because the Ravens won, Jones’s MVP-caliber playoffs can overshadow his disappointing fumble last season.
Ray Lewis didn’t come up short in his retirement tour, meaning he can ride off into the (Bristol) sunset with his second ring. I suspect his final game will be remembered for his speech afterward; had the Ravens lost, we’d probably be talking about how slow and lumbering Lewis looked in the first half, when the 49ers threw at him repeatedly with crossing patterns from Michael Crabtree and Vernon Davis.
Colin Kaepernick would have to change the meaning of “Kaepernicking” from his touchdown celebration to the idea of coming back from any sort of large deficit while making it look easy. Instead, after the 49ers lost, I saw Kaepernick criticized during the postgame shows, which seems bizarre considering that the 49ers were unstoppable for most of the second half (and not too shabby in the first half, either). Yes, he made a bad throw that led to a first-half interception, and he was late on a second throw on the subsequent series that was nearly picked. It’s hard to find a bad throw from him the rest of the way, and I can recall at least one glorious pass up the sideline to an open Vernon Davis that wasn’t caught. Kaepernick played well enough to win. Sometimes, you can play well enough to win and still lose. This was one of those times.
Randy Moss could have been a hero. There were a number of plays in which Moss was open for possibly big plays and Kaepernick either chose a different receiver or wasn’t able to get the ball to him. A scrambling Kaepernick had an open Moss in the back of the end zone in the first quarter, but didn’t see him and instead overthrew Michael Crabtree on a drive that eventually produced a field goal. Later, Moss was open on a deep post on the aforementioned Davis drop, but Kaepernick decided to throw it elsewhere. Tack an extra 50 yards and a touchdown onto his totals and Moss would’ve left this weekend with some extra respect. Instead, it’s just another failed attempt for Moss to win a title.
Donte Whitner was involved in enough blown coverages and missed tackles to choke a horse on Sunday, just as he went missing during New Orleans’s comeback against the 49ers in the divisional round last year. In that game, the 49ers were able to drive down the field and score the game-winning touchdown, absolving Whitner of his mistakes; this time, they weren’t able to come back, and people watching the tape will see a player who was targeted on many Ravens plays. You can say the same for Chris Culliver, who was the target on many of Baltimore’s routes up the sidelines.
Welp, hope this blog helps your recovery of your hangovers folks!
Take Care.
For more from Milly B. Chacon (@JustMissMilly) check out her blog at TheSportsJunkieHippie.com. Hear her on KWXV Fox Ch 24/ 107.9FM at 5pm or her Columns at @DirtySoutHipHop and HHS101Magazine
Filed under Rant, Special Guest Blogger, Sports, Television, Tumblr
Wall Ball Laws
Growing up poor on the mean streets of inner city Philadelphia, us kids had a lot of time to screw around outside. I never did a whole lot of video gaming (besides NHL 95 on the Sega Genesis!), and found the greatest amusement playing outside with a friend or two down the street. I’ve written about this before, a list of games that we played that look foreign to our suburban-raised counterparts, but today I’m choosing to write about the one game that was the ultimate pick-up boredom buster.
Throw the wall against the ball?
Man, was this ever a sweet game. It required exactly three things. People, a wall and a ball. That’s it. It even had it’s own theme song! (Wall ball, wall ball…you throw the ball against the wall. Shut up. We were like 8). Now many places across the country play some form of wall ball or another. And of course, every neighborhood, block and barrio claims THEIR way is the REAL wall ball. But I have to clarify.
This way, our way, was the real way.
Come on, let him play too...
The game, specifically known as Suicide, or Suey, was the preferred, nay, only way to play. It has everything. Skills such as throwing with precision, athleticism through running, and an excuse to hurt someone without getting into much trouble (unless you hit them in the eye or something).
Don't be that guy...
First, you need a ball. Specifically, an old semi-flat tennis ball that you found in the street (known as a tennie). New tennis balls are allowed but frowned upon. Also occasionally acceptable is a raquetball. They bounce better, are harder to catch, and sting like a motherfucker when you get hit with one. Recommended for advanced players only.
Wall-E Ball would be even sweeter
Next, find yourself a wall. No windows, please, unless they’re barred/gated/fenced in, in which case TOTALLY go for the wall with windows! You get some gnarly bounces off them, and they make an awesome noise when you hit one. In a perfect world, your wall would be a school or playground building, with an open field or parking lot facing it. In reality, we used the back of an old banquet hall that faced a tiny two way street with cars on it. They just added to the excitement, therefore this situation is completely acceptable. Tennis balls will not break a car (as far as I know…). Trash cans, dogs and passersby are par for the course here.
Now get a friend. Or two dozen. You can really play with any number greater than one, although three or more usually works best.
They guy who brings/finds/steals the tennie usually gets the first throw. He throws the ball at the wall. The ball hits the wall (no bouncing first, it has to hit directly!). At this point, the crowd scrambles to catch it. If the ball bounces before it’s caught, the kid who catches it gets to throw from where they caught it, and the cycle continues. Now here’s the fun part(s). If you catch the ball in the air (no bounces), you get to throw the ball (preferably as hard as possible) at the kid who threw it. Also, if the ball touches you and you don’t catch it (missed catch, deflection, line drive, whatevers), someone can pick it up and whale on you.
Watch out for bobbles!
Don’t fret over a bobble or caught ball, however. You can defend against this by running to the wall and tagging it as you yell “Suey.” Now this isn’t to say the kid who caught your bobble didn’t already start throwing it, and you can get nailed anyways, but at least you can save face a little bit (all important to an urban pre-teen).
Now say you get the ball like two blocks away. You throw it, you don’t make it all the way to the wall. Guess what. It’s a’runnin’ time. Basically, you can get pegged for doing anything OTHER than cleanly catching and throwing. Now for the particularly wimpy kids out there, if you’re waaay down the block, a generous friend can yell “Rally” and intercept the catch for you (however, if you miss the throw to him, you’d better hit that wall). Also, the mean spirited among us can block someone’s long distance throw (making sure you tag the wall after blocking the throw to avoid getting hit with ANOTHER ball).
So summary. Throw ball against wall. Screw up, get pegged with a ball.
Now usually this just goes on until everyone’s bored, but you can also make this into a true winner-take-all event. If you’re actually looking for a winner, count each peg someone receives as an Out. After three outs you can simply declare the person out of the game, or for more grueling adventures, have them face a Wall of Shame. This is where the violence of this game really shines. The guy facing the Wall of Shame has to stand against the game wall, spread eagle. Each other player now lines up and has the opportunity to throw the ball as hard as possible at the kid’s back (very painful for large groups including older kids!). Now maybe your buddy decides just to give you a little tap, that’s up to him. Most will not do this.
Generally, aiming for the head is not allowed. It will usually result in the offending thrower needing to tag the wall.
Catching a ball in the air with ONE hand requires the entire rest of the group to tag up. Roofing the ball, or being the kid who lets it roll in the storm drain requires a beatdown.
So that’s that. Our main game. Now don’t get me wrong, sometimes we switched it up playing Chink (named after a crack in the sidewalk or wall), Wallball Baseball (with predetermined areas for single, double, etc), Wireball or Basketball-Court-Baseball-With-a-Tennis-Ball-and-Electrical-Taped-Whiffle-Ball-Bat. We never played Beeries, but I know some kids that did, and we played kick-the-Snapple-Bottlecap-into-random-shit as well as semi-tackle football in the street (like Arena Football, but with cars instead of padded sidelines).
Now while these are the OFFICIAL unofficial rules, house rules always prevail. The game can, nay, must be adapted to your setting. Make things off limits, require extra shit….but remember, most importantly, there’s no crying in wall ball.
Filed under Fun Stuff, Games, Irrationality, Sports
The Other Side of the Olympics
I’ll say it so you don’t have to: The Olympics are fucking boring. Yes, I recognize the athletic achievement and national pride (blah blah blah) that go along with this ancient sporting event, but it sucks. It’s not fun to watch and it’s even less fun to hear people talk about.
That’s right–Americans don’t give a shit about the Olympics. They don’t. Yes, the Olympics are viewed by millions and millions on TV, but that’s only because we–as Americans–feel that we have to watch it. Aside from Hockey and the Little League World Series, how often do we get to rub the world’s nose in the fact that we’re better at everything?
Oh, right…every day.
Also, trust that your most talented winter Olympic athletes are most likely the same fags that you won’t allow to get married or join the military. Take Apolo Ohno–amazing athlete–looks so much like a lesbian that you’d half-expect him to be pregnant on Entertainment Tonight.
(Not a Lesbian)
It’s not fair to the rest of the world that we kick so much ass. That’s why we have to let Canada win sometimes. We should have a “Special Olympics” (no, not that kind of Special Olympics)–an alternative Olympics that includes activities and events that Americans may not be so fucking good at. Feel free to send me your suggestions, but I’m pushing for:
Drug Dealing, Child Sex-Trading, Manufacturing Anything, Test-Taking, Slave Labor, Foreign Languages, and General Passion About Anything…just to name a few.
It truly bothers the hell out of me that Saudi Arabia isn’t winning the big gold. Perhaps if we had an event for Sodomy or Rape, it would increase the odds a little.
You know there’s nothing sexier and more exhilarating than blatant disregard for human rights.
What really boggles the mind is that even in the dullness of the event, there remain those who choose to protest its continuation. It’s hard to tell if the protesters are simply reacting to the Vancouver location, or if they just hate the Olympics in general. If the answer is the latter, I suggest they just tune in to the CBS fucking golf fucking tournament.
The Olympic Resistance Network (a bunch of dicks), presumably made up of alcoholics, hipsters, and drug addicts who needed something to do rationalizes their destruction and threats by claiming some ultimate goal of returning the land to Native Indians–or if not, just get some public housing projects going.
You live in your parents’ basement, what the shit do you care about public housing?
The reality is that the Olympics are so lame that putting on a mask, smashing windows, and vandalizing cars has become the better option in Vancouver.
At what point does an event that prides itself on pushing the limits of human achievement simply become a twisted reality show? I promise that when the Olympics are moved to FOX and the name is changed to Let’s See Who Lives, the whole world will be much more interested–or at least I’ll be.
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Pretending to Like Sports: 10 Rules to Avoid Humiliation
Though I’m not a complete pussy, an obnoxiously grandiloquent gay, or a woman…I just don’t typically get into most sports. There’s something about the pools of raging testosterone which–for the most part–I simply never found appealing. So, if there’s a particular sport you don’t necessarily like, good ol’ Mr. G’s got some simple solutions to your potential lack of masculinity.
Let’s start off by saying that we’re only discussing mainstream sports here…and you know what those are. We’re not including X-Games, Pool, Poker, Darts, or Bowling…because real people don’t watch those.
10. Learn the Fucking Rules! It doesn’t take a genius (or even a dude) to learn the simple rules of every major sport. Don’t concern yourself with the extra shit because nobody knows all of the obscure, hardly necessary rules for each sport…that’s what replays and commentary is for.
But if you can’t learn the basics of the fucking games, don’t even get involved. While everyone else is sitting around cheering, go rub one out in the bathroom. If you can’t be bothered to try, why should everyone else be bothered to put up with you?
9. Read some sports editorials and regurgitate them in your own words! Sports writers aren’t smarter than you; they simply put all of their brain-power into one particular field.
Let’s put it this way–as much time as you spend obsessing over hipster pop culture, these people spend thinking about bats, balls, sticks, and nets. And neither of you know what the fuck the other is talking about.
J-ROLL takes a shot in the face!
For example, start discussing a “play” that happened at “that game the other day” and how “deaf, dumb, and blind” the “umpires/refs” are…even if you’re talking complete horseshit, you’ll at least look like you’re on the fucking ball.
8. Learn what players everyone hates, and hate them! At this point, you might be saying, “B-b-but I don’t hate anybody!” Well, that’s because you’re a pussy. Sports aren’t about having “Heroes” anymore. Sports are about entertainment and being pissed off. That’s why people rednecks watch Wrestling.
You don’t even have to know anything about the game or what position he plays…as long as you say “Fuck T.O. (and you have to say “T.O.”—see Rule #7)!” and you’re golden…especially in Philadelphia.
The Kind of Gay That Your Grandparents Don't Find Disgusting
You may get into a debate about the player’s value to the team outweighing his behavior…blah blah blah…but just stand your ground and you’ll be fine. As long as you’ve mirrored the media’s idea of who’s a douche and who isn’t, you’ll survive any suspicion that you have no idea what you’re talking about.
7. Make the slogans, nicknames, and sporting phrases part of your daily vocab! As I’ve said in Rule #8, do not say “Terrell Owens.” Say “T.O.” Don’t say “Jimmy Rollins,” say “J-Roll”…and don’t say “Raul Ibanez,” say “RAAAAUUUUUUULL!” If you need to say a particular player’s name, it is best to remember that the player most likely has a nickname that you’re not aware of. In such cases, you’ll have two options…
The first option is to hold off on your comment until the player’s name comes up on TV or in another conversation, then jump in with your witty remark. Better a late spark of sporting wit than embarrassing the fuck out of yourself.
...little bastard can hit!
The second option is to make up a nickname. This is more difficult, and you should only use this if you feel confident. Many new sports nicknames have been made up on the fly, so it’s not impossible. Manny Ramirez could easily become “Manny ‘Roid-mirez”…and Shaquille O’Neal could simply become “Kazaam.“
You need a bit of background info to fabricate a new nickname for a player, but it’ll make people around you chuckle and think, “Boy, this dickhead isn’t so bad after all.”
6. Don’t pretend to know more than the person you’re talking to! If you happen to find yourself in a sports conversation, don’t get in over your head. It’s fair to simply say, “I don’t know.” Very rarely will you come into contact with someone who knows everything about sports, and like politics or religion, there is always a debate to be had.
...doesn't give you any advantage.
Some individuals (mostly drunks) live for the good ol’ fashioned sports debate…but you should never get into an argument in which you are unable to defend your side due to outright ignorance.
5. Cheer when they cheer–Get mad when they get mad! Find the peeps who are rallying behind your team of choice and study their reactions during the game. If you’ve already learned the rules of the game, you may not need to do this as much; however, there are always quick plays and penalties that your feeble unsportsmanlike brain will not be capable of handling.
Utilize the natural gutteral sounds that you so rarely get to use in everyday light to express your approval or disapproval of any given situation. “GAAAH!!!” with the crowd, and “WOOO!” for your team.
4. Buy something with a team logo! If you’ve found a sport or team that you don’t mind watching regularly, you have to show your support somehow. It’s like wearing a flag pin if you’re a real American…or wearing a Springsteen T-Shirt so the band knows how much you love to rock out to senior citizens in leather pants.
...just don't be a fag about it.
You can always find some sports gear on the cheap side…it doesn’t have to be an official product. But if you feel rotten about faking support for something that you truly have no interest in, at least be a good sport and wear something close to the team’s colors when you’re going out to watch a game.
While you won’t fit in quite as much, you’ll at least appear as if you’ve made some kind of effort. Think of it like St. Patrick’s Day if you’re Italian, Black, or a Jew…
3. If you don’t watch every game, don’t pretend that you do! Most people don’t watch every game…even the hardcore fans miss a few here and there. It’s perfectly acceptable to say: “Nah, I didn’t see it last night.”
If you truly feel that you’ve been backed against a wall and you’re going to get raped if you admit that you haven’t been following the entire season, just lie like a motherfucker. One popular excuse is “I always have work during the games…” Oftentimes, having a career is a viable excuse for missing a sporting event.
Fanciest dressed Special Needs Kid gets free SuperBowl Tickets!
Pretend to be upset that you keep missing these games, but add-on to it the lie that you’ve been trying to follow as much as possible. Pretend to be interested as they discuss the shit you’ve “missed.”
2. Get Fangry!! Fangry is “fake angry,” and it allows the person you’re conversing with to sense that you are very passionate about your sports.
They’ll ask, “You have money on this game or something?”
And you’ll respond, “No! It just makes me so FUCKING MAD!”
They should lay off at that point. They will either think you’re the biggest fan ever, or that you’re drunk and dangerous. Try screaming: “NO! NO! NO! NO! YOU ASSHOLE!” at any point during the event. Nobody will ever ask you anything again.
I'm mad as hell...and I'm not going to take it anymore!!!
Whenever you hear the people around you go “AWW!” in disappointment and anger, scream “HORSESHIT!” at the top of your lungs. Everyone will assume that you know exactly what occurred, and you whole-heartedly disapprove.
1. Just try to get into the game, prick! I enjoy Baseball, Soccer, and Rugby (even though I don’t understand it at all)…but when it comes to almost every other sport, I can’t really give it my full attention–especially if there’s something else on TV, or a video game is going unplayed.
However, if we’re watching Sunday Night Football, then that’s what we’re fucking watching. I understand the game enough to get by, and I don’t find it totally boring. Same with Hockey and Basketball.
If you really can’t get into the action, then find something else about it that you like–the fighting in Hockey, the retarded dancing in Football, the over-the-top personalities in…everything.
It’s not hard to get tolerate sports–it’s typically the people watching it that get on your nerves. Usually there’s something that everyone can get behind. Everyone loves to watch Sports Bloopers, Highlights, or Wacky Plays. Everyone can agree that the WWE is pretty gay.
But rarely will anyone admit that the only time when they actually give a shit about the game is when everyone else is watching.
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Eight Sports That Can Go Fuck Themselves
Let’s be honest with each other. I’ve never been a sports fan. The only sport I ever really got into playing competitively was Four Square–and if you don’t know what that is, shame on you! Sure, I played the occasional game of Whiffle Ball, but never with a substantial amount of people. As far as watching sports on television, Baseball is my only sport of choice, but only if I’m in the mood to sit through it.
There are tons of (for lack of a better word) fucktarded sports out there, but do we really have to look over the borders to recognize the absurdity? Let’s find out–together. It’ll be a bonding experience.
1. Football–Just to be clear, we’re talking about American Football here. Soccer–or “Football” to the rest of the world–can be both engaging and intense (but usually isn’t). The only reason “Soccer” isn’t on this list is because it’s been around for-fucking-ever.
If you think TODAY'S Soccer is faggy...
One of the earliest accounts of the sport came from Cicero’s account of a man killed when he was hit with a soccer ball while shaving in a barber shop. That’s fucking hardcore.
American Football was created by douchebag Walter Camp, who–like most people in the world–simply didn’t understand the rules of Rugby. The origin of “professional football” is commonly thought to be when Pudge Heffelfinger, a jock from Yale, was paid $500 to play the game for the Allegheny Athletic Association.
He was also a notable Space Adventurer.
Now, the National Football League pays obscene amounts of money to the retarded, criminally insane, and socially bewildered in exchange for them to plow their bodies into one another and pretend to understand “plays” while multi-billion-dollar corporations can take advantage of the unprecedented commercial time. Thanks, Pudge.
2. Bullfighting–While I wouldn’t call myself an “animal rights activist,” I do feel that there should be certain restrictions when it comes to animal sacrifice. Although I fully understand the potentially damaging effects of meat production, I am a meat-eater and would never condemn the practice of raising animals for consumption.
If this doesn't look like fun, you're probably just not cultured.
The line should be drawn, however, when it comes to barbaric practices against semi-defenseless creatures for simple enjoyment.
Ancient Romans couldn’t control their blood lust. They were killing, butchering, and ripping apart every-fucking-thing they could get their hands on…which was probably what made them so intimidating.
Pope Pius V attempted to lead a Christian boycott of bullfighting which was later repealed, because–really, who listens to the Pope?
Why does Pope Pius V look like every racist interpretation of an evil Jew?
Bullfighting is still fairly common in Spain, but mostly for tourism purposes. Perhaps Spain should kick-off the practice of throwing tauromachy audience members into the ring with the tortured and pissed bulls and see how long that tradition lasts.
3. Poker–While not specifically a sport, it is definitely an activity that proponents are trying to be recognized as such. If you’re a successful poker player, you’ve done well for yourself and we’re all very proud and impressed…but don’t ask us to treat you as an athletes. We’ve already had to suck Tiger Woods’ cock for years, telling our children that he’s worthy of being on a Wheaties box…and we don’t have any saliva left.
If your parents bought you this game, they knew what you were up to...
Pamela Anderson’s VIP was cancelled so that they could show more Poker After Dark. What are 13 year olds without cable or internet supposed to masturbate to now?!
They could try jacking it to the Poker Host, but after a few seconds, the only people on the screen are Don Cheadle and a fat ass wearing sunglasses and a Stetson. Poker needs to remain in homes, casinos, and speak-easy’s…and off of my fucking television.
4. Golf–I’m not saying Tiger Woods is out of shape, but if your only competition is a dude who is out of breath walking up the hill to the green, you should re-think calling yourself an athlete. While golf is a gentlemen’s game, it doesn’t belong on television.
I bet this guy is also a professional bowler!
If golf is known as an activity for men and women to take a break from life and relax, there is very little about it that is relaxing. You’re constantly arguing, constantly swearing, and constantly chasing after a ball that you’ve just smacked kilometers away from you in a direction that you almost certainly didn’t mean to hit it.
"I'm Terrible!"
If golf is allowed to take up precious television time, then Mini-Golf should be on ESPN. At least then, we can see children who aren’t cocky playing a game that they almost certainly won’t be payed for–along with the occasional opportunity to watch the little pricks burst into tears when their neon-green ball gets stuck in a fucking windmill.
5. Wife Carrying–I haven’t really watched the Olympics in quite some time, but this shitty sport would definitely serve to make them more interesting. Wife Carrying is essentially competitive domestic abuse. Contestants must carry their wife over their shoulders through a vexing obstacle course to claim their title of being the biggest National Joke.
As if having your face tracked through muddy water wasn't enough, your wife will also be subject to 15 full minutes of Swamp Ass.
Originating in Finland, Wife Carrying seems to be the only European exercise that rednecks looked at and said, “Why didn’t we think of that?!”
The only major Wife Carrying competitions are held in Finland, Wisconsin, and Michigan, which explains that men will go anywhere they have to in order to prove their dominance over women. I will be watching this non-sport closely in hopes that one day I will be able to see Jim Bob hauling his 400 pound wife through the mud in a display of super-human idiocy.
6. NASCAR/Horse Racing–Professional driving, like horse-racing, just seems asinine to me. If you enjoy watching good ol’ boys and midgets travelling around a circle at great speeds, perhaps sports just aren’t your thing.
To be fair, the typical NASCAR fan DOES look like this.
I personally don’t know how much skill is involved in driving fast. I may be a lot…I don’t know…but I don’t care, either. But I suppose if I had to pick a winner here, NASCAR would come out on top. Because even though it’s a fucking stupid sport, at least the drivers don’t have to abuse animals that are better athlete than those dwarves could ever dream of becoming.
7. Octopush–Underwater Hockey somehow replaced real Hockey on this list by the narrowest of narrow margins–and here’s why:
-Octopush is a non-contact sport. The only legitimately exciting thing about Hockey is that at a point, a completely unnecessary fight will break out and the ice will run red. Octopush is for Octopussies.
Words aren't enough.
-It’s not popular in America; therefore it is unimportant. Done.
8. Ultimate Fighting–If Ultimate Fighting is a sport, we need to legalize prostitution across the board. When two people get into a fight, it’s called assault. When two people get into a fight while wearing padded gloves, it’s a Gentlemen’s Boxing match. Ultimate Fighting (UFC) just throws all of that dignity and civility out the window.
The only reason I’m defending boxing over other blood sports is that its participants are semi-aware human beings…who will inevitably become drooling vegetables later in life.
The second most painful substance he's had in his eyes.
If you’re a straight man who enjoys watching Wrestling or UFC, you’re not allowed to be homophobic. If you can cheer and drink through hours of sweaty male bodies slapping against one another–half of which involving pseudo-erotic cuddle-moves on the floor of the arena–you’re not allowed to be repulsed when two men kiss.
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Filed under Events, Fun Stuff, Irrationality, Rant, Review, Sports, Television
What Ever Happened to the Heroes? Part 2
(Continued from Part 1)
Without procrastinating too much longer, let’s dive right into the heat of the ultimately worthless life of the real-world superhero. Many of these individuals are genuinely attempting to do something good; but the world is full of real violence and horror–the likes of which none of these glorified Mummers have ever experienced.
The dream is novel, but without them possessing actual superhuman abilities, I’d rather not have a flamboyant human target defending fucking anyone!
From a list of well-over 100 ridiculous non-heroes, here are some of the most entertaining.
Superhero
Powers do not include Creativity.
It seemed only natural to start with a ‘Real Life Super Hero’ who actually adopted the name “Superhero.” That seems a little pretentious, even for a muscle-bound douchebag in a bandanna and spandex who poses next to other people’s cars.
Whitley’s Batman and Robin
Somehow a Middle-Aged 'Boy Wonder' seems wrong...
This embarrassing, copyright infringing duo is said to defend Whitley, England by “helping stranded motorists” and “fighting light crime.” I wonder what the reaction is when it turns out that the “Bat-Mobile” is a grey Van with no back windows.
Nostrum
I don't want my superhero to be waving at a webcam.
Looking more like a 1920′s bank robber than a Super Hero, Nostrum is said to defend the mean streets of Louisiana from all kinds of crime; however, this grainy photo suggests to me that perhaps he’s simply gone missing. It looks like the kind of photo that gets captioned: “Adult Male was last seen roaming around neighborhoods dressed like a fucking assclown.”
Entomo
Somehow makes Spider-man look straight
Typically, when Superheroes are ‘born,’ they had been subjected to some kind of accident or freak occurrence which caused them to develop bug-like powers. No one in their right mind would choose to have a bug’s abilities. This guy roams the streets of Italy holding out hope that someone will eventually take him seriously as the fly in Crime’s Italian Wedding Soup.
Perhaps a better decision would have been to call himself “The Bee.” His power would be committing suicide as soon as he attacks his first bad guy.
Zetaman
Greek Translation: "The very last person you'd want to call."
A member of a Superhero Activist Team called The Alternates, Zetaman’s self-affirmed super-human abilities include First Aid, CPR, and “handing things out.” This may seem very similar to the repertoire of the average Cub Scout; however Zetaman has his own comic book, flashlight/megaphone gun (..or something), and–hey–at least he doesn’t have to take public transpor—fuck…
Amazonia
Honestly, a very visually intimidating dude.
Yes, Amazonia is 100% all-natural clenched-fisted woman. As a member of the Florida hypothetical vigilante group, Vixens of Valour, she uses her powers–which are typically reserved for out-drinking men at bars–for the practical purposes of contributing to the inevitable years of therapy that her non-existent children would have been forced to endure.
The Black Monday Society
What upsets me most about The Black Monday Society is that its members (from left to right): Insignis, Ghost, and Oni consist of a kid in his early twenties and two men almost twice his age. These are all adults who should know better; but to be fair, all of these “Real Life Super Heroes” are!
It’s terri-fucking-fying individuals like these that do the public more harm than good and wind up making the Cops’ job even more difficult; dealing with actual crime while making sure these fucktards don’t get themselves killed. Well, this would be true, if there were any actual crime in Layton, Utah.
Red Arrow
...Like the Green Arrow, only...wait...nothing like the Green Arrow.
Somewhere in Hong Kong, a lone warrior emerged and is now apparently functioning in the UK. Not much is none about this caped crusader aside from his ridiculous, impractical outfits, paired with the fact that his primary super-power seems to be his ability to direct passersby to local discount sales. The Red Arrow has been known to hand out presents to children on Christmas; but one thing sets him apart from the mythical Santa Claus…he is tragically real.
Terrifica
Keeping Men out of her pants since 1980
A surprisingly well known heroine, Terrifica made her rounds popping into local bars and aiding women who look like they may be inibriated and in danger of being taken advantage of by men. She carried a utility belt loaded with pepper spray, makeup, and such to fight off potential predators and men looking to hook up with drunk chicks.
One interesting bit of information: At one point Terrifica had an arch-nemesis called Fantastico who was essentially just a costumed douche who went to bars to prey on women just to piss her off. That’s why you cheer for the bad guys.
But, evidently, the World’s most notorious cock-blocker has gone into retirement. I suppose she came to the eventual conclusion that her M.O. paired with her insanely repelling costume wasn’t helping her get laid. After all, sometimes even a cunt needs a dick.
Doktor DiscorD
I think I went to Art College with this guy.
Confirmed “active” by National Public Radio, the good ‘Doktor’ of Indiana’s Justice Society of Justice seems like he is involved in a large-scale joke that he simply isn’t quite aware of. They don’t care about mild victimless crimes like drug-use; they’re mainly concerned about the real scary shit that goes on in fucking Indianapolis…
I assume their lax stance on drug crimes indicates that DiscorD and all of his buddies are hitting the wacky-tobaccy. I can’t imagine Batman’s super-suit set up with 3D Glasses and a vanity cane.
Antithesis
The Captain America of the Internets
I honestly can’t get past this picture. This has got to be, hands down, the most awesome Real Life Super Hero I’ve ever seen. With a name that literally means “the direct opposite,” I find myself wondering exactly what he may be the opposite of. His current status on his MySpace is: “Antithesis Still alive, just got in a bit over my head… and now whatever lead I might have had is gone for good. I apologize for my absence.”
I can only assume that this means he’s been left lying in a gutter somewhere after some kind of inane battle…I mean, what do you expect when your super abilities fall short of “growing a mustache.”
Master Legend
Seen here posing with someone physically unable to walk away.
When the Real Life Role Players are young, stupid, and full of unfounded hope, I can understand the escapism involved in attempting to become a Superhero…but when the jerk-off is older than your dad, and dead-set on the idea that he is doing the world some kind of monumental fucking favor, it just gets a little sad. The greatest thing that Master Legend has done for society is allowing the kid he’s posing with to be able to say: “Shit, at least I’m better off in life than this douche.”
Tothian
This is what it takes to be a Hero: dick.
Patrolling the New York/New Jersey area, Tothian seems to be the closest superhero to Philadelphia…and this scares the shit out of me. He is the founder and former President of the Heroes Network and, yet…somehow…I still can’t force myself to believe that he’s making America safer. In fact, he may be the third worst thing to ever happen to New York, trailing closely behind CATS and September 11.
Zoria and Captain Prospect
Stan Lee presents: The Pussy-Whipped Avenger!
As the sworn protectors of Washington, DC, the team of Zoria and Captain Prospect announce to the world not only that Halloween and leg-warmers are not over, but also that if you thought your friend was the most pussy-fucking-whipped bro on the planet, you have some apologizing to do. As if it weren’t maddening enough that there’s a hot super heroine out there who has the potential of being severely mentally ill, but she just might have a boyfriend who doesn’t have the testicular fortitude to slap her (or fuck her) out of it.
Polar Man
I'd love to meet his arch nemesis...temperate weather?
One key factor that all of these unbelievable human beings have in common, aside from being completely fucking nuts, is the desire to take crime into their own hands, or, at least–to give their surrounding community the illusion of protection. What exactly is this person trying to prove?
In a world where there are no snow plows, public service officials, volunteers, or citizens with any kind of personal motivation to get out of bed in the morning, we can count on Polar Man to shovel our fucking walkway.
Lupine
The power of a wolf and the appearance of a baby gorilla
Don’t be fooled. That’s not a utility belt, it’s a genuine holster for all of his lunch boxes. I know there are a lot of overweight police officers, fire fighters, and civil servants, but when you look like this, the superhero fantasy is shot to the ground and kicked until it bleeds from the eyes. His mission, as described by his sub-standard MySpace page is to protect and defend helpless animals; which is an unquestionably noble cause.
According to his MySpace profile, he is also married, which leads me to believe that his wife must be the most patient and understanding woman in the entire world. Although, my favorite part of the MySpace page is “Body Type: Some Extra Baggage.” I have a feeling this is appropriate in more ways than one.
Angle Grinder Man
A different breed of psychopath
Now this is a Super-fucking-hero! Angle Grinder Man is the bane of the Department of Transportation; and in that respect, he is a very complex (almost) anti-hero. He resides in England and travels around (at night, I assume) sawing the metal boots off of cars to liberate those who found themselves behind on paying parking tickets.
In Kent during the week and London on weekends, Angle Grinder Man ensures that no matter if you’ve got 12 DUI’s, 8 Hit and Runs, 4 Counts of driving dangerously above the speed limit, and 2 Counts of parking in front of a fire plug, you will never get rounded up by the powers that may seek to stop your reign of terror. He claims to be revolting against the malaise caused by politicians and a blind adherence to society’s rules; but, perhaps he hasn’t thought his process through entirely.
The World Superhero Registry declares him as “Possibly Retired.” I’m more likely to believe that he’s either dead or being held in some kind of maximum security prison, away from his gigantic tool of destruction in an attempt to continue on with England’s functioning civilization.
The Super Dudes Power Squad
No real super powers, so we're on the same playing field.
Is it too much to ask for rational, intelligent human beings to get into the field of protecting society? Not that these individuals aren’t passionate or in possession of functioning central nervous systems, but for fuck’s sake…these people are no more “Real Life Super Heroes” than people who play Dungeons & Dragons are Warriors and Elves.
Perhaps an alternative might be for all of these random role players form a motley crew of non-heroes and elect one to stand alone as some kind of ultimate Batman-type. They can all lend their support, know-how, and costume design, and everyone will be happy!
And, sure, the one that is elected would be lacking in any kind of super human ability, common sense, and street smarts. He would throw himself headlong into danger, and inevitably get himself killed, kidnapped, or taken into custody for being a drain on the collective willpower of those who make law enforcement their profession…but, fuck…at least there would only be one of them.
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