Happy Labor Day, everyone! Or as we the unemployed like to call it, “Monday when some of our friends are off work.” In honor celebration of both this and our long national nightmare of being subjected to breathless Darrelle Revis coverage that we don’t care about being over, why don’t we all join hands in a chorus of the official Labor Day anthem. Oh, you didn’t know there was an official Labor Day anthem? Well, your ass better caaaaaaaaalllllll somebodaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy!!!!!!!
Who’s going to celebrate Labor Day with me? Well, you might just have to find out after the jump.
Good morning, geniuses! And welcome to an overly ambitious edition of the Sunday Brunch. So last Saturday I cracked a joke about Albert Pujols and Tony LaRussa, but mostly Albert Pujols, attending Glenn Beck’s rally in Washington, DC. It may have been a cheap joke, but it made me laugh and I stand by it. Let’s just say the racial implications of Glenn Beck’s political agendas juxtaposed with his invocation of MLK’s “I Have a Dream” speech make me sick to my stomach. So why not have a little fun with someone who may or may not see it the same way. That said, I find the controversy over their attendance of the rally to be kinda hilarious and hypocritical. You mean there might be some members of the professional sports community whose beliefs aren’t the same as mine? The horror! While I enjoy making fun of them for it, I have no problem with Tony LaRussa and Albert Pujols attending Glenn Beck’s rally. They’re being themselves. How we choose to react to that is up to us.
Good morning, geniuses! And welcome to the Sunday Brunch. Now I might not have a job or a girlfriend or a site that people read, but what I do have is sources. And one of said sources has unearthed a skeleton from the closet of one of our esteemed Pub writers. Namely, an almost 7-year-old comedy sketch written by one of the staff here. And I volunteered to take on the challenge of posting it, despite the fact that with my computer skills, it’s a formatting nightmare. Though if it looks weird, this is actual script format for the most part. Now, according to legend, when this sketch was read aloud in comedy writing class, said staffer’s teacher told him/her to “take this sketch home and burn it.” I suppose they have a little thing they like to teach called “writing at the top of your intelligence.” Personally, I think it might have been a bit unfairly maligned. Sure, it’s more than a bit over the top, but it’s actually funny. More importantly, it’s actually sports-related. Another note, the sketch, was allegedly inspired by the one and only Jim Rome, who said of Olympic athletes, “If you told an Olympic athlete that shooting up horse brains would take one one-hundredth of a second off his time, he’d be like, “Where’s the needle?”" Rack me! So transport yourself to a theatrical place and imagine how this might look on stage. Sadly, it was written before “/door flies open” was coined. I’ve posted it in its entirity with only one change. Apparently, the price of gas has gone up over a dollar since 2003, so I made that edit to reflect our current climate. Enjoy. Or not.
I spent all last season killing LaRon Landry for the fact that he sucks at football. As well documented, he couldn’t cover anyone (to his credit, he’s a strong safety by trade who the Skins were playing out of position at free safety), but more egregiously, he would celebrate every time he tackled someone, who had usually gained a first down. Congrats. You tackled someone. Who had just accomplished his objective. And you failed to achieve in even the most modest of tasks that was your charge. Have a round of Cockburn.
Anyway, one of the few things I had never criticized Landry for was his fashion sense. Until now. (more…)
Good morning, geniuses! And welcome to a Quasi-Armchair Psychology edition of the Sunday Brunch (“quasi” because it doesn’t fit the format, but still deals in psychology). But before anything else, since behind the bluster, we’re secretly good people (well, I am; not sure about these other clowns), I’d like to honor one of this nation’s great philanthropists. A giver. A man of extreme charity and generosity. That great American is Brett Favre.
When Brett Favre announced that he would descend from his throne to deign to play football for the Minnesota Vikings, he said he was “doing the Vikings a favor,” and according to ESPN.com’s Kevin Seifert, he used the word “favor” six times in his press conference. Now if that’s not Time’s Man of the Year, I don’t know who is. He didn’t really feel like playing (because he doesn’t actually care about it, but that’s foreshadowing until later), but he’s such a phenomenal human being that out of the goodness of his heart, he’s going to lend a lifeline to this poor, woebegone franchise known as the Vikings. For free, of course. Naturally, the only favor he’s really doing is for the guy who catches his season-ending INT. I’d make an angry statement about what a fucking insincere dickbag that makes him sound like, but all the best statements have already been said and the true nature of Favre’s desperate egomania defies the English language. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to waste copious column inches on it anyway. Let’s take a peek at exactly what went on this week and perhaps this summer. Fucking hell, I feel dirty already.(more…)
Good whatever time of day it is for you. And welcome to “Shit, We Need Some Fucking Content!” Theatre! So as I’ve mentioned here and there, I’m not a big NBA guy. And unlike my other hometown teams, I’ve never payed much attention to the Washington Sea DogsBullets Wizards. Even when they had Michael Jordan. Actually, especially when they had Michael Jordan, since my antipathy towards Sex Panther Senior should be well documented by now. But I’m considering sorta considering paying attention this year after their drafting of John Wall. He’s exciting. He seems like a nice enough guy. Or at least he says all the right things. I’ve got nothing else going on, NBA-wise. A-A (who?) is a friend. Why the hell not, right? It’s not like it’ll cost me anything. And it’ll only probably last a month because Gilbert Arenas will shit in his Reeboks and then accidentally Jayson Williams his ass. OK, I’m just kidding. If John Calipari taught him nothing in his year at Kentucky, besides how to have someone take your SATs for you, it’s how not to get accidentally shot.
Good morning, geniuses! And welcome to the Sunday Brunch, back from its vacation. So during Wednesday’s Last Call, I put the question to the masses (of sorts) as to whether they would rather a Sunday Brunch about assaulting Pittsburgh’s now-defunct Civic Arena with bodily fluids, or holding that story and recapping what happened while I was out of town. With a landslide vote of 1-0 with Sculptor abstaining, the recap of days gone by won, sparing you a full weekend of bodily functions. So if you’re bored, blame Martin. It was his vote. Congrats, Martin Brodeur! You win a Bag of Crap! W00t!
Welcome to today’s Sunday Brunch. The Old King is away today so you get stuck with me. Today you will be treated to a column called things that annoy me, man there are alot of these. And no Kaley doesn’t annoy me, just wanted to put up her picture.
