Monday, June 23, 2008
shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker, and tits - RIP George Carlin
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Thursday, June 19, 2008
Welcome to the mind-fucking of America
You've got the check out this clip of CBS News Chief Foreign Correspondent Lara Logan on the Daily Show. Don't pay attention to her long legs, or her lady lumps, or her sexy shoulders, or her long flowing blonde hair, or her sultry and sexy accent, but listen to the words coming out of her mouth. Good shit on what we've all known for quite some time - that the newsrooms across America are still looking to sell Head-On (apply directly to the forehead!) instead of bringing their customers the truth.
Big ups to Deus Ex Malcontent for posting this first. He's another truth sayer, exposing the media games that they play. (And, of course, The Daily Show with Jon Stewart for the interview.)
Big ups to Deus Ex Malcontent for posting this first. He's another truth sayer, exposing the media games that they play. (And, of course, The Daily Show with Jon Stewart for the interview.)
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Get off the couch, fatty
In the past 90 minutes, I've lost two TV shows.
I've been taping American Gladiators, and since Season 1, I've been having to fast fowrard through more and more of it. The concept is still sound, however, NBC's execution has been piss poor. That includes the casting - that's exactly what it is - of the contestants, Hootie's lame interviews (Leila's interviews aren't much better, but she has some charisma that Hogan lacks), and that fucking referee who thinks that he's a star (didja ever notice that little hand jive shit that he does?). The last straw was preempting actual competition to hawk The Incredible Hulk, and just showing a clip or two of what did or didn't happen.
Delete.
Then, while watching MI-5, I noticed that it wasn't on the schedule for tonight, even though the recording of last week's episode said that it was due on tonight. Surfing on over to bbcamerica.com, I read a message in the forum dated 12 noon today that its been pulled from the BBCA schedule due to poor ratings. Instead, we're treated to The 476 lb Teenager. Gee, thanks BBCA, I guess that you couldn't squeeze an original show in between ad nausium repeats of Cash in the Attic or How Clean is Your House?
Ah, well. On the positive side, Stargate Atlantis returns on 7/11.
I've been taping American Gladiators, and since Season 1, I've been having to fast fowrard through more and more of it. The concept is still sound, however, NBC's execution has been piss poor. That includes the casting - that's exactly what it is - of the contestants, Hootie's lame interviews (Leila's interviews aren't much better, but she has some charisma that Hogan lacks), and that fucking referee who thinks that he's a star (didja ever notice that little hand jive shit that he does?). The last straw was preempting actual competition to hawk The Incredible Hulk, and just showing a clip or two of what did or didn't happen.
Delete.
Then, while watching MI-5, I noticed that it wasn't on the schedule for tonight, even though the recording of last week's episode said that it was due on tonight. Surfing on over to bbcamerica.com, I read a message in the forum dated 12 noon today that its been pulled from the BBCA schedule due to poor ratings. Instead, we're treated to The 476 lb Teenager. Gee, thanks BBCA, I guess that you couldn't squeeze an original show in between ad nausium repeats of Cash in the Attic or How Clean is Your House?
Ah, well. On the positive side, Stargate Atlantis returns on 7/11.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Sunday, April 6, 2008
My kingdom for Keisuke Ogasawara and Ernie Thayer
Why do most national baseball broadcasters sound like this sound bite of John Mayer?
I love the passion of the broadcasters of the G4 show, Ninja Warrior
Ernest Thayer, of course, penned the classic baseball poem, "Casey at the Bat."
What I love about these two is that they convey the spirit of their sport. They don't do a Joe Buck and throw a bunch of stats and figures at you. Yes, those are important, but I want a broadcaster to paint me a picture of what's going on. Yes, I can see it with my own two eyes, but make me feel it. Vin Scully is a master of that. He was a radio man for years and years, and I think that is part of what helps to make him a great play by play man. He didn't have the TV to "hide" behind, his job was to paint the picture of the scene. Of course, I'm a Yankee fan, so I'm biased towards John Sterling as well. The great Mel Allen was an artist with his words. I could go on, but you get the picture. I don't was pasteurized, homogenized, vitamin D colour commentators, I want it right from the teat.
Mel Allen
The Cheesiest John Sterling clip that I could find
Scully calling Sandy Koufax's no-no
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=9752592
Scully's bio at the Radio HOF
http://www.radiohof.org/sportscasters/vinscully.html
I love the passion of the broadcasters of the G4 show, Ninja Warrior
Ernest Thayer, of course, penned the classic baseball poem, "Casey at the Bat."
What I love about these two is that they convey the spirit of their sport. They don't do a Joe Buck and throw a bunch of stats and figures at you. Yes, those are important, but I want a broadcaster to paint me a picture of what's going on. Yes, I can see it with my own two eyes, but make me feel it. Vin Scully is a master of that. He was a radio man for years and years, and I think that is part of what helps to make him a great play by play man. He didn't have the TV to "hide" behind, his job was to paint the picture of the scene. Of course, I'm a Yankee fan, so I'm biased towards John Sterling as well. The great Mel Allen was an artist with his words. I could go on, but you get the picture. I don't was pasteurized, homogenized, vitamin D colour commentators, I want it right from the teat.
Mel Allen
The Cheesiest John Sterling clip that I could find
Scully calling Sandy Koufax's no-no
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=9752592
Scully's bio at the Radio HOF
http://www.radiohof.org/sportscasters/vinscully.html
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Casey at the Bat
The Outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day:
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, if only Casey could get but a whack at that -
We'd put up even money, now, with Casey at the bat.
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despis-ed, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.
Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped-
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;
And its likely they'd a-killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two."
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville - mighty Casey has struck out.
- Ernest Lawrence Thayer ©
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, if only Casey could get but a whack at that -
We'd put up even money, now, with Casey at the bat.
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despis-ed, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.
Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped-
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;
And its likely they'd a-killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two."
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville - mighty Casey has struck out.
- Ernest Lawrence Thayer ©
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer...
...with that in mind, I'm watching Joe Torre's Dodgers play the Red Sox =)
I almost blew a gasket when I turned on ESPN and they were covering Brett Farve's retirement press conference, at 1pm. C'mon, Bristol Boy's Club for Broadcasting has been covering this non-stop since Tuesday morning. (Of course, it beats college basketball, but, still...) Luckily, they moved the coverage over to ESPNNEWS, and a crisis was averted.
Well, of course, if you ask Hank Steinbrenner, ESPN created the Red Sox Nation.... And in the first fifteen minutes, the term "Red Sox Nation" has already been used at least seven times.
Peter Gammons is upcoming. I'm ready to hit the mute button. I can't stand that biased, marble-mouthed clown. His predictions are usually way off base, he rambles and mumbles his way though his segments, he's neither interesting nor entertaining. Though I did get a chuckle out of his stupidity the other day covering the Dodgers and Braves, coming back from a commercial, he blurted out something to the effect that he'd taken his steroids with breakfast. There was a pregnant pause before Gary Thorne was about to get out his plugs. If by steroids, he meant, "Centrum Silver," and by breakfast, he meant, "Muselix," then, its all good, but, otherwise, just another example of a thoughtless and inappropriate comment by a washed up reporter.
Dollars to donuts says that ESPN doesn't mention the BoSox scout who was just busted for punching the clown to a couple of teenagers in his hotel pool, a la Spade in Tommy Boy. (Hmm, I wonder if she is dating one of the... Yankees?)
I almost blew a gasket when I turned on ESPN and they were covering Brett Farve's retirement press conference, at 1pm. C'mon, Bristol Boy's Club for Broadcasting has been covering this non-stop since Tuesday morning. (Of course, it beats college basketball, but, still...) Luckily, they moved the coverage over to ESPNNEWS, and a crisis was averted.
Well, of course, if you ask Hank Steinbrenner, ESPN created the Red Sox Nation.... And in the first fifteen minutes, the term "Red Sox Nation" has already been used at least seven times.
Peter Gammons is upcoming. I'm ready to hit the mute button. I can't stand that biased, marble-mouthed clown. His predictions are usually way off base, he rambles and mumbles his way though his segments, he's neither interesting nor entertaining. Though I did get a chuckle out of his stupidity the other day covering the Dodgers and Braves, coming back from a commercial, he blurted out something to the effect that he'd taken his steroids with breakfast. There was a pregnant pause before Gary Thorne was about to get out his plugs. If by steroids, he meant, "Centrum Silver," and by breakfast, he meant, "Muselix," then, its all good, but, otherwise, just another example of a thoughtless and inappropriate comment by a washed up reporter.
Dollars to donuts says that ESPN doesn't mention the BoSox scout who was just busted for punching the clown to a couple of teenagers in his hotel pool, a la Spade in Tommy Boy. (Hmm, I wonder if she is dating one of the... Yankees?)
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