There are many things to be thankful for, and at the top of my list is not being a socialist European sissy. Although Scotland "claims" to have invented the sport (ask the Chinese what they think of that), it just so happens that the USA has 8 of the 10 best golf courses on the planet. This year, the Ryder Cup will be defended by the Euros on our turf, which gives the US the edge as the gallery has promised to ramp up the obnoxiousness (though it won't be as bad as the Brookline Masshole Massacre of 1999, which the Euros are still crying about). There's been little to no talk about this match (Europe winning 5 of last 6 + the asinine decision to hold the event during football season - Tiger Woods = low mainstream interest) but I think it's going to be one for the ages. At least that's the phrase the NBC announcers hope to say 54 times during the weekend (unless Jim Nantz has it patented).
Here's the skinny on the 37th Ryder Cup Tournament.
THE COURSE Name: Valhalla Golf Club Location: Louisville, Kentucky, USA Yardage/Par: 71/7,496 yards Course record: 63, Jose Maria Bobloblaw, 2000 PGA Championship Signature hole: The 13th, a 350-yard, par four, requiring a tee shot to a small landing area, then an approach shot over water to an island green. Origin: Louisville businessman Dwight Gahm was the driving force behind the creation of the club, commissioning Jack Nicklaus to build the layout on 486 acres of rolling terrain in Kentucky horse country.
Worst case scenario:FIGJAM! sprains one of his manboobs (mannaries?) while attempting a signature flopshot that could potentially win the match, and sends the ball deep into the gallery to eventually score a triple bogey. Sergio "Los Pantelones Feos" Garcia, who only plays well when there is nothing at stake, will play exceedingly well (since--let's be honest--nothing is at stake, because there's no money awarded). Ian "Silly Pants" Poulter is the breakout star in a lovely pink argyle dress that he himself designed. Europe wins again, and the team collectively pools all their Euros together to buy the entire state of Kentucky.
Best case scenario: The U.S. team, inspired by their underdog status and fueled by the press stating that they "can't win without Tiger" (who, let's face it, has a weak 10-13-1 Ryder Cup record), wins a closely fought tournament on the final day. FIGJAM! assumes the leader role and steps up under pressure, beating all comers. The entire team is able to play loose without Tiger's brooding presence, and both Anthony Kim and Hunter Mahan play out of their minds. Padraig Harrington, clearly drunk and disorderly, goes on a rampage after missing a 5 foot putt to halve the final hole of his singles match, braining several Kentuckians with his putter who had the audacity to wear NASCAR hats to a golf match.
Dream scenario: Just as the Friday round is about to start, J.B. Holmes steps up to the 1st tee and inexplicably pulls a hamstring, rendering him unable to play his round. Everyone looks around not knowing what to do . . . when out of the tunnel (specially built for dramatic purposes) limpsEldredge "Tiger" Woods, ala Willis Reed of the 1970 New York Knicks. He grabs his driver and says, "I'll take it from here", steps up and uncorks a ridiculous drive which cuts the corner on the dogleg left 448 yard for a hole in one. The U.S. team never looks back, winning in a Euro-asskicking romp 22 - 6. Afterwards Tiger exclaims to the adoring crowd mobbed around the clubhouse, "Hey everybody! We're all gonna get laid!" Much bourbon is consumed, except for Tiger who chugs Tiger-flavored Gatorade (made from his own sweat).
MY BLOGNOSTICATION: USA 15, Europe 13. SUCK IT EUROPE! That's right, THAT JUST HAPPENED, BITCH!
A few months ago, I planted three small plum tomato plants. I only got a few tomatoes here and there, which is what I expected. I took a picture of the plants on Wednesday afternoon to show their progress.
As you can see I had about 4 ripe tomatoes, and another 6 or 7 green ones on the way. I was looking forward to picking them and throwing them into a salad, or maybe eating them with some fresh basil and mozzarella cheese. However, this is what I found on Saturday morning:
All of the tomatoes are gone. Some asshole stole my tomatoes.
My apartment faces the back of the house and no one ever goes back there except those who live in this house, the neighbors (who are all families with small children), the occasional UPS man, and the lawn service people. Since the lawn was mowed on Friday, this leads me to the conclusion that one of the workers probably took them.
This doesn't rank up there with my golf clubs being stolen out of my car 5 years ago right before Xmas (the one time I left it parked out front and not in the garage), but it pisses me off nonetheless.
To the (probably illegal immigrant) lawn worker who took my tomatoes, I hope you die in a fire. Or at the very least, may you get crippling diarrhea from the tomatoes.
I thought it was about time I chimed in on the whole Tom Brady issue. In Week 1 this season, NFL's Golden Boy QB had the ACL and MCL in his left knee torn asunder, knocking him out for the rest of the season. Just allow me to say one thing: AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!
After his team was caught cheating last year he became Bill "Bully" Belichick's bitch, gleefully running up the score on every team (except the stellar Giants D in the Super Bowl, of course), which makes this injury sweet karmic retribution for everyone involved. If the Super Bowl XLII loss was the icing on the cake, this is the cherry soaked in bourbon and dipped in fine dark chocolate.
The best thing about it is the whining of New England fans. Their tears taste like drops of the finest Belgian abbey ale, and their cries of "the NFL won't be the same!" (god, I hope this is a joke, but I fear it's not) are like a sweet Mozart violin concerto to my ears.
Curt Schilling, speaking on behalf of all Masshole douchebags, claims that NY fans are happy about Brady's injury because they're mad that the Yankees stink this season and are jealous of the Boston teams' success. Nope, that's not it, jackass! While I respect Brady's talent, I hate everything that he represents. In my opinion, the NFL can only improve with his absence, as their joyless (and unsuccessful) crusade towards an undefeated season last year sucked the fun out of the game. Now we can see what the other teams in the AFC East are made of, and if that mumbling prick Belichick can coach a team to victory without his smug, supermodel-shagging poster boy. (Bill's career regular season coaching record with Brady is 86-29, and without Brady: 42-58. Staggering.) Also, we'll see if they're a real "team", whose leader is now RANDY freaking MOSS, who conveniently claims to have hurt his back on the SAME PLAY as Brady's knee injury. Yeah, sure.
I wouldn't really feel this way if Pats fans weren't the most insufferable, arrogant fans on the planet--but they are, and I do. And you KNOW they would have raised their doucheiness to all-new levels had this happened to Favre or either Manning. No, it's not schadenfreude, it's just that warm gleeful feeling I get when I realize that there might be some higher justice in the world. Hey, at least it gives Pats fans a built-in excuse if they don't do well this year.
Whatever. Now Tommy B. gets to rehab his knee just like Tiger did: while banging smoking hot chicks on a bed made of money. Let's stop crying and play some football.
Unfortunately for the NFL, Brady's loss seems to have affected more than just the Patriots and women. Many Boston-area fans of both genders, claiming that the team isn't worth watching without Brady, have concentrated their attention on the waning and somewhat disheveled Red Sox season or the attractive upcoming Celtics' NBA title defense. The sports media has likewise gone into shock, with columnist Bill Simmons saying he will no longer watch football this season, Sports Illustrated canceling large Brady-themed sections of this years' upcoming swimsuit issue, and NBC Football Night In America analyst Cris Collinsworth bursting into tears and collapsing into Peter King's arms upon receiving the news.
"No one else in football has Brady's unique talents—the physical gifts of build, height, arms, cheekbones, piercingly sultry field vision, the combination of arm strength and accuracy with a sense of tenderness, the combination of smirk and pout—along with the intangibles and the ability to look good in everything," said Tom Chiarella, who scouted and evaluated Brady for the September issue of Esquire. "It's impossible to estimate the impact of his loss, but it will almost certainly mean the loss of most female fans, many Boston-area fans, fair-weather fans, and the majority of mainstream media fans. The NFL is really looking at a worst-case scenario here, one that it never wanted to happen: A football season that's only watched by actual football fans."
Generally, I avoid blogging about things that bug me on a day-to-day basis...oh, wait...no I don't. Generally I blog about the things that bug me on a day-to-day basis.
Anyway, I was just flipping through last week's Time and came across this wonderful article: Wanted: The Perfect Song. What tune captures the summer of 2008?. Now beyond the obvious fact that some dickhead named Josh Tyrangiel of Time Magazine has a different definition of "perfect" than me (his being "wrong"), he lists what may be the 10 worse songs ever made. Would you believe me if I said I hate every one? You'd better.
For the record, I went on the youtubes and watched at least a few seconds of every video. That's martyrdom right there...
Until earlier this week, the trifecta was "in-play" and then I realized that NNEKA (kick ass word on scrabulous BTW) has officially scored the Afro-German Hat Trick.
I don't know what to make of this. I didn't know that Germany was a bastion of west African imports and I didn't know that Nigeria had any specific connection with Germany, but yet, it does.
First along came Patrice. Patrice started with serious reggae licks
and has recently moved on to...more reggae! But for the masses. Now with more German!
Next on the Afro-German circuit was AYO (who is the mother of Patrice's kid and his current bedmate) (in french no less!)
But...but...the trifecta needed its third wheel. And that's where Nneka comes in. I just happened onto her youtube videos (for some reason the repetitive beat is pleasing to me) and lo-and-behold she looks kinda like Ayo (same pale skin, same funky hair) and she's from Nigeria and she has some links to land of the Deutsch.
I don't know why this is weird to me...it just is. I just find it curious that there's these three [currently] popular singer being produced in Germany via Western Africa.
You can probably find better versions of all these songs on the youtubes, but I just want to take this opportunity to give a big "fuck you dickheads" shout out to the little pieces of dog-shit who disable embedding. You dumb motherfucker, you're trafficking in copyrighted material, yet you want to protect "your work." The irony will never leave me...never!
So the US celebrated Labor Day yesterday to officially put the bullet in another summer and New Orleans almost ceased to exist (if you missed it, don't worry, it'll happen next year, and the year after and the year after...). France doesn't have a holiday to celebrate this; but that doesn't stop one from drinking on 1pm on Monday afternoon.
Generally the end of summer sucks. Back to work, more traffic and less "Meh, it Wednesday afternoon, fuck this I'm going to the beach." However, the death of summer this year does not upset me. Why? One reason: students, particularly of the female persuasion. I don't know why I'm only really noticing it this year (probably just a normal step on the dirty-old-man road), but holy shit, the students all came back to town and although it takes twice as long to do my food shopping, it's twice as nice. Only 20-year olds can pull off the slinky tank-top and sweatpants and make it better looking than a tailored mini-skirt.
One downside of the end of summer; now the War for the White House is kicking into high gear. I try to ignore it, but from what I can understand John McCain impregnated his VP's teenage daughter. That seems strange, but you know what they say, life is stranger than fiction. And the Onion is reporting that McShame is losing his grip on the "Grizzled Ornery Old Man" demographic to Joad Cressbeckler
With a name like "Blake Lively", you have very limited career choices: singer, actress, talk show host, fashion designer, toy dog salesperson, stripper, porn star--that's about it. Well, it just so happens she stars on the show Gossip Girl and, as a result, is a gossip column target. Oh, the irony.
Well, it looks as if the absentminded young star (if you can call someone on a CW show that) allegedly forgot her pants the other day, in midtown Manhattan no less. Or maybe that's not a man's dress shirt and actually a dress? Regardless, this is the pretend "oops, I can't believe my undergarments are showing!" photo op that's so popular in Hollywood nowadays. Not that I'm complaining.
Billed "Camouflage" by the Galerie Bertin-Toublanc, this exposition by Liu Boulin takes subjects, paints them and then turns them into part of the scenery. Although I personally prefer body-painting when it involvesbarely-legal, barely-clothedwomen (all preceding images probably NSFW), but I can truly appreciate the art here.
My favorites are the "ghost" images. I find them hauntingly cool
However, most of these pictures are worthy of your attention. This "Fake Mao" is pretty fucking cool too
If I had an attention span that was longer than a fruit fly's, I may attempt something like this (honestly, I'm not an artist, but I like the idea of messing with perception). But, alas, I've already forgotten what we were talking about. USA! USA!
Most e-cards are utterly annoying, filled with flying animals, crappy music and weak sentiments. Finally, there's an e-cards site that says the things that need to be said: Some Cards - When You Care Enough To Hit Send.
I've hit a blog wall. From day to day, I'm not sure what to blog about. I've got blogger's blogk. I'm suffering from blogspot dysfunction.
I could see if it was because I've had a busy summer, but that's not the case. I don't feel like I did anything constructive, interesting or groundbreaking, and now with August almost over and I feel like I should have been lounging on the beach sipping mai tais for the last few weekends. There's no time like the present, right?
Anyway, why not go to the old fallback position: THINGS I HATE! This time it's a special SPORTS EDITION. Here we go!
The FedEx Cup. This thing is so pointless, I can't even begin to tell you. It's "the playoffs" of golf according to those who started this points system thing, but judging by the sparse crowds at the Barclays in NJ this week no one's buying into it. So who is the #1 point getter? Why it's TIGER WOODS, who has been out for the past 2 months due to knee surgery. Okay, so let's ignore that minor oversight, and instead focus on #2 in line to win this pointless award. It's got to be Padraig Harrington, who won two majors (PGA and The Open), right? Nope, he's astonishingly down at #4, behind FIGJAM! You'll never guess who is the leader: KENNY PERRY. I could not name one tournament I've seen him play in this year, and I watch most of them. To add to this absurdity, all Hunter Mahan had to do to go from #37 to a "projected #1" is shoot a 62 yesterday. Nice try, FedEx, but how about you focus on delivering packages instead of a silly golf playoff format that that no one cares about.
Chris "Mad Dog" Russo. For the past 19 years, New York sports fans have had to put up with this sports radio personality, and his egocentric partner on the "Mike (Francesser) and the Mad Dog" show on WFAN, until he called it quits last week. During his tenure this buffoon is a San Francisco Giants fan and has OPENLY ROOTED AGAINST NEW YORK TEAMS including the Yankees and Mets, and he couldn't give a crap about the Giants or Jets. He knows (and talks) more about tennis and Springsteen than football, hockey, horse racing and basketball combined. How he has amassed a fortune in sports radio is beyond my comprehension. Now he's moving to Sirius XM radio to ply his unfathomable trade. God, I just wish this guy would choke on his own bile.
NBC Sports interrupting sporting events. They're already on my shit list for their hockey coverage (and their sports coverage in general) but they've now hit a new low. I honestly haven't watched much of their insufferable Olympics coverage (except the last 3 Michael Phelps races, which were all irritatingly hyped by an on-screen "Phelps countdown"). Part of the reason I haven't watched is that the vast majority of their events have been on tape delay, so you would think they would show the live events in their entirety since they are so few and far between, right? Alas, that's not the case. On Friday night, they interrupted a mens swim relay to show a commercial, right in the middle of the race, TWICE. NBC, you monumentally suck at broadcasting sports.
Brett Fucking Favre. I don't care, ESPN. I don't care, New York media. I don't care about Brett Favre, where he's going, where he's been, who he's text messaging, what photo op he's attending. I DON'T CARE. Furthermore, despite the giddy excitement by their fans the New York Jets Bretts were NOT one player away from the playoffs, and certainly not a 38 year old QB away. Yes, he will be able to throw those 65 yard bomb interceptions that Chad Paperthin could only dream about. Congratulations to the Jets management for finding a way to sell more jerseys, ones that will look pretty silly in about 18 months or so when he re-retires. Thanks to the media, however, for showing him for what he really is: a selfish player who just wants attention. Well, you will be showered with it in New York, especially negative comments when you fail to make the postseason.
During my stay in Bretagne, I had the opportunity to taste a couple of different beers that'd I'd never tasted before (and some apple cider and pear cider too).
Most of my beer tasting was from one brewery, the Brasserie de Bretagne (simply: The Brittany Brewery). I tried their blonde (pilsner*), white/wheat/blanc, and this interesting amber beer made with "blé noir" (black wheat or buckwheat as we Americans say). I'm not sure if they keep all the wheat out of it, but I know that there are US breweries making beer for a "gluten-free lifestyle" (including one in lovely Ramapo, NY).
In any case, here's how it happened. I bought a mixed 6 pack of wheat and buckwheat from Brassiere de Bretagne. I tasted the wheat beer, which was fine and then I happened to have Gwiniz Du in a bar. It was weird and I didn't like it the first time I tried it - too different from other beer, my brain couldn't wrap itself around the beer. I packed the 3-pack up and brought it home and tried it again and i liked it the second (third and fourth) time(s). I'm not sure if 1) I got a bad bottle in the bar, 2) the chilling, then unchilling then rechilling of the beer made it good or 3) it's an acquired taste and now I like it after having (so to speak) lost my buckwheat virginity.
The beer is quite sour, with a weird sweet/sour finish. It's very complex with many flavors that my palate is unable to distinguish. Overall, I'm fairly impressed, for a French beer this one is pretty high on my list. The French in general make bland Bud-like pilsners that are fine if you're slamming a thirty-pack at the beach, but not something that my beer-snob psyche really likes to be seen drinking - between Heini and the French macros, I always take Heini, if that tells you anything.
As heavy as this beer is (5.4 abv, dark amber color), it actually works in mildly hot weather. It doesn't stick around in your mouth for too long and leaves it feeling more-or-less fresh (although there is a prevailing sour taste, even a few moments the beer is gone) One last point for Gwiniz Du, it survived the aforementioned skunky test. It was in a fridge for 3 days, then spent a full day in the sun in the back of the car, then two days at room-temperature then got put back in the fridge. And it doesn't taste like shit now. That earns it a couple of merit badges in my book. It also took gold at the Paris General Agricultural Fair in 2006 (edit: 2008 as well). That may seem like a laugh, but they take their agriculture very seriously here.
If you find it (you probably won't if you don't go to a beer fest and/or Brittany), pick up a bottle, just for the hell of it. If not, try one of Brasserie de Bretagne's other offerings. It's something different.
*Fuck Mozilla for not including "pilsner" in their default American-English spell-check dictionary.
Been a while since I've posted, but that's because I was drinking and carrying on up in Brittany on holiday. There a couple of pieces of hate and one of unparalleled loved that I want to throw out:
1. That fucking Coldplay song does not get better with time, it just keeps getting worse. Who said, "yeah, synthesized violins*, that'd be a great idea?" On top of that, Julie told me the other day that she "liked that song." I went as far as searching "avocats de divorce" in the French Yellow Pages, but figured I'll give her one more single off the new album to change her mind.
*I know they're probably "real" violins, but it doesn't make the song any less sucky.
2. The Olympics are in full swing and that means of course that French TV has been avoiding US mens basketball and all of Michael Phelps races for women's handball and men's fencing. For the most part I just ignore the asshole announcers as they toss the salad of 3rd rate French athletes, but I can not avoid them in the track and field events. They have this fat fuck with a lazy eye who has some weird hate for the Americans. Since there are no French athletes in any of the "real" track events (silver in the 3000m steeplechase! WOW!), this fuck spends his time attacking the Americans. Jamaica has kicked ass sprinting this year. As opposed to taking time to admire Usian Bolt's absolute dominance in the 100m, Mr. Lazy Eye instead had to talk about how he "beat down" the Americans..."Hey dickwad, where are your tricolore sprinters...yeah, that's what I thought, shut up now!"
3. It's the time of year where I have to renew my residency card here in France. I should, allegedly, be issued a card for 10 years now, which will mean less hassles with the administration. I have the list of papers that I need to provide. Most are black-and-white: Copy of passport, ID photographs and then I come to "Any document that can prove your integration into French society...such as proof of a social life." Hmm, I have a lot of receipts from bars. I don't think that's what they're looking for. As soon as you give a civil servant the power to "interpret" the validity of documents the system goes to hell.
4. Just a quick cargasm. I know that they used a Ferrari 250 GT California in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, but that was a movie (and I think the car was a replica too...), so you rarely see "actual" examples of them and this black one is just freaking beautiful. As soon as I have $4 million in disposable cash, I'm getting one (of course if when that happens, inflation will have made these cars worth 2x or 3x that.) [via Autoblog: more car porn at that link].
There's been a lot of talk about college presidents lobbying to lower the drinking age from 21 to 18 in the U.S. to allegedly cut down on college binge drinking, which is naturally making M.A.D.D. mad. This wouldn't change things much for me, since I'm (barely) over 21 and I already drink with teenagers all the time at numerousstopsalongNyack's "Underage Railroad" (a brilliant phrase coined by Kris). In fact, I will be doing some hard-hitting undercover investigative reporting on this very topic after work today.
I'm not sure this will really help, because although drinking is a huge part of the culture, most of the problems stem from driving. So here's my counterproposal: lower the drinking age to 18, raise the driving age to 22, and make alcohol/beer advertisements on television illegal. Also, liquor stores should scan every ID to ensure that those under 21 can only buy 1 case of beer or 1 bottle of hard alcohol a day. Colleges and universities should also offer transportation in the form of some sort of . . . light rail?
However, the best thing about this debate is the multitude of pictures of drunken debauchery that are being included with the articles on the internet. Here's a breakdown of each site and what visual they chose:
Over on the Exclamation Point'sFake Hockey Blog Page, Greg "Puck Daddy" Wyshynski had a bunch of complete nobodies write about the 5 Ways they'd change the NHL. However, this is the definitive list because it was written by me. Most of them have to do with increasing scoring chances and focusing on skill without ruining the game as it's been played for the last 50 years.
1. Make the goalie pads smaller. I'm sick of people saying that the nets should be bigger. That's horseshit, because it completely changes the game to where you can't compare scoring records to those that came before. Instead, go back to what the goalies wore back in the early 80s, as evidenced by this Bill Ranford photo.
(And get rid of the trapezoid, which is totally useless. It also sounds stupid, making even the best play-by-play guy sound like he's giving a geometry lesson.)
2. Get rid of the shootout. It was an amusing and often enjoyable novelty at first, but now it's turned into a supremely crappy way to end games. Because the point is more important than the spectacle, none of the players take a chance and show off their skill. Now all they do is skate straight in, shoot it right on net, and 90% of the time get stuffed. This is my solution: play a 10 minute OT period 4-on-4, and then 5 minutes 3-on-3. If the fans aren't happy with a tie after that, there's no pleasing them and they should watch arena football instead.
3. Remove fighting. There's no need for it any more. If you want to increase scoring and skill in the league, how about getting rid of the skaters who never shoot the puck? Send all the goons to Russia, I hear they have a league or something over there.
4. Switch the home and away benches. We've mentioned this on the blog before, but this way the defense has a greater distance to change during the 1st and 3rd periods. This works great for us traditionalists, because it will increase scoring without changing the fundamentals of the game, just the strategy regarding shift changes.
5. Change these three rules: * Remove the nebulous "distinct kicking motion" rule; if the puck hits the offensive player's skate anywhere, with intent or not, it's not a goal. * Players may only use wooden sticks. Those crappy composite sticks that explode just when someone's about to unleash a slapshot suck. * Don't give a 2 minute delay of game penalty when the puck is accidentally sent over the glass. Just make the faceoff in the team's zone, and don't allow them to make a personnel change, or talk to one another, or smile.
6. Get rid of Gary Fucking Bettman. Yeah I know, this is a bonus, but it needs to be said constantly.
The summer Olympics began today, and I'm going to be honest: I don't really like the summer Olympics. Some of the major track and field events are exciting, but everything else (especially the gymnastics, which they force feed the US viewers) is just dull to me. This year, because it's in the horribly overcrowded and polluted city of Beijing, China all the events are 12 hours ahead, so I will know what happens even before NBC Sports screws up the tape delay broadcast of it. Maybe I'll focus on the fringe sports like kayaking, judo, fencing, heptathalon, and shooting (which the USA should win every year, since we're so skilled at shooting each other). Or I could waste time watching our overrated, narcissistic basketball players like Kobe Bryant get beat by Argentina. Nah, I'll just watch golf.
However, I do like female synchronized swimmers. They're not as muscular and butch as their swimming cohorts, since they're sort of doing gymastics in the water and are judged on their appearance and style. Wait a second: who thought doing gymnastics in the water was a good idea?
In synchronized swimming not only are pants hated, they're illegal as sanctioned by the IOC.
Here's the U.S. team. They probably don't have a chance in hell of medaling, but they have photo galleries in Radar, Fitness, and don't they look nice?
Here are the Russian duet swimmers.
Oh my. So THAT'S how it is over there.
Finally, here is the classic video featuring the men's synchronized swimming team, who were hoping to be included in the 1988 Olympics.
Okay, it's actually an SNL skit featuring Harry Shearer, Martin Short and Christopher Guest.
"I'm not that strong a swimmer." "Heyyyy you! I know you! I know you!"
The 2008 PGA Championship is finally here! Beginning today, the best of the best have gathered somewhere in Minnesota Michigan compete to win this final major of the season. Oh, the best isn't playing? Let me rephrase: everyone but Tiger will be there! Please watch!
Let's hope this is a quality showcase for the best golfers, because the end of last week's WGC at Firestone was atrocious. Veeger couldn't hit half his putts from 4 to 8 feet, and PHIL! withered on the back 9 bogeying 3 of the last 4 holes to cost him the lead and the tournament. (I'm sure Tiger was watching at home, seething and sinking his fingernails into the sofa, knowing he could have easily taken that title.) But you know what the latter means: the old PHIL is back! But is that a good thing? All I know is that I can relate to a lefty golfer with an erratic driver, but I don't enjoy watching it. (BTW, the nickname "Lefty" is a misnomer, since he's right handed in everything else besides his swing, just like me.)
Regardless, this morning you can't click on a golf website without seeing Mickelson's amiable yet goofy face. There's a lot of talk about whether he can capture another major this Sunday, and here's what they're saying:
Shall I compare Phil to a summer's day? If at first you don't succeed, Phil, Phil again. It is better to have Phil and lost than never to have Phil at all. A Phil in the hand is worth two in the bush. I can accept Phil, but I can't accept not trying. As the purse is emptied, the heart is Phil. Phil like no one is watching. So what do I say about this? One word: FIGJAM!
Okay, that got silly really fast. All I'm saying is get ready for the PHILATHON this weekend, as the TV coverage is going to be PHILCENTRIC, and occasionally will be absolutely PHILTHY (cover the kids' eyes).
(See? He's not really a southpaw.)
Anyway, here's the lowdown on the 4th and final major of the year, the 90th PGA Tournament at Oakland Hills.
COURSE INFO Course: Oakland Hills Country Club Location: Bloomfield, MI Yardage: 7,395 Par: 35-35-70 Hole-by-hole Info (hole/par/yards): 1 4/435 2 5/529 3 3/198 4 4/446 5 4/490 6 4/387 7 4/449 8 4/491 9 3/257 OUT 35/3682 10 4/462 11 4/423 12 5/593 13 3/191 14 4/501 15 4/401 16 4/406 17 3/238 18 4/498 IN 35/3713
DESCRIPTION Four Holes will tell the tale at the 2008 PGA Championship. Take a closer look at Nos. 6, 13, 16 and 18, as well as other scenes from Oakland Hills.
"I'm just glad I brought this course, this monster, to its knees," Ben Hogan said after winning the 1951 U.S. Open at Oakland Hills. "I shot a pair of 80s and went home," says Steve Flesch, recalling his quick technical knockout at the 1996 U.S. Open. "It's one of the hardest golf courses I've ever played."
And it's only gotten worse. Golf's notorious Dr. Frankenstein, Rees Jones, renovated Oakland Hills in 2006, adding 346 yards (7,395 total, par 70), pinching fairways and toughening up bunkers. If this course is a monster, these holes are its angry, razor-sharp teeth. (Credit: Nile Young)
ODDS FIGJAM! 10/1 Los Pantelones Feos 14/1 Padraig Harrington 16/1 Hitch Furyk 16/1 Anthony Kim 18/1 Ernie Els 18/1 Kenny Perry 25/1 Adam Scott 25/1 Veejer 25/1 Geoff Ogilvy 28/1
I know this blog (and 97% of all blogs in the known universe) is really devoted to hate. But I'm going to use this post to spread some love.
I love rollercoasters. My entire family does as well, and after recently completing a trip to Hersheypark where I rode on every single one they had to offer, my love has been restored. I haven't been to an amusement park in about a decade, and I'm amazed at the rides that have been dreamed up (by some crazy Germans, as my dad put it) since that time.
My love affair started with the SooperDooperLooper(1977), the first metal looping coaster on the East Coast, and The Comet (1946), a classic old wooden rollercoaster, both of which I first experienced in the early 80s. Since then, the park has added numerous rollercoasters: Great Bear (1998), a fantastic inverted coaster; Lightning Racers (2000), the world's first racing, wooden coaster featuring two trains ("Lightning" and "Thunder") that race each other to the finish line; the unique suspended water coaster, the Roller Soaker (2002); Storm Runner (2003), a fantastic rocket coaster that takes off from 0 to 72 MPH in 2 seconds and sends you into a dazzling array of loops, barrel rolls and a near-vertical 180' drop.
The latest addition for 2008 is Fahrenheit, a metal coaster that takes you up the initial 121' high hill at a 90° angle, and then promptly plunges you down it at 97°. That's right: if you take out your protractor, you'll see that's 7 degrees beyond straight down. This currently matches the largest angle of descent of any coaster on the planet. It's pretty amazing and exhilarating. Thankfully, there are crazy people out there who are willing to capture this on video, while the rest of us are keeping our hands on the bars and our heads back at all times.
Of the 3 times I went on it, I was lucky enough to experience this from the front row once. This was great to ride at night, as when you look behind you as you're going up the hill you can see the entire park lit up--upside down. It's a little disconcerting to say the least.
While we're spreading the love, I also happen to love chocolate. I won't elaborate on that, but let's just say that they could encase a carburetor in chocolate and I'd eat it. Basically, I can't think of a better place to spend a few days than Hershey, Pennsylvania (but only a few days).
Kris went ahead and submitted the "official" OPEN HOCKEY BLOG entry in Greg "Puck Daddy" Wyshynski's Gary Bettman Art Contest. However, he did not submit it for approval before doing so, which is in clear violation of the blog rules (which I just made). Though it was my suggestion I thought his work was a bit creepy, more pederasty than hockey. So this is my "unofficial" entry (that's right, it's war!).
God, I hate that little troll.
If it seems like we're picking on Messier, well, we are. (It's just that the hairlines match up really nicely.) May the best Mess win!
I saw it, and figured, yeah I could do something cool and then just forgot about it. But Jeff, in his tenacious hate for Bettman suggested a Bettman/Messier/Coleman mashup. 'Why not,' I said. It's Tuesday morning and anything that keeps the bottle of Scotch in the cubboard until after 12-noon works for me.
This may or may not be the official OH submission. If Jeff or Rob want to get something done, that'd be great too (even though I've now stolen Jeff's best idea.) Meh. He loves Vista, he deserves whatever he gets.
Without further ado, I present "Gary B: Potrait of an Ass Grabber"
The two things I've enjoyed watching immensely this month are Mad Men and Italian Spiderman. I know what you're going to say, but oddly enough they have a lot more in common than you might think. They both were conceived and filmed in the past year, yet both take place in the 1960s in a carefree, misogynistic world that men (not so) secretly wish still existed. Both are focused around an enigmatic, suave, and powerful leading man who does what he wishes with females, smokes and drinks heavily, and will step on whomever he must to get ahead. One might be more Cary Grant while the other is more Jack Black, but both are unmistakably 100% man.
However, only one has a kick ass moustache.
That lascivious lady tickler belongs to Italian Spiderman, who parodies such movies as Turkish Star Wars (Dünyayı Kurtaran Adam), dubbed and circulated VHS tapes decades ago and given a second life on the internet. In his world in 1968, he treats women with respect yet simultaneously keeps them in their place, as he demands they prepare his macchiatos, pronto!
Mad Men's Don Draper is a mellifluous voiced mystery, sporting a Brylcreamed hairdo and a no-nonsense business acumen. In 1960, he and his Madison Avenue advertising cohorts are on the top of the world, living a swinging life of unlimited booze and broads. He keeps women in check telling them such things as, "What you call love was invented by guys like me to sell nylons."
These two mavericks live in a world we can only enjoy vicariously. Which is a good thing, since if we tried to live like them now, we'd get kicked in the collective balls.
Season 2 of Mad Men premieres July 27 at 10 PM ET. Part Two of Italian Spiderman coming soon.
Even the Yankees' Jason Giambi is fashioning his look after The Italian Spiderman.
Maybe it's just me being all old and cynical, but I simply didn't love The Dark Knight, the newest Batman movie that everyone is raving about. I'd like to say it's the most overrated movie of the year, but maybe I shouldn't be rating movies like this at all. It's obviously not aimed at me, since I'm neither a teenager or a comic book fan. I thought at the very least I'd enjoy this as a movie fan, but it wasn't satisfying even on that level. Basically, it was a huge disappointment. And screw it, this is my blog so here's my review.
When Tim Burton's Batman was released in 1989, his dark vision and the use of Jack Nicholson in the role of The Joker, it was universally loved by critics and audiences alike; today it seems it has lost a bit of its luster due to the exceedingly campy sequels that followed it. Critics are even retrospectively proclaiming Jack's Joker to be overacting nonsense, which really just means that we've now finally realized that Jack is merely acting like himself in every movie (see: The Departed, Something's Gotta Give, Mars Attacks!). When the Batman franchise was given a makeover in 2005 via the reinvention/rehash/regurgitation Batman Begins, it was hailed as a return to form for the Caped Crusader. I admit, I haven't seen it but I can't imagine it would have enhanced my enjoyment of this latest endeavour. If anything, this movie should have been more satisfying, as the back story was out of the way leaving nothing but storytelling and action.
However, it just seemed like a jam-packed mess to me, leaving me with a feeling akin to being pummeled in the dark for nearly 3 hours. While Heath Ledger was effectively creepy and deranged as The Joker, I can't say that any of the other actors stood out (hey, just like the previously mentioned Batman movie), especially Christian Bale and his scratchy "I just gargled glass" Batman voice. Aaron Eckhart's (as D.A. Harvey Dent) transformation into Two Face was treated as if a switch was flipped, and thus not really believable. Also not believeable or emotionally impacting was the love triangle between Dent, Bruce Wayne and Maggie Gyllenhaal's Brenda Dawes character. I used to like Gary Oldman, but here he had two acting modes, murmuring or screaming; meanwhile, Morgan Freeman and Michael Caine were wasted only being used sparingly as affable, smiling old guys.
I know, this is a big fantastical, exploderiffic summer blockbuster movie, so I should forget about the acting and focus on the other stuff like action and storyline--but even those elements left me scratching my head. There were no real jawdropping car chases or action sequences (minus one nifty trick with a tractor trailer), and the jump cuts and low lighting during fight sequences made it difficult to follow. During the entire movie, each scene followed the next so quickly with no establishing shots and little coherence, and the scenes themselves were edited so tightly, that half the time I thought I missed a few lines of dialogue or action. At one point I thought that maybe half the movie was explained in the first movie, or hopefully would be explained later (what did they go to Hong Kong for?), but that never happened. I thought that if I stuck with it, it would start to make sense and build to an effective ending, but it got more convoluted as it went on. And on. And on. No, it never "dragged" per se, it was just relentless. It was as if director Christopher Nolan was throwing expensive set pieces in your face with little regard for how they would propel the plot. After one and a half hours, I had had enough . . . and then realized it still had an hour to go.
". . . this movie is grim and jammed together. The narrative isn't shaped coherently to bring out contrasts and build toward a satisfying climax. "The Dark Knight" is constant climax; it's always in a frenzy, and it goes on forever. Nothing is prepared for, and people show up and disappear without explanation; characters are eliminated with a casual nod."
Personally, I can't recall the last comic book movie adaptation that I've enjoyed. While Spiderman was entertaining, I almost felt like I forced myself into liking it, but looking back it was just a novelty and I have no desire to ever watch it again. (The novelty wore off with the exceedingly silly Spiderman 2, and I don't plan on sitting through Spiderman 3, or 4, when it inevitably comes out). The newest attempt at the Man of Steel story Superman Returns was brought nothing new to the table, and I still think the casting of Robert Downey, Jr. as Iron Man, which I haven't seen, is questionable at best. As for recent big screen adaptations of The Hulk (twice), The X-Men and Fantastic Four, none of them have interested me. I officially call this superhero trend over when Seth Rogen stars as the title character in The Green Lantern. (Yes, that's actually going to happen.)
While The Dark Knight had some well-crafted scenes and I respected the overall attempt at a more realistic, dark tone, I honestly didn't think it was anything special. Since the general consensus for this movie has been excellent, I guess it's just not my thing. Either way this is officially the last comic book movie I willingly see in the theater, unless they make the new and improved version 18 years from now, which seems inevitable.
I was thinking the other day, Open Hockey doesn't have enough rap on it, especially bad white rap. So in my desire to remedy this, I present to you TSA Gangstaz.
Ok, it's actually really bad, but hey, that's the name of the game. It's "random" youtubery.
For the record, this is better than Coldplay's new album.
NSFW, unless your boss digs f-bombs, dildos, and jiggly women in short shorts.
"Let me squeeze those titties or the terrorists have already won."
If you're reading this, the Open at Royal Birkdale is already underway! It snuck up on me this year because the media doesn't pay attention to golf if Tiger isn't playing. It's a shame, but that's the truth. (I wonder what he's doing right now: banging his wife on his yacht or in his house. Hey, don't bang her TOO hard, you have to be careful with that knee.)
However, what little buzz there's been has been about FIGJAM! and Los Pantelones Feos, by the US and European press respectively, and the possibility of them stepping up in Tiger's absence and winning this major. But when the pressure is on, that's the last time I see these guys playing well. They are incredibly talented but only really excel when the stakes are low, like some random California tournament or in Tiger-free fake-majors like the "Players".
Today's weather looks downright nasty: rainy, windy, chilly. In a word: English. (No wonder Amy Winehouse has turned to crystal meth, it's depressing.) So I wouldn't expect big scores this weekend, but good performances by solid, all-around players.
Here's the skinny on the 3rd major of the year, the 137th Open at Royal Birkdale.
COURSE INFO Course: Royal Birkdale Golf Club Location: Southport, in northwest England Par/Yardage: 34-36-70 Yardage: 3417-3753-7173 Purse: $8.24 million. Winner's share: $1,487,000. Description: The Open comes to Royal Birkdale for the ninth time this July, and competitors will find a course that is 155 yards longer than the challenge presented to them in 1998, the last time the event was played here. The extra length is relatively inconsequential, however, compared to the tightened bunkering, newly-introduced mounds and, in the case of some holes, altered playing lines. The philosophy of the changes – which affect 16 of the 18 holes – is to reward strategic play and accurate shotmaking.
TV SCHEDULE Thursday 7/17: 7 AM - 3 PM (TNT) Friday 7/18: 7 AM - 3 PM (TNT) Saturday 7/19: 7 AM - 9 AM (TNT), 9 AM - 3 PM (ABC) Sunday 7/20: 6 AM - 8 AM (TNT), 8 AM - 3 PM (ABC)
UPDATE: Unfortunately, ABC/TNT has taken a step backwards and will NOT BE BROADCASTING IN HD, and instead we get lovely SD upconverted crap. While it's certainly 'watchable' this is a MAJOR tournament, if I'm not mistaken, and therefore a major disappointment. I don't know if it's because England is behind on the technology (it's allegedly BBC's fault), but I'm guessing they cheaped out and just decided to use SD equipment over there. The kicker is that they don't say it's NOT in HD, they advertise it as being on "ABC and ABC HD". Seriously, fuck ABC/ESPN right in the pantalones, and BBC can take one up the trousers while we're at it. So if you haven't bought that HDTV yet (Rob, I'm looking at you), then there's no hurry. (At least I won't have to bust my ass looking for an HD screen at the bars this weekend.)
I'm posting this information in case something happens to me.
You see, I'm attending a family reunion this weekend in the upstate New York's Catskill Mountains in a town called "Big Indian". I can only assume it was named that after a rather large Native American who used to oversee these lands, before the U.S. Government "relocated" him. Alternatively, maybe some tall guy from Bangalore recently bought the place. Whatever the origin of the name it doesn't change the fact that it's in the MIDDLE OF NOWHERE.
There's something to be said for being far from civilization, but I'm not sure this really qualifies. After all we'll have running water, beds, electricity and refrigerators (filled with beer, hopefully), and as there are paved roads leading almost all the way up to the house it's not exactly "roughing it". It's merely an area of the state sporting a surplus of trees and bugs, and lacking reliable cell phone service or convenience stores. But I'm okay with that. For two nights. Maximum.
Last time I was here two years ago I recall thinking, "If you had to hide a body, this would be an ideal place for it." That's why I'm typing this. I've been known to put my foot in my mouth, and I occasionally come off as dickish to people who don't know me. I may say the wrong thing this weekend (like, "What you do mean, you don't have any ice? How am I supposed to keep my Belgian beer cold, you dumb redneck?") and end up in a ditch somewhere. So if you don't hear from me next week, the area surrounding the house we rented out is where to tell the police to send a search party.
Have a great weekend! Hope to see you here next week . . .
Today is Unrestricted Free Agent signing day in the NHL, and it's like Christmas in July! I was getting excited seeing rumors of the Devils signing Brian Campbell or *gasp* Marian Hossa.
It's official: Lou has hit the sauce and is "drunk calling" all his former players. On that note, here are some other former Devils he could sign (with their "time served", as they say in Rahway):
PROS: Considering he'll get virtually zero playing time as Marty's backup, his 4.00+ GAA won't be too much of a liability. (Hey, he couldn't be any scarier than Terreri.) CONS: Since Chico has to eat something different at every home game, between him and "Fatso" there will be no food left at the Prudential Center for paying customers.
PROS: If Randy McKay comes out of retirement, 1995's famed "Crash Line" will finally be reunited (hey, the Ghostbusters are doing it for a videogame, so why not?). And thanks to new Tampa Bay coach Barry Melrose, the mullet is back in style. (Some say it never went out of style in Florida.) CONS: The mullet is back in style. Oh sweet Jebus.
PROS: Drafted by the club in 1987 and currently on the Rangers' roster, he's already familiar with the NYC metro area. CONS: There are none. His name is on the Cup more times than God (Shanny 3, God 0). Seriously, while we're getting all nostalgic, why the fuck not?
