perfidy

At 9:00 AM this morning, give or take a few minutes, Paraguay and England started a first-round World Cup match. David Beckham and Michael Owen leading an all-star English team in the biggest sporting event in the world.

Now, I accept that Americans don't give a crap about soccer, on the whole. Fine. But it's the fachrissakes World Cup! And right now, I am half-watching that match on Mexico's Univision network, because NBC is carrying the French Open (okay), ESPN is showing Sportscenter (for the 10th time in a row), and ESPN2 is showing... bass fishing???

Je-sus. A country fulla rubes is what we are. In Somalia, the populace is rioting against their new Islamist overlords, because said overlords have banned watching Cup matches. Surely we would do the same if the Superbowl or the World Series were similarly threatened, but c'mon! The best soccer in the world, and ESPN2 preempts it for... bass fishing?

I find that I am actually upset that I missed a professional basketball game. This is completely unprecedented in my experience, seeing as I am much more inclined to baseball, college football and obscure sports. I have always viewed pro basketball as a beauty show for thugs and retards. Amazingly, I still think that, but...

I watched the Cleveland Cavaliers, team of my hometown, defeat the Washington Wizards, team of my current home. It was fun, because I could go into work and ridicule my colleagues, remind them of the tactically foolish move of trading Hughes to the team that would knock them out of the playoffs. And seeing that Cavs win was just nice. Cleveland teams so rarely do.

But that playoff win threw them up against the juggernaut of the Detroit Pistons. It's hard for me to write a sentence that includes both "Juggernaut" and "Detroit" because (given my prediliction for baseball and football, and the current state of the city) Detroit is a byword for failure, incompetence and pathos. Nevertheless, it seems that Pistons have won every championship since Michael Jordan was abducted by aliens and replaced with a less than perfect clone. And the received wisdom was that the Cavs would be ground to itty-bitty pieces of red gristle.

And, in the first two games that is more or less what happened. So, I wrote off the Cavs and read Vernor Vinge's new book Rainbows End. (Very, very good, btw.)

Now I discover, to my horror, that the Cavs pulled unforseen victory out of their collective asses. They have won the last two games, even without one of their best players - Hughes, whose brother recently passed away. The series now stands at 2-2. And I missed the exciting comeback. I realize that this is mere prelude for eventual disappointment and heartbreak, but I will certainly be watching the rest of the playoffs.

It turns out that the old chestnut about keeping your eye on the ball is not the best advice. And standing under a pop fly is not the optimal solution for catching it. Some eggheads have analysed the matter, and discovered that it is frankly impossible to keep your eye on the ball - when it gets to within a couple yards of the plate, the baseball's angular motion is to fast for anyone's eye - even those of a major league hitter - to track. What really happens is that they follow the ball until that point, and then jump to the place where they expect the ball to cross the plate.

And in that short distance, magic happens. A well thrown curve ball can drop as much as a foot in that short distance, which is why even major league hitters miss most of the time. And the reason people think that there is such a thing as a rising fast ball is that if you think you're facing an 80 mile fastball, you will expect the ball to drop as it nears the plate. If it is in fact a ninety mile fastball, its velocity will ensure that it doesn't drop nearly so much, creating the illusion of rising over the plate.

A fascinating article, and well worth a read.

[wik] The Maximum Leader is quick to note that there is a whole book of eggheads poking at baseball, called, "The Physics of Baseball (3rd Edition)". I haven't read it, but the Ol' Maximum Leader is a sharp guy, so go buy the book, already.

Woot!

Who knew Bradley would beat Pittsburgh? Other than me, that is. Well, "Who knew..." isn't the right word.

"Who pulled out of his ass the crazy idea that..." seems more a appropriate start to that sentence. I apologize for the imprecison.

The NCAA walls will surely come crashing down, real soon now, but until they do, I'm alone in 4th place, with a bullet.

I say again, "Woot!".

And yes, the title of this post works on multiple levels. Thanks for noticing.

[wik] To nobody's surprise, including mine, Ohio State has taken the pipe. Bummer. I'm now #8, with a bullet, to the head. At least I didn't have the Buckeyes winning it. And it could be worse - the two guys who run the pool, no slouches they, has each had his pick to win it all get dusted. So at least I'll probably finish ahead of them.

Some pursuits are more trivial than others. Among the most trivial, NCAA March Madness pools.

Why would I say this? Simple - I participate in at least one, every year, and I'm normally mathematically eliminated by halftime of the "play in" game. What better reason to call an activity trivial than the simple fact that you suck at it? I've no idea why I've done so poorly in most of the last 20 years or so, but there you have it, and it must be due to the triviality of the undertaking (he says to himself).

But not this year, no sirree.

I'm participating in a Toronto-based pool, run by a couple guys whose NFL pool I also joined this past season, and as of 7:30PM Saturday, March 18, I'm tied with one other guy for 13th place out of 75 poolsters. I've given up trying to figure out my odds, say, of beating the poor bastard whose pick for NCAA Champion (Kansas) has already bitten the green weenie. My only clear misstep so far was in thinking Tennessee might make the Final Four.

And my ace in the hole appears to be the (soon to be proven retarded, I'm sure) presumption that my Ohio State Buckeyes will lose to nobody but Duke. In that particular bit of fantasy, I appear to be alone, which will stand me in good stead should lightning strike and I end up correct.

Wait - it just occurred to me why I continue this trivial pursuit: It's just about the only time all year that I find college basketball interesting. It's surely not that, in the abstract, I actually give a care who wins. But now I at least have a specific reason to root for Ohio State against Florida, which has to make me fairly unique, among Texans.

My sports fanatic mother emailed to inform me that former Ohio State football star Maurice Clarett was on indicted charges of robbing two people behind a bar and carrying a concealed weapon. The 22 year old who once led Ohio State to a National Title in 2002 has now irretrievably blown his chances of a Heisman trophy, a professional career and earning millions of dollars. If convicted of the two most serious armed robbery charges, he would face up to 26 years in prison.

He turned himself in two days after the incident, apparently after watching OSU beat Notre Dame in the Fiesta Bowl. Had Clarett stayed with the Buckeyes and kept out of trouble, he would have been a Senior and playing in that game. Or, considering that he rushed for 1,237 yards and scored 16 touchdowns as an Ohio State freshman in 2002, that game might have been a second or third national title game.

Just pathetic - from his lame attempts to sue his way into the NFL draft, to his run-ins with the law, to this. Clarett had the potential to be a superstar. But all he managed was second rate thuggery.

This page on the Cleveland Plain Dealer lays out the possibilities for the tribe catching a ride to the playoffs this year. Here are the details:

• If the Indians sweep the White Sox, they win the wild card
  
  
• The earliest the Indians can clinch is on Saturday, provided they win Friday and Saturday and the Yankees take the first two from Boston
  
  
• If the Indians drop the first two games of the series with Chicago and win on Sunday, the best they can hope for is a one-game playoff with the Yankees (at Jacobs Field) or Red Sox (at Fenway) on Monday
  
  
• Also...
  
  
• If Indians go 2-1 and Boston goes 2-1: Boston and New York play Monday in a playoff for the AL East with the loser playing the Indians for the wild card on Tuesday
  
  
• If Indians go 2-1 and Boston goes 1-2: Then Indians win wild card
  
  
• If Indians goes 2-1 and Boston goes 0-3: The Indians win wild card
  
  
• If Indians go 1-2 and Boston goes 2-1: Then Red Sox win wild card
  
  
• If Indians and Boston go 1-2: Then Indians, Red Sox play one-game playoff at Fenway
  
  
• If Indians go 0-3 and Boston wins at least one: Then Red Sox win wild card
  
  
• If both Indians and Red Sox go 0-3: Then Indians, Red Sox play one-game playoff at Fenway

Much as I like the Red Sox and hate the Yankees, I will have to be rooting for the team of evil to further my own team's chances of getting that last playoff berth.

Or so I thought:

It is late in the OSU-Michigan game on an overcast day. Michigan has the ball on the OSU 3, with 2 seconds left, and down 14-10. There is time for one more play.

Lloyd Carr calls timeout. As the team is coming to the sideline, Lloyd looks to the heavens and says, "God - I've been a good man. A churchgoing man. I've tried to do what's right and I've never asked you for anything. But, this is a big game and if I could get a little guidance, I would be forever grateful".

The clouds part, sun shines on Lloyd and he hears a voice bellow "I Right 39 Pitch Trap".

Lloyd can't believe it! God himself gave him the play! It'll work for sure. The team comes to the sideline and Lloyd excitedly gives them the play. The timeout ends and the teams come back on the field. Lloyd can barely contain his excitement - he's going to win.

Play resumes and the ball is snapped. The Michigan QB pitches to the back. For a split second, there's a hole - which is quickly filled by AJ Hawk, who tackles the Michigan back short of the goal line.

Time expires and Ohio State players storm the field to celebrate. Lloyd is in shock - he can't believe the play didn't work. Lloyd looks to the heavens and cries, "God - why did you call THAT play?"

God looks down, shrugs, turns to his right and says, "Woody - why did we call that play?"

Garfield Ridge has a great post up on one of Baseball's true greats: Dock Ellis.

Thirty-five years ago, on June 12, 1970, Pittsburgh Pirate and future Texas Rangers pitcher Dock Ellis found himself in the Los Angeles home of a childhood friend named Al Rambo. Two days earlier, he'd flown with the Pirates to San Diego for a four-game series with the Padres. He immediately rented a car and drove to L.A. to see Rambo and his girlfriend Mitzi. The next 12 hours were a fog of conversation, screwdrivers, marijuana, and, for Ellis, amphetamines. He went to sleep in the early morning, woke up sometime after noon and immediately took a dose of Purple Haze acid.

A bit later, how long exactly he can't recall, he came across Mitzi flipping through a newspaper. She scanned for a moment, then noticed something.

"Dock," she said. "You're supposed to pitch today."

Ellis focused his mind. No. Friday. He wasn't pitching until Friday. He was sure.

"Baby," she replied. "It is Friday. You slept through Thursday."

Dock went on to pitch a no-hitter.

I saw on Rocket Jones that one of his compadres had put hatred for the Yankees into tangible form. Knowing of my dear mother's deep and abiding hatred for the Yankees, I dropped her the link in an email. Two hours and sixteen minutes later, I get this reply:

I ordered 6 of them for $5. Pick out a spot on the Xterra.

I love my mom.

Elliot Kalb, author of Who's Better, Who's Best in Baseball?, has a list of the top ten greatest streaks in sports over at Fox Sports. Here's the list:

1. Joe DiMaggio's 56-game hitting streak
2. Johnny Unitas' 47 consecutive games with a touchdown pass
3. Edwin Moses' 122 consecutive victories in 400-meter high hurdles
4. Wilt Chamberlain's 45 complete games in a row
5. Brett Favre's 225 consecutive starts at quarterback
6. Greg Maddux's 15 or more wins for 17 consecutive seasons
7. Cal Ripken's 2,632 consecutive baseball games
8. Dale Long, Don Mattingly, Ken Griffey Jr. hitting home runs in eight consecutive games
9. Kareem Abdul Jabbar's 1,000 or more points scored in 19 consecutive seasons
10. (tie) Byron Nelson's 11 consecutive tournament wins in golf in 1945; Tiger Woods' 142 consecutive tournaments making the cut

Read the article for the details, but I have to agree that Johnny Unitas' record is underappreciated, as I hadn't really been aware of it. Interesting that some of the greatest names in sports don't appear on this list. No Babe Ruth, for example. Not that their achievements were unworthy, I guess, but just that they didn't come in streak form.

For Buckethead, today is clearly “blog about stuff you’ve been meaning to blog about, but haven’t yet” day. Running with this theme, here is the story of last Saturday:

Ted, from Rocket Jones organized an outing to busy, cosmopolitan Woodbridge, Virginia to see the Class A Potomac Nationals of the Carolina League do battle with some other team I can’t be bothered to remember. (It’s single A ball, man. I can’t remember the names of major league expansion teams, fer chrissakes.) Mrs B., little B, and I found the stadium hidden behind some county buildings without too much trouble, and met Ted, his daughters Mookieand Robyn, and Goddess Dawn. Soon thereafter, we were joined by Nic and Victor. The weather was still nice, and things were shaping up into a nifty blog gathering. (Aside from cobloggers, these were the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th and 6th bloggers I’ve ever met.)

I went into the gift shop and discovered that the Potomac Nationals had only been in existence for about five minutes. Previously, they were the Potomac Cannons, and everyone in the shop was really pissed about the name change. So, I bought a deeply discounted Cannons logo hat, figuring that its totemic power should protect me from all ills while I was in the stadium. I got one for my mom, too, just to be super safe. Sadly, the hats proved to be of no use whatsoever.

We acquired hotdogs, beer and fires, and adjourned to the stands. One of the things that I love about watching minor league games is the intimacy of the setting. Minor league stadiums are usually about the size of high school playing fields. However, you don’t have to watch thumb-fingered pimply high school kids playing the game – minor league players often exhibit real skill. Of course, those players don’t stay in the minors, let alone single A, very long.

The first inning went great. The mini-Nats scored four runs to take an early lead. But then, the rain came. The skies had been threatening all evening, and mapgirl told me a couple days ago that it would rain, but why should I trust her, the weatherman or the evidence of my own senses? We beat a hasty retreat, along with all the other fans into the sheltered area under the stands, there to wait for at least a half hour. It was really starting to thin out when we decided that the lightning and rain were not likely to stop soon, and that we should come up with a plan B. (As it turned out, they did start playing again within the hour, and we ended up spending $9 a pop for an inning and a half of baseball. That’s a buck an out, people!)

Plan B was a chain Mexican restaurant over by the outlet mall. It should have been a simple matter to drive a couple miles down the parkway and turn left into the parking lot. However, given the rainy conditions and my own befuddledness, I would have missed the joint altogether. At the last minute, Mrs. B gave a hue and cry, and I cut across two lanes of (light) traffic to get into the turn lane. This maneuver left me just a bit in the middle of the intersection. After looking carefully out all three mirrors, and looking over my shoulder, I put Godzira our Xterra into reverse and backed out of the intersection and directly into Dawn’s car.

Not having read her account yet (I will after I finish mine) I don’t know what went through her mind. But as I leaped out of the car, someone seemed a little mad. Then, I realized who it was, and was able to croak out, “Hey, it’s you.” I have rarely felt so stupid and so relieved at the same time. What are the odds that, driving in a rain storm, you’d hit a car with a personalized plate referring to blogging? Happily, a further inspection from the safety of the parking lot revealed only minor scratches. This is a happy side effect of physical laws that prevent you from accelerating to any great speed before hitting an object directly behind you. I swear to god, Dawn, I really did look.

This trauma behind us, we settled in for beers, chips, salsa and guac. Much good conversation was had. We talked about baseball, boobs, high school and many other things before little B’s increasing sleepiness forced us to beat an early retreat.

It was great to meet everyone, and Dawn’s car. We’ll have to do this again, and hopefully we can escape without me running anyone over, or my son hitting Ted in the nuts again.

Pedro Martinez has told the Boston Herald that the Red Sox can keep his ring. His World Series ring, that is, the one that he helped us win. According to Pedro,

"I can live with the business part of it, not being able to afford me, or thinking I'm not that good, but I cannot understand the part where you mistreat my name, or mistreat what I did for the city of Boston because they have to build another image of me....

Oh, boo hoo you whiny little bitch. What part hurt worse? The adulation, or the idolatry? I dunno... was it being the sworn hero of Massachusetts' (surprisingly large and vibrant) Dominican population that got to you? Was it having a ballpark sell out every single start you made, rain or shine? Was it an entire region hanging breathless on every cut fastball as you set up and knocked down the best batters in the game? Was it an entire region's outcry at Grady Little -- not you -- Grady Little, when he kept you in too long? You're a little guy, you get tired. We get that. Or was it waking up one morning a World Series winner, checking your pants, and finding that despite doing everything you could, you still don't crap gold nuggets?

Or was it finding out that business is business? Je-sus. For a dude who has no problem throwing a 95-mph fastball at huge dudes' heads, he sure is a Polly Pissypants. New York can have his prima donna act.

[wik] The original Herald article (rather than the Post excerpt linked above) makes it more clear that Pedro was being baited into badmouthing Boston, and that much of his ire is reserved for the Boston sports press. That's fair; they suck. But Pedro doesn't stop there, and lets himself get goaded into saying how much the fans suck too. Not cool, dude. Not cool like jheri-curl is not cool.

Why is Congress wasting its time on an inquest into steroid use in baseball, and exactly what article of the Constitution grants them the power to do so?

What... because the g-d d-mn president said so?

Don't they have a tit to outlaw or something?

Daniel Gross has an interesting take on the NHL's current trouble. Last week Bain Capital in conjunction with Game Plan International offered to buy the entire NHL for a few billion buckaroos. The upshot is that hockey currently is behaving like a classic distressed industry so that it's ripe for a leveraged buyout (LBO). Gross prognosticates that if this scheme goes through, Bain/GPI will manage to save hockey by doing what LBO firms do - in this case cutting a third of the teams and imposing strict salary caps. Fair enough - I agree that hockey has overextended itself by aggressively expanding into uproven markets (Florida? The Carolinas?). However, Gross undercuts the attractiveness of his proposal at the end by admitting that hockey's new corporate overlords would nix teams in failing and shrinking markets, e.g. Buffalo and Pittsburgh.

That's the problem. The National Hockey League is not the National Hockey League without the Buffalo Sabres and the Pittsburgh Penguins. I also happen to think it's not a National Hockey League without the Hartford Whalers or the Minnesota North Stars, but that's milk long since spilt. The downside of corporate maneuvers like LBOs (or even outright sales) is that institutional memory and identity is devalued to the vanishing point. One reason so many mergers fail is because the two cultures do not mix and the wrong people (mid-level menial drones with long memories) are let go, leaving the company identity (and filing system!) adrift and floundering. A major part of sport is sentiment, and I cannot expect that a league run by Bain Capital - even if they are based in hockey-mad Boston - will pay any attention whatsoever to the noble and hereditary fan bases for the Pittsburgh Penguins or Buffalo Sabres, or even small-market/perpetual loser teams from the Original Six like the Red Wings or the Blackhawks.

Below the fold please find the complete list of 1,121 words and phrases banned for use on personalized jerseys at the NFL Shop. This post alone contains probably 1500 swears, which makes it worth $750,000,000,000 in FCC fines.

[wik] N.B. Although you may not currently order a custom jersey reading "MASTABATER," "MASTRABATOR" or "MASTABATE," jerseys reading "MASTURBATE" are not prohibited. Likewise, you may order a jersey reading "MEAT BEATER" but not "MEAT BEATTER" or "MEATBEATTER." Me, I want one that reads "COITUS" or perhaps "ROGER."

Now that George Plimpton is dead, am I the last living literate football fanatic (with, apparently, an untoward pension for alliteration)?

[alsø wik] Hat tip to Michele of A Small Victory.

[alsø alsø wik] Who the hell tried to order "SEX FARM?" And "NASTY WHORE," "PUBIC LICE" and "EASY SLUT?" What the hell is wrong with these people?

[wi nøt trei a høliday in Sweden this yër?] I will take this opportunity to point out that $750 billion is still only a tenth the current national debt of $7.7 trillion. Guess I have to try harder.
420
666
2 ON 1
3RD EYE
3RD LEG
3RDEYE
3RDLEG
3SOME
4 TWENTY
4TWENTY
60 NINE
60NINE
A.S.S.
ANAL
ANAL ANNIE
ANAL SEX
ANALANNIE
ANALSEX
ANUS
ARSE
ASS
ASS BAGGER
ASS BLASTER
ASS CLOWN
ASS COWBOY
ASS FUCK
ASS FUCKER
ASS HOLE
ASS HOLES
ASS HORE
ASS JOCKEY
ASS KISS
ASS KISSER
ASS KLOWN
ASS LICK
ASS LICKER
ASS LOVER
ASS MAN
ASS MONKEY
ASS MUNCH
ASS MUNCHER
ASS PACKER
ASS PIRATE
ASS PUPPIES
ASS RANGER
ASS WHORE
ASS WIPE
ASSBAGGER
ASSBLASTER
ASSCLOWN
ASSCOWBOY
ASSFUCK
ASSFUCKER
ASSHOLE
ASSHOLES
ASSHORE
ASSJOCKEY
ASSKISS
ASSKISSER
ASSKLOWN
ASSLICK
ASSLICKER
ASSLOVER
ASSMAN
ASSMONKEY
ASSMUNCH
ASSMUNCHER
ASSPACKER
ASSPIRATE
ASSPUPPIES
ASSRANGER
ASSWHORE
ASSWIPE
ATHLETES FOOT
ATHLETESFOOT
AXING THE WEASEL
B HARD
BACK DOOR
BACK DOOR MAN
BACKDOOR
BACKDOORMAN
BACKSEAT
BAD ASS
BAD FUCK
BADFUCK
BALL LICKER
BALL SACK
BALLLICKER
BALLS
BALLSACK
BANGING
BARELY LEGAL
BARELYLEGAL
BARF
BARF FACE
BARFACE
BARFFACE
BASTARD
BAZONGAS
BAZOOMS
BEASTALITY
BEASTIALITY
BEAT OFF
BEAT YOUR MEAT
BEATOFF
BEAT-OFF
BEATYOURMEAT
BI
BI SEXUAL
BIATCH
BIG ASS
BIG BITCH
BIG BITCH
BIG BUTT
BIGASS
BIGBASTARD
BIGBUTT
BISEXUAL
BI-SEXUAL
BITCH
BITCHES
BITCHIN
BITCHY
BITE ME
BITEME
BLACK OUT
BLACKOUT
BLOW JOB
BLOWJOB
BM
BONER
BONG
BOOBIES
BOOBS
BOODY
BREAST
BREAST JOB
BREAST LOVER
BREAST MAN
BREASTJOB
BREASTLOVER
BREASTMAN
BUDWEISER
BULL CRAP
BULL DIKE
BULL DYKE
BULL SHIT
BULLCRAP
BULLDIKE
BULLDYKE
BULLSHIT
BUMBLE FUCK
BUMBLEFUCK
BUMFUCK
BUNGHOLE
BUTCH BABES
BUTCH DIKE
BUTCH DYKE
BUTCHBABES
BUTCHDIKE
BUTCHDYKE
BUTT BANG
BUTT FUCK
BUTT FUCKER
BUTT FUCKERS
BUTT HEAD
BUTT MAN
BUTT PLUG
BUTT STAIN
BUTTBANG
BUTT-BANG
BUTTFACE
BUTTFUCK
BUTT-FUCK
BUTTFUCKER
BUTT-FUCKER
BUTTFUCKERS
BUTT-FUCKERS
BUTTHEAD
BUTTMAN
BUTTPIRATE
BUTTPLUG
BUTTSTAIN
CAMEL TOE
CAMELTOE
CARPET MUNCHER
CARPETMUNCHER
CARRUTH
CHERRY POPPER
CHERRYPOPPER
CHICK SLICK
CHICKSLICK
CLAM DIGGER
CLAM DIVER
CLAMDIGGER
CLAMDIVER
CLIT
CLITORIS
COCK
COCK BLOCK
COCK BLOCKER
COCK COWBOY
COCK FIGHT
COCK KNOB
COCK LICKER
COCK LOVER
COCK NOB
COCK QUEEN
COCK RIDER
COCK SMITH
COCK SUCKER
COCK TAIL
COCK TEASE
COCKBLOCK
COCKBLOCKER
COCKCOWBOY
COCKFIGHT
COCKHEAD
COCKKNOB
COCKLICKER
COCKLOVER
COCKNOB
COCKQUEEN
COCKRIDER
COCKS MAN
COCKSMAN
COCKSMITH
COCKSUCER
COCKSUCKER
COCKTAIL
COCKTEASE
COCKY
CONDOM
COPULATE
CORN HOLE
CORNHOLE
CRABS
CRACK
CRACK PIPE
CRACK WHORE
CRACKPIPE
CRACKWHORE
CRACK-WHORE
CRAP
CRAPPY
CREAMY
CROTCH
CROTCH JOCKEY
CROTCH MONKEY
CROTCH ROT
CROTCHJOCKEY

CROTCHMONKEY
CROTCHROT
CUM
CUM BUBBLE

CUM FEST
CUM JOCKEY
CUM QUAT
CUM QUEEN
CUM SHOT
CUMBUBBLE
CUMFEST
CUMJOCKEY
CUMM
CUMMING
CUMQUAT
CUMQUEEN
CUMSHOT
CUNNILINGUS
CUNT
CUNT FUCK
CUNT FUCKER
CUNT LICKER
CUNTFUCK
CUNTFUCKER
CUNTLICKER
CYBER SEX
CYBER SLIMER
CYBERSEX
CYBERSLIMER
DAHMER
DAMN
DAMN IT
DAMNIT
DATNIGGA
DD
DEAP THROAT
DEAPER
DEAPTHROAT
DEEP THROAT
DEEPER
DEEPTHROAT
DEFECATE
DEPOSIT
DEVIL
DICK BRAIN
DICK FART
DICK FOR BRAINS
DICK HEAD
DICK LICK
DICK LICKER
DICK LIKCER
DICK WAD
DICK WEED
DICKBRAIN
DICKFORBRAINS
DICKHEAD
DICKLESS
DICKLICK
DICKLICKER
DICKMAN
DICKWAD
DICKWEED
DIKE
DILDO
DIP STICK
DIPSTICK
DIRTY HO
DIX
DIXIE DIKE
DIXIE DYKE
DIXIEDIKE
DIXIEDYKE
DO ME
DOGGIE STYLE
DOGGIESTYLE
DOGGY STLYE
DOGGYSTYLE
DOME
DONG
DOPE
DOUBLE D
DOUBLED
DRAG QUEEN
DRAGQUEEN
DRAGQWEEN
DRE
DRIP DICK
DRIPDICK
DRUNK
DRUNKEN
DUMB ASS
DUMB BITCH
DUMB FUCK
DUMBASS
DUMBBITCH
DUMBFUCK
EASY SLUT
EASYSLUT
EAT ME
EAT PUSSY
EATBALLS
EATME
EATPUSSY
EJACULATE
ERECTION
EVL
EXCREMENT
F TOYOTA
F.I.N.E.
F.U.C.K.
FACE FUCKER
FACEFUCKER
FAGGOT
FAGOT
FAIRY
FANNY FUCKER
FANNYFUCKER
FART
FAST FUCK
FASTFUCK
FAT ASS
FAT FUCK
FAT FUCKER
FATASS
FATFUCK
FATFUCKER
FATSO
FELLATIO
FEMME
FINGER FOOD
FINGER FUCK
FINGER FUCKER
FINGERFOOD
FINGERFUCK
FINGERFUCKER
FIST FUCK
FIST FUCKER
FISTFUCK
FISTFUCKER
FISTING
FLASHER
FLATULENCE
FLOGGIN THE DOLPHIN
FONDLE
FOOT FUCK
FOOT FUCKER
FOOT LICKER
FOOTACTION
FOOTFUCK
FOOTFUCKER
FOOTLICKER
FOOTSTAR
FORE SKIN
FORESKIN
FORNICATE
FOUR 20
FOUR TWENTY
FOUR20
FOURTWENTY
FREAK FUCK
FREAKFUCK
FREAKY FUCKER
FREAKYFUCKER
FREE 4 ALL
FREE FOR ALL
FREE FUCK
FREE4ALL
FREEFORALL
FREEFUCK
FUCK
FUCK BAG
FUCK BUDDY
FUCK FACE
FUCK FEST
FUCK FREAK
FUCK FRIEND
FUCK HEAD
FUCK HER
FUCK IT
FUCK KNOB
FUCK ME
FUCK ME HARD
FUCK MONKEY
FUCK OFF
FUCK PIG
FUCK THEM
FUCK WHORE
FUCK YOU
FUCKA
FUCKABLE
FUCKBAG
FUCKBUDDY
FUCKED
FUCKED UP
FUCKEDUP
FUCKER
FUCKERS
FUCKFACE
FUCKFEST
FUCKFREAK
FUCKFRIEND
FUCKHEAD
FUCKHER
FUCKIN
FUCKIN A
FUCKIN NUTS
FUCKIN RIGHT
FUCKINA
FUCKING
FUCKING A
FUCKING BITCH
FUCKING NUTS
FUCKINGBITCH
FUCKINNUTS
FUCKINRIGHT
FUCKIT
FUCKKNOB
FUCKME
FUCKMEHARD
FUCKMONKEY
FUCKOFF
FUCKPIG
FUCKWHORE
FUCKYOU
FUDGE PAKCERS
FUN FUCK
FUNFUCK
FUUCK
G UNIT
GANG BANG
GANG BANGER
GANGBANG
GANGBANGER
GAY (editor's note: to be removed from the list)
GAY ASS
GAY MUTHA FUCKIN QUEER
GAY PRIDE
GAYMUTHAFUCKINWHORE
GENITAL
GET IT ON
GETITON
GIEHN
GIVE HEAD
GIVEHEAD
GLAZED DONUT
GLAZEDDONUT
GO ME
GO TO HELL
GOD
GOD DAMED MUTHA FUCKA
GOD DAMIT
GOD DAMN
GOD DAMNED
GOD MANIT
GODDAMIT
GODDAMN
GODDAMNED
GODDAMNES
GODDAMNIT
GODDAMNMUTHAFUCKER
GONORREHEA
GONZAGAS
GOOK
GOT JESUS
GOT2HAVEIT
GOTOHELL
G-UNIT
HAND JOB
HANDJOB
HARD ON
HARDER
HARDON
HAREM
HE HATE ME
HEAD FUCK
HEAD LIGHTS

HEADFUCK
HEADLIGHTS
HEHATEME
HELL
HELL NO
HELL YES
HELLNO
HELLYES
HEN HOUSE
HENHOUSE
HERPES
HERSHEY HI WAY
HERSHEYHIGHWAY
HERSHEYHIWAY
HERSHY HIGH WAY
HO
HO MO
HOBO
HOLE
HOLE STUFFER
HOLESTUFFER
HOMO
HOMO BANGERS
HOMO SEXUAL
HOMOBANGERS
HOMOSEXUAL
HONKERS
HONKEY
HOOKER
HOOKERS
HOOTERS
HORE
HORNEY
HORNY
HORSESHIT
HOSE JOB
HOSEJOB
HOSER
HOSTAGE
HOT DAMN
HOT PUSSY
HOT TO TROT
HOT2TROT
HOTDAMN
HOTPUSSY
HOTTOTROT
HUSSY
HUSTLER
I LOVE BEER
I LUV BEER
ID TEN T
ID10T
IDIOT
IDOIT
IN THE ASS
IN THE BUFF
INGIN
INSEST
INTER COURSE
INTER RACIAL
INTERCOURSE
INTERRACIAL
INTHEASS
INTHEBUFF
JACK THE RIPPER
JACKASS
JACKOFF
JACKTHERIPPER
JAP
JAP CRAP
JAPCRAP
JERK OFF
JERKOFF
JESUS CHIRST
JESUSCHRIST
JISM
JIZ
JIZ JUICE
JIZIM
JIZJUICE
JIZZ
JIZZIM
JOINT
JUGGALO
JUGS
K MART
KILL
KILLER
KILLING
KISS ASS
KISSASS
KKK
KMART
KNOCKERS
KOON
KOTEX
KRAP
KRAPPY
KUM
KUM BUBBLE
KUM QUAT
KUMBUBBLE
KUMBULLBE
KUMQUAT
KUNT
KY
KY JELLY
LACTATE
LADY BOOG
LAID
LAP DANCE
LAPDANCE
LESBAIN
LESBAYN
LESBIAN
LESBIN
LESBO
LEZ
LEZ BE
LEZ BE FRIENDS
LEZBE
LEZBEFRIENDS
LEZBO
LEZZ
LEZZO
LICK ME
LICKER
LICKME
LIMP DICK
LIMPDICK
LIMY
LIVE SEX
LIVESEX
LL
LOADED GUN
LOADEDGUN
LOLITA
LOOSER
LOTION
LOVE BONE
LOVE GOO
LOVE GUN
LOVE JUICE
LOVE MUSCLE
LOVE PISTOL
LOVE ROCKET
LOVEBONE
LOVEGOO
LOVEGUN
LOVEJUICE
LOVEMUSCLE
LOVEPISTOL
LOVEROCKET
LOW LIFE
LOWLIFE
LUBE JOB
LUBEJOB
LUCKY CAMEL TOE
LUCKYCAMMELTOE
MAGIC WAND
MAGICWAND
MAMS
MAN HATER
MAN PASTE
MANHATER
MANPASTE
MARY JANE
MARYJANE
MASTABATE
MASTABATER
MASTER BLASTER
MASTERBATE
MASTERBLASTER
MASTRABATOR
MATTRESS PRINCESS
MATTRESSPRINCESS
MEAT BEATTER
MEATBEATTER
MOLEST
MOLESTER
MOLESTOR
MONEY SHOT
MONEYSHOT
MOTHER FUCKER
MOTHER LOVE BONE
MOTHERFUCK
MOTHERFUCKER
MOTHERLOVEBONE
MUFF
MUFF DIVE
MUFF DIVER
MUFF LICKER
MUFFDIVE
MUFFDIVER
MUFFIN DIVER
MUFFINDIVER
MUFFLIKCER
MURDER
MUTHA FUCKER
NAKED
NASTY BITCH
NASTY HO
NASTY SLUT
NASTY WHORE
NASTYBITCH
NASTYHO
NASTYSLUT
NASTYWHORE
NEON DEON
NIG
NIGER
NIGGA
NIGGER
NIPPLE
NIPPLE RING
NIPPLERING
NIT TIT
NITTIT
NO FUCKING WAY
NO SEX
NOFUCKINGWAY
NOOKIE
NOONER
NUDE
NUT FUCKER
NUTFUCKER
OICU812
ON THE RAG
ONTHERAG
ORGASM
ORGY
OU812
OUI
P I M P
PEARL NECKLACE
PEARLNECKLACE
PECKER
PEE
PEEP SHOW
PEEPSHOW
PEEPSHPW
PENETRATION
PENIS
PENTHOUSE
PERIOD
PHQUE
PIMP
PIMP SIMP
PIMPED
PIMPER
PIMPJUIC
PIMPJUICE
PIMPSIMP
PISS
PISS HEAD
PISSED
PISSER
PISSHEAD
PLAY BOY
PLAY GIRL
PLAYBOY
PLAYGIRL
POCKET POOL
POCKETPOOL
POLACK
POON TANG
POONTANG
POOP
POOPER
POOR WHITE TRASH
POORWHITETRASH
POPIMP
PORCH MONKEY
PORCHMONKEY
PORN
PORN FLICK
PORN KING
PORN PRINCESS
PORNFLICK
PORNKING
PORNO
PORNPRINCESS
POT
PREMATURE
PRICK
PRICK HEAD
PRICKHEAD
PRIMETIME
PROSTITUTE
PUBIC
PUBIC LICE
PUBICLICE
PUD
PUD BOY
PUDBOY
PUDD
PUDD BOY
PUDDBOY
PUN TANG
PUNTANG
PURINA PRINCESS
PURINAPRICNESS
PUSSY
PUSSY CAT
PUSSY EATER
PUSSY FUCKER
PUSSY LICKER
PUSSY LIPS
PUSSY LOVER
PUSSY POUNDER
PUSSYCAT
PUSSYEATER
PUSSYFUCKER
PUSSYLICKER
PUSSYLIPS
PUSSYLOVER
PUSSYPOUNDER
PUTT PIRATE
PWT
QUEEF
QUEER
QUICKIE
RAE CARRUTH
RAPE
RAPIST
REAR END
REAR ENTRY
REAREND
REARENTRY
RECTUM
RED LIGHT
REDLIGHT
REEFER
RENT A FUCK
RENTAFUCK
RETARD
RETARDED
RIBBED
RIM JOB
RIMJOB
ROACH
ROBBER
S AND M
S&M
SAMCKDADDY
SANDM
SATAN
SCHLONG
SCREW
SCREW YOU
SCREWYOU
SCROTUM
SEMEN
SEX
SEX FARM
SEX HOUND
SEX HOUSE
SEX KITTEN
SEX POT
SEX SLAVE
SEX TO GO
SEX TOY
SEX TOYS
SEX WHORE
SEXFARM
SEXHOUND
SEXHOUSE
SEXKITTEN
SEXPOT
SEXSLAVE
SEXTOGO
SEXTOY
SEXTOYS
SEXUAL
SEXWHORE
SEXY
SEXY BIATCH
SEXY BITCH
SEXY MOMA
SEXY SLIM
SEXYMOMA
SEXY-SLIM
SHAG
SHAGGIN
SHAGGING
SHAWTYPIMP
SHIT
SHIT DICK
SHIT EATER
SHIT FACE
SHIT FOR BRAINS
SHIT FUCK
SHIT FUCKER
SHIT HAPPENS
SHIT HEAD
SHIT OUT OF LUCK
SHIT STAIN
SHIT4BRAINS
SHITDICK
SHITEATER
SHITFACE
SHITFORBRAINS
SHITFUCK
SHITFUCKER
SHITHAPENS
SHITHAPPENS
SHITHEAD
SHITOUTOFLUCK
SHITS
SHITSTAIN
SHITTER
SHITTING
SHITTY
SHORT FUCK
SHORTFUCK
SHOWTIME
SIX SIX SIX
SIXSIXSIX
SIXTY 9
SIXTY NINE
SIXTY9
SIXTYNINE
SKANK
SKANK BITCH
SKANK FUCK
SKANK WHORE
SKANKBITCH
SKANKFUCK
SKANKWHORE
SKANKY BITCH
SKANKY WHORE
SKANKYBITCH
SKANKYWHORE
SKIN FLUTE
SKINFLUTE
SKUM
SKUM BAG
SKUMBAG
SLANT
SLANT EYE
SLANTEYE
SLAVE
SLAVE DRIVER
SLAVEDRIVER
SLEEZE BAG
SLEEZE BALL
SLEEZEBAG
SLEEZEBALL
SLIDE IT IN
SLIDEITIN
SLIME
SLIME BALL
SLIME BUCKET
SLIMEBALL
SLIMEBUCKET
SLUT
SLUT WEAR
SLUT WHORE
SLUTS
SLUTT
SLUTTING
SLUTTY
SLUTWEAR
SLUTWHORE
SMACK DADDY
SMACK THE MONKEY
SMACKTHEMONKEY
SMAGMA
SMART ASS
SNATCH
SNATCH PATCH
SNATCHPATCH
SNIPER
SNOT
SOB
SODOMITE
SODOMY
SON OF A BITCH
SONOFABITCH
SONOFBITCH
SPANK THE MONKEY
SPANKTHEMONKEY
SPERM
SPERM BAG
SPERM HEARDER
SPERM HERDER
SPERMACIDE
SPERMBAG
SPERMHEARDER
SPERMHERDER
SPIC
SPICK
SPIT
SPITTER
SPLIT TAIL
SPLIT TIAL
SPLITTAIL
STAGG
STRAP ON
STRAPON
STRINGER
STRIP CLUB
STRIPCLUB
STROKE
STROKING
STUPID
STUPID FUCK

STUPID FUCKER
STUPIDFUCK
STUPIDFUCKER
SUCK
SUCK DICK
SUCK ME
SUCK MY ASS
SUCK MY DICK
SUCK MY TIT
SUCK OFF
SUCKDICK
SUCKER
SUCKME
SUCKMYASS
SUCKMYDICK
SUCKMYTIT
SUCKOFF
SUICIDE
SWALLOW
SWALLOWER
SWALOW
SWEETNESS
SWIGN DIXX
SWING DIXX
SWINGIN DIXX
SWINGING DICKS
SYPHILIS
TAMPON
TANG
TESTICLE
TESTICLES
THIRD EYE
THIRD LEG
THIRDEYE
THIRDLEG
THREE SOME
THREESOME
TIT
TIT BIT NIPPLY
TIT FUCK
TIT FUCKER
TIT FUCKIN
TIT JOB
TIT LICKER
TIT LOVER
TITBITNIPPLY
TITFUCK
TITFUCKER
TITFUCKIN
TITJOB
TITLICKER
TITLOVER
TITS
TITTIES
TITTY
TOILET
TOILET BOWL
TONGETHRUSTER
TONGUE
TONGUE THRUSTER
TONGUE TRAMP
TONGUETHRUST
TONGUETRAMP
TOUNG THRUSTER
TOUNGE BALLER
TOUNGE THRUST
TRAILER TRASH
TRAILERTRASH
TRAMP
TRI SEXUAL
TRIPLE X
TRIPLEX
TRISEXUAL
TROJAN
TROTS
TUNNEL OF LOVE
TUNNELOFLOVE
TURD
TWO BIT WHORE
TWO ON ONE
TWOBITWHORE
UNFUCKABLE
UP THE ASS
UP THE BUTT
UPSKIRT
UPTHEASS
UPTHEBUTT

As all the world should by now know, I am a huge Cleveland Browns fan. Since I live in New England I typically get to view with my own peepers approximately 1.035 Browns games per year, factoring in occasional highlights on ESPN. Consequently, when I was home in Ohia for the holidays, I took the opportunity to view the Miami-Cleveland matchup slated for the day after Christmas, although neither team is, erm... any good.

Wow. What a stinker.

The game was so bad that by the end of the 3rd quarter with the score tied 7-7, the Cleveland home announcers were wishing aloud for someone to please score now, to end the misery before overtime was necessary. Fumbles, missed calls, stumbling, and penalty after penalty after stupid-ass penalty combined to make the Browns and Dolphins-- all highly trained professionals, all well paid to play their best at all times-- look as ragged and lost as a division III-C junior varsity high school football game, say the Garrettsville, OH (pop. 2200) G-Men versus the Mogadore, OH (pop 3800) Wildcats. Passes clanged to the ground uncaught. Running plays misfired. Offensive and defensive lines tangled into an unruly mess devoid of plan, strategy, or sense. The middle part of the field became muddy; you could have put a putting green inside the 20-yard lines.

I only mention all this because this stinker of a game resulted in a "what-what-WHAT?!?" play that I will forever treasure as the greatest display of bad football I have ever witnessed. It happened with about 10 minutes to go in the third quarter, and went a little something like this:

1-10-CLV 40 (10:12) 12-L.McCown pass intended for 86-D.Northcutt INTERCEPTED by 20-A.Freeman at MIA 20. 20-A.Freeman to MIA 21 for 1 yard. FUMBLES, recovered by MIA-23-P.Surtain at MIA 18. 23-P.Surtain to MIA 26 for 8 yards. Lateral to 29-S.Madison to MIA 30 for 4 yards. FUMBLES, RECOVERED by CLV-67-M.Fowler at MIA 34. 67-M.Fowler to MIA 34 for no gain (20-A.Freeman).

That's a pass thrown by Cleveland rookie QB Luke McCown (who?!?) intercepted by Miami, then fumbled, then recovered by Miami, then a crazy-ass lateral pass just before tackle, followed by another Miami fumble, recovered by Cleveland's center-- not a running back, not a receiver, for a fricking Cleveland first down.

This post brought to you by Howard, Howard, Howard, and Fine.

Jeremy Blachman of Crescat Sententia has done a horrible, wonderful thing: taken samplings of recent Lexis/Nexis headlines about the Boston Red Sox Base Ball Squadron and Palestinian Ghoul Yasser Arafat and swapped key words. To wit:

"Successors jostle for position as Red Sox cling to life"
"Red Sox alive but condition is 'very complex', say French"
"Arafat has little hope of returning to the Bronx"
"Red Sox death to be announced Tuesday"
"Arafat beats long odds; Mo's blown save gives him life"
"Israel says it is preparing for rise in violence after Red Sox death"
"Red Sox condition still a mystery as Palestinian leaders head to Paris"
"Arafat fans destined to suffer"
"Red Sox linger"
"Fenway to rescue; Arafat hopes old ballpark can save him"
"With Red Sox between life and death, minds turn to 'day after'"
"Arafat hopes to 'shock the world'"
"Rivals on Red Sox death watch"
"Not in danger -- Officials deny Red Sox are dying"
"Ortiz 12th inning homer keeps Arafat's hopes alive"
"Aides want Red Sox dead, wife says"
"Arafat hopes for 'monster' comeback"

Does it make me a bad person if I think this brings the funny?

The Red Sox' postseason run is shaping up an awful lot like Greek tragedy, and not your usual one, either. The Greeks sort of went in for that tacit "he's f**ked" vibe in their morality plays without ever spelling it out. The Red Sox are more likely living out a fate similar to Ionesco's retelling of Oedipus Rex where you are told right at the beginning by narrators how Oedipus will spend the next three hours being f**ked, in precisely what ways, and how his anguish matches perfectly in method and measure with some capricious twist of fate he had an accidental hand in long ago.

I mention this because every Red Sox fan in the world knows that everying teeters on a knife's edge now. The Red Sox are one game away from winning the World Series, and indeed have gone 3-0 against their opponents to get to this point.

But wait. Just last week the Red Sox dispatched their oldest and most hated rivals by losing three and winning four. I am convinced that by this weekend, the hands of what cruel gods rule baseball will be visible in the heavens as the Red Sox slide inexorably to their horrible, crushing, and perfectly greek-tragic-symmetrical fate, losing the next four games to fall in seven to the same franchise that has beaten them twice before-- but this time losing the World Series in the exact same way they won to get there. Along the way, they will find that, having killed their enemy, they have become him.

It's only a short step from Calvinistic predestination to talk of modern-day Greek Gods. It doesn't help that Kevin Youkilis, the God of Walks, actually plays for the Sox. It's over folks. Remember, you read it here first.

[wik]...... OR NOT.

*WHEW.* Now maybe I can get some sleep.

The world's oldest man is a lifelong Red Sox fan.