In the words of the great philosophe Dehbashi, "I couldn't be happier". Fox sent me on a paid leave of absence for posting some "controversial" content (not that there's anything wrong with soccer), and I come back to see that almost all is right with the world. Here's why:

1. The NFL Season fast approaches. The seven barren months are soon to be over.

Hell, even "Basketball Duds" did a piece on Quarterbacks. A fantastic piece by the way. A few clowns jumped in to throw salt in his game, but who cares? I loved it. I'll forgive a few errors for outstanding content anyday

Duds, that was ESPN page 2 stuff, all day long. Kudos my man!!!! Keep NGS hope alive!!!

2. The scumsucking, shitbox, #### in Atlanta is a few phone calls away from being a free agent that no team, except the CB4 All Stars, will touch.

I warned you guys. I hate to say I told you how it would go down, but I told you exactly how it would go down.

Now here's what happened/will happen (write this down Lisa, maybe you can steal something right for a change).

Arthur Blank returns from Africa, calls a very powerful attorney friend and asks that friend to call the US Attorney.

The powerful friend calls the Assistant US Attorney and asks him one question; "are you guys gonna put this kid away"? The AUSA says "look, the guy couldn't have been more  jailworthy if he sold videos of himself beating up old ladies in wheelchairs while they were getting chemotherapy. We're not only gonna put him in jail, we want to put him in jail and we have to put him in jail.

Powerful friend calls back Artie and says; "The kid is toast, and not because he's toast ####, either. He's going away.

Blank huddles with his PR people to deliver the news and get their spin. The PR guys say "Art, there is no spin, shed this punk like a bad $130mm habit. He's gonna make your team the most hated franchise in sports history. The only thing you should be thinking about is how you can get the government to freeze his assets so you can recover some of the money you burned."

Blank calls Roger Goodell and says, "I want to suspend the kid, okay?" Goody says "Unless you're suspending him by a rope from a tree, let me handle this. You guys sat on your #### long enough. Leave it to me and the Feds. You wanna have a Press Conference to save face, go ahead, it's good for the league. But I can't trust you to take appropriate action."

The NFL conducts an investigation and suspends Vick indefintely pending the results of the case.

Vick either takes a plea or continues to be a psychopath (thinks he's above the law) fights the charges and earns triple the jail time he would have gotten with the plea. Either way, he's gone for at least 2-3 seasons in the best case scenario. 2-3 seasons for the NFL's worst technical QB to get rusty, older and slower. Then, for giggles, he tries a comeback and finds few takers for an ex-con who wouldn't even take responsibility for his reprehensible conduct. If he's lucky, he ends up at RB in the CFL, where he belonged in the first place.

There is a God, and he's watching out for the defenseless ones. I feel like I won the lotto. 

 

3.  BALCO is running out of liars for Barry

Yes it's true, there are cracks in the Balco armor. It can only get better from here. My guess is that some AUSA has Barry's picture taped to his mirror, and is squeezing the #### out of every lowlife that ever so much as passed the BALCO labs, to get the drop on Mr. May. Granted, Barry isn't as stupid as Mike Vick (he never told his mistress his name was John Canada, at least) but he's still at least sociopathic (again, thinks he's above the law) and he has a few enemies.

I loved the fact that Schilling called him out, but I'm gonna love the fact that sooner or later, someone higher up inside BALCO is going to get his taxes audited and then have to choose whether he or Barry gets indicted. Guess who loses? I only hope it's the same day Bonds hits 754. Then, I'll wet myself laughing.

4. No more Kobe v. Shaq Christmas Day Games. Thank you David Stern. Kobe has done the impossible. He's managed to make the most gifted player in the game, for the first time, totally irrelevant. Yes, we can argue about the George Gervin's and Pete Maravich's of their time, but they never singlehandedly turned a 3-time championship team into a playoff wannabe. If anything, those guys were the lone stars on some bad teams, who wanted great players around them. Kobe had great players around him, but wanted to get rid of them so he could be the lone star. He got it and now the Lakers are a joke.

Meanwhile, Shaq is already preparing for his life after b-ball. He's helping fat kids get thin in the offseason, now that's irony. But we have to face facts. D-Wade is the leading man in Miami. Shaq may stil be the most accounted for player in the NBA, but he's no longer the most dominant. I'm looking forward to seeing LeBron and Dwade on Santa's day. That's a pretty nice gift compared to an aging superstar and a perpetually petulant pisspot primadonna.

5. The Missing Link is gone!!! Long Live Mike Tomlin!!!

It took 15 years of suffering to get rid of the rotting berry of the Schotty Bush and replace him with the glowing, intellectual fruit of the Noll Tree. I almost don't care how we do in Pittsburgh this year,  (okay that's stupid) but I will suffer some growing pains with an intelligent, teaching coach, rather than flame out in January because an overpaid, overly-ugly cheerleader had no clue how to get a team ready for a big game.

I'm not jumping the gun on Tomlin, but I think he's in a great position to succeed with a franchise QB (with a full season to recover from his trauma), some gifted young players and a handful of vets to tie over the transition. I was disappointed that he didn't  junk Cowher's 52 (Okie) defense. But looking back it's the right move (personnel-wise) for at least this year. All in all the guy impresses me.

Now let the games begin.  Oh, and by the way, tell them that the streets belong to the Batman.

 

I was up pretty late last night. Even before I became middle aged, anything past 10 PM  was a stretch, now it's a 10k run.

I wasted yet more time tearing into a blogger who has a penchant for gross inaccuracies and the inability to face the music over them. Then of course, another chucklehead chimes in and throws a few tears my way, as well.

Guess This USC Alum and Win a Prize!!!

It made me wonder about two things:

1. Why are people so unwilling to admit that they've erred and can improve?

Have you seen these bloggers ????

2. Why is it that the overall quality of content on this site has declined so remarkably since the NGSII contest?

Another BOTD?

I already know the answer to #1, but keep trying to change it anyway. Many people want the spoils but not the sweat. Along with that, the human ego is more fragile in some than others, and the admission of an error is simply too frightening to face.

But he was a scab, I swear . . .

Those are human psychology issues, issues you can't solve on a website. So why do I try?

I try because the written word matters to me. I try because, in my two trips to the Ivory Tower, I've had the benefit of studying under the tutelage of some phenomenal writers. Educators who were so serious about the written word, that laziness, recklessness and worst of all, inaccuracy, didn't  earn a B- and a shove onto the next course. Those habits earned you a paper with holes in it and a re-take next semester.

How does this relate to sports, you ask? Because good sports writers should be good writers, but for some reason that's not the criteria here, not anymore anyway.

Which brings me to question 2, because it wasn't always this way. Not too long ago, but too long ago, a group of eager contestants competed to be the next great sportswriter (2.0) for this site. I competed, did well and was booted from the competition either for an application technicality or blasting Fox writer Dayn Perry, depending on how honestly one chooses to the debacle. Nonetheless, the competition was about being a "sports writer". But that compeitiion is long past us now, and most of those contestants appear rarely, if at all on this site. They've been replaced by a community comprised largely of simpering sycophants and reckless ranters, with the occasional identity thief thrown in for a little extra ####e.  

You're wrong! I am not, you @&%#!

It's gut-wrenching to watch, and impossible to change, yet I try.

But as dawn approached, as is often the case, a thought dawned on me. Maybe I'm asking more than is required. There's a reason blogging and writing have different names. So I looked up "blogging", and in the definition found no relationship to quality.

The Bloggo 2K7

Yet still my stomach churns when people put phrases to paper that are so glaringly inaccurate, poorly constructed and reckless in their execution. Worse yet, it sickens me when they dig their heels in refuse to fix the mess.

But the reality is, that sloppy work ethic isn't going to change. Because only when the student is ready, does the teacher appear. The bloggers want the spoils without the sweat. They're so emotionally fragile that admitting an error would crumble them like croutons.

Toto, were not at USC anymore . . .

It isn't going to change because the "bloggers" far outnumber the writers now. The folks who were willing to be judged and accept the possibility of being judged harshly have, for the most part, departed. The majority of the writers who were reaching for a prize and willing to do the work to win the prize have gone searcing for another prize.

What we're left with is either the controversy that results when one "checks" another writer/blogger or lowered expectations. There doesn't seem to be a middle ground.

I refuse to lower my personal expectations, but that doesn't mean I'll continue to expect more of those who do not expect more from themselves. Opening up a can of worms over glaring inaccuracies only gets you the peabrained challenge to prove how 33 + 7 =40, the request to cite works that have become public domain and the eventual resort to personal attacks.  Which of course is followed by criticism for responding in kind. (It's like the NBA, they always call the 2nd foul.)

So I'll hold tight to my convictions, and let the truth do the rest. Maybe I'll find an outlet for folks who take the use nouns and verbs more seriously than they take themselves. Who knows? I've seen stranger things.

"If MC's can't get with the sound that's goin' round then they need to sit down"

Craig Mack

So Kenrick Thomas challenges us all to be better bloggers and the bugs come out of the woodwork all chirping; "who do you think you are kid?"

I expected some, I could have won a ton of money betting on the complainers. But then "TheDan" hopped on the party-line train. I was very surprised. So I had to step in, tell them they were finished, tell them that the streets belong to the Batman.

Okay, maybe that's overkill, but I do have to ask a question. Why the agita?

A teenager, who is also a reader, made some remarks about the relative quality of the pieces on the site. He had a point. Any pool of talent is going to have its collective peaks and valleys. Any objective observer would peruse this site and come to two conclusions.

1. BOTD is never about quality. It's about rotating a few "pet" bloggers.

You can't tell me that "to-do lists", answering machine messages, poems, attacks and apologies are the best we have to offer.

2. Every now and then Fox plugs in the occasional  sensationalist rhetoric post as "most interesting" to make it look like they actually read the blogs.

I know, I love sensationalist rhetoric like fat kids love cake.  But if Fox actually read the blogs, there's no way on God's green Earth that Ed Hardiman doesn't get BOTD with his "All Star Apology". There's also no way Josh Q., ever hits the top 3 with his "stream of un-consciousness" silliness.

So let's just get this straight. Fox has a hand in lowering the bar for what was supposed to be a sports blog. If you praise people for writing junk, many will write junk, and those who don't will eventually get tired of using the forum. The kid missed that, but he's a kid. Kids miss things, so do adults, but we get fewer free passes.

The bloggers? Well I stop short of saying I don't blame them, because I blame them. But when something earns you accolades, it can be hard to resist one's ego. Not an excuse, just an explanation.

But it leads me to a question.

Why are you folks so worked up anyway? Being a real writer comes with both the rewards and the rants. You're going to receive criticism. Mitch Albom, who began earning fame writing sports for the Detroit Free Press, was long considered the "weak-link" on ESPN's Sports Reporters. Now he sells a bazillion copies writing about human interests. "Tuesday's with Morrie", The Five People . . . .", For One More Day", etc.. While his first two books reduced me to a sobbing mess, the third is doubtlessly another version of the formula he used for the first two. Nonetheless, I will read it and cry for 45 minutes afterward. So is Mitch great, or is he manipulative? Is he fabulous or formulaic? The answer is yes. And he'll be getting both praise and criticism for as long as he puts himself, willingly, into the public eye.

More importantly, he'll be getting money. Which is why people write books that are also for sale.

So what insulates you folks from criticism, anyway? Did you sign a deal with the Devil? Last I checked, as long as people gave folks the chance to tell them "you're great" there was another line waiting to tell them "you suck". (See; Spears, Britney).

But you guys are immune to that? Someone gave you a shot, right?

You know what Jimmy from South Park says; "It's like, come on."

So a kid told you to get yourselves some "act-right". Big deal, odds are high that there was much truth to his critique. So he's 17. What was that line "and a child shall lead them . . "

Just who exactly is so good here, that they couldn't possibly raise their game? In 1992, John Grisham sold 12% of all the books in the US. 12 frickin' percent!!!!!! Multi-mega-billion dollar corporations would move mountains to capture that % of a market. Yet Grisham spits out a few hundered pages of formulaic, warmed-over literary pablum and sets a record that will likely never be touched. Still he was assailed as a guy who "writes nice stories at an 8th grade level" in every literary circle.

Face facts folks. If you put yourself out there, 10% of people will like you, no matter what, 15% will hate you, no matter what, and 75% you're gonna have to win over.

It's like, come on . . . . .

Recognize the photo?

I can't help but be reminded of Miles Davis later in his career, offering tutelage (as much as Miles could be accused of tutoring) to a student on the vicissitudes on Jazz. Miles turned to the sprout and said;

"Now listen to this"  Miles said, drew the trumpet as if to blow, and then sat silently for a few minutes. The student grew impatient with the silence and finally burst out "But you're not playing anything!" Miles responded, in his typical gravelly, near whisper, "Yeah, that's Jazz kid, it's all about the notes you don't play".

I've long been a huge fan of music, and a lover of what I call the "new classical music", Jazz. The fact is, you can't swing a dead cat in a Jazz discussion and not hit someone talking about Miles. That's his legacy. Undeniable greatness.

In that way Miles is like Michael Jordan. Even those that hated Jordan, can not deny him. But Davis in knowledgeable circles, is said to have had two careers. The Miles that played a lot of notes and the Miles that played fewer notes. We see this often in Jazz artists, they realize that their musical impact is actually increased with interstitial silence, the notes they don't play.

For Michael, the shots he didn't take helped him become an undeniable great. Because the shots you don't take leave the defense guessing. It's that fraction of a second's defensive uncertainty, that creates opportunity.

Are you listening Kobe? If you ever want to be "the" guy, there has to be at least the slightest chance that you'll give up the rock, not matter what, no matter when. It's that moment of uncertainty that will force the D to guard other people, or (I know it frightens you) let them them make a shot. You don't have games where you decide to be the assist man, because the media cracked on you for lofting 45 shots the night before, and you don't have entire stretches where you run the court and square up as though it's one-on-five.

That's why KG doesn't want to play with you Kobe. That's why nobody's screaming "trade me to the Lakers". For you, it's still about the shots you don't, don't take.

A few years from now, Barry Bonds will be a baseball memory, and will begin making the headlines for another reason. Barry will be breaking down in the public eye, displaying the frailty and weakness he's sold his soul to fend off. He'll be in a wheelchair, awaiting a knee or hip transplant. Or he'll be in a hospital bed, awaiting a tumor removal. Maybe he'll remind us of Lyle Alzado, dying from cancer, traveling the country lecturing on the evils of steroids.

Nah, Barry will never have the courage to admit he was a cheat. But his body will do that for him. Because you can't deny father time. Aging is like an annuity,  You either get your obsolence gradually, or sell out for one lump sum.

That's why I've laid off arguing over Baroids. Soon enough, the truth of this farce will be seen in the light of day. Short of disappearing like Greta Garbo, Bonds choice will be "clear" to all of us. And his suffering will be punishment enough. So leave him be. That's the best punishment for Bonds anyway. It was always about "negative press is better than no press at all" for him.

For Barry, it's always been about the shots he didn't, didn't take.

Unfortunatley for Bonds, he never had Shaquille O'Neal on his team. So he doesn't even have the jewelry Kobe has.

It's too late for Bonds, he's gonna die ugly, likely with no compassion from the folks he chose to disrespect and defraud. But it may not be too late for Kobe; at least to become a better round-baller, that is. He may still have a chance to prove that he's a championship caliber player, without Shaq to distract the D.

Funny, isn't it?, Art (in this case the art of Jazz) really does imitate life, or is it life that imitates art? The shots you don't take can make you, and the shots you do take just might kill you.

More news as Barry develops . . . . .

I can't remember the last time I posted more than once in a day. That might mean it was a long time ago, and it might mean I have early onset Alzheimer's. Either way, there's nothing I can do about it.

When I was a kid, back in the 70's, there were three things to which I truly looked forward: Chocolate Cake, CocaCola, and the Pittsburgh Steelers. Growing up in Western NY, I became a Steelers fan purely by incident. It was December 31st, 1972. Being Six, I didn't know what New Year's Eve was all about, I just felt energetic. So energetic that I decided to spend a few minutes jumping on my parents bed. It started off nicely, but ended up badly. I lost my balance and smacked my head on the nightstand. I didn't feel so energetic after that. I spent the rest of the day with a screaming headache, flipping channels until I happened upon a Football Game. I had never seen a football game in my six years, but it fascinated me. Naturally I felt the need to choose a team. The Steelers lost that day. TB broke his leg, Larry Seiple faked a punt and Shula's Fish were 16-0. But they won me. From then on I spent the fala and winter weeks waiting for Sunday and the spring and summer waiting for fall. When they won, all was right with the world. When they lost, it hurt so bad I wanted to cry.

Growing up as Steeler fan made it easy to love football. That Steelers team epitomized football. They were tough, intimidating, crunch- time, big-time performers. I was spoiled by 4 SB wins in the 6 years ending the decade. Along the way, I became a student of the sport. I can tell  you which number in a play call is the protection, I can draw up the 52 Okie, I can read a three deep, man high zone, and explaining zone blocking  is like making mudpies for me. If there's such a thing as a football geek. I am a football geek.

Many things have changed in 35 years. Steeler teams have come and gone, never anything like those Steelers, my Steelers. I'm still a Steeler fan, but my overall love of the game has grown. My wife constantly remarks about how the announcers "repeat" my commentary just after I say it.

That love of football though, grew to include the NHL, NBA, and even MLB  for a while.  I added Tennis and Golf, too. The truth is, there are few things I enjoy more than being outside, playing sports. Sports are as much a part of my life as anything else.

So when EdHardiman, shared some wisdom with me, I considered it carefully last night and throughout today. His answer led me to a very important question. What the hell am I doing here?

Before you rush to say "duh, writing about sports" consider the fact that most of my word count has been wasted engaing in meaningless pissing matches that have, as Ed so accurately put it, left me smelling like ####. And for what?

All because I got angry over a woman's vitriolic attempt to sound like a hard-boiled sports writer by taking a #### on a man's career. Not that that QB needed defending, he has a SB ring. How many men in the USA can say that? But it echoed so loudly of the hatchet job that Dayn Perry did on Babe Ruth. The one I lambasted so harshly that it got me kicked out of NGSII. Babe didn't need my help and Doug didn't either, but it hurt me for some reason. Those guys are heroes to me. Babe because he paved the way for baseball, and Doug because he proved that a black QB could keep a job in the NFL and win a SB too. How dare anyone try to tarnish their legacy?

I just haven't learned my lesson. Well, maybe not until today.

My conduct has been embarassing. I wrote an excellent piece on blacks who rush to defend other, criminal, blacks just because they share a skin color. I told them that they had become the (racists) they beheld.

Ironic, huh? I critique other for not being serious writers who respect the craft, and then I engage in name-calling, hate-banter, and gutter-mouthing.

Worst of all, I'm spending hours and hours on this. Hours in which I could be doing real writing, or painting, or listening to music, or best of all, playing sports.

As the years have passed, I have wondered aloud about what will become of generations tethered to mice and joysticks, and now I am chained to my computer, on the ready to issue a verbal beat-down if need be. I've even resorted to writing puff pieces, just to prove that I'm superior at that, as well. 

Now I  look in the mirror and see that I too, have become what I beheld. Shame on me.

So kids, I'm closin' the bait shop. And all have left today is advice for some of you. So here it is.

EdHardiman: Please continue to share your wisdom.

Debhashi: Don't check in with me so you can use my responses to bash me behind my back. That's just cowardly. Employ the "face rule of journalism". Don't print what you aren't willing to say directly to someone. 

GR8ONE: You're climbing a slippery slope when you call anyone arrogant while using the handle GR8ONE. Aside from that, you're one of the most persistent bashers on the board. People see that.

MeanDovine: Continue to lead by example. But please write more. The real writers need you.

Duds: Continue to express your thoughts from best possible place.

Norcal: Where are you? That's not advice. I'm  just wondering where you went.

Tophat; Stay un-afriad to stand against the masses. You're a true critical thinker.  Stop being so nice all the time, though.

Socal: Avoid statements like "this may sound like criticism, but it isn't". That tack is hilarious. Its easier to defend getting naked and then saying "you might think I'm naked, but I'm not.

Demonicume: Keep your herky-jerky style, just don't use it to disrespect men's wives, or any women for that matter. You're need to pull the dragon act back a notch.

Hogfan: Exercise your humor muscles more often. You were funnier in two lines than my entire "Paris" post.

Miracle: Keep it like you have it, but lay off of Dr. Phil.

LSU: You haven't been on this weekend, which probably means you have a life. I don't what I can offer you in that case.

AnotherOutlaw and UltraMega: My two evil arch-enemies. Please keep challenging me. I'll probably never agree with you on anything, but I'd fight like hell for your right to voice your opinions.

MartyWalker: Believe that there is a next world, a better world, and that your brother and sister will see you again. If emotions drive you, let hope be your chauffer.

Lisa: Everything you do, you own. Real writers check their work, and when they make mistakes they admit them. The bad choices that others make do not entitle you to bad choices.

TheDan:Again, we could use more from you. You write about sports.

JohnQ: Try to read more critcally, rather than get caught up in the purloined pleas. You've been easily duped.

and for all the rest: Let's try writing about and discussing sports, I'm game if you are.

Now I'm gonna go play some ball and act like a guy with a life or something.

 

 

 

It reminds me of the Gene Sheppard classic, a Christmas Story. "Ralphie" wants a Red-Ryder BB gun, but knows that if he tells his Mom, she'll just respond; "you'll shot your eye out". And even though Sheppard uses this running joke as a humorous device for his main plot, the fact is, BB guns are dangerous. It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye.

Which leads me to a personal quest. Another poster recently taught me how dangerous blogging can be, not just for the blogger, but the reader as well. I the time since, I've done some interviews and found out just how truly serious this problem is. (some would give only their intials, some gave real names and some gave screen names) I'm sure you'll be as shocked by these testimonials as I was. I have to caution you, some of the graphics are chilling, but the victims felt they were a necessary element to emonstarte the absolute horror and tragedy of this situation. So please, read with care.

 

" I was sitiing at my desk, just reading Fox Sports, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I swear, all I did was click the link, and whammo, the room starts shaking and I'm trapped  under my desk. Coincidence, I don't think so. When have you ever heard of an earthquake in Southern California. Now I'm paralyzed from the top of my little toe down to the bottom of my little toe. I'll never walk on that toe again. "

SC Fan

"I was typing my blog, it seemed like a perfectly normal day. I took a few shots at other bloggers, pushed the racists' buttons, and even threw in a joke or two. Then pow, out of the blue. My eyes are going crazy. They popped out of their sockets. I can't see God-dammit, I'm dictating this! I'm suing for punitive damages."

Mort Goldman

"So I'm writing another socially responsible, inoffensive, uninteresting, vanilla flavored blog. Then my stomach acts up and I run to the bathroom. Next thing you know, I'm ####ing a kidney. I'm not kidding, a kidney. Now I'll need Dialysis! Damn you Fox!"

D. Ski

"My daughter was only 16 when she started visiting the Fox site. She had this favorite author, you know the kind of writer you just can't get a fix on, then one day she's laughin' like a hyena,  looks down at her chair and her ovaries had done fell out. Now what good's a girl without ovaries here in West Virginia? Lordy, she was already sixteen, that's 73 in West Virginia years".

C. Iffer

" We didn' get the worst of it. Here in Oklahama, not everyone uses that there world wide webnet you city folk are so fond of, but anyway . . . . Our neighbor has one of them fancy satellites, so he's always clickin' away at his computer, click click click click click, I'm a hearin'. when I pass his window on my tractor. So one day, I hear him a sayin', I'll get you, you Dragon, then out of nowhere, one of them there, what did they call 'em Daisy? Tsunami, that's what it was, a soo-nahm-eee ti's pronounced. Damn thing durn near wiped out the block. Leveled his house though, a rancher, it was. All I know is, one minute I'm tillin' earth and the next, my neighbor floats by me in his desk chair. Darndest thing I ever done saw. Good news is we'll save a bundle on irrigation. Poor sucker did me a favor."

H. Fan

"It's still painful to discuss. One minute I'm logged in to the community, I hear a screech behind me, my cat is just gazing, glassy eyed at my computer, then all of a sudden he bursts into flames. Luckily I put him out with a fire extinguisher, but not before a lot of damage was done.  Now he's bald over 80% of his body. Where the hell am I going to find a Tabby Toupee? Can someone please tell me that? 'Cause I'm not sure they even make cat toupees, and if they do, I bet they're expensive."

M. Maz

'We knew Gramps didn't have a whole lot of time left, but it didn't have to end this way. One minute he's reading Fox Sports, then he starts shouting a few curse words. Not five minutes later, his head expoldes, blows clean off his neck. I've never seen anything like it, except maybe in those horror movies they show on cable at 3 AM, but that's not important right now. What matters is that that damn blog killed my Grandpa. I swear to God, I won't rest until the world knows his story. Congress needs to do something about this, pass a law against sports blogs, or something. Those things are dangerous. If it wasn't for that blog, Grampy would still be gumming his oatmeal."

Lila4UTEP

"My sister had carpal tunnel syndrome.  We knew she wasn't doing too well. She battled it fiercely, though. God knows how struggled to put on this wrists supports every day.  It makes me cry just to think of her stiff wrists and numb fingers trying feebly to type her blog even two or three times a week. She was a portrait of courage, my sister. We didn't know how it could get so bad, so soon. She just read one one post and suddenly developed "everything tunnel syndrome". Now my poor dear sissy is just one huge ace bandage. I'll get the #### that wrote that post! He turned my sister into a mummy!"

NorthernNancy

Of course these are just a few of the many stories of innocent readers whose lives were forever altered by sports blogs. So beware, BLOGS CAN INJURE, MAIM or even KILL YOU (or at least make your eyes tired from reading) .

But there are steps you can take to protect yourself:

1. Get yourself a pair of Bloggles. These handy eye protectors shield you from the harmful BV (BloggoViolet) Rays that the surgeon general has determined can be hazardous to your health.

2. Invest in a good pair of Bloves (Blogger Gloves). The're specailly lined to insulate your hands from dangerous waves and vibrations seeping out of your keyboard.

3. Only blog in temperate, naturally illuminated environments. This limits the potential that the heat from you computer will trigger SCC (Spontaneous Cat Combustion).

4. Place your computer no fewer than 500 feet from a fault line. If you're unsure of the location of the nearest fault line, contact your local seismologist.

5. Don't mix medication and blogging. Many medications have drug/blog interaction warnings. Those taking medications for hypertension, circulatory and heart problems seem to be at the most risk. But if you must blog while medicated, please consult your physician.

6. If you have an illness and a medical profession has advised you on the risks of blogging, don't blog. Sure, it sounds like a great idea, and a whole lot of fun, but before you know it, you've shot your eye out and have no one to blame but yourself.

And be careful out there!

* Bloggles and Bloves are avaiable for purchase (at reasonable prices) at www.christopherross.blogsafety.com

For those who missed the utterly predictable CNN interview last night, Paris Hilton emerged from her jail term a changed woman. Paris pledged to dedicate her energy to more socially responsible causes such as funding reserach for yet to be cured diseases including Breast Cancer, Multiple Sclerosis and being an orphan.

Charity Begins at Home?

So is it too good to be true? Does this really mean that Paris has given up starring in uninspring sex videos, blaring every racial epithet know to man while cavorting in a drunken stupor, screaming  "fire-####" at Lindsey Lohan, flaunting her wealth to the unwashed masses, ridiculing the uneducated and poverty stricken, destroying public and private property . . . .  well, you get the idea. Yes, it is. This man draws the arrow directly to "to good to be true".

And by the way, all the other #### aside, the "Fire-####" bit is downright cruel. Redheads need love too, you know.

But not to be outdone, the FoxSports and Entertainment blogger community has responded en masse with some do-right pledges of their own. As a public service, I've compiled them for you.

Dudski immediately broke from the pack and promised to change his blog title from the derogatory Bread and Circuses to something less likely to imply that he's to scribing for the great unwashed. For those of you who don't know, the title is a reference to the Roman Era idea that cheap food and entertainment was all that was needed to keep the massses occupied. Hardly an ego builder, huh?

When asked to comment, Duds said; "Look, my original title was "I'm smart and you're dumb" but I knew they'd figure that one out. So I dug into my Latin 101 book and found an obscure reference. But hey, they not all mouth-breathing, knuckle-dragging, beer-swilling, cretins. At least not some of them, anyway. Much respect."

His proposed new title, a much more respectful, "Philet and Philosophy" aka "Soybeans and Soliloquies" (for the vegan crowd)."

Too Bad for Duds that "Steak and Socrates" was already taken. But then again, so was Bread and Circuses.

MeanDovine wasn't far behind, pledging to decide on either LeanDovine or GreenDovine soon. He's torn though, between writing nutritionally sound blogs or environmentally friendly pieces. The formerly mean one asks your help in choosing a slant.

Lean, aka, Green also went on record as saying; "The time had come. I was never really mean anyway. In fact, I was pretty nice. I bet I swerved 'em on the new handle though. I bet everyone guessed I would be NiceDovine, but that doesn't rhyme."

Even UltraMegaOK1988 got into the act. Now known as the kinder, gentler, less egotistical, "PrettyMuchForthe MostPartAllRight2007", the artist formerly known as Ultra took it another step too. He's agreed to start telling the truth about steroids instead of engaging in page after page of pretzel-logic and outright obfuscation.

Tophatal threw his (yeah, I know) in the ring as well. Future posts will be coming to you from the more appropriately named "BallCapAl", Al has also pledged to edit the questionable content out of his racier posts. I, for one, think this is an overdo. I would slide down a bannister of razor blades on my #### into a pool of rubbing alcohol for a woman who even looked like that Carmen Electra with blonde hair picture. Come on Al, let's not get crazy here.

If loving Carmen is wrong . . . . .

Cuziffer plans no change in his screen name, but will be replacing un-pc terms (of enderament, for him) like hillbilly and #### to the more socially appropriate "differently-citied" and "crimson, head connected".

Comedy isn't always pretty . . .

HogFan is no more, but we will be hearing from Porkophile in the days to come. I don't know if that's any better, by the way.

I'm unsure of how to feel about this . . . .

SoCalFan prefers the honesty is the best policy approach, rather than pretentious altruism. Hence the new name "SteroidFan"

Lisa4USC, kept her style intact, and copied everyone elses work. But take heart, she did pledge two very important shifts:

1. She's promised to stop recycling works by Erma Bombeck, Andy Rooney, Abigail Van Buren and pretty much every other humorist in print. Better still, Lisa will be donating 1/3 of all her blog proceeds to the Erma Bombeck foundation.

Give me my stuff back, #### !

2. She's pledged to begin writing sports themed blogs asoon as she learns about sports. The even better news is that she's enrolled in Sports 101 at USC and will follow through with Sports 102 as long as no one says anything about her mustache.

Lisa went on record as saying ; "Look, that #### is out there for the taking. Half the readers never heard of those writers in the first place, and answering machine message parodies haven't been in style since the 70's. I thought no one would notice. So sue me.I stole a few recipes and changed the names of the ingerdients, big whoop.I get BOTD every day, don't I? It's not just because I stole a wallet picture for my avatar, either."

Hmmmm. Well, it's a start anyway.  

MartyWalker is a changed man (?) too. No longer dedicated to blowing smoke up the bearded lady's ####, Marty will finally fess up to blowing smoke out of his own. Hence, you'll be hearing from the admittedly flatulent "FartyTalker" in the days to come.

Ricko is changing his handle, but it's totally unrelated to a change of heart. He's just sick and tired of people taking the empty-netter and calling him Sicko. More on this as it develops.

HighPlainsDrifter plans a major overhaul. High? Nah, that a drug reference. Plains? Too discriminatory to urban areas. Drifter? Very un-PC.

"NoSpecificElevationAnywhereIsOKNatureWal
k" is certain to be inoffensive. Whether readers will get through his screen name without dozing off is the question.

Demonicume is taking even more drastic measures. He's returning his whole persona to its rightful owner, the game Dungeons and Dragons. In a press conference yesterday, the owners of the D&D copyright denied any connection to Demonicume, decried his misogynistic overtones as "di####able" and pledged to sue for copyright infringement, intellectual property theft, Dragon piracy and just being a total #### in general.

I guess change isn't always a good thing. Go figure.

 

 

It's impossible to forget the day OJ pulled out his greatest upset victory, an 11-1 jury-rig over his bumbling opponent, the LAPD. Up until then, the best he had done was to rush for 2,000 yards in one season of a career that had long passed him by. But that clearly wasn't stopping the Juice from one more run at the record books. He now had the record for most grisly and obvious double-slaughter committed without being prosecuted.

What really sticks in my mind though, is not the fact that there won't be enough firewood in hell to fill the woodstove they're saving for OJ. It's the reaction I witnessed when the verdict came out. I was standing near a group of young black men, when one received a call on his cell phone. He conveyed the message to his group and literally jumped for joy. "We won" they yelled. "We won". I looked at them quizzically. What had they won? A double murderer worked an imperfect system of jurisprudence and walked away free. I didn't see any money fall into their hands, I didn't see their bosses run out and give them promotions, I didn't see any of them getting a get out of jail (but not for) free card. OJ's life was changed that day. Their lives, but for a sickening celebration of a double murderer, were identical. They didn't get it. In the single most vile demonstration I had ever witnessed, it was clear just how desperate they were to spew their internal ugliness. I turned to them and said, "We won, are you guys crazy? He won, he's still rich (at least for the moment he was) and you're still poor. There's no we, OJ just became black again today. He hasn't been black for 30 years". It was so sad. Because like many blacks, they were so desperate for a crumb's worth of special treatment,  they'd even tie themselves to a hero who had long ago forsaken them. OJ killed his white x-wife, he had a white girlfriend, lived in one of the richest, predominantly white neighborhoods in America, and the closest he came to a black friend after football was an Armenian. OJ dated, married, befriended, lived and riased his children in exclusively rich/white circles. But all of a sudden, when he flipped and decided to kill a few people and make the slow roll to Mexico, he called upon his leftover black friend to help. All of a sudden when his #### was being fitted for an electric chair, he hired a #### of a black mouthpiece to play the race card in court.

 All of a sudden, because it was his last best hope to get away with murder, OJ was a brother to all the black folks from which he worked so hard to distance himself.  So here's what the young brothers didn't get.  He used them. He won and they lost. OJ not only despised their and his blackness so much that he dedicated his life to escaping it, he had just drawn the color line back to black in order to get away with murder. This served them how? Do poor blacks, or blacks in general, now escape criminal conviction more frequently? No. Did OJ's “triumphant” dash from a jail cell elevate the social standing of blacks? No. Did anything change for anyone other than OJ on that day? No.

He used you, bruthas. He didn't want you before he was a murderer, and he doesn't need you now that the trial is over. Yet you were stupid enough to think you won something. The sad fact, for all you celebrants, is that OJ's "victory" was not blacks winning out over whites, it was rich folk winning out over po' folk. OJ didn't beat the system because he was black, he just had enough money to burn multi-millions throwing every possible curveball at the justice system, one of which was the race ball. Besides, all of the late rapper Johnnie (J-Dog) Cochran's theatrics would have been wasted if not for Barry Schecks ability to befuddle the jury with DNA speak. Yet blacks were and still are so blinded by their hatred as to embrace a felled hero who despised his own and their skin color. And we see it repeatedly. It's present in the blatant racism of scrambling to defend Michael Vick when he obviously has committed a handful of felonies, aside from being a mentally-challenged throwback to the gene pool. We see it in the rush of posters like De (the swinging Dragon) moronicume, wasting endless, thinly-veiled,  I hate whitey rhetoric, to defend gutter-trash like Adam Jones on the heels of his 16th criminal investigation. We see it in Ultra-mega's pretzel logic where using a laminated bat for part of one season is every bit as performance enhancing as twelve years of steroids. In the "Dragon's" case though, he's crapping his pants, because the Feds are jumping in. The cases are gonna be handled effectively, the perps won't be walking anywhere but the prison yard, and he'll have to get an earth mover to cover the truth in ####, instead of the thin layer he usually produces. But party on bruthas. As Rick James said, '"cocaine is a helluva drug". You can get high all you want on the idea that black folks are getting "even" by throwing piles of money at an imperfect system. You can rush to make all the twisted excuses in the universe for a cast of characters like OJ that can't get away from you fast enough, You can shill to rich punks like Kobe and Barry who know less about being black than I do. You can even ride the tails of devils like Vick and Jones who only serve to disgrace and reinforce negative stereotypes about blacks. You can think that you have something in common with those guys, because you pull the "blame whitey" card.

 

 

 

But it doesn't work my brutha's. Having millions of dollars to pay to white lawyers is what gets you a free pass to rape, murder or commit whatever crime you choose to perpetrate. Whether it's the most egregious in nature or just the stupidest (see McNair, Steve).

 

In the meantime, consider that in your rush to bask in the limelight of the folks who use color as a tool to perpetrate, they're using you.  And your willingness to blindly support them regardless of their blatant and obvious malfeasance smacks of the same collusion we saw in the 50's and 60's when Billy Bob lynched your grandpa and Jimmy Ray swore on the stand that he was innocent. Racism, my brutha's, clearly is not just for whitey anymore. The #### is going to have to yield to the BBB (Black Brutha Brigade). But you've been duped, duped in the worst way for the worst possible reason, by distant cousins who only need you when they need to get out of trouble.

 

So now tell me what you've won, again. Or have you merely become what you beheld?  

Just like John Legend, and a slew of young male artists are threatening to dispatch hip-hop and bring R&B back to the forefront of African American domianted music, LeBron James is threatening to make the me,me, me chorus of the thugball, that has ruled the NBA since the end of Showtime, a thing of the past.

Granted, I'm unsure if James will be able to get it done against a very experienced postseason opponent such as the Spurs. And granted, Tim Duncan, the most under-noticed superstar in the history of the NBA appears to be on a mission, again. But that doesn't make me want LeBron to get that trophy any less.

Legend sampled a 60'####, "Stormy" in the cut "Save Room" from his already platinum sophomore effort, and it appears that LeBron is sampling the kind of humility and team spirit from his predecessors that makes the game a joy to watch.

Can anyone argue with what LeBron did for Daniel "Boobie" Gibson  when he cleared the aisle for his team mate, repeating "make room for the superstar"? Did anyone notice the example he was setting? I sure did. James, who has been criticized, ridiculously so at the age of 22, for a lack of on court leadership exhibited just that in game 5, but it was what he did off the court following game 6, that will make him a champion. Because what champions do, is elevate the players around them.

What a nice change from over-paid, cry-baby, post-season no-shows like Iverson, Malone and Bryant. It takes too long for those guys to get what they deserve, usually 15 years or so to become a never was. Iverson will likely give another five years to thug-life punkdom. Malone's butt tightened up every spring in Utah. Bryant, who wanted to be "the guy" flying solo and launching 45 shots a game in LA, decided that "the guy" is now supposed to be surrounded by superstars, to whom he won't pass the ball, and still launch 45 shots a game.

What tickles me is that James has already learned at 22, what most of the last two generations of NBA stars never realized. It's a five man game, even if there's only the threat that "the guy" will pass the ball, that by itself is sometimes enough. But to be a champion, one must play both sides of the court, see all four team mates every time down, and want to (not just accept the necessity) elevate the others around you. Kind of like two guys named Earvin and Larry did, way back when.

So just like John Legend hearkened to the past and urged us to "Save Room (for the love)", LeBron is calling upon a great heritage and "making room" for his team mates. As I said a few posts back, the idea of a legitimate second alternative to James in Cleveland should have everyone thinking hard about the Cavs. James, through his words and his actions, is more than prepared to make room for any and all team mates that aspire to greatness.

Maybe his is "the track to bring the listeners back".

1. Is Charley Rosen right in saying the Laker's decline is not Kobe's fault, but that of Jerry Buss.

The answer is yes. Kobe didn't trade Shaq, even if he forced the issue. Buss just ignored history and gambled on the idea that he could win with one superstar. He replaced a great GM with an average player. He resigned a #### to a huge, Cap-busting contract. He hired a loser coach with nothing left in the tank. Then he replaced him with a smart coach who knows you can't win with just one superstar, but only gave him one superstar. So in essence, it is Jerry's fault. As the chinese say, "the fish rots from the head down".

2. Will Mike Vick be indicted, and if so will he be suspended?

Vick's indictment is imminent. There's no question Vick is guilty, but whether or not he ever sees punsihment is another issue. The real question is how the NFL hangin' judge will deal with a top 10 sheleb stepping in Georgia fertilizer.  My bet is that short of prison taking Vick from a few starts, not so jolly Roger will dance around this one like Michael Flatley.

3. Is LeBron the King, or better yet is he the next MJ.

LeBron is not quite the King, but after last night, they better start cutting the Robe. The rest of the NBA is already praying that the Cav's never find a legitimate 2nd threat, or it's gonna be a long decade. But LeB is not the next MJ. He's more like the next Big O. You can see by the look in his eyes, that he's not the assassin that Jordan was. Face facts folks. You don't catch lighting in a bottle twice in a lifetime. Still, I like LeBron much better than Jordan. I never thought I could hate anyone more tha Larry Bird, until Jordan.