About Me:
Statistics are a dangerous when handled by zealots.
I believe Burnt Orange isn't a color, it's a disease.
The DH rule should be elimintated.
I like cats and dogs...cats taste more like chicken.
Women are god's greatest creation.
About Me:
Statistics are a dangerous when handled by zealots.
I believe Burnt Orange isn't a color, it's a disease.
The DH rule should be elimintated.
I like cats and dogs...cats taste more like chicken.
Women are god's greatest creation.
About Me:
Statistics are a dangerous when handled by zealots.
I believe Burnt Orange isn't a color, it's a disease.
The DH rule should be elimintated.
I like cats and dogs...cats taste more like chicken.
Women are god's greatest creation.
"We've got food, yes we do, we've go too much food, how about you!"
With world starvation, the Chinese government propping up a holocaust inducing Sudanese government and the NY Yankees going to h-ell, we have competitive eating on center stage...and I watched it all, scotch in hand and Cope in mouth. Why, because I can and it's July 4th! This spectacle should make commies think twice about their governments.
********************************
This one hour television event was like a Triple Crown race, 50 minutes of hype and speculation, followed by a quick race. The difference is that at Nathan's the contestants may pukeduring the contest. Woof Cookies results in a DQ. It's bad for the contestant, yet great television on the 4-letter sports network's first channel. The color commentators gave us background on the eaters, like they're important World Series of Poker players. I love this stuff! What do people in other countries think about this television garbage? "Eater xxx is an impressive force, but you still go against the clock." Say what! The Brooklyn beach shots showed plenty of natives to be inhaling unhealthy levels of food, too. Thanks for the visual on that one.
As competitive eating fans know, in 2007 Kobayashi had arthritic jaw injury, which allegedly hamper the defense of his Six Time record. Analysts thought it to be a ruse, which it was. Kobayashi showed up at the last minute, intending to play mind games with Joey Chestnut, his heir apparent. How does one end up with an arthritic jaw at an early age? (Insert adult joke here.)
This is a spectacle to watch reasonably small dudes compete in an eating contest. There's actually a competitive circuit for this crap! A video game is available, too!
Joey Chestnut - American Idol
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We now go to the event:
The ten minute event began with the crowd countdown. The record of 66 hot dogs must go down and go down hard.
2008 included a rule change! GASP!!!! The Nathan's crew researched the event going back to WWI, when the contest lasted ONLY TEN MINUTES. The 2008 event is now TEN minutes, not 12. "Man, this screws up my smush and inhale strategy, dude. I'm gonna sue."
Kobayashi started out slow and as Chestnut leapt ahead by a few dogs. At the six minute mark, Kobayashi closed the gap as this horse race continued neck and neck. No one else was close. At seven minutes, Chestnut began to struggle with the puke reflex. With one minute remaining, Kobayashi pulled ahead by three dogs. This is going to a photo puking finish as both hit 59 dogs!
It's declared a TIE! A five dog eat-off will determine the winner and the future of the free universe! The first to eat the five is the winner. The judges have difficult decisions and we need video replay. Chestnut wins with a photo finish! The world remains free.
(My opinion - I could not see that Mr. Chestnut had shoved in all 5 overtime hot dogs any more than Mr. Kobayashi. This should have gone to Penalty Hot Dogs.)
I'm buying my "Joey Chestnut Swallows" t-shirt a.s.a.p.!
I feel like throwing up after watching this schadenfreude event.
The hungry world weeps in silent protest...again!
Ok, I fudged a bit an used my 2007 write up on the same contest as framework for this blog.
During tonight's NBA beatdown, I jumped to a sports network on commercial breaks. The ticker scrolled the American League vs. National League games. I knew I'd have to revisit on the next break. The AL went 12-2 against the NL tonight. Wow! This includes Kansas City winning, too. Only Toronto and Cleveland lost to N.L teams tonight. That's ok, neither is U.S. city anyway.
Prognosticators live and die with these games, justifying the strength of one league over another. Statistics are screwey things.
This concludes the test of the Emergency Statistics Punishment Network. Should this have been a real emergency, the NBA Finals would not have concluded tonight.
Sunday's U.S. Open ended with a tie between Woods and Rocco.
"Yayyyy! We have a Sudden Death Playoff, right now!"
Not so fast, young Jedi. The U.S. Open settles ties with an 18 hole playoff the following day.
"What the F! You mean I played hookey from the office on Thursday and Friday, becoming emotionally invested in this garbage, only to have my heart ripped out! I have to go to work Monday! I can't watch it!"
That's right. You were hosed by the PGA and whoever is in charge of the U.S. Open.
"Wait, that means only hippies, bumbs and 12 year olds will be watching tomorrow! The Q-ratings should be lower than 'Kobe sings Tupac's hits.' What a waste of my heart strings."
That's right. You'll be stuck on conference calls catching up on what you missed Thursday and Friday!
"This is not right!"
Tough, I told you that the Masters was the real tournament and all other Majors were second class! At least the British Open features a great accent and grainy tv.
"I know, I should have listened to you, but I was watching a Danica Patrick promo and lost track. She's hot compared to those dude drivers."
So is your mother!
Don't worry. Tiger will win because David Stern's posse has arranged for Rocco to dump shots short and right tomorrow. Golf is rigged too!
In silent protest of the media's NBA game preview saturation and game fixing discussions, I boycotted the first half of Game 4. Hey, a guy's gotta watch a golf major and have dinner! I'm sick of the Stern talking head appearing, stating how much of a slime bag a certain, former official is. (Stern's job is to protect the league, period, not tell us any potential truths or lies that we may not know.) What could I miss in the first half, since the officials were sure to give the Lakers a huge lead.(That was a joke.)
"Click!" The U.S. Open is over for the night, time for some third quarter basketball.
"Whoa, L.A. has a huge lead!" Shocking.
A 20 point lead went boom in the third quarter and the Celtics likely locked up the title. (Note, I said 'likely.') The final eight minutes were entertaining as Kobe and the Three Bears pulled a big, fat, ahoga.
Whoops! Lakers fans have to be distraught after this choke job. It's time the Lakers have blown a lead, since they've often been the recipient of gobbling up a deficit this year.
Stay tuned for the "Conspiracy Posts" to populate blog-dom. The ghost of Red lives on.
Tonight the puck finally drops as the NBA Championship begins. The hypefest has been a runaway train on all the sports networks and media sites. Let's get on with the Basketball. I've had it with the preview shows and prognosticators.
While we remember and long for the days of "no easy layups," as seen in past Celtics/Lakers Finals, the NBA star system will protect the name brand players. The only question is how tightly the officials will call the game and will the star treatment be equal at the charity stripe.
In Boston, the cameras will pan on past Celtic greats, and in Lala land we'll be forced to see Hollyweirdos in prime seats, vying for camera time. We can't get enough of Jack! If Spike shows, someone slap him.
What subject will the television media wear us out with first, Bill Walton's loyalty to Boston and his son, the great Red vs. Phil debate, or Kobe is as great as MJ?
What I do know is that His Royal Highness, Commissioner Stern, will be perched in his booster seat, quietly reveling at the pomp surrounding this Finals. He'll smirk, yet barely smile knowing the ad revenue and overnight ratings will be huge.
Fans of the teams not in this Finals have to pick a team, like most of us do every year. This year it's easy. Just pick the team you hate and cheer against them from your couch, bar stool or cell block.
Beer? Check! Cheetos? Check! Remote? Toss it across the room!
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