Super Poll: Which is the better management team?

Friday, February 29, 2008

The Black Robe Nine Drop Hints

Nearly 20 years after the drunken captain of the Valdez ran the ship aground, the case known as Exxon Shipping Co. v. Baker (07-219) has finally reached the Supreme Court. The oil spill was a massive ecological disaster that destroyed businesses, property, and lives, but if Exxon is made to pay victims the entire $5 billion ordered by lower courts -- in addition to the $3.4 billion already paid -- it would add up to nearly one month's profits.

Not in this country.

Not if the highest court in the land has anything to say about it.

In a rare and awesome instance of imparting wisdom outside a case opinion, this week the Supreme Court dropped a few sly tips to corporations looking to dodge damages.

SUPREME COURT'S HELPFUL HINTS FOR CORPORATE WEASELS:

1. Hire a drunk. Fire him if he goofs. Repeat as necessary.
"What more can the corporation do other than say 'Here is our policies' and try to implement them?"
-- Chief Justice Roberts

2. Demote/promote everyone in charge to "Captain."
"I doubt whether a captain is high enough [to be held responsible]."
-- Justice Scalia

3. Stock your office with black cats, ladders and open umbrellas; put one of your drunken Captains in charge of safety, and if anything ever goes wrong, remember...
"There are accidents every day."
-- Justice Breyer

NOTE: Justice Alito offered no tips at all; he recused himself because he owns stock in Exxon. Or perhaps this is the biggest hint of all -- even as he saw this case wend its way up to The Nine, he did not sell his stock in Exxon.

Little Ig Man: "It is a good day to die"

Leave it to Honest Abe and Burning Man Proctor to bring the news of some spoiled sushi in Tampa.

Today, Kei Igawa got hit harder than my SONY digital alarm clock did on the morn-after the Super Bowl.

He walked two, hit one, then grooved a grand slamboni to some guy who was 0 for 2007 -- that's college ball, mind you.

How do you say, "Beam me up, Scotty!" in Japanese?

You'd like to think it would mean something to an undergrad -- smacking a grand slam against the mighty Yankees in a spring game. Sadly, the kid'll have to go through life also remembering it was only Kei Igawa.

Just so it's said: There is no reason to think this game meant Jack Squat. No reason to see any foreshadowing of Igawa's, or anybody's, season.

Still, one thought keeps turning.

Beam him up, Scotty.

Breaking: Bush Aid Nabbed for Copying Vin Diesel's Scary Eyes


Jersey Soph Psycho Closer beans Jeet: South Florida must pay

The evildoer is Shawn Sanford, a sophomore at the University of South Florida, a native of (Jason) Voorhees, NJ.

This afternoon, in the first inning of the Yankees exhibition game against USF, this bozo plunked our captain in the back. Jeter scored on a fly, and I hope there were some hairy eyeballs uncorked.

By the fifth it was 9-0, us.

MAYBE THIS YANKEE TEAM NEEDED TO BE AWAKENED.

Still, where the hell is Ted Lilly when you need him?

Questions Phil Hughes probably won't answer ...

Well, Phil Hughes asked for questions on his blog, and he got a few hundred. He'll release answers to a select few later this week.

The following are actual questions left for Phil on his blog.

To the folks who asked them, I wouldn't hold my breath waiting for an answer:


"Does Damon really prance around the locker room naked?"

"And now that you have been to a nascar racer are you a fan now. and i Was wondering if you play my High school team in califorina the school Pennisula high school in the south bay. And i was wondering what is favitore dog breed."

"I have a 7 year old son in little league - he has mediocre talent and he runs like a girl. With hard work and determination, is there any hope for him to make the bigs?"

"Phil, I’ve decided that if I were a professional baseball player, I would shower and put on cologne before each game. It would sorta be my “thing.” My question is, are there any big leaguers out there who already do this?"

"You get dropped into the middle of an olympic-sized swimming pool full of tiny blocks of jello. Are you able to get out, and do you think that Joba would fair any differently?"

"Don't you hate pants?"

"You and Easy-Ian are the captains in Yankees beer chugging contest. You each get 3 picks. Who are your top 3?"

"Who do you think would win in a fight: Hideo Nomo or Don Drysdale?"

"I am getting married this October and was wondering whether or not you’d like to join us for my bachelor party in South Lake Tahoe in mid-August. You up for it?"

"Asked what you do have to the oneself first complete big alliance ball season to anticipate, three inspires perhaps the victory throws, the defense rate king?"

"Its the 7th inning stretch of a non-throwing game and you are the hungriest you’ve ever been in your life. You look to the left and there is Joba’s hotdog sitting there all nice and juicy while he’s out on the mound doing warmups. You look to the right, theres Carl Pavano’s Cheeseburger. Do you: A) Eat Joba’s Hotdog, B) Eat Carl’s Cheeseburger"

"In your opinion, would the New York Yankee organization have been a better team if you were involved in a trade for Johan Santana?"

"Why is it I wonder that baseball isn’t played in cooler months."

"hey phil - i really can’t stand the “cotton eyed joe” song and dance between-inning routine during every home game, i feel the yankees need to come up with something new. what are your personal feelings on this"

"Is that a leopard print blouse that Kyle Farnsworth wears under his uniform? Cause on TV it looks like silk."

"ok i have a friend and she is my only real true girlfriend(i’m a girl) tht i can hang out with and watch baseball. she loves the yankees alot, just like me, and we go to games and hangout together, ect. anyway i told her about this blog and how cool you are and how you were looking for good questions to post. so we sat down and came up with this: Do you enjoy talking with us(your fans) on this blog?"

"Phil, do you know how hot you are?"

An I-Team Report: Yankee Rookies Live In Squalor

The It Is High's special investigative I-team has learned that Yankee rookies are being forced to reside in this Tampa Tenement.


Details at 11.


Exclusive: We found the kid!

That 11-year-old shutterbug from Jose Canseco's party? He's ours. At least he turned over exclusive, incriminating photos from the party where the titans swapped chemical recipies and the wives-of-titans compared their artificial respirators.

Here they are, revealed for the first time, the scenes from The Party ...


Mom and dad



Mr. Canseco


Mrs. Canseco




Mr. Niekro



Mr. McClain




Mr. Met



Mr. Clemens


And finally, the nunny




Oops. We mean, the Nanny


Will Future Generations Be Denied Yankee Seed?

Today's NY Review of Lobbyist Liaisons notes that somewhere in frosty, blue-and-white Norway, presumably where nobody's ever heard of Joba Chamberlain's duel with the gnats of Lake Erie, humankind is building the Noah's Arc of Burpees.

This is what will warm Charlton Heston's heart when he returns from outer space in the year 2525, and finds to his horror that all the AK-47s are jammed.

This week, the flagship of that effort, the Global Seed Vault near here, received its first seeds, millions of them. Bored into the middle of a frozen Arctic mountain topped with snow, the vault’s goal is to store and protect samples of every type of seed from every seed collection in the world.

We're saving the fern. Fine. Good. Great. We'll sleep tonight knowing that 100,000 years from now, the 9-armed slugs who land on this dead planet will have the means to re-create the plush 17th hole at Pebble Beach.

But who will play shortstop for this alien club? Has humankind asked that question?

We'll, we're asking it now, dammit!

It's time to stop worrying about Andy Pettitte's night sweats and start putting some of that $200 million a year payroll toward distant generations of Yanks. If that means building a deep freeze somewhere north of Utica, so be it.

Right now, frankly, our stockings are bare. We have no Jeet Seed. We have no Giambi Jism? We have no Posada -- uhm -- OK, let's not get hung up on foreplay wordplay. Suffice to say, without a few current yanks, we'll have no future Yanks!

We must start now. Actually, we should have started two weeks ago, when the swimsuit edition pages could still be turned.

You think Theo's Redsocks won't be doing this? Ohh, trust us here, all of you who would scorn our warnings. Somewhere north of Pawtucket -- hmm, "paw-tuck-it," the name itself conjures a bit of kink, don't you think? -- Larry the Lube surely is already filling eye-droppers with everything from Schilling Spilling to J.D. Dew, an entire Redsock Nation of Ejaculation.

We must act NOW. Today, the Steinway Trust should call a 14-minute clubhouse meeting -- for Kyle Farnsworth, four minutes -- and demand a tribute from each and every Bomber member. And we can't rely on the Vikings to store our treasures. We must build our own Yankee Seed Pod, the House that Rubs Built... then fill with A-bombs... from A-Rod!

Men, let's get on this. Good grief. The Norwegians are doing it for the dandilion! Onward and upward! Strap yourselves to the machine gun, and get thee to a Paris Hilton video!

In the year 2525, Charlton Heston won't find the guns he yearns for. For God sake, at least let him have some bullets!

Thursday, February 28, 2008

Open Letter to Yankee God: If Bobby doesn't get well, you're fired!

Dear Madam, Sir or Yahweh:

We’ve endured muy heavy crapola this winter, with the self-righteous frat-boy Redsocks strutting their checkbook gyroballs, and still trying to wax fake-Jewish torment about how they suffered so much, before basically turning into everything they once claimed to hate.

Then came the love-hate saga of A-Rod, who ditched us, saw a dead-as-Topeka market, pitched Scott Boras into a vat of remorse, and slithered back to wrangle the most money possible -- while booting his chance to bond with a city that could have loved him, and now may never.

Then came the “probe” by Redsock jock-sniffer George Mitchell, and then Clemens v. McNamee and Handsome Henry Waxman and Savior Santana and – and – and…

... And now you have the gall to suggest Bobby Murcer might have a recurrence of cancer?

Not. Gonna. Happen.

Got that?

This is the scene in the Yankee God movie where the lights shine, the angels sing, Jeffrey Maier makes the catch, Aaron Boone hits the knuckler, and you justify your $210 million payroll.

Got that?

Mess this up, and you’re fired. It doesn’t matter whether you’re in with Allah, Jesus, Buddha, Oprah, Morgan Freeman, George Burns or Alanis Morrisette. Clean out your cubicle. Turn in your swipe card. We’re demoting you to God of Scranton. Or Trenton. We’ll go out and sign a free agent god, a small market god from Oakland. We’ll trade you for three prospects and a god to be named later. Or we'll waive you.

Do something. Make Bobby Murcer well.

We’ve lost big games, good people. (Scooter, talk to him; he’ll listen to you!) Bobby Murcer… no way.

We’ve taken a lot of crap. We’re not taking this.

Amen.

"Bronx Blogger" Phil Hughes named YANKEE OF THE MONTH

Congratulations, Phil. The fans voted.

You get the preferred parking space, Mr. February! Enjoy.

No joking: Be well Bobby Murcer

He's going in for tests. Alright everybody: Fingers CROSSED.

Framed: More stolen images from Phil Hughes' phone

Today, here are TWO from Phil's stolen phone you won't find anywhere else.



Joe Torre, in Twilight Zone re-creation, pitches Tanyon Sturtz and Mike Meyers

Somewhere out there, in a dimension of sight, a dimension of sound, a dimension of mind, Rod Serling is looking to buy season tickets for the ’08 Dodgers.

Yesterday, Joe Torre, seeking to ease himself out of the opiate fog known as Yankeehood, began sipping the LA Kool-Aid by opening his first intrasquad game with two bombed-out ex-Bombers: Tanyon Sturtze -- the big-hearted, sore-armed lugnut of the 2004-05 bullpen collapses, and Mike Meyers, the once-stellar situational southpaw who last year transformed every left-handed batter into Rod Carew.

I know what you’re thinking. He followed up with Scott Proctor? Nope. For reasons that transcend the obscene human carnival – maybe Malcolm Lowry and Charles Bukowski could throw us some visions here – Joe held the line on self-torture and did not continue his journey up the River of Quantrill by bringing in the man who not only torched games but his uniform.

Joe, Joe, Joe... We miss you.

You're gonna have a tough year, dealing with the buffed cleavage Hollywood egos, the next injury to Nomar, and that first ninth inning with the bases loaded and the tying run at third, when you can hear the peanut vendor fart because everybody in the stands is checking email.

Even worse -- as the Gammonites in Tampa jockey to become top toad in the new Yank regime, the accolades will never cease to gush about Joe Girardi’s clockwork camp. They're already foaming:

How Abreu and Damon this year came in shape, as opposed to last year, when they served to foreshadow the national obesity scandal.

How Jason Giambi this year has strengthened his “core,” which has has yet to be decided is comprised of hard nut or gooey marshmallow.

How this year the men are running, the competition is looming, and this year the team is learning fundamentals long forgotten.

Every account screams the unwritten implication: that Joe had gone fishing, that Joe wasn’t commanding, that it was right for the braintrust to offer him a baloney-on-rye contract and then, when he hesitated, send security guards with cardboard boxes to his office.

So now Joe stares into the Pacific sunset, and here’s Nomar, and here’s Meyers, and here’s Tanyon, and here’s Proctor. Familiar faces. But where the hell is Stan’s Sports Bar, and where is Suzyn, and the subway, and the madness, and the stupid squirrel that climbs the right field foul pole on nights when the world seems boiled down to one point on earth?

They’re here. He’s there. It hurts.

Good luck to Joe Girardi. God bless Joe Torre.

Michael Bloomberg on 4-year DL with stomach cramps

He won't run.


MICHAEL BLOOMBERG

Michael Bloomberg, billionaire.
Twice the worth of Delaware.
He could buy a brand new boat.
He could have bought your sister’s vote.

He could buy the New York Mets,
Or pay off all our welfare debts.
He could buy our waves of grain.
He could own Vermont and Maine.

He could purchase Oregon.
Or buy a brand new Pentagon.
Let’s elect him, what the heck!
Then skip and let him grab the check.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Intrasquad Victory: The Yankees win. THE YANKEES WIN.

OK, a pessimist would say we lost.

Scott Proctor's Arm says Morgan Freeman, er, Ensberg, -- the 33-year-old former Astro/Padre who made the all-star team in 2005, once got robbed at gunpoint and who has fiddled and fumbled careerwise ever since -- banged the only extra base hit of the day. That makes him the star.

Sean Henn -- the 27-year-old draft-and-follow highly-touted former-bonus-baby longtime-Clipper who threw his best games last year in spring training before being demoted so they could keep veteran crafty lefty Mike Meyers, who then completely sucked -- showed he's reached midseason form, burping out 3 walks, and allowing 2 runs in 2/3rd innings.


William Henry Traber Jr. --the 29-year-old former Met first round draft pick that we signed off the he's-lefthanded-so-lets-try-him heap, who pitched last year for the Washington Nationals, which means nobody in the world knew he even existed -- got cuffed around.

News flash: Brian Bruney has lost 20 pounds. Brian Bruney has lost 20 pounds. That's about 1/100th of his body weight. When he pees, he might lose 10 pounds. But 20 pounds is 20 pounds. Chris Britton's going to fatter than ever -- unless -- he's lost 20 pounds, too. I hope this develops into a competition between the two, because they will both live longer and happier lives, which is the only thing we at IT IS HIGH want for our troops.

Final score: Yankees 6, Yankees 2

Excerpts from today's meeting between the Redsocks and George W. Bush

“Hey, Jason Varitek, have you starting thinking of what you’re going to buy with that $600 rebate?”
.
“As President, I felt I couldn’t take sides. But when I heard you guys won, I was really happy for Rudy.”
.
“Coco, listen. I want you to forget what the Blue Jays told you. Nobody wants to save the penguins more than I do.”
.

“Frankly, why did Roger even need a personal trainer? When Condi and I are on the Stairmaster, the last thing we want is some guy yelling at us.”
.

“I’ll take your ideas to the Postal Service, Manny. I honestly can’t say we’ve ever considered a commemorative stamp for Jenna Jamison.”
.

“I’ve seen Debbie Clemens’ picture, and let me tell you, that’s as close as Waxman’s ever going to get.”
.

“Yes, I'll grant you the link between securitization and the subprime crisis, and I’ll concede your point about over-exaggerated default risks to third-party investors, but for gosh sakes, Big Papi, calm down!”
.

“Stand back, guys, that’s not Don Zimmer! That’s Cheney, and he’s fixing to make a bull rush on Senator Kennedy!”
.

“So how did you like it when we unleashed those Lake Erie gnats on the Yankees? I’ll tell you, Chertoff worked late on that one.”
.

“Curt Schilling! They say you’re going to be sidelined until the all-star break. How would you like to be my War on Terror Czar?”
.

“I view waterboarding as a purpose pitch. You don’t hit 'em in the head. That just creates baserunners. You throw at the head, and make 'em think you're gonna hit 'em.”
.

“I tell you, the Africans are very appreciative about what we send. You should have seen how proud they are of their T-shirts. I didn’t have the heart to tell them the Rockies lost.”

.
“Jacoby Ellsbury! Twenty-four years old! When I was your age, we were embroiled a long, terrible war, and I was defending my country in the Texas Air National Guard. At least, that what they tell me. I don't remember.”

.

“Two World Championships! You guys... you’re my legacy!”

Upper Deck issues corrected version of controversial "Kissing Bandit" card ...

Exclusive: Another stolen image from Phil Hughes' camera

A snapshot of the political Phil, taken from his purloined camera phone:


Report: Viagra next big drug scandal to hit baseball

If one is to believe this explosive headline in the Times:

Requiem for Coco

The days grow short for Mr. Crisp.

Alas, he has been branded the modern day Wally Pipp, the bruised banana in the champion bunch, the lame-duck centerfielder, to be offered around like an Amway dealership in Utica.

So it goes: Coco a-Gogo, a slick-fielding everyman trying desperately to mount a campaign against The Audacity of Hype: Jacoby Ellsbury, who at 24 is the oldest prospect among Baseball America's top 20.

For Coco, they're writing the eulogy.

It does not require much detective work to figure out that there is virtually no trade market for Coco Crisp right now. In other words, for Crisp’s sake, Jacoby Ellsbury sure picked a bad time to become a breakout phenom.
Alas, poor Coco! We knew him, a fellow of infinite jest. He hath bore them on his back a thousand times, and now how abhorred in their imagination he is.

Yankeetorial: Barack HUSSEIN Obama?

“Barack Hussein Obama”
Is what they say on FOX.
With “Hillary Rodham Clinton;”
That’s how their anchor talks.

As in, “Lee Harvey Oswald,”
Or killer, “James Earl Ray,”
Or psycho, “John Wayne Gacy,”
The middle-name cache.

So here’s to all you moralists,
Whose full names should be heard,
Like Mister “Roger Eugene Ailes,”
And “Rush Limbaugh the Third.

There's “Keith Rupert Murdoch,”
And “John Sidney McCain.”
Does “Irving Lewis Libby Junior”
Strike a known refrain?

Confronted by your real names,
Would voters feel the thrill?
From Ol Miss Senator Chester Lott,
And George Frederic Will?

Would “Michelle Maglalang Malkin”
Make politics less meaner?
And who’d phone Michael Savage
By his true name, “Michael Weiner?”

Would hopeful Willard Romney
Have launched a brand new era,
Appearing with that Fox News host,
Gerald Michael Rivera?

So call a rose by any name!
Let full disclosure bloom!
Behind that great FOX anchor,
That famous name... Al Hume.



Courtesy of The Best Book Ever Written: MRS. GOOSE GOES TO WASHINGTON

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Koby Clemens Takes After His Mom

Oh, God. In USA Today today.


"Chest-proud and head-high, that's our motto," Koby Clemens said after finishing his first workout in the Houston Astros' minicamp for prospects. He expects his father in camp, but he's not sure when. "We're not out of the doghouse yet. It's going to be a long process, but once we get through it, all will be back in order."

Colon reaches Redsock camp after hitting every McDonalds along way

Drove 3,000 miles.

Snacked to stay awake.

Arrived just in time for lunch.

Which Yankee reported to camp in the best shape?

Brain Cashman.

Ooops. Typed it wrong. Brian Cashman.

Framed: Stolen images from Phil Hughes' camera

As you might know, we have stolen Phil Hughes' cellphone and it's crammed with photos taken by the Yankee phenom.


We're posting one a day until the well runs dry.


An Empirical Analysis of the Similarities between Hollywood's Brothers Coen and NY's Brothers Steinbrenner

Big deal. Joel and Ethan Coen grabbed a couple Oscars. When they’ve got 26 rings, call us.

Fact is, Hank “Stubby” Steinbrenner and sib-cribmate Hungry Hal have been cornering the market on statues since God invented the checkbook.


Don't take this wrong: The Coen boys deserve all the lipo-hipped, pillow-lipped starletts they can bag. Bravo. But it’s amazing how their joyride film career mirrors the Steinboys' epic march to glory.

"Blood Simple" (1984)
Coens: Rookie film features strange twists, vengeance, murder.
Steins: Rookie Bobby Meachem features strange twists, vengeance, demotions to Columbus.


Raising Arizona (1987)
Coens: Couple's plan to steal babies from bigwig goes amuck.
Steins: Team's plan to steal Steve Trout from Cubs goes amuck.



Barton Fink (1991)
Coens: Saga of tormented stage manager Barton Fink foreshadows rise of Joe McCarthy.
Steins: Saga of tormented field manager Stump Merrill foreshadows rise of Don Zimmer.


Fargo (1996)
Coens: Plucky pregnant sheriff solves murder; film includes horrifying scene of wood chipper.
Steins: Plucky team wins Series; includes horrifying scenes of Braves' Chipper.


The Big Lebowski (1998)
Coens: Legendary character chomps on bar nuts, rules bowling alley.
Steins: Legendary team chomps on opposition, rules baseball.


O Brother Where Art Thou? (2000)
Coens: Gang survives sirens, spears cyclops, paying homage to Ulysses "Odyssey."
Steins: Team survives Mariah Carey, spears Mike Piazza, paying homage to Torre's odyssey.


The Ladykillers (2004)
Coens: Fast-talking grifter elaborate plan to steal money, loses everything.
Steins: Fast-talking Cashman hatches elaborate plan to steal A-Rod, loses everything.


No Country for Old Men (2007)
Coen: Murder, revenge, darkness, suffering, death.
Steins: Yeah, that about sums it up.






Monday, February 25, 2008

Exclusive: We stole Phil Hughes' camera!

You might have seen Phil Hughes' photographic skills displayed on his blog.

He posted this shot of Mike Mussina's locker:



Not satisfied with that lousy shot, we wanted more. A "friend" of ours happened to send these pictures, "obtained" from Hughes' phone last week:











Phil gets around.

Future Yankee-based email spam messages from Eastern Europe

Hey, wanna bring it like Joba? Come to our clubhouse. You will be biggest bull in pen.

My girlfriend says I was Ron Guidy. Now I am Boomer Wells! Visit my site and you can be Mr. Perfect in bed.

I was amaze at how my fastball dropped. Now, my curve balls hang proudly. I pitch all night and close like Mariano! Free-shipping, too.

First base problems? Not anymore! Amazing Tino replicas! Just like originals. Visit our site at clonetino.com.

Unleash the Zim in your dugout and watch her go Pedro with anticipation!

Come to our Brian McNamee pharmacy, and you have bigger better butt, bigger better everything. (We ship 94-mph, like Phil Hughes.)

Have stronger Wang in time for opening day! We ship all way from China.

Go from a D to an A-Rod! She will be high. She will be far. She will be... gone.

Be seeing you?


Rocket may be wearing a new number soon.

In case you went to bed early: Jacoby Ellsbury Wins Oscar!

PRESENTER CAMERON DIAZ: And the nominees for Best Pawtucket Player to hit fewer than 5 home runs and and bat less than .300 last year are...


JEFF BAILEY...


JUNIOR SPIVEY...


ALEX OCHOA...


ROYCE CLAYTON


and JACOBY ELLSBURY (wild applause)


PRESENTER HELEN MIRREN: And the winner is.... JACOBY ELLSBURY!

Breaking: Options for Joba now whittled down to just two

Great news: After a long off-season of debate, Yank writers say the Supreme Command has narrowed the future role of phenom Joba Chamberlain to either starting or relieving.

What will happen over the next few months, they say, will depend on what happens.

Joba could be a starter, or he could be a reliever.

A starter or a reliever.

One or the other.

There you have it!

Hillary Clinton baseball card - as Morganna the Kissing Bandit???

You can't make this shit up.

(OK, actually we often do, but this time we're serious. Honest. Well, at least about the card.)

Wondering why Hillary Clinton wasn't in Upper Deck's "presidential predictors" baseball card set, in which candidates were featured in great baseball moments or as all-time greats? Well, she was - as Morganna the Kissing Bandit - until her card was pulled.

"There was some concern by some of the people that it might be offensive," said an Upper Deck spokesperson.

Especially to that unidentified Phillie on the card.

A few cards have gotten out, and at least one sold on eBay for more that $2,400.

Upper Deck has said that it'll put a new, less offensive version of Clinton in Series II. After the good judgment displayed with that first card, we can't wait to see what they'll do for an encore! Possible "great moments" being considered:

1. As Debbie Clemens, getting a shot of HGH in the ass while an unsuspecting Rocket watches "Gilligan's Island" in the next room.

2. At a barbecue, arguing with Jessica Canseco about who has the better body.

3. As wacky Marge Schott, watching games with her dog while making racial slurs and talking up Hitler.

In Tampa, Yank Gammonites breaking big scoops from 2007

Want to know what's going on at Girardi Gitmo North? Freeze your head and program the microwave for THAW in February 2010.

Around that time, the writers will be telling us what really happened today.

For now, we're finally learning about the lazy, larded, dour and depressed shamblers that showed up last year, ready take a knee through April and May.

Bobby "Sweet as Candy" Abreu is vowing to delete 2007 from memory (and arbitration hearing records), saying he phoned himself in last spring, sweating through his bags like a White Castle cheeseburger and two orders of Biggie Fries. Not to worry, though. Bobby learned his lesson. He's given up Shamrock Shakes, taken up crunches. This year, he won't hit the wall, (figuratively and -- as we also know -- literally.)

Then there's Johnny Damon -- running mate with Rudy G and stablemate to Sports Girlustrated's butt-slapping-good Stallion. He's ready to play... unlike last year, when the former savior brought love-handles and thoughts of retirement to work.

Let's not forget Jason Giambi, who has reported “reportedly” in great shape. Guess the key word there. If you said "reportedly," you win. Giambi will reportedly play first base. In Guatamala, the New England Patriots are reportedly 19-0.

Finally, the Gray Lady, having published its 10-year-old thumbsucker on John McCain's lost lust for a lady lobbiest, reports that young Joba Chamberlain is more fun than a barrel of Mussinas, bringing 99-mile-an-hour mirth “to enliven what for years had been one of baseball’s most dour clubhouses.”

Huh? Dour? Wait a minute. Wasn't Joe Torre warm and fuzzy? Didn't Donnie Baseball regularly pass out the onion gum and fool Zim with the black-eye binoculars? Dour?

Now they tell us? We could have signed Carrot Top.

Yeesh. This is like reading 2003 coverage of the war. We go in looking for WMD. A year later, we learn it was all about HGH.

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Oo-lala!! Our first super-sexy swimsuit edition!

THEY ARE HGH, THEY ARE FAR, THEY ARE... CAUGHT.

It's time for the kinky Sports Illustrated cottage-industry edition of glossy soft-porn, cloaked in appeasement articles about women's sports, which will run for the next month. Eat your heart out, Time-Warner. Or at least, get into steamy sight of these shortstops.
Moving to politics, here's Russia's teaser-in-chief Vlad Putin, "putin'" on a show!

Look! It's the President and Mr. Clinton!
And then there were days when Nancy only fell... for her man!

Hey! There's Yank ace Kei, modeling the latest swimware from Walmart.

Captain Jeet lookin' sweet.

Hey, guys. Save it for later!


No swimsuit edition is complete without a disturbingly lecherous look at some wives! Once upon a time, they didn't spend 14-hours a day in a gym, between shots of HGH. Yet, as the Scooter would say, they were "not too shabby." Take a look and some real beauty.
Mr. & Mrs. Lou Gehrig

Mr. & Mrs. George Herman Ruth

Last but not least, Mrs. Babe Ruth and Mrs. Lefty Gomez

OK, show's over. Either put another quarter in the slot, or get back to work.