Friday, January 30, 2009

The Varitek Contract Negotiations Are Finally Over

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Cut to a kitchen in Georgia, Red Sox catcher Jason Varitek is sitting at a table waiting for lunch, Heidi Watney is making him a sandwich wearing only an apron....and heels

JV: Will you hurry up, I am starving and this Captain does not wait for anything.


HW
: Sorry honey, here you go. (puts sandwich in front of Varitek)

JV: Hey, WHAT DID I TELL YOU YESTERDAY? I don't like pickles in my fucking sandwiches, now take this piece of crap back and make it again. My god, Karen never had problems remembering my lunch order. Why do I bother keeping you around?

HW: Anal?

JV
: Oh right....(Phone rings)....What the hell are you waiting for, answer the phone.

HW: It's Scottie he says that he has some new updates on your contract

JV: Gimme that, (slaps HW on the ass) now go make me a pie, Pumpkin, and when you are done lay in bed I'll be back later to take care of that. Hey Scottie, this better be good.

SB: Jason, good news we got you a two year contract with the Red Sox!

JV
: Great! So what are we looking at here, because I need some extra money, this alimony is killing me and Heidi has been pestering me for some new lips.

SB: Um, ok, before I tell you, just remember the market sucked this year. And well after the Teixiera negotiations, Theo has only communicated with me via carrier pigeons. No one is getting the money they deserve. We are looking at 5 million this year, with a team option next year, or a substantially less player option in 2010.

JV:
WHAT. THE. FUCK!!!??? This is the same shitty deal you told me about last week, what the hell have you been doing?

SB: Well, I tried EVERYONE and no one seemed to care that you have more intangibles than Derek Jeter, and can handle a pitching staff better than anyone in the pros. It seems everyone is worried that your swing is longer than Charles Haley's dick. So this is all we had. So here is the deal, you can either take their deal, or sit out next year....Or retire.

JV: Retire? How is that going to make me anymore money, jesus call Theo up and tell him that I will take the deal, as long as Heidi is going to be the clubhouse reporter, and after every game I get to nail her as much as possible in the showers.

SB: OK, I texted Theo he says thats fine, but Julio Lugo wants to watch.

JV: Fine whatever, I have dealt with some strange stuff on the Sox, Kevin Millar once got caught putting video cameras in the MENS bathroom. But Scott, me and you, we are finished. Take your 3% and go to hell, I don't ever want to see you again. Fuck this I'm out.... Heidi??? Did you remember to buy the industrial lube?

HW: Yup, I bought the two gallon Economy bottle.

JV: Hey at least everything didn't suck today...

Lucky Released Due to "Gay Shit"

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Good riddance, you annoying fucking midget.

Some of you may be saddened by the Celtics' decision yesterday to part ways with Damon Blust, who had played their mascot, "Lucky the Leprechaun." I, however, won't miss the little fucker, as I think that the inclusion of a Celtics mascot and the Celtics filthy gutter whor...uh, I mean "Dancers" have absolutely ruined the Celtics live game experience, along with the Jumbotron Noise Meter (GET LOUD! ARE WE AT GARDEN LEVEL YET? WE HAVE TO PROMPT OUR AUDIENCE TO CHEER BECAUSE THEY'RE FUCKING RETARDED WOOOO LETS PLAY ANOTHER OUTDATED MOVIE CLIP). Whoopity shit Lucky, you can dunk a basketball on a trampoline while fifteen whores from Revere named Jennafa shake their roast beef curtains at the crowd and the PA system plays C&C Music Factory. If Red were alive, he would firebomb the entire Garden upon seeing this shit, and not a jury in the state would convict him.

Now for a personal admission: I may or may not, at one point in my lifetime, been under the employ of one of the major four sports organizations in this fine city. The experience may or may not have only lasted six months, and ended in me quitting due to the utter incompetence of said organization and causing me to swear off that sport completely, a sport which may or may not be the favored sport of a female editor of this website. Theoretically speaking, obviously.


Anyways, one moment, above all others, stuck out for me during that time. It was the day that Ron Artest was traded from Indiana to Sacramento after sitting out something like 110 games due to his role in the Battle of Detroit. Ironically enough, Artest's first game in a Kings uniform would be that night against the Celtics, and in the TD Banknorth Garden. The last time anyone had seen Artest on a basketball court, he had been punching fans in the face and generally going batshit crazy, so it was easy to say that, especially in the Garden, security concerns and tensions were quite high. As I was riding the elevator with my buddy, Damon Blust happened to get on. We then had the following conversation, which is 100% factual in every way:

ME: "Hey, you're the guy who plays Lucky, right?

BLUST: "Yep."

ME: "You know Artest is coming back tonight, right? The crowd should be pretty pumped."

BLUST: "Yeah, I hear we're gonna have a sellout tonight."

ME: "Hey, can I offer you a word of advice?"

BLUST: "Sure?"

ME: "Well, I know you like to do all your flippy doos and stuff, but if you pull any of your gay shit in front of Artest, he may knock your ass out."

BLUST: "Excuse me?"

ME: "Yeah, like the gay shit you do on the court, hugging people and throwing out t-shirts and generally annoying the fuck out of everyone, you may want to avoid being near the Kings bench when you pull that shit. That crazy fucker will probably beat your midget ass into a pulp."


Blust was speechless and without comeback, and quickly pressed the button for the next floor before exiting the elevator with the quickness (and without his dignity). My buddy and I then proceeded to spend the next half hour laughing uproariously. That said, I'm proud to say that Lucky avoided going near the Kings bench for the entirety of the game. And it's a good thing too - that gay shit totally would've got his ass kicked.

Tebow vs. Treebow: Quien Es Mas Awesome-o?

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Recently, a Gainesville chainsaw artist (stop giggling) unveiled his statue "Treebow," a large oak cut into the shape of Greatest Human Being Ever, Tim Tebow. So, in a tribute to former ESPN funny guy Nick Bakay (who also did the voice of Salem on Sabrina the Teenage Witch), I present a Tebow vs. Treebow tale of the tape. Quien es mas awesome-o?

1) Size
6'2", 236lbs














7'6", "weighs as much as the earth"

WINNAR: TREEBOW



2) Awards


2 National Championships, 1 Heisman Trophy, 2 Maxwell Awards, 1 Davey O’Brien Award, All-American, Award For Being the Only Dude I’d Go Gay For












“Best Tree That Looks Like Tim Tebow” Award

WINNAR: TEBOW ("Best Tree That Looks Like Tim Tebow" isn't even a real award)


3) Mel Kiper Draft Projection

Fourth-round tight end, comparable to Frank Wycheck

















First round quarterback, has ideal size and pocket presence, comparable to Drew Bledsoe

WINNAR: TREEBOW


4) Creator


Most would say “God,” but being that Tebow is God, one could argue that Tebow, ergo, is self-created.













That dude with the hat.

WINNAR: TEBOW


5) Versatility

Accurate passer and powerful rusher, often called the top dual-threat player in the country.













Provides shade, useful in games of Hide and Go Seek

WINNAR: TEBOW


6) Companions
Dudes who run 4.2 40s, Riley Cooper, God, Filipino boys with infected foreskins, Big Titted Coeds

















Hat dude, palm trees, Ballyhoo Grill patrons


WINNAR: TEBOW (though the potato skins at Ballyhoo are like Spanish Fly, they bring the bitches)

7) Circumcision skill



Excellent












Poor

WINNAR: TEBOW (Penis splinters = OUCH)

8) Threats

None – all who have attempted to defeat Tebow have been left lying and helpless in his wake.












Termites.

WINNAR: TEBOW

9) Moh’s Scale of Hardness Rating


2: Gypsum (due to fleshy outercovering)












6: Feldspar

WINNAR: TREEBOW (Tebow is a badass, but oak is oak)

10) Embarrassing weakness


Friendship with Kenny Chesney













Ugly orange shoes

WINNAR: TREEBOW (nobody should EVER be friends with Kenny Chesney)

Overall WINNAR: Tebow 6-4, despite a late push from Treebow. Nothing was, is or will ever be mas awesome-o than Tebow, not even a giant oak statue bearing his likeness.

Attention Good Sir, Please Consume A Phallic Entree: The Pitts-burgh Steel-Men

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What ho, dear friends! It is I, your loyal servant W.P. Foxtrotty, taking a brief respite from my winter slumbers to report on the impending championship of foots-ball!

You surely know, gentle Reader, that discussion of foots-ball is but an avocation for me when compared to my primay bailiwick of bases-ball, and that I am loathe to consider acknowledging, let alone favoring, a French foots-ball club that currently plays in Mexico. However, even I cannot resist favoring such a Papist lot when the opponents of the day are that rabble of subhuman Pennsylvanian homonculii known as the Pitts-burgh Steel-Men!!! Which is why I submit my humble invocation: Pitts-burgh Steel-Men, I beseech you to partake of a cannibalistic feast of thy own male organs!

If one has not cast eyes upon the Pitts-burgh, that foul settlement at the conjunction of the filth-streams called "Al-egh Eny", "Mo-Non-Ga-He-La", and "Ohio" that besmirches the very names of the great William Pitt Sr. and Jr. by its mere existence, then one does not realize that the stench of the place -- a fetid conglomerate of sweat, manure, horse urine, smoke, and coal dust -- is detectable as far away as Harris-burgh. It is populated by a corpulent, lethargic sub-breed of homo sapiens whose main concerns are, in order, (1) the manufacture of steel, (2) buggery, (3) whingeing, and (4) buggery-related whoring.

Degenerate Pitts-burgh Cretins At Work


Dear friends, have you ever made the acquaintance of a stinking pile of flesh with a surname out of some ill-bred Slavic line, who wants to talk of naught but the various "thefts" that have cost his team "assured" championships? Or have you run across a freed Negro who lacks any discernable skills other than (a) running and (b) making excuses for the long and aembarassing litany of failures he accumulated due to his lack of discernable skills other than running and excuse-making? Why then, friend, you have had the dubious honor of meeting none other than a member of the Pitts-burgh Steel-Men! If the Slavic oaf's complaints were sequelled by a gigantic belch and an explosion of diarrheae, then you may instead have encountered one of the team's not-even-pitiable fanbase. You have my deepest sympathies, my poor soul! May Death someday free you of the pain of such an encounter!

A Typical Conversation Amongst Pittsburgh Whores


If, on the other hand, you are a connoisseur of sinful bestiality, then may I introduce you to the women of the Pitts-burgh! Surely the Lord God would look more kindly upon fornication with a goat, or the blow-hole of a porpoise, than upon any form of mating with these horse-faced monstrosities. In my day, I have seen more feminine beauty in the piles of sardine entrails at my father's cannery than I have seen in all of Pitts-burgh.

Finalists in the "Queen of Pitts-Burgh Pageant"


But why, you may ask, is such a pock on the fair face of America allowed to continue in its existence? Why has not the odious Pitts-burgh been culled from the flock, like the crippled lamb or the flatulent heifer? Because, dear friends, one must always have a chamber-pot if one wishes to keep one's chamber clean. In this case, the fair city of Philadelphia, the shining diadem of Penn's noble crown, must have an outlet for its sewage. As the faeces of the Boston masses is poured into the network of sewers and tanques septique, so the detrius and scum of Philadelphia are pour'd into the Pitts-burgh, the better to keep the City of Brotherly Love both brotherly and lovely.

But the line must be drawn somewhere! And the admittedly rough and tawdry name of foots-ball shall not be further sullied by this loutish lot of Steel-Men and their incessant buggery and whingeing!

Pitts-burgh Steel-Men Preparing For Buggery


And so, Pitts-burgh, may you feast upon male secondary sexual characteristics this week-end! Viva the Papists for this weekend only!

Thursday, January 29, 2009

The Neverending Manny Saga

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There is nothing more rewarding than watching Manny beg for a contract this off season. At the beginning of the offseason there was talk that he was going to be looking for a 4 year deal somewhere in the 100 million dollar range, and well he was way off. It is really refreshing that teams are computing "selfish dickhead" into their final analysis of Manny's true worth. Boras and Manny both completely misread the market, getting nothing more than a few "feeler offers":

Yankees- 1 Year Deal, with incentives based on creating new Section 8 projects in Washington Heights to compete with Mo Vaughn's apartments. Girardi has been actively campaigning to have him on the team because he desperately needs an antagonist in his future tell-all book "Mediocre Baseball"

Mets- 2 Year Deal, that requires Manny to only show up April-July since none of the other Mets show up in August or September either.

Red Sox- Sent Manny a smallpox infected blanket, which now is on his master bed.

Giants- A blank check to do whatever he wants, since Joseph Stalin could walk through that door and not be as much of a distraction as the slugger that preceded Manny.

Dodgers- Even though Manny saved the season by himself last year, the Dodgers are sticking with their original offer of 14 mil a season, since they decided to shit away the rest of the money needed to secure him by signing Rafael Furcal.


And I kid you not, the Worcester Tornadoes offered Manny a contract this week for 250,000 a year, which is around what the Red Sox are paying Jed Lowrie this season. It's real cute when a minor league team tries for publicity stunts like this, while their at it, why don't they offer Adam Dunn a spanking new donkey, and David Wells a lifetime supply of burritos at Qdoba. But hey, this stunt got their name out on a world class blog like Mass Hysteria. Yet there is a certain player who if he doesn't retire could be a real find for a team like Worcester...He likes to hunt, has the reflexes of a cheetah, and could kill you before you bat an eye, and deserves to play in the minors. OH NO!!!

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Get Metsmerized with the '86 Mets and Other Random Crap

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I have been going through a Jeff Pearlman phase the last few weeks, I recently finished his book Boys will be Boys, a look at the 90's Cowboys, and now "The Bad Guys Won" about the 86 Mets. The Mets book is very good, and with 2004 and 2007 behind us Red Sox fans can now read this book and really enjoy it. Trust me, you can. Pearlman, who just left ESPN this week to resume work with SI is a fantastic read, especially if you like the sense of humor in blogs like MH, Deadspin, Big Lead, and anything by Bill Simmons. The above video is a rap done by the '86 Mets mentioned in the book(sort of like their Super Bowl Shuffle), it is possibly the worst/best rap song I have ever heard in my life. It's called Get Metsmemorized, the brain child of George Foster (who wouldn't even finish the season with the Mets), and was created when the Mets had played ONE GAME. They make Milk, Vanilla Ice, and Fred Durst look like Run D.M.C. Please listen to it, you would be surprised, evidently being black doesn't automatically make you a good rapper (i.e Doc Gooden, Strawberry).

Also the Hysterics Have Been Busy Over at SlowBreaker:

Smarty has been busy covering such things as the felonious brother of a PC player, the White Sox are creating Obama hats, and how playing Madden makes you more competent to run a football team than Matt Millen

I wrote some articles on soccer, shockingly twice, and got mentioned on Deadspin for the scoop on TO's new reality show.

*GHABBY has created a new column that diaries his MMA training (This is a must read) and his weekly column that this week features....MORE MMA!

* Raquel wrote an NFL Conference Championship Preview, two games she thought were going to be very "meh".

Tomorrow's News Today: Scalabrine Leads Celtics to Win

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We at Mass Hysteria were able to get an early copy of tomorrow's AP story on tonight's Celtics-Kings game, featuring a heroic performance from an unlikely source.


(AP) BOSTON – The fact that the Celtics defeated the Kings on Wednesday night was of little surprise to NBA-watchers. However, the game’s superstar will probably surprise many: former backup forward Brian Scalabrine.

Scalabrine finished Wednesday’s game with 42 points, 18 rebounds, 12 assists, eight steals and six blocks in what was easily the best, and most surprising game of his career. Even more shocking was the fact that Scalabrine had been considered doubtful for Wednesday’s game after suffering his second concussion in three days during Tuesday’s practice, but reportedly showed up to the TD Banknorth Garden prior to the game looking refreshed, completely healthy and passing all mental examinations from team doctors.


“I don’t know what got into Scal, but he looked like a completely new man out there,” noted C’s forward Paul Pierce. “I didn’t even know Scal could dunk, but here he was, throwing down alley-oops and swatting shots out of the sky. The only weird thing was that he’d only answer to ‘Henry Rowengartner’ in the team huddle.” Scalabrine, never known for his vertical leap, also wowed fans by plucking a quarter off the top of the backboard during a television timeout and blowing out an entire birthday cake that rested on the top of the rim, also finding the time to remove each candle from the cake while suspended in air.

His dunking feats aside, possibly most impressive was Scalabrine’s quickness on Wednesday night, as his eight steals included two separate plays in which he dashed across the court to intercept simple outlet passes. MIT scientists examining Scalabrine’s performance this morning noted that his on-court speed during Wednesday’s game would translate roughly to a 4.07 40-yard dash, which would set an NFL record. The same scientists measured Scalabrine’s vertical leap at 97 inches, which would shatter the world record high jump set by Cuba’s Javier Sotomayor in 1993.

High-speed cameras were able to pick up the blindingly fast Scalabrine in action on Wednesday night.

A postgame interview with Scalabrine revealed little about his sudden talents or post-concussive symptoms, as he only made odd references to fictional characters as “Chet Steadman” and “Phil Brickma,” and repeatedly asked for his mother. Ironically, Scalabrine also was seen turning to actor Gary Busey for pregame advice.

“I knew Scal had it in him all along, it just took a concussion to get it out of him,” noted Celtics GM Danny Ainge, who had been widely criticized for signing the longtime bench player and butt of many league jokes. “My only worry now is that the Cubs sign him, as he’s reportedly been throwing 100-mile-per-hour fastballs all morning.”

Breakfast with the Hysterics

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Dan Shaughnessy is a grade A, helmet wearing, drooling on his shirt moron. When I first read this article on Boston.com, I was aching to write a EABOD to the Curly Haired Douchebag. But instead here it is. As you have probably seen on TMZ, Boston.com, Bostonherald.com, ESPN, Deadspin and well every fucking media outlet, Brady was spotted with Gisele in Mexico, being romantic! Oh the horror. The writers are insinuating that Brady's career is over, and has jumped the shark, and that he likes to swim with his gf he is somehow less of a man. Give-me-a-fucking-break. Shaughnessy claims that the QB has gone soft, for showing affection towards his Brazilian model gf, and for BEING FED BY HER. Who the fuck cares? Isn't it the dream of every man to be in a tropical location being hand fed by a model? What should he be doing? Going out to strip clubs getting blown by strippers in the back room, snorting coke off her ass? Would that make Brady more of a man?

Who the fuck cares what Brady is doing. The pictures show Brady still looking in good shape, so what he does on his free time shouldn't effect us in the least. If this was me, I would be doing the exact same thing as Brady, but I would be probably aiming my lust at Kristen Bell at some secluded 5 star hotel in Hawaii. Its pretty obvious Shaughnessy is jealous of Brady, a common theme for the cranky writer and Boston athletes. Shaughnessy probably has to go home to an annoying wife, who makes him clean the bathroom and shop with her at Home Depot for shower curtains on the weekends. Danny boy has probably never been with a girl that is hotter than a 6, let alone getting in the panties of a girl like Gisele, and he probably is masturbating furiously to those pictures from Mexico. Tommy has some grade A poon, and it seems like every media outlet in America is jealous.


Sorry ranted for a bit, its snowing in Boston again. In other news Brady is scheduled to be ready for the Opening of the 2009 season, which raises the question. What the hell are they going to do with Matt Cassel?

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Harrison Added to Non Stop Parade of Commentators

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Harrison giving a demonstration on his preferred method of stopping Larry Fitzgerald



First they came for Jerome Bettis, and no one said anything, then they came for Tiki and no one said no said anything, finally they have added Rodney Harrison. And there was no one left. Jesus Christ, NBC is just launching every football personality available into this pregame coverage. He will join "Bob Costas (midget), Cris Collinsworth (snarling asshole), Keith Olbermann (liberal douche), Dan Patrick (smarmy), Jerome Bettis (the I PLAYED FOR PITTSBURGH commentator ), Tiki Barber (the gay perspective) and Peter King (Special Reporter on all things Brett Favre). Tony Dungy (to exterminate Tiki), Mike Holmgren (washed up coach) and Matt Millen (incompetent boob).


That certainly is a motley crew. Can I make a suggestion though? If things get out of control, and stupid, which I am sure they will, plug your IPOD in and hit the mute button on your TV.

Breakfast with the Hysterics

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What happened in the world of Boston sports last night? Hmmm. NOTHING. Bruins had the night off, the Celtics didn't play. More boring talk about our washed up captain catcher, oh will he take the contract or not? But hey you can listen to non stop Super Bowl drivel on any of your favorite sports TV shows. What is going on with Anquan Boldin? Who is a better young coach Ken Whisenhunt or Mike Tomlin? What does Bob Knight think about the Super Bowl matchup (no seriously, he was on Sportscenter talking about this). I love Super Bowl time though, it is seriously the best time of the year that you can combine three of the worlds vices in one event. Binge Eating, Heavy Drinking, and Compulsive Gambling.

Buffalo Wings are the food of the gods, well if God was an overweight diabetic who lives in a trailor and beats his wife. I want the buffalo wings to be overcooked and crispy, and hot as balls. Seriously I want the wings to assault my entire digestive track, and fuck blue cheese that only pacifies the napalm that accompanies Frank's Hot Sauce. Another must is nacho chips and a good salsa. None of that Chichi's or Ortega shit that is all juice and no substance. You've gotta go with my favorite Gringo's salsa, and again get the Hot stuff. You won't regret it, but if anyone shares a bed with you they will. Finally add a good guacamola dip and you are good to go.

Drinking during the Super Bowl is a time honored tradition that takes much preparation and thought beforehand. It is an unwritten rule that you have to drink beer during the Super Bowl. If you drink wine, mixed drinks or cider you deserve to be kicked in the dick (well unless you are missing a pancreas). The pace you drink is also important, you want to keep a steady flow going through the entire game, because it will help you get through the long commercial breaks, and painfully bad half time show. But don't drink too fast, or you will get fucked up and miss the entire game, and probably work in the morning. May I recommend some shitty light beers that you wouldn't drink otherwise? Coors light? Miller Light?

Finally, gambling, ah the vacuum that steals our money. Nothing is a bigger waste of money then gambling, but yet again we do it every year. Now some of you are good with this and avoid the temptation to try and win, and to you I say fuck you and your self control. Me on the other hand, dropped money on the Pats last year, and blew 40 bucks on squares only to lose on both, have my fiance hit the squares twice and not share any of the winnings with me (even though I paid for her squares). Note that gambling is usually tied in directly with the drinking, if the team you threw money on is losing, the alcohol consumption markedly increases. Just something to consider.


Question for the Hysterics: What are your Super Bowl Plans?

Monday, January 26, 2009

New Hampshire: The Camouflage State

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If you didn't catch yesterday's globe, they had a heartwarming tale of a Pingree School goalie, from Hampton, New Hampshire, who ordered custom-made goalie pads designed to blend into the goal net behind him. The idea is that shooters will see the camouflaged pads and shoot directly into them, thinking they're shooting at open net. Cute, and it's met with moderate success, as he's had two shutouts since wearing the pads (and Raquel tells me that shutouts are, in fact, a good thing if you're a goalie).


However, at Mass Hysteria realize that he's simply following in a fine New Hampshire tradition of camouflage, disguise and trickeration. In this post, we'll look at some of the other examples throughout history of New Hampshire pulling the wool over our collective eyes:

*A regular old dumb side of a mountain disguised as "The Man in the Mountain."

*Bustling cities cloaked as "endless stretches of trees and uninhabited landscape."

*Hampton Beach camouflaged as "a 1970s crack den with sand."

*The town of Seabrook masked as "Chernobyl without the charm."

*A manure processing plant pretending to be "The University of New Hampshire."

*Mid-1980s Lowell recreated as "Manchester."

*Vacuuous money pits concealed as "ski mountains and resorts."

*Northern Methuen falsifying itself as "Salem."

*Manicured landscapes smoke-screened as "lawns with 15 broken-down cars in front."

*New Hampshire itself pretending to be "a state anyone cares about more than once every four years."


Note, however, that nothing here was stated about Portsmouth. That's because Portsmouth rules, and not just because their fine burgh is responsible for a large percentage of my current liver failure. The Coat of Arms has Strongbow on tap and a drink called the "Celtic Warrior" which is Guiness, Strongbow and a shot of Jameson. It is, therefore, the happiest place on Earth, ten million times happier than Disney World. If you mock Portsmouth, I can and will fight you. Unless you're wearing camouflaged hockey pads, in which case I'll laugh at you, then fight you.

Breaking News: Not Every Pedroia May be as Awesome as Dustin

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"Now Dustin, point where he touched you."

According to KCRA out of Sacramento, Brett Pedroia, the 29-year-old brother of MVP and Gentile David Eckstein Dustin Pedroia, has been taken into police custody on a probable cause warrant for two counts of "oral copulation and lewd acts with a child under the age of 14." Basically, Big Bro is being accused of being a pederast, though Sporting Blog writer and fellow Woodland, CA resident Tom Ziller notes that the entire town is professing Brett's innocence, and that "the family is royalty in this town."

Now, I don't know whether Brett Pedroia got a beej from a preteen (or whether getting a hummer from a girl in braces scratches up your junk not that I've ever thought of that), but I would like to take this opportunity to note the frustration felt by heterosexual males on a regular basis when it comes to underage girls. Go to the gym, or the movies on a Friday night, or Chuck E Cheese on a Wednesday afternoon and you'll see scores of young, nubile young women dressed in barely anything at all. Society, public decorum and the laws of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts tell us that we can't act upon our impulses, but when the girl on the elliptical machine in front of you is wearing supertight shorts with the word "Juicy" or "Hottt" or "Open for Business" on the ass, the heterosexual male mind can't help but drift to thoughts of lust. Do we act on these thoughts? Obviously not. But for fuck's sake, these teenage girls sure make it goddamned difficult for us to be law-abiding citizens who don't stick their penises in underage girls. STOP DRESSING LIKE WHORES SO MUCH GODDAMNIT YOURE DRIVING US FUCKING INSANE AAAHHH.

Waitasec, the article didn't say if it was a boy or girl he was accused of molesting, did it? Cause if it was a boy, well, then lock that fucking perv in a cell with a bunch of angry Aryans and tell the guards to look the other way for an hour. Fucking pedo scum of the earth boy-fucker. That shit is gross.

Of course I mean, um, innocent until proven guilty and all that stuff.

Dear Charles P. Pierce:

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Shut the fuck up.

Love,
Raquel

Yes, Yes...Your Tears Sustain Me

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Oh boo hoo, you lost to the Eagles. It's so tough to be you, the whole world feels your pain. Oh Peji is that you, the one who was taunting us during the season?:

As a die-hard Giants fan, I gotta say, I laughed my ass off just readin both this blog, and the comments that followed. Um, BTW, my team is 11-1 right now, and are the reigning champs, after losing how many players? You Belichick-Kool Aid-drinking crybabies lost you pretty boy and can't beat the DOLPHINS? (Oh my bad, Ronnie Brown by himself mad you look stupid using plays a hugh school team could have caught onto. Here's a hint. If there is no QB in the backfield, they are gonna direct-snap to the tailback, you fucking clueless dipshits. What, is Junior "I'm 95 years old and I STILL can't get a ring? CHRIST!" Seau still playing linebacker there or something?) Anyway, stop with your "lucky" excuses and all that nonsense. Yeah, the Pats were the better team last year. I'll freely admit it. But they would not have coined the phrase "Any Given Sunday" unless it way true. Quit your goddamn whining, be happy with the goddamn three rings you've won this decade and GET THE FUCK OVER IT! YOU LOST! MOVE ON!!! (And remember to watch Big Blue DEFEND THAT TITLE THIS YEAR!!!)

And as that fat-ass Andy Reid would say (BTW I live in Philly. You think you Bah-stahn fahns scare New Yorkers? Try being a Giants fan here if you wanna deal with people being angry at you...) "The time is yours..."


That sounds like you in the video, it must be really hard losing to an incompetent boob(s) like McNabb and Reid. Here is a hint for you, Eli got lucky last year, escaping the title mediocre QB by a cunthair, expect more of what you saw in the playoffs this year to happen in the future. The Giants lost Strahan and Osi Humanurine this year, and your "genius" DC Spagnuolo is going to piss away his career in St. Louis. Life is going to be tough for him as he will have to spend most of his time preventing Leonard Little from getting loaded and killing people. Listen pal, we lost our superstar-all universe- starting QB and still almost made the playoffs, what is your excuse? Missing Cheddar Bob?

Breakfast with the Hysterics

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There is nothing that sucks more than coming back to work after the weekend. It ranks up there with getting a cavity filled, a parking ticket when you run into a store, and hang overs after a night of uncontrolled drinking and falling asleep in your clothes. But all in all, this Monday doesn't feel so bad, which is especially weird since this is coming off a four day workout week, well 3.5 if you consider that I spent most of Tuesday watching the Inauguration with coworkers. The Celtics kicked the ever loving piss out of the Mavericks yesterday, led by the resurgence of Eddie House! When did he become such a prolific outside threat, I mean he was pretty good but now he is becoming one of the best bench players in the country. And there looks to be an end in sight with the Varitek-Sox saga, and I bet you by the end of this week he will be back in Boston signing a 1 year deal with an option (But for less than he expected)

There was a lot of cool stuff this weekend, so I thought we could do a few videos of some of the crazy shit that happened (And I included a hockey video!)

1. Chase Budinger gets curbed against Houston:


2. Former Ski Champion Daniel Albrecht gets knocked the fuck out (he's in a coma right now but doctors say he will be fine)


3. This was possibly the coolest hockey thing I have seen in a while. Ovechkin and Malkin put together quite a show during the Skills Competition at the All Star Game. This coming after many heated moments between the two in the past:



4. I can't remember if this was over the weekend or late last week, but irregardless...Marshall beat Southern Methodist with a last second chuck:

Friday, January 23, 2009

Negotiating with Scott Boras

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South of the Mason Dixon line, Jason Varitek is awoken from his slumber by a phone call, it is his agent Scott Boras.....

Heidi Watney: (pops head from under covers, answers phone) Jason darling, the phone is for you.

Jason Varitek: Is it my ex-wife or the kids? I don't want to hear about what they learned about in school or hear her complain about the alimony again. I just want some sweet blonde poontang.

HW
: No sweetie, its Scottie. He wants to talk to you, says its important.

JV: Hey Scott, I'm kind of busy right now, whats the good word?

Scott Boras: Hey Jason, I wanted to talk to you about the contract situation.

JV: Oh awesome, I bet there are like four teams that you are playing off each other. So what are we looking at here, two years 14 million?

SB: ......no

JV: Oh ok, how about one year 8 million with a club option? I mean the price has gotta be high for a catcher who was captain of the 2007 World Series Champions!

SB
: Unfortunately not. Well Jason, I tried all that, it doesn't seem to be working.

JV: Well can't we at least play the Red Sox off against some sort of mystery team, say the Royals, and that you have a 2 year deal on the table. You told me that was your ace up your sleeve, jesus you did it to perfection in 2004!... My lord even Greg Zaun already has a deal. Come on Scott you've gotta give me something here, Heidi come here (pushes head down, she vanishes beneath the sheets).

SB: See the thing is Jason, no one really wants to give up a first round draft pick to take you on, they think the draft pick is worth more than you.

JV: A draft pick?!!! What in the hell are you talking about? I am the guy that took on Alex Rodriguez! I have caught four no hitters! They could end up with a draft pick like Brien Taylor!.... Isn't this an outrage hun?

HW: (from under sheets) Gar gar gar (chokes)

SB: I know Jason, but it looks like our only option is to crawl back to the Red Sox and take the 3 or 4 million dollars they offer.

JV: (VERY angry) Wait, so you are saying I am going to have to take a 3-4 million dollar deal, when if I accepted arbitration I could be making around 10 million again???!!!!

SB: Well, we had no idea the market was going to be so lukewarm this year.

JV: SCOTT ISNT IT YOUR FUCKING JOB TO TEST THE WATERS TO MAKE SURE SHIT LIKE THIS DOESN'T HAPPEN??? WHAT THE HELL AM I PAYING YOU FOR???

SB: Jason, you know how I work, no matter what the situation, you were going to test the free agency market. Sometimes you win sometimes you lose.

JV
: (collects himself) Scott I have a deal for you, how about I come over to your office, and rip your scrotum off and stuff it down your nostril, then when I am done I will punch you in the liver so you choke on it when it comes back out of your mouth. You're a fucking disgrace Scott, I have had a distinguished career and now you have me fucking begging to get a job. Lick my ass dickhole, your fired.... Now where was I? Oh yeah. (goes back to violating HW)


Tom Is Our Leader, and Our Leader is Good

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Don’t know if you guys caught Matt Cassel’s comments on ESPNNEWS yesterday, but they were pretty telling as to where his mindset is regarding the Pats, his relationship with Tom Brady, and his massive, giant inferiority complex:

"This is Tom's team. The Patriots have been Tom's team. He's built that franchise up with his own two hands. He's the guy, and he was the MVP the year before. I realize that. He's been such a mentor for me that I would say, 'No, there is no quarterback competition.' But I've learned so many things from Tom, and hopefully it'll help me in my career."

In a further interview with Mass Hysteria, Cassel further elaborated on his relationship with Brady:

“This coffee mug I’m holding, this is Tom’s coffee mug. It may say ‘Matt’ on it, but it really belongs to Tom, as do all of my possessions. My shoes are Tom’s. My pants are Tom’s. The jersey I wear every Sunday that has my last name on it, well, I only wear it because Tom lets me. Tom is my Leader, and I shall follow Him wherever He goes. Once I saw Tom having a threesome with my mother and sister, and I asked both of them if I could smell their vaginas afterwards, if only to know the scent of Tom's seed. If Tom tells me to climb a mountain, I shall do so because He said so. If Tom calls upon me to slay one of his enemies, I shall do so with pride in His name. And if Tom wants me to make the ultimate sacrifice and take this cyanide tablet that He has supplied me with ‘for emergency purposes,’ I shall do so with no hesitation, with the promise of a Heaven with seventy-seven Toms waiting for me.”


Further research into Cassel’s childhood found even more disturbing facts. Cassel reportedly would hand his lunch money to bullies every day, telling them they deserved it for “their efforts enforcing justice on the playground.” Cassel has not once crossed the street without holding someone’s hand. Cassel’s parents once bought him a Big Wheel, but he never rode it because his parents never gave him explicit instructions to do so.

Our research, however, has shown that Cassel showed proficiency in one game as a child, and is currently the world’s top ranked player. That game? Simon Says.