The Other Fifteen

This video is based on an essay my friend Jaron Gressel wrote in 7th grade.  His teacher told them to write a “how to” guide.  He chose “How To Make Out” to broadcast to the girls in his class that he knew how it was done, just in case they were interested.  What a little shit.

Congratulations, Canada.  You won the hockey gold medal last night in an overtime shootout despite having BY FAR the most talented team in the tournament AND the home-crowd advantage (and even home ice for your goalie, Vancouver’s Roberto Luongo).  How did you ever overcome those odds to barely defeat the US team that was ranked 5th before the games started and had the youngest roster in the whole tournament?

Seriously, though, Canada deserved to win.  Why?  Because they give a shit about hockey and their country would have collapsed in to complete anarchy if they didn’t win.  So, to celebrate their win, here is a picture of their national treasure, Sidney Crosby (the second-best hockey player in the world) rejoicing in his game-winning goal as only he, and other people who resemble donkeys, can.  Oh, Canada.

Tiger Woods and the speech he read from.

Tiger Woods finally came out of hiding to address the public regarding his “sticking his dick in anything with tits and a pulse” problem.  As with any carefully orchestrated press conference, the wording is filled with vagueness and spin to try to turn something humiliating and scandalous into redemptive public sympathy.  So I will do you the favor of translating Tiger’s words from what he said to what he really meant.

What he said: “I want to say to each of you simply and directly, I am deeply sorry for my irresponsible and selfish behavior I engaged in.”

What he meant: “I want to read things to you off of this piece of paper.  Things that my handlers wrote to make you like me again.”

Tiger looking sad.

What he said: “Elin and I have started the process of discussing the damage caused by my behavior.”

What he meant: “This process was started when she smashed me in the face with a golf club.”

What he said: “I have made you question who I am and how I could have done the things I did.  I am embarrassed that I have put you in this position.”  What he meant: “Man!  I wish I hadn’t gotten caught!”

Tiger looking sad while reading his speech.

What he said: “For all that I have done, I am so sorry.”

What he meant: “For all the chicks I nailed that weren’t my wife, I am so sorry I was caught.”

What he said: “I knew my actions were wrong, but I convinced myself that normal rules didn’t apply.”

What he meant: “I’m Tiger Woods, bitch!”

What he said: “I thought I could get away with whatever I wanted to.”

What he meant: “King Kong ain’t got shit on me!”

Tiger pledging allegience... to his wife that he cheated on SO many times.

What he said: “I felt that I had worked hard my entire life, and deserved to enjoy all the temptations around me.”

What he meant: “I am a glutton who will stick his dick in any old pancake waitress that happens to walk by me.”

What he said: “It’s up to me to start living a life of integrity”

What he meant: “No more banging pancake waitresses in parking lots for this guy!”

What he said: “It’s hard to admit that I need help, but I do.”

What he meant: “Help rehabbing my image for sponsors and the public!  Am I right?  Huh?  High fives!”

What he said: “I owe it to those closest to me to become a better man…  Part of following this path, for me, is Buddhism.”

What he meant: “Go fuck yourself, Britt Hume.”

What he said: “I ask you to find room in your heart to one day believe in me again.”

What he meant: “Please stop talking about all the times I cheated on my wife, including all the unbelievable skanks I cheated with, and all the outrageous details of those affairs, and instead start talking about me as the greatest golfer on Earth again.  That would be way better for me.”

Tiger leaves the bluest room in history.

Tiger slowdancing with his mommy.

Champagne snowball.

Here it is, folks: the hardest kick to the nuts in the history of the world.  And the guy taking it agreed to it beforehand.  What an idiot.  What’s that?  He’s a trained professional who does this all the time?  Then he’s a bigger idiot.  His life is dedicated to repeatedly getting hit in the nuts so that he can toughen them up for even harder shots to the nuts.  Here’s the evidence in stunning detail.

Going into Sunday’s game, everyone had the subplot in the back of their minds about New Orleans recovery from the devastation of hurricane Katrina.  Only, for Louisiana natives that subplot was the main story.  While the rest of the country sits back and assumes that a sports team’s victory 5 years after a natural disaster is arbitrary, for the people of New Orleans and the entire Mississippi Delta this is the moment they’ve been waiting for.

Sports galvanizes people.  It brings us together.  It gives us hope.  It is a welcome distraction.  It brings us heroes.  It gives you something you can believe in.  And in no instance was this more true than in the case of the post-Katrina Saints.  In the wake of that disaster, the city turned to what was for a long time the only team in town.  A team that, like them, had been through hard times.  A team that they had stood by when times were tough.  And a team that they now needed to stand by them in their time of need.  That city needed something to be proud of.  Something to root for.  Something that it could celebrate.  People that it could look up to.  It needed underdogs-turned-heroes like Drew Brees, an injured castoff of a QB who signed with them for less money than other teams had offered because he felt that he could help the team and the city.  He has done both.  They needed people like Louisiana native Tracy Porter, who had a picture of the Louisiana Superdome shaved into his head the day before his game-clinching interception for a TD.  That was a symbol of New Orleans in its darkest days, a refugee shelter for its own fans, now being used as motivation for brighter days.  For healing.  For closure to a painful past.  For catharsis.

People can downplay the fact that a victory for a sports franchise can do much to heal a ravaged city.  But those people don’t understand what that team means to that town.  Or their stadium to the people who slept in it and now cheer in it.  Or those players to the people who they donate their time and money to.  Doubters don’t understand the need to believe in something bigger than yourself, or the need to be proud of where your from and how far you’ve come.  They don’t understand that when you have so little to feel good about, you cling to what little good you have left.  The Saints were that common good for New Orleans.  They were the one thing that survivors of that tragedy could put their hopes and dreams into, could look at with pride, could feel uplifted by, and finally feel good about themselves because the hope that they had clung to while their city was adrift has now come through for them when they needed it.  Celebrate, New Orleans, like only you know how.  You deserve it.  I have a feeling that this Mardi Gras is going to be the best yet.

The following pictures were taken by me 7 months after Katrina struck New Orleans.

This is a video of Bourbon Street after the Saints won the title:

With the release of Tim McCarver’s groundbreaking debut album, Songs by Dead People for the Nostalgia of Old People, several of his contemporaries are jumping on the bandwagon to shamelessly cash in on their names while they can.  Here are a few products endorsed by sports announcers:

Greg Oden is sad that his nekkid pictures got out. But not as sad as the people who accidentally saw them.

Gregg Oden can now be added to the list of celebrities with naked pictures circulating on the interwebz.  Since neither I, nor anyone else, would willfully seek out and look at these pictures, one can only speculate as to how disgusting he looks in his birthday suit.  The one question I have is: Which is more wrinkly, his forehead or his nut sack?  These are the questions that “hard-hitting” journalists dare not ask.  That’s why you come to me… for the scrotum questions.

Favre, after another interception, is seen here contemplating just how much he wants to jerk around his team and the media before the start of next season.

Vikings quarterback Brett Favre called a press conference today to announce his (third) retirement from football.  Favre cried a lot and said that finishing his career on a game in which his 2 interceptions and 1 fumble ended his team’s chance at a title was a fitting way to call it quits.  Immediately after his press conference, Favre called another press conference to cry and un-retire (again), followed by an exclusive interview with Fox News saying, while crying, that the Vikings were at fault for the way things had ended and then threatened to leave the team for the rival Packers if things didn’t immediately get resolved on his terms.  Favre then called another press conference in which he did nothing but sob uncontrollably while making no attempt at saying anything at all.

That’s our point guard.  He’s 6′3″ and he’s throwing down like he’s Shawn Kemp.  And he’s only 21.  There is no precedence, and no ceiling for this kid.  Notice at the end that he has to duck under the back board to avoid hitting his head after he gets bumped by Dragic.  Speaking of which, “posterized” can no longer be used to describe moments like this.  It’s out-dated.  I would like to nominate, “Goran Dragic is now youtube infamous,” or if announcers ever get a clue, simply “pwnage.”

UPDATE: Before the game, Derrick Rose announced that he would donate $1,000 for every point he scored to the crisis in Haiti.  In the end, he gave $32,000 to the cause.

I was just watching the Knicks/Pistons game and I noticed what looked like a broom handle with a number 5 jersey playing for the Pistons.  Turns out it was rookie Austin Daye.  I didn’t think there would be a player who could out-skinny Tayshaun Prince, but Daye is looking to take his title.  Here’s a comparison.

Austin Daye:

Oops.  That’s Christian Bale from the movie The Machinist.  Here’s Austin Daye:

You can see why I got them mixed up.

Ooh, yeah Austin.  Show off them gangly limbs.

Elbows aren’t supposed to bend that way.  Then again, when there’s no meat to get in the way of the bones…

That jersey looks baggy on him.  That’s pretty hard to pull off.

Ok, now on to the competition.

Tayshaun Prince:

Oops.  Wrong person again.

In his career highlight up to this point, Tayshaun won his first battle of the skinnies against Reggie Miller.

Why am I suddenly reminded of Dhalsim from Street Fighter II?

Yes, Tayshaun can get his elbows above the rim.  His bony, knobby elbows.

Tayshaun attempts to slip past the defender by making himself as slender as possible.  Unfortunately, it worked too well, and he became permanently two-dimensional.

So now it’s up to you, the reader, to decide: Who needs a sandwich more, Tayshaun Prince or Austin Daye?