And my favorite post of all-time...NFL players draw God

I drew these pics and this article really never got linked anywhere because people were scared to piss off the God people. It isn't a joke about God, well...you'll see.

Holiday Gift Ideas: Books by Sports Personalities

It’s the Holiday season and I’m sure that some of you are searching for the perfect gift for that special sports lover in your family. Well, I’m here to help. I just happen to have a list of sports books that have come out during the past year that’ll be sure to fill the gaping hole (that beer and a hours of therapy obviously can‘t) of any sports fan on your holiday shopping list this season. Whether it’s a hardcore college football fan, or that Timberwolves fan that you just can’t seem to talk off the roof, there is a book on this list for fans of all shapes and sizes.*

Jesus Help Me…Literally by Charlie Weis

We almost won! The Herm Edwards Story by Herm Edwards

Beautiful Blondes and The Damned Cowboys by Tony Romo

Tuesdays with Marbury by Mike D’Antoni

The Sun Also Sets by Steve Nash

Oh SNAP! by Joe Theismann and Lawrence Taylor

Applebees be Dangerous as Shit These Days by Plaxico Burress

Limping to Perfection by Tom Brady

I’d Sooner be in Oklahoma than living with the Lions by 2008 Heisman Winner Sam Bradford

The Drinkest Drank in Drunktown (or Hooters) by John Daly

A Farewell to Labrums by Dusty Baker

The Never Ending Story of Boredom - PS, I Secretly Hate the Red Sox by Joe Buck

How to Survive an NFL Career with a body made from Cheap Taiwanese Glass by Steve McNair

Cheeseburgers, Milkshakes, Double Deep Fried Pudding Pops and 160 million dollars - The CC Sabathia Diet

Growing up in the Lollipop Guild by Dustin Pedrioa

I just won’t f@%*ing die and 100 other ways I’m just like Dracula by Raider Owner Al Davis

How to Lose Friends and Alienate Fanbases by Brett Favre

Where am I, Joe? by Troy Aikman

Floundering in the NBA by Tyler Hansbrough

All the King’s Horses and All the King’s men are moving to New York Soon by Lebron James

Ordinary People…who Date Madonna by Alex Rodriguez

A Life of Being Paid in Reality Checks by Manny Ramirez


I’m still here and I still play for the Spurs by Tim Duncan

Actually, I do hate you Cub Fans by God (first book was NY Times best seller of the Millennia)

Flagged, Paper Bagged and Tagged as the Worst of All-Time by The 2009 Detroit Lions

Zen and the Art of Flopping by Manu Ginobli

There may be a God, Detroit by Barry Sanders Jr.

Fear and Loathing in the Closet of Vogue Magazine by promiscuity policeman Sean Avery

Atlas Shrugged…So I Punched Him in the Face by Steve Smith

The 6 Dollar Man (And Still Overpriced) by Adam Morrison

How to Strike Out Without Really Trying by whiff-master Ryan Howard

3 Drop Steps to Being Unsuccessful by Rex Grossman

The Story of the SEC: Speed + Experience = Championships

I have no F@*%ing Clue What I’m Talking About by Tony Kornheiser

Hines Wald: Numbell One Smaltest Leceiver by Hines Wald

Woooooooooo: The Life and Times of The Nature Boy by Rick Flair

You Gonna Eat That? by Eddy Curry

The Story of Me and Me and Me and Me and Me and Me and finally, Me by more than a dozen Hershel Walkers

Hi, Welcome to McDonald’s, Would You like to Try a Detached Retina? by Kimbo Slice

Not So Great Expectations by Padre Pitcher Jake Peavy

The Bell Keeps Tolling, Yet Somehow I’m Still Here by Bengal Coach Marvin Lewis

2008: A Suck Odyssey by former Lions GM Matt Millen

Catch 23 by Cleveland Cavaliers Owner Dan Gilbert

People at IHOP F@*%ing Hate Me by Michael Phelps

Welcome to the Intensive Care Unit Mr. Green by Trent Green

Screw the Recession! How much do you want? by Yankee Owner Hank Steinbrenner

How to Piss Off Everyone Gambling on Today’s Game by NFL ref Ed Hockuli

Oh-Hell-I’m-Overmatched by Every Player Ever from Ohio State

I’m so bored now, I could choke somebody - Bobby Knight with a forward by Latrell Sprewell

The Secret…CHEATING by Bill Belichick

* Except for soccer. Soccer is not actually a sport and is considered a wildly inappropriate activity to people with attention spans, athletic ability and the men who don’t enjoy being bored to death by other men running around like Liberace at a sequin factory.

Is there one that I missed? Leave it in the comment section below…

Oh and the podcasts

The podcasts can be found here The Douche Report. I write them all myself and one can plainly see that I sometimes do not have the time or help needed to make them. The first one is good and the 5th episode has the best jokes, but I obviously needed someone else to riff off of some weeks. It was much more difficult than I imagined to sit in a room by myself and try and be funny. Without an audience, you just start to think you're a crazy person.

Maya Angelou’s predictions for the 2009-10 NFL Season

As most of you know, Maya Angelou and I tend run in the same circles. We are both North Carolina poets and wordsmiths. We are both held in the highest regards by other esteemed writers and laureates from throughout this great country. From the President of the United States all the way down to the drunken hobos that live behind the Sunoco down the street from my house.

In order to fully prepare for the upcoming NFL season, I asked her to write a few words about the fate of a few of the teams. And here, you lucky Lampoon readers, are her predictions for the 2009-10 NFL Season,

The Cowboys


Romo-thou art not a homo

Fumbulicious, maybe still

Play-offs still haunt your dreams

No longer necessary on special teams

But a man in shining blue stars

Who holds all the cards

Of fortune,

is surely sheriff

A billion green faces have lain

Before you an exquisite new home

Where Buffalo need not roam

As long as T.O. catches in their town

The Jones of Jerry; Master of Cowboys

Has built a cathedral of success

For America’s team

The American Dream

Like blondes with high beams

A subject you know something about

Wrangle up some wins Tony R.

In the play-offs, you must ride far

Or next year at this time

You will be washing my car


The Jets


Jets, the Jets; soaring through the clouds

Hopes and dreams on the wings of Favre

Have come careening to the ground

Alas, a new pilot this season will fly

Ready to pull back the throttle

And rise higher and higher into the sky

Fans line-up to for the chance to see

On the runway, as the green Jets taxi

The people rise, rise and crowd the airport gate

Sadly, they will still finish worse than 8 and 8.


The Bears


Chicago cold and windy

The lake stares briskly at you

Orton traveled to Denver

And so, the offense is born anew

The defense is like poetry

At the helm a man, Urlacher

As blanketing as a new fallen snow

The qb he will surely sack her

Traps for Bears don’t often succeed

But they often catch the Cubbies

So Chicago puts it hopes and dreams

On the shoulders of a man named Lovie


The Vikings


Brett Favre, Brett Favre

The people of Minnesota

Are starved, for a ring

Put on your majestic purple Four

And helmet—which proudly adorns

Those alabaster and unbreakable horns

And lead your men to battle

Greeen Bay shakes its death rattle

As new fans will help you mount the saddle

Because a championship ring is in their conception

The ball floats higher and higher and higher

Interception


The Panthers


Roaming in the fields of the Carolinas

Panthers, majestic, proud and black

Basking in a harvest of blue Peppers

Where Carolinians pick up there sacks

Alas, the Peppers have gone sour

And it ruins the farmer’s lunch

For he hath provided the defense

And Smith hath provided the punch

If Peppers does not return to Charlotte fields

Leaving all opponents--free to roam

Panthers of Carolina have dug their grave

Where mediocrity will call surely call Delhomme


The Bucs


Once, proud pirates on the seas of seven

Buccaneers be not proud, furthermore

Their ship had begun taking on water

Cadillac is on cinderblocks

in the front yard

Cannons lay silent

The boat is taking on water

This isn't even worth it

You suck.


The Patriots


Patriots, oh Patriots,

Where have thou gone?

Once a team of outrageous dexterity

Has put down their muskets of age

A man of steel has been laid to turf

His injured leg hath felt the dirt

And the steel of scalpel upon his knee

Had set his opponents,

Who had longed to be free

Freedom! They exclaimed

As the war carried on

Red, white and blue still fought at dawn

Patriots forever, no matter the case

As linebackers grew old

And victory,

They no longer could taste

But, out of a deep musty fog

your General has risen

So pick up your muskets

And release yourself from prison

He is the One to ease your worried pains

For he is the Man that moves your chains

Augusta National puts the "Child" Back in Cild Labor

The azaleas are blooming. The air warms as it floats through the trees. The grass is starting to become that shade of green that only seems possible in postcards. And of course, the economy is still a toxic wasteland of shit. That can only mean one thing: Spring has sprung in Georgia. And every year at this time, the world’s most important golf tournament takes place at the world’s most prestigious golf course, Augusta National.

I am of course speaking of the much fabled Masters Tournament, held every April in Augusta, Georgia. Augusta National: Home course to the uber-elite of American businessmen and golfers alike. With a membership that boasts both Warren Buffett and Bill Gates, it’s obvious that only the wealthiest of the wealthy will ever get the chance to lace up their spikes and play a round on the most storied golf course this side of St. Andrews.

However, even with an abundance of class and wealth, the Masters Tournament is still feeling the icy grip of the current recession. And so without giving it second thought, the club decided to trim the cost of hosting such an extravagant event and revert back to the golden years of American industry. When OSHA was the Cajun word for where the water met the sand, Rockefellers were the richest fellers, and nine year olds spent 12 hours a day deep in the coal mines, precisely where they all belonged.

And with that in mind, they simply fired all their caddies and replaced them with child labor. Lines of children ranging from age 2 to 11, wearing bright white cover-alls emblazoned with the name of their golfer on their back, lined the cart path around Eisenhower Cabin; they all stood quietly as some spit shined shoes, others washed balls and a select few juggled the task of keeping golfer Vijay Singh from being a complete and utter douchebag, while also wrestling a cart of chocolate eclairs away from Craig Stadler, in a scene that the 34th president himself would have been proud of.



“Are those Nike Zooms?” one child asks in a nasally pre-pubescent voice, “Hey, I made those!” Roughly 85 children from all over the United States were going to bypass school and carry bags on the 7,400 yard course today. When asked why they so desperately needed the work, one of the younger caddies remarked, “Hey in this economy a job’s a job. This ain’t a bad gig. I got brother in Odessa who shingles roofs and a little sister that’s over in Iraq. If I gotta loop for Tiger this week to make a few bucks, so be it. Lining-up putts certainly pays more than finger painting.” Army recruiting violations aside, another caddy simply stated “Hey, I got kids to feed.”

And with those words, the kids grabbed their bags and hit the course with their respective golfer. Of course it wasn't all fun and games, as one caddy turned out to be a midget from a nearby construction site that managed to hop the fence and sneak onto the course. He was quickly detained by course marshals after they found him trying to sneak off with $2000 dollars worth of golf clubs and Freddy Couples wallet. He was quickly removed from the course and was made to take a handcuffed walk down Magnolia Lane.

And while the tournament is said to have saved money on this year's event, the day was far from without incident. Several caddies were caught playing Pokemon on Nintendo DS, when they were supposed to be gauging the swirling winds, a near riot broke out on the 10th tee as several caddies fought feverishly over a juicebox after the clubhouse ran out early while several golfers were making the turn, one caddy decided to have nap time right in the middle the 14th fairway, much to the chagrin of the group teeing off behind him, and a particularly surley young lady was overheard arguing with her pro, saying, "Look, if you wanny be a pansy and lay up, then by all means hit the 7-iron Nancy, but if you wanna man up and get to the green in two, I suggest growing a pair and hitting the 3 wood." When the golfer then proceeded to lay-up and muttered something to the effect of that's why I'm #2 in the world sweetheart, Mr. Michelson's caddy dropped her bag; quitting on the spot saying, "Ah, blow it out your ass, Dad."

So was putting children on the bags a good idea in terms of saving money? Former Augusta National Chairman Hootie Johnson certainly thinks so.

"We don't feel like this went badly at all," noted Johnson. "Other than the midget and that kid that passed out on 14, we feel like this was a successful test run. I can't figure out why other businesses don't just put kids to work. We saved thousands of dollars in caddy fees and only had one protester."

Looking out the front gates, a young girl in a golf shit and blue jeans was holding a sign protesting the mistreatment of her fellow children. A reporter pointed to the kid and asked, "In the future, if that young lady somehow managed to get her act together, would she be welcomed with open arms to join this prestigious country club?"

"No," said Johnson. "We don't enjoy the presence of their kind here."

"Women," the reporter asked.

"Protesters."

"Ahh," he said. "I guess with the all misappropriation of human rights here today, I must have had you guys confused with the other Augusta National."

The last strange day of Plaxico Burress

7:45 am - Ignore call from Giants.

8:15 am - Ignore call from Giants.

8:30 am- Ignore call from Giants while you take your son to school, even though he's not even 2 yet.

8:32 am - Remind yourself to make up a better excuse next time.

9:00 am - Call drew Drew Rosenhaus and tell him you want a newer new contract.

9:08 - Find unregistered firearm. Decide to keep it. What’s the worst that could happen?

9:30 am - Run over playbook with Escalade.

9:45 am - Text New York Giants President John Mara and tell him that you are expecting a new contract.

9:46 am - Turn to Weather Channel when he inquires what the weather in hell is like.

10:00 am - Text Eli's cell phone and say you're with Dominoes and have 50 pizzas in the parking lot for a "Launchpad Macock." (do this for the next 2 hours)

12:00 pm - Find that guy that does the Verizon commercials and his network. Wander around New Jeresy to find out where they won't follow you. Mark these spots down for use in future alibi.

12:45 pm - Call Michael Strahan and ask him if he wants to do lunch.

1:15 pm - Don't show up for lunch; dude is too damn annoying.

1:20 pm - Practice dialing phone for next time you need to miss practice...Friday.

1:30 pm - Lunch with Tom Brady. Share complaints about serious leg injuries.

1:35 pm - Storm out of lunch after Brady remarks your pansy ass injury complaints "don't have a leg to stand on."

1:35 pm - Remind Tom Brady, neither does he.

2:45 pm - Call Allen Iverson and ask him how practice was. Laugh uncontrollably for 20 minutes.

3:10 pm - Pay some of those 50 fines you've gotten over the past two years.

3:15 pm - Call Marvin Harrison and ask if he wants to go to the shooting range.

3:30 pm - Spend some quality time yelling at the wife.

4:00 pm - Keep going to places without making phone calls to the Giants.

4:15 pm - Call the Cincinatti Bengals and ask them to speak to Peter Warrick. when they say he doesn't play there anymore, mock them for taking him before you in the 2000 draft. Then tell them if you get into any legal problems, the Bengals are still #1 on your trade list.

4:45 pm - Email USA Today and make predictions on the point spreads for this week's games. When they remind you it's illegal for NFL players to gamble, remind them that you got 50 fines and don't really care for "rules or regulations."

4:50 pm - Place $200,000 on new prop bet that you won't get fined again this week.

5:15 pm - Come up with new injury to sit out of training camp during next contract
year. Narrow it down to separated groin, Foot in Mouth Disease or Ankleistis.

5:17 pm - Decide it's a combination of all three.

5:30 pm - Wonder why someone like Marvin Harrison never calls you back.

6:00 pm - Eat dinner with Tiki Barber. Ask him how his doppelganger likes his Super Bowl ring.

6:05 pm - Remind yourself why you were glad Tiki Barber left when he did.

6:45 pm - Trade yourself to the Raiders on Madden so you can understand what it's like to be overpaid and never have to go to meetings.

6:46 pm - Neglect to go to Eli’s birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese.

6:48 pm - Fall in love with Al Davis and his Crypt Keeper mug.

6:48 pm - 9: 48 pm - Proceed to enjoy your 7 year tenure on .300 team on Madden 09'.

10:00 pm - Call you buddy GW and ask him what the hell is up with the economy.

11:00 pm - Finish burying your signing bonus next to Jimmy Hoffa in Giants Stadium.

11:05 pm - Call Randy Moss and tell him you dialed the phone with your ring finger.

11:10 pm- Go on WebMD and find out where it was exactly Randy Moss told you should stick you your ring.

11:30 pm - Hit the club with Antonio Pierce. Find one that allows patrons in wearing sweatpants.

11:37 pm - Show everyone the gun juggling routine you learned from Pacman Jones.

11:37 pm - Shoot yourself in the leg.

11:38 pm - Scream some more.

11:40 pm - Antonio Pierce reminds you of the irony of his name being “Pierce,” but you being the one who is “pierced” his leg with a bullet.

11:41 pm - Remind Antonio Pierce that you’ve already shot one person today and he needs to keep his mouth shut if he wants to keep it that way.

11:45 pm - Wipe prints off of you new, slightly used unregistered firearm.

12:18 am - Misplace firearm in an undisclosed dumpster behind the Stuckey’s on I-95.
12:45 am - Find a hospital that doesn’t ask any questions and still takes Blue Cross & Blue Shield.

1:10 am - Still don’t call the Giants to let them know what’s going on. They probably won’t notice the gaping hole in your leg anyway.

1:30 am - Watch Designing Women.

2:00 am - Curse Charlton Heston and those damn dirty apes as you burn your NRA card along with any remaining evidence to your crime.

2:30 am - Don’t worry about calling the Giants. They can’t help you where you’re going…

2:35 am - Write an apology letter to all the fantasy owners who drafted you early in their drafts only to find out they had shot themselves in the foot when you shot yourself in the leg.

3:00 am - Pop a vicodin and go to bed with dreams of doing it all again tomorrow...in jail.

via National Lampoon

Basball Maladies that have affected players throughout the years

via National Lampoon

This week the Detroit Tigers placed former Rookie of the Year, Dontrelle Willis, on the Disabled List with what club officials are calling an "anxiety disorder." In the old days of baseball, before agents and players unions ruined the game, coaches and players used to simply call this "losing your stuff," and it was grounds for releasing said player. But, in today's market, when a player is in year two of a three year $30 million dollar contract, teams don't have the luxury of realeasinga player without owing the player millions of dollars for under performance. So they are reduced to making up pseudo-injuries and placing the player on the DL in order to try and save face without telling their fans that the player sucks. Here are some of the pseudo-injuries the MLB has seen throughout the years.

Craig Counsell is on the DL with Craig Counsell Disease which makes him suffer by going up to the plate and hitting like Craig Counsell. Good luck hitting over .230 with this disease.

Coco Crisp is on the DL for something called “Chocolate Madness,” which had previously only been seen in patients with Type I diabetes and pregnant women; oh and that bird that suffered from it in the commercials. While injured, he spends his time in the clubhouse screaming “I’m koo koo for Coco Puffs,” while wildly brandishing a Louisville slugger and taking swings at imaginary cartoon birds that according to him are freely roaming “everywhere” in the Kansas City clubhouse.

Alex Rodriguez is on the DL rehabbing in Colorado after having surgery to remove a cyst in his hip. He has said that he blames his post-season woes on Kabbalah, hookers and mirrors in which to kiss himself and his bad hip on carrying the Yankees on his back these past few seasons. Doctors were understandably confused by Mr. Rodriguez’s diagnosis because carrying the Yanks on your back is what New York doctors refer to as “Jeteritis,” and everyone agrees that A-Rod shows absolutely no symptoms of Jeteritis.

Ryan Howard is on the DL with No-Breaking Ball Syndrome which makes him only able to recognize and hit fastballs.

National’s prospect Esmailyn Gonzalez is on the DL with Benjamin Button Dyslexia Disease; it’s where a player thinks he’s 19, but really turns out to be 23.

Johnny Damon was diagnosed and spent time on the DL for Et Tu, Brute or “The Judas Disease,” after joining the Yankees in 2006. It makes you a bit slower, noticeably more injury prone and you start to throw like a 10-year old girl. Also, it causes people wearing Red Sox hats to swear and try and spit on your face upon seeing you in public anywhere outside a Catholic Church.

Manny Ramirez went on the DL with Manny Being Manny Syndrome. SEE: Self Inflicted Amnesia.

Dwight Gooden once missed 6 games after he was affected by Tony Montana Disease, which caused him to shoot and kill 6 FBI agents and 2 Mr. Mets when they broke down his door and tried to arrest him during a coke deal. No charges were filed...

Matt Holiday suffers from Rocky Mountain Malaise, which only allows him to hit 25 HR in the state of Colorado (most preferably in Coors Field) Also you have to wait till his bat is blue; that’s the only way you’ll know he’s ready to hit .350.

Barry Zito has suffered from and missed a start last year with P.M. Brusitis. It makes all his pitches look like the ones seen by hitters at batting practice. It causes you to lose control of both your pitches and your ERA.

Even the Phillie Phantaic isn't insusceptible to the occasional trip to the DL. He sometimes suffers from the Phillie Phlu which causes him to uncontrollably bitch about Ryan Howard's outrageous K rate, the feeling that he needs to dance at the most inopportune moments and cry uncontrollably when visiting fans poin out the fact that he looks like some bizarre lovechild of Big Bird, Snufflelufagus, and the turf at the Astrodome.

Pete Rose suffered from Bettor's Guilt, which caused him to wish that he'd bet on a better team than the Reds.

J.D. Drew once missed a game because he was on his period.

Mickey Mantle was once placed on the DL with the listing of "Jack Daniels."

Rickey Henderson spent time on the DL during his career while suffering from Rickey Henderson Juxtaposition Influenza. According to the all-time stolen base leader the disease caused Rickey confusion and Rickey can’t think when Rickey needs to think, so the words coming out of Rickey’s mouth aren’t always combobulated in a fashion that Rickey is completely comfortable with Rickey saying and Rickey needs Rickey to be comfortable or Rickey can’t run. Rickey needs to run. Run Rickey, run. Rickey. Oh and it causes the person infected to continually talk in first person, even when the listener is already aware of what Rickey, Rickey is talking about.

Riots erupt at ESPN offices after someone inadvertently comments--“Someday Terrell Owens will retire.”

via National Lampoon

Pandemonium erupted this morning at the usually tranquil ESPN offices in Bristol, Connecticut, when an associate producer for ESPN’s flagship “Sports Center” made a casual remark at the show’s morning meeting that at some point “Terrell Owens was going to retire.”

A handful of fires were reported and several people had to receive medical attention, as everyone in the room exploded into panic upon hearing that their own Public Enemy #1 would one day hang-up his cleats. Once that realization set in, the bedlam spilled out of the conference room and into the main offices, as employees were found chaotically trying to back-up files, taking baseball bats to camera equipment, some frantically trying to carry cardboard cutouts of Brett Favre to safety, and curmudgeon Skip Bayless even "accidentally" lit longtime friend of Sports Center commercials, Mr. Met's, head on fire for being “an abomination to other more talented mascots.”

“Dare I say, En Fuego!” was never more apropos, as Mr. Met frantically ran in circles, head ablaze, just waving his arms in panic as his on-lookers momentarily stopped what they were doing to cheer and laugh. His child-like antics and joyful expression of unbridled enthusiasm and mild goofiness always made people smile. He died of smoke asphyxiation. He was 46-years old.

One Producer was found rumblin' bumblin' stumblin' hysterically through the offices; sweating profusely and brandishing a weapon while screaming “T.O. : T-O the ENDZONE.” He was finally trapped in a corner and subdued once the fire marshal assured him, “Mr. Berman, this isn’t a parade so put down the 5-iron, take off that silly swami hat and put on some pants, we’re here to take you to safety.”

Officials at the scene had to call in a hostage negotiator to talk another hysterical producer off the roof.

“What’s T.O.’s favorite color? Where does T.O. shop? What dry cleaners does he use? Does he still cry when he talks to Tony Romo? Does his dry cleaners fit his needs or is the dry cleaners just a product of his environment? We’ll never know! Was that shirt permanent pressed? Was that real popcorn he used in his celebration? What is the tone of the locker room? Are you really supposed to take that many pills at one time?!?! I need a press conference, DAMN IT!!!”

Luckily, before the man could jump, an officer threw on a T.O. jersey and temporarily distracted the producer, who immediate yelled to his cameramen. No less than 10 cameras swarmed the officer, screaming questions about off-season workout programs and whether or not he would still cry over Tony Romo now that he was in Buffalo; giving fire fighters just enough time to set up a safety net to catch the man. As the producer finally succumbed to gravity he was heard yelling, “Release. Rotation. Splash!”

Who knew that the distractions T.O. made could actually ever do any GOOD? Other employees were shocked to find out that maybe Owens wasn’t the bad guy that they had made him out to be. Could Owens actually be…helpful to certain people?

“Saving a life. If the Cowboys would have won a Super Bowl, he’d only need one more miracle to be a saint,” remarked one awed staffer. When another chimed in, “One more miracle or one bad trade away from being a Saint…”

Police officials said that at this hour most of the fires had been contained and everyone evacuated to nearby hospitals were in stable condition. When asked if this was the worst sports related riot he had ever seen, he stated “It’s the worst we’ve seen here in Bristol in awhile, but these things come and go every few years. When Jordan retired the first time, we had to airlift 6 people out. It seems like they only cover 4 stories or 4 people a week and just repackage them everyday. And when one of those people retires, well, you get today…”

ESPN producers need not fret, as Terrell Owens is sure to keep pulling in headlines far after a Hall-of-Fame worthy NFL career. T.O. is currently writing his memoirs called “Dropping Balls,” but has ran into some difficulties securing the rights to the title as another NFLer Willis McGahee has also been rumored to be using that exact phrase for his memoirs.

“Football? It ain’t got nuthin’ to do with football.,” said McGahee in a phone interview.

President of Operations at ESPN assured the media that the network would be back up and running by the end of the day because, “We’ve got a responsibility to our viewers to bring them up-to-the-minute updates on what Brett Favre is doing at this very moment. And we do not intend on letting them down.”

Sports Center, now with 25% more Favre coverage, 25% more Terrell Owens coverage, a few baseball highlights, and 100% more smoke damage.

BOOOOOYAH!

Miami Dolphins first ever “Take your daughter to work day” deemed "tragic"

via National Lampoon

Miami Dolphins held their first ever “Take your daughter to work day” today, where employees of the organization were encouraged to bring their daughters and nieces under the age 12 to come be a part of the team for a very special father-daughter bonding experience.


The Dolphins haven’t had something go this terribly wrong since Ricky Williams claimed it was “Bong O’Clock” and essentially left the 2007 (1-15) season a joke that could only be told made funny by the likes of Cheech and Chong.


The day started out as a to show of love and support, with dolphins personnel showing their daughters the day-to-day operations of a professional football franchise. It was a day they hoped would introduce young women to a profession that has long been dominated by middle aged males in team visors and old curmudgeons chomping on cigars talking about the good ol’ days, when you were allowed to lay haymakers on refs, drink in the huddle and play both sides of the ball.


However, the day took a very ugly turn when a friendly scrimmage turned into an all-out war on the field, as Dolphin veterans turned cold when the niece of one of the trainers put a late hit on receiver Ted Ginn, Jr. From there, things just seemed to get out of hand.

“You think you can just come up in my house and motherfuckin’ finger paint. Hells no. She’s lucky she even got fingers left after that scrimmage. I’m not playing a game here. This here is my business. I don’t come into kindergarten classes and be all drawing dinosaurs with crayons and reading the Berstein Bears. This isn’t nap time! So don’t come into my place of work and pretend you can play quarterback when you know my job is to make you pay for hanging on to the ball too long. I don’t care if you weight 50 lbs or 300 lbs; my job is to hit you hard. End of story.”


And possibly the end of childhood. A very sudden, jarring, spine tingling end to childhood.


And the little girl was lucky to get out of the huddle and on to a gurney with 8 of her ten digits still intact. Although, her one completion did raise the eyebrows around the Dolphins training facility. Most notably those of head coach Tony Sparano.


“Yeah, that 11 year old playing free-safety was a waste of a practice jersey. She tackled like a girl (she was). But, I was impressed with the 8 year old’s arm at QB. I think we might keep her around. What was her line? (1-6 for an 11 yard gain) Well she already throws farther than Pennington.”

She was offered a 10 day contract, but was unable to sign…you know, because of the whole fingers thing.

rest of the day was spent mostly with trainers and doctors of the organization. Wasn’t the original plan of an ice cream social, but a myriad of injuries ranging from a broken collar bone to a detached retina were really putting a damper on the day. But time will heal their broken bones. As far as their spirits and their self-esteem, now that’s probably going to take quite a bit of time and therapy.


“As far as I’m concerned, today was a good start to our season,” said Vice President of Football Operations, Bill Parcells. A win’s a win. I saw a lot of sad little girls out there playing hard today. And some of them even brought their daughters.”

Of course an anonymous staffer put it best, “I’d say this was not only a terrible idea, but has probably set human relations back 200 years.”

Another win in Miami.

Announcer Joe Buck retires from Fox Sports to become BINGO caller in Utah

This week the fantastically insipid broadcaster Joe Buck stepped down from his duties as play-by-play announcer for the St. Louis Cardinals in order to focus more of his time towards being the main play-by-play analyst for Fox Sports. However, today a source of the Blue Monkey Disco Party found out that Buck had no plans to return to the Cardinals or even to Fox, but is set to retire from sports reporting all together in order to pursue his lifelong passion of being a BINGO caller in Salt Lake City. We decided to check in with Buck to see what was really going on.

“The sound of the balls carelessly careening through the roller. The soft fluttering of ink stamps as I yell out F-19. The soft hum of the old folks on their hover rounds. I love it. You just can’t get this type of lethargy anywhere else and you can’t get anyone more boring to call a game this boring than me. It's like we were made for each other.” Buck said when asked about his career change.

We asked why he was giving it up now in the midst of the prime of his broadcast career. Sports seemed like his calling, his father has been a popular sports announcer, he had been a popu…announced sports, so why would he give it all up now and move away to somewhere like Utah.

“Why Salt Lake City? Because it’s me, it’s my style. No personality, mundane, severely understated, no alcohol, no strip clubs, it’s boring, it’s no fun, it’s…me.”

We wondered “Why not report for the Jazz or one of Salt Lake’s other sports teams, like--The Jazz” which Joe of course replied “Everybody knows I was bored to death reporting sports. Have you ever listened to a game I called? I couldn’t care less what was going on because I actually couldn’t care less about what’s going on. My passion is the tedium and banality of BINGO! BINGO BABY! If there was anything I was more suited for, I just don‘t know what it would be.”

When we then inquired about an example of some of what a BINGO callers finer moments would entail, Buck actually slightly raised his voice to a semi-enthusiastic level and replied:

“You gotta feel the excitement when some 78 year old retiree screams a raspy voiced “BINGO!” right before she has a massive coronary and we have to break out the defibrillators. Listen to how mundane I make the miraculous sound. Hear how I can make the most complex and amazing athletes seem as though they are just run of the mill Joe Nobody schmucks? Old people eat that demeanor up. No loud noises, no boisterous crowds to interfere with my soothing voice. These people love me because of who I really am, which is just an average caller who won’t make any sudden movements or raise my voice to a level that would scare their grandchildren and/or cats.”

We couldn’t in our right mind believe JB wouldn’t miss the fun and excitement of getting pumped up to telecast football on Sunday’s with Troy Aikman. The atmosphere, the adrenaline, living every child’s fantasy of hanging out and talking sports with their favorite professional athletes. But, apparently not Joe...

“This is basically the same thing. I’m up on the podium reporting the action in my most lifeless and monotonous voice possible, while some old guy standing next to me with a I got nothing going on upstairs look on his face drools all over himself and keeps mumbling incoherently while I‘m calling out numbers. So it‘s kinda like baseball season with Tim McCarver, except by ‘kinda,’ I mean ‘exactly.’ The only difference between Troy and Tim is that at least Aikman has a reason to sound like he‘s suffered from multiple concussions. I mean Aikman has taken more shots to the head than a whack-a-mole machine at a Chuck E. Cheese. During commercial breaks we have an intern come in and put a mirror under his nose to make sure he‘s still breathing. He dozed off during a commercial once and we called the EMT. Even though he’s not even playing football anymore the guy has to wear a helmet if he gets within 60 yards of a football stadium. That’s actually part of our insurance policy. Bingo is light years better than football and baseball. Most of these BINGO fanatics may suffer from the same debilitating health problems as my Fox counterparts, but trust me when I say that these senior citizens are my core fan base…”

After being queried into what he would miss most about broadcasting live sporting events Joe merely replied, “Secretly belittling every single thing the Boston Red Sox ever accomplished.” Apparently he feels the same way about people “jumping the gun” which in BINGO terms means a player yells out BINGO before actually having BINGO. This is much like what Joe would do to the Red Sox, even if the game was over and the Red Sox had won, Joe would always find a way to make it sound like Boston had somehow come up short during the telecast. Especially when they beat the Yankees…

“I’d love to just deck those people who jump the gun…” said Buck, “…but I just don’t have the energy to do anything more than stand sill for hours on end in a drab suit and give uninspired commentary on the many exciting things going on around me. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s Mormon Women’s League Night and if I keep them waiting they’ll threaten to banish me to a hell that unbeknownst to me is actually somewhere OUTSIDE of Salt Lake City.”

And off he shuffled into the small church auditorium where one could hear the faint rumblings of a life alert bracelet. A far cry from the baseball cathedrals and football coliseums he had become so accustomed to. A man in search of his dreams in city by the lake. A man who had found his calling, in calling.

Goodbye to the man who gave us the call on McGwire’s 62nd home run, the tepid call on the Eli to Tyree Super Bowl catch and countless hours of enthralling banter with the likes of Chris Myers, Tim McCarver and Troy Aikman. Who will we get our lifeless, humdrum commentary from come Sunday next year? At this point we are too broken up to follow up on that lead. But if this reporter was to guess, I’d say Comedy Central might just have to unfreeze Ben Stein.

Brett Favre retirement letter secrets (originally published after 1st retirement)

Brett Favre has really, for serious this time retired; ending over a year of speculation on how many off-seasons he would partake in saying he'd like one more shot at winning a Super Bowl. Many believe the second retirement will stick, but others question why he'd go one and done with the Jets.

Some say that he didn’t want to further tarnish his reputation after his last retirement caused weeks of terrible media coverage between himself and Packer management. He has an adoring fan base in Wisconsin and wherever John Madden’s tour bus is parked this week, so when news that Favre had already decided to retire this early into the off-season, it left some surprised, while others saw it as a sign that the QB was finally going to hang the spikes up for good.

However, we at the BMDP know the real reason Brett will finally be riding into the NFL sunset. Favre felt so bad about casting such a harsh shadow on the NFL over the past year, that he decided to go ahead and write a letter in order to get some secrets he’s been keeping under wraps all these years, off his chest. Unfortunately for him, airing his dirty laundry has raised some eyebrows down at the Commissioner’s Office and they aren’t quite sure Brett was the man, myth and legend they originally thought he was...

Here is a list of things the quarterback divulged in his retirement letter. ..

I know I can still play this game. I threw 62 touchdowns my first season of Madden 09’. However the game had a glitch and kept referring to me as Tom Brady.

I once snuck a pair of my Wrangler Jeans into the Hall at Canton just to see how’d they’ look in one of the cases. I have to say I am embarrassed that they didn’t look half as good a Joe Namath’s pantyhose.

I’m the last true NFL competitor. To be honest I threw all those interceptions just to keep it close…

Once fought a Ford 450-Super Duty just to see who was “tougher.” Answer: Me.
The secret to my consecutive games streak…day spas.

I don't think I'm saying anything that everybody didn't already know, but Mike Homgren is really just a well disguised walrus.

Once in 1992 I killed a Blackula by throwing a wooden stake 70 yards on a rope and straight through his heart. I’m not proud of it, but it happened. I thought you should know.

The reason I never missed a game was because I needed the money for my pain pill addiction.

John Madden and I were married in 2002 in San Francisco. It was a small ceremony that took place in an Ace Hardware store. BOOM! Our honeymoon was a bus ride to Graceland. It was magical.

I once removed my spleen with just an ax and a staple gun. I threw 3 touchdowns that game.

Barry Sanders…robot.
I’m lactose intolerant. I don’t even like cheese.

My frst year in Green Bay I thought that "Lambeau" was just the french word for "cold as hell."

For Halloween, one year I went dressed as Kerry Collins. And I’ve thrown twice as many interceptions ever since.

In order t get ready for the regular season, I used to go out to bars with Reggie White and make him break bar stools over my head.

The reason I throw the ball so hard is in the off-season I practice by throwing cinderblocks at parked cars and Bears fans.
I once kicked a brick through a Chevy Impala .

I have an Arizona Cardinals football phone.

There’s Something about Mary…yeah, it’s the fact that she’s really a dude. It should really be called “There’s something about Marty.”

I survived Katrina because I built an Arch just by willing giant pieces of wood together. I then took two of everything, except for Bears, Lions and Vikings.

Those tears I cried when I retired last year…I was really just thinking about the season finale of Gilmore Girls.

When I really do retire, Steve McNair and I are going to do a remake of the Odd Couple. It’s going to be called “Nails and The Glass Man.”

When Strahan sacked me for the record and I went down without a fight…I just wanted a hug.

Adam “Pacman” Jones' Son Causes Chaos at Local Chuck E. Cheese

Chuck E Cheeses reports that Tommy Kelly’s birthday party was recently marred by violence when 6 year old son of Cowboys cornerback “Pacman” Jones, Frogger Jones, reportedly broke into a ticket machine at a local Chuck E Cheese and afterward armed with a backpack full of yellow prize tickets he threw his tiny arms up and “made it rain.”

Chaos erupted within the usually tranquil family establishment as dozens of children leapt to there feet and made a mad dash for the thousands of tickets strewn about the skee-ball lanes and multi-colored ball pits as the situation escalated when the panic spread to several other birthday parties and even the giant mouse himself couldn’t regain control of the ticket frenzied mob.

All hell broke lose when Jones screamed “come get yo tickets bitches,” and hundreds of screaming children from ages 6 to 13 all converged on the ticket machine like a pack of rabid wolverines; knocking over tables, chairs, giant costumed characters and basically rendering the restaurant a flashing, ringing war zone.

Things escalated when even the most well mannered group of Mormon children got completely out of control and started violating a skee-ball machine. Little Frogger himself was angered by the ensuing mob and ended up slamming a birthday boy’s head against a Dance Dance Revolution machine while screaming at the top of his little lungs “Do you know who I am? Who’s dancing now son!?!” The little boy’s name was withheld from reports, but according to a Chuck E. Cheese employee, the little boy turned 10 that day and sadly left his party with only that many baby teeth still intact.

The child was able to regain consciousness for long enough to collect a few hundred of the much sought after tickets which he used to get himself some Chuck E. Band-Aids and some Chuck E. Crutches. Unfortunately, he was unable to enjoy his much anticipated Hannah Montana cake.

Tiny Nike imprints were everywhere as the mob (all hopped up on pizza and Mountain Dew) took to destroying the restaurant, tipping over video games, dismantling skee-ball machines, raising havoc in the ball pit and then mocking and ultimately destroying the band of singing bears that plays shows in the Chuck E. Cheese Dining Hall. Destruction estimated at over $15,000 was not all that resulted from the melee as the restaurant is now missing several chairs, numerous birthday cakes, several air hockey pucks and an entire member of the “Country Bear Jambaroo.” Anyone who has information on the whereabouts of “Ban Jo Bear” or “Jasper T. Jowls” is asked to alert the proper authorities immediately.

Management at the restaurant say they have never seen anything like the anarchy and panic that ensued when little Frogger threw those tickets in the air. The Company now says it will beef up ticket machine security and take all the necessary precautions for future birthday extravaganzas, while adding that if Mike Vick’s son ever wants a party, Chuck E. Cheeses has a “no animals allowed policy” that pertains to everything except for giant vermin.

A letter from God addressed to NE Patriot fans... (published 09.SEP.08)

Dear Patriot Fans,

I know your probably standing on the edge of a bridge right now because you think your football season is over. And I regret to inform you that this indeed will be the winter of your discontent. Look, I know you think football season (life) is now over for you, but it’s not like I ended the career of your beloved Tom Brady. It could have been much, much worse. Just ask Joe Theisman.

Let’s face it Boston, you’ve had a great run on my watch. But yesterday at around 1:10 EST we had to shut down Heaven because you flooded our servers with your prayers. While I applaud your zeal, we just can’t keep up with all the sports related prayers in Boston all of the time. I know it’s hard for you to believe, but I’ve got a few more pressing issues, like war, famine, AIDS, cancer, the bloodcurdling holy war that’s quickly approaching…

You know how many people said my name in vain yesterday? 115 million and about 100 million of those came from the state of Massachusetts alone. A guy in Gillette Stadium said it 142 times; a new record. Un-be-lievable. Seriously you guys are soooooo dramatic when it comes to your sports. We haven’t had a prayer avalanche like this since the 86’ World Series. At least the answers to those prayers were simple. The answer to the first question was “no not this year,” and the answer to the second question was “No I can’t carpet bomb it, I don’t even know where Bill Buckner lives.”

That was the also the night heaven got the most prayers it’d seen since D-Day. Coincidentally, that was also the night that we saw a dramatic increase in atheism and it also set the record for “most people to die from alcohol poisoning.” We were very busy that night. I’m talking standing room only. We had a line out the door a mile long. I’m talking opening night of a Star Wars sequel long. I couldn’t believe it. We lost less Catholics during The Crusades.

My Sundays are busy enough without you praying for Randy Moss touchdowns and for every Wes Welk-ah slant to go for a first down. (By the way I have no idea how that guy does it. I created the slant route for slow white receivers, but that guy should be earning royalties for it.) There are 31 other NFL teams, not to mention Kurt Warner’s wife who NEVER leaves me alone. You’re just going to learn to appreciate what you have. I know Tom is. I mean have you seen that girlfriend of his? That’s some of my primo work. He’s not missing anything by spending a few months alone with her.

I don‘t know what else to do for you Boston fans. It’s never enough. I finally gave in a few years ago and gave you that World Series title that you had been so desperately praying for like, 80 years. I was growing very tired of the whining and quite frankly, I couldn‘t stand it anymore. I mean with the accent, and the foul language, the prayers were sounding less and less like prayers and more like a Drop Kick Murphy’s concert.

And to show I was a good sport about it, I went ahead and gave you another ring last year. Then I gave your beloved Celtics a title when I got inside Kevin McHale’s head and made him trade you Kevin Garnett. Not to mention the 3 other Super Bowl rings I gave your Pats over the last few years. Even I couldn’t believe you beat the Rams. Last year you got Randy Moss for a 4th round pick! This streak of wild luck had to come crashing to a halt at some point. And that’s what today was about.

Injuries like this happen. I’ve been telling Peter for years, they just need to invent a Robocop-like suit of armor to put on these guys so stuff like this doesn’t happen over and over again. It’s not an accident the Pope’s car is encased in bullet proof glass. Contrary to what you believe, I can’t be everywhere at once people and I certainly didn’t construct the human body to strap on plastic helmets and run into each other at high speeds. Either get better pads or get used to things snapping and breaking when you slam yourselves together.

And if I may be perfectly honest, I don’t even like the NFL. Anything that competes for my attention on Sunday (MY day) is subject to my wrath. Therefore anyone who plays it is on his own. Besides, I don’t like football. I like the sweet simplicity of baseball. That’s why I’m a Cubs fan.

And for the love of Me, all you New York Jets fans can quit thanking me in your prayers now. You too Cassell

I’m sorry New England,

God

P.S. - There is no reverse aging process that will ever be able to bring Larry Bird back into playing shape. His lower back is held together by thin tubes of glass and paper mache, so stop asking.

P.S.S. - I don't want to be seeing one of those Hitler vidoes about this thing either...