Don't Cry for Me, Brett Favre! You were supposed to be immortal...

I figured out why Brett Favre can't stay retired. He lives in Hattiesburg, Mississippi! I know he says he likes it there. I know he says he likes spendin' his time killin' things, huntin', fishin', and trappin'. But if Hattiesburg is so great, how come every August he gets an itchin' to get the hell out of Hattiesburg? Maybe because the average daily temperature in August in Hattiesburg, Mississippi is 99 degrees. And it's not a pleasant dry heat, its 100% humidity heat -- with the nearest ocean breeze 1,000 miles away.

Brett Favre made 890 million dollars playing football. This makes him the richest man in Hattiesburg by $889.5 million. The next richest guy has a lot of pigs. He doesn't even bother to turn it into dollars. He just sends the IRS a couple of piglets every year.

I mean look at Brett over there in Minnesota straight off a private jet from Hattiesburg, Mississippi. He's wearing a hat with SHIT ON IT!!! He has retired to a place where he's ass deep in shit. Pig shit, probably. There's so much nasty shit in Hattiesburg, Mississippi that the cleanest hat Brett Favre could find for his press conference still has a shitload of shit on it. I know what you're thinking, it's a fashion statement, the hat with shit goes with the homeless beard, toothless grin and inarticulate mumbling. I say $890 million and he's wearing a hat with shit on it.

I did some exhaustive research for a few minutes and learned a thing or two about Hattiesburg, Mississippi. Two things actually, because that's all there is to know about Hattiesburg. First, it was named after a wife named Hattie who was born without an edge to her face. Second, it's famous for having a history so racist, the Klan is embarassed.* Second, it is where Brett Favre calls home.

So, how can we avoid 890 billion hours of Brett Favre coverage on ESPN? How can we avoid the God awful feeling we get watching a grown man crying, over and over again? Somebody has to buy the guy a couch and tell him to move to Florida FerChristSakes! Hey Brett, I hear Arizona is nice, lots of white people and you can kill stuff like snakes and gila monsters.

*I have edited this bit due to numerous comments and e-mails from the good citizens of Hattiesburg. While my extensive research on the internet did reveal a racist past, let's face it, there's a racist past everywhere in the US including up north. Also, it didn't make the bit more funny.

Another Great Moment in Photoshopping History

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Great Moments in Photoshopping History

Moment Number 1

Start with a photo of a guy that is so taken with his blue tongue that he felt compelled to post it on the internet.
Combine it with a photo of a dog with a grotesquely long tongue that was probably photoshopped by somebody else.

And end up with a guy that is ready to satisfy any woman.

I used this image in How to Eat Pussy*or Everything You Need to Know About Cunnilingus But You Were Too Busy Picking the Hairs Out of Your Teeth to Ask.

Afterword

The only downside to this Great Moment is that everyone seems to think that the guy is me. That guy is not me, and that photo up there on the right of the blog is not me either. It's Yankee GM Brian Cashman with a NY Met hat photoshopped on his head (btw, not a great moment). The day my actual photo shows up on the internet I will be sure to notify you.

Old School GI Joe

This is a shameless plug for an OLD SCHOOL GI JOE bit at CircusAfterDark.com.


A while back, I was planting a bush in my mother's backyard. It was a nice schrubbery, not too large, maybe a yew. The first foot, or so, there was nothing special, dirt, stones, roots, the usual things you find while digging. Then, to my surprise, I unearthed an aluminum can pull top.

It was old, real old. The kind that popped off the can. The kind that littered our highways and cut our feet open at Jones Beach. Finally, I owned something that I could bring to the Antiques Roadshow. I slipped it in my pocket while my mom was busy weeding the azaleas and kept on digging.

The next artifact was plastic. No analysis of the teeth marks was necessary. My old man went through a longer than normal tiparillos phase. He was a White Owl man, though despite the claims in the television ads, this never resulted in him getting groped by Joey Heatherton. There was nothing he didn't smoke, sequentially, cigarettes, cigars, a ridiculous Hugh Hefner pipe, skinny cigars with plastic mouthpieces, *INSIDE JOKE WARNING* he even snuck a fag now and then, we figured this out when we saw Pete slipping out his bathroom window*INSIDE JOKE OVER* The tiparillo tip did not go in my pocket because that would be gross but it was a certain indicator of great things to come.

I had reached what we amateur archeologists call a landscape within my dig. A landscape, or horizon if you will, that most probably carbon dated back to the 1970's. I asked my mother to fetch a brush so that I could more carefully reveal my next find. She ignored me. I asked for a lemonade. She just continued weeding. My hole was now big enough for the ball of the yew. Stop snickering. The ball of the yew was the burlap wrapped roots of the bush not it's external genitalia. The yew, being a vascular plant, used pistols and stamens for sexual reproduction not balls and stems.


The sweat on my brow felt good and so I pushed on. A few inches deeper and I found this.

An abandoned bayonet from a little plastic M1. GI Joe. A 12 inch GI Joe. Sweet merciful crap! The Olduvai Man of action figures. My dream of owning a Wii was within my grasp. I dug quicker.

A Russian anti-tank grenade! How did I know this was a Russian anti-tank grenade? Well, it wasn't an American "pineapple" grenade and me and my brother were sort of Jewish, so playing with dolls dressed up like Nazis was considered verboten back in the day. But a nice, Cold War Ruskie caught sneaking across the Czechoslovakian border was considered the perfect enemy.

Now I was excited. Screw the accessories! I knew that there had to be dozens of GI Joes scattered throughout the rolling hills of Dix. My shovel flew -- and than I saw the pale flesh of a Joe rising up out of the soil. A trigger hand! An articulated arm with outrageously complicated metal hinges -- clearly first generation action figure design.

And nothing else. No torso. No legs. No head. No left arm. What horrors had befallen this Joe? The Viet Cong, the dog, the girl next door, me? I dug holes like Sigourney Weaver and nothing. The End.

Come on, if I had cashed in a 12 inch GI Joe for a Wii would I be wasting my time blogging? If you got the Sigourney Weaver reference, I'm buying. If you want more GI Joe humor with MUCH LESS REQUIRED READING, go to CafterD.

That Was No First Lady, That Was My Wife! (rim shot, please)

President Obama is funny, edgy, dark and pretty damn funny. Who knew? I found this in the New York Times Magazine on Sunday, Funny Obama.

Just before he said that those stupid cops in Boston acted "stupidly," he told this joke.

President Obama standing in the White House tried to put himself in Henry Louis Gates position: "I mean, if I was trying to jigger into — well, I guess this is my house now, so it probably wouldn’t happen," then he flashed a mischievous grin and added, “Here I’d get shot.”

Wow! or perhaps even lol. The first black president makes a joke about the Secret Service accidentally shooting him at the White House door because he's black. I always thought I would be able to hang with President Obama. Now, I know I can.

Wih respect to the Henry Louis Gates incident. I like to imagine Albert Einstein locking himself out of his little house down in Princeton. Do you think the cops down there would have assumed the old guy was a burgler and handcuffed the gray-haired professor or do you think they would have treated him with respect? Nuffsaid. Henry Louis Gates is pretty famous. Even I know what he looks like and I'm a dumbass.

David Ortiz, a Fallen Hero and a No More Christmas in August

That's the top of my dresser and that's a fallen Little David Ortiz -- and I refuse to pick him up and stick him back into his base. I've picked Little David Ortiz up about a million times since the summer of 2004 but not today, not anymore.



Yeah, I'm a grown man with vintage South Park stuffies on his dresser. You got a problem with that?



So, now you know a not-so-well kept secret, I'm a Boston Red Sox fan. I'm a Mets fan and a Sox fan. It's possible. It's allowed. And its fairly common. It's a natural progression for a born and bred Yankee hater. Especially for a kid in 1975 that got to watch the most amazing World Series ever. When a bunch of regular guys with names like Doyle, Tiant, Carbo, Evans, Burleson and Lee took on the Big Red Machine.

That's a bar stool with the faces of many of the perfectly tooled cogs of the Machine. Bill Simmons found it at a convention. Lots of great stuff. Go!

Later in 1978, I was in a room at a party, wearing my red, Red Sox hat adrift in a sea of angry, dark blue Yankee fans, watching TV, when Bucky Dent did what he did and, even more memorably, Yaz ( a fellow Long Islander) didn't do what he might have.

That's why I bought Little David Ortiz back in the late summer of 2004 and set him up in the kitchen. When the Sox lost a game, everyone who cared found something to put on Little David Ortiz before the next game. When the Sox won, there was much rejoicing and our Little David Ortiz shrine got partial credit. When the Sox won it all, well, Little David Ortiz became a legend.

Now, its a late summer tradition, moving Little David Ortiz from my dresser to the kitchen, dusting him off and removing last seasons collection of talismans. The kids looked forward to it. It was like getting to bring down the big box of Christmas stuff in August.

It's getting to be that time of year and I don't know what to do.

John Hughes and My Vagina

John Hughes had a major influence on me. Not through his movies, although I liked a bunch of them, but with his writing at National Lampoon.

My Vagina published in April 1979 was the funniest damn thing I had ever read. It was about a typical teenage guy that wakes up one morning to find that his penis has been replaced with a vagina. Not only was it very funny, it was also the kind of thing I wanted to write.

Vacation '58 was great, when the aunt dies, shit! It was way better than the movie.

I never realized it before today, but I have been ripping off his Engagement Guide for the past 10 years. An excerpt:

Question: "What is at the core of our current problems with Mexico?"

If she answers: "I just love this song, turn it up! Oooo, I love the nightlife!" She is a dumbass.

If she answers: "You haven't phrased the question very well. Are you referring to the natural-gas pricing debacle or the general ill feeling toward the Yanqui?" She is a smartass.

If she answers: "We're not very nice to them; let's fuck, then I'll make you dinner and vacuum out your car." Don't wait for the wedding. Elope and buy her anything she wants.

I found a pirated version of My Vagina on a transgender site! Enjoy.

David "Rip Van" Wright or That Just Might Be One Very, Very, Long Beard

After their satisfying five game winning streak, many Mets swore not to shave until they reached the .500 mark. Oops. After a tough weekend against the Arizona Diamondbacks, one of the few teams with a worse record than themselves, this ZZ Top photo of David Wright was required photoshopping.

If the Mets never get to .500 this year, and they are not a bunch of liars, then they will have to grow their beards until opening day 2010 when their official record will 0-0 or .500.

Let's give a big round of applause to your 2010 New York Mets!!!

Omar Minaya: Regrets? I've Had a Few, But Then Again, Too Few to Mention...

When asked if he had any regrets, General Manager Omar Minaya answered with,

"No, I mean, well, no. I don't regret. I don't, I don't regret saying. I mean I regret saying, you know, you know what I'm saying. I mean, I stand by the things that I said, but I don't regret, I regret saying, that in that forum. That was not the proper forum."


Do you think the Wilpons regret not firing Omar Minaya?

A Big Thank You to Rickey Henderson

Heartfelt thanks to Rickey Henderson for the thoughtful gift.

Even with all the festivities up in Cooperstown, Mr. Henderson found the time to bring me back a bottle of Costa Rican hot sauce from his recent vacation before heading for the Hall of Fame.

The sauce is very tasty. However, on the hotness scale, 10 being Vanessa Hudgens and 1 being your wife and/or girlfriend, this sauce is a Liza Minelli (Thanks, Steve).

Hot it ain't.

Maureen Dowd's Cameltoe

This morning I was perusing the visitor statistics for this blog and discovered that one of the ten visitors I had yesterday got here by typing "Maureen Dowd cameltoe" into google.

For those Yankee fans out there that only get their news from the Post and Fox, that's Ms. Dowd over there on the right. She's a columnist for the New York Times that writes humorously scathing articles about Bushs and Clintons. She's kinda good looking for a reporter that writes stuff. Not ridiculously good looking like the fake Newsday reporter in Crocodile Dundee, but okay for a real woman. She's an almost 5.

If I was sitting across from her on an R train and caught some serious cameltoe, I'm not sure if I would get an erection or nauseous.

To be fair and balanced, back when I was writing regularly for National Lampoon, an article Ms. Dowd wrote bumped a bit I wrote. My bit was a very funny and clever Christmas satire with Bush and Cheney and Scrooge by way of the Blackadder.  Ms. Dowd's was this Santa Claus thing that was not-so-funny and not-so-original. Why was a Pulitzer prize winning reporter submitting to Lampoon? And I was planning on using that $350 for Christmas presents! And fake redheads don't usually do it for me!

So some guy is looking for relief and figures a nice photo of Maureen Dowd's cameltoe is going to put him over the top. How did he get here?

We're Number 1! We're Number 1! We're the number 1 site for Maureen Dowd Cameltoe. Who knew? So, why are we number 1?
Because Rickey Henderson wrote the following in a comment a couple of months ago:

Would Maureen Dowd's cameltoe have kept you at the NYTimes website? Rickey suspects so...
Unfortunately for me, in the whole frickin' world, there is only one pervert with a computer interested in this particular toe. Hey Rickey, next time can you do me a favor and work "Erin Andrews cameltoe" into a comment?

PC Team Names

From the PtB archives: Rather than write another depressing post about the cluster-eff that is the Mets, I'm posting an old bit. My excuse is that they are in Atlanta. I've updated it for 2009 by adding Omir Santos. It amazes me that I took so much time drawing each guy yet I totally screwed up the glove. It's at least three sizes to small and for those of you that grew up on Village Hill Drive looks just like Joey Apicella's old mitt. I'm going to blame all the oxycontin I was popping for my ruptured achilles tendon.

As always, these bits are not intended for the faint of heart, pregnant women or the discriminating reader.

The Mets are heading down to the deep south to play a certain team that has a name that offends all the PC police. See if you can pick out the real team from all the made up teams I've assembled here on my blog.

Team: Terre Haute Fighting Dagos

History: The third most famous fighting team after the Irish and the Gamecocks, this Chicago White Sox affiliate got its name after the owner, Bill Hancock, watched his Italian gardener beat up his Irish maid.

Mascot: His Holiness Pope George Ringo II

Mascot Antics: No visit to the old War Memorial is complete without the traditional running of the Papist during the 7th inning stretch. A young boy between the ages of 8 and 12 is selected at random from the crowd, dressed in an altar boy costume and sent out on the field. The bells ring and the boy races for the centerfield gate with the Papist close behind. If the boy gets there first, he wins knockwurst for his entire section. If the Papist catches him, well, we're talking a different kind of wurst.

Fills that holywater thing with Budweiser and the crowd opens up to receive communion!

Famous Alumni: Rico Petrocelli, Phil Rizutto and Tony C.

---

Team: Nashville Jewboys

History: This Double A member of the Southern League used to be called the Nashville Jigaboos until some savvy marketing guy noticed that while there were no Jews in the crowd, they were a couple of Jigaboos. After the name change, the cheap seats were always full.

Mascot: Rebe Schlomo

Mascot Antics: The Rebe keeps the crowd rolling in the aisles with his childish ways. Eyes light up when he gives away one of his ridicuously large crackers that he calls matzohs. During the 7th inning stretch this "meshugeh" mascot has been known to blow a chauffer or drink the blood of a God fearing Christian.

Famous Alumni: Sandy Koufax, Hank Greenberg, Art Shamsky and Rod Carew.

---

Team: Atlanta Braves

History: The Braves started out in Boston but Bostonians wanted to name their team after a pair of socks so they moved to Milwaukee but Milwaukians wanted to name their team after beer so they moved to Atlanta.

Mascot: Chief Knockahoma

Mascot Antics: Formerly the Chief of the Creek Nation, Knockahoma sold out his tribe for a dry teepee in the leftfield bullpen and a whole lot of wampum. So while the rest of the Creek cried their way to Oklahoma, Chief Knockahoma does a little dance after every hometeam homerun.Woo, woo, woo, woo, woo, Tomahawk Chop or are they heiling Chipper Jones? Hanoi Jane knows.

Famous Alumni: John "White Rat with Mouth of Squaw" Rocker.

---

Team: Jacksonville Men's Room Attendants

History: Formally known as the Jacksonville Watutsi, the team changed its name to be more politically correct in the late 80's after some protesting by the local rabble rousers.

Mascot: ol' Willie

Mascot Antics: Changed the name but kept the mascot. Instead of a bone in his nose, ol' Willie gets tangled in the TP and then asks the crowd for tips. Invariably, the crowd chants "Get a Job!" and the bleachers erupt in laughter.

ol' Willie will loan you his comb and slap on some aftershave, just don't tinkle on his shoes!

Famous Alumni: Joe Black, Kevin Brown, Mordecai "Three Finger" Brown and Alvin Dark.

---

Team: Lackawanna Camel Jockeys

History: Famous for their "Homeland Defense" strategy, this minor league team is currently on hiatus pending military tribunals. Always popular with visiting Kings and Shah's, the Lackawanna/Nashville rivalry often leads to bloodshed.

Mascot: A-hab the A-rab

Mascot Antics: During the 7th inning stretch A-hab, with sticks of dynamite strapped to his chest, chases down groundskeepers dressed in yarmulkes. When he catches them they all "explode" in a cloud of smoke, leaving the happy Mullah dancing in tattered clothes. On special events night local police take turns beating the mascot with nightsticks. Twice a game he lays out a blanket on top of the dugout, faces east and prays for a comeback.

Famous Alumni: Omar Vizquel, Omir Santos and Khalil Greene.

---

Team: Cleveland Indians

History: The lesser known team by the lake, the Indians have a storied history of success, drawing incredible crowds that seem to breed and expand during extra-inning games. While attending these games is fun, don't try ordering an all beef hotdog.

Mascot: Mahatma

Mascot Antics: Mahatma thrills the crowd by drinking his own urine, demonstrating his abstinence by ignoring the advances of a tipsy Suzyn Waldman, and telling an off-color Bangladeshi joke now and again. When the opposing team homers, he immolates himself (and a few fans) using petrol and an incense burner.

Every Tueday is Leper Night. All lepers that purchase a general admission ticket get a cherry Slurpee at half price.

Famous Alumni: R. Swoboda

---

Team: Rock Ridge Drunken Irish

History: The town wanted something Irish and "fighting" was already taken. Besides the only real fighting the Irish ever do is killing themselves, and that's not good for team unity.

Mascot: Hank the Angry Leprechuan

Mascot Antics: A drunken, angry Hank leaves a trail of green vomit wherever he goes. Buy him a Big Beer and in return, Hank will shower you with gold, if you know what I mean. Once in the playoffs with the score tied and the bases loaded, the manager sent Hank in to pinch hit. Instead of drawing a game winning base-on-balls, Hank dry-humped the umpire's leg resulting in immediate ejaculation.

Famous Alumni: Roberto Kelly, Fred McGriff and Chone Figgins.

---

Team: Massachusetts Mid-Level Managers

History: Formed in the mid-70's by that leftist, half-wit Ted Kennedy to avoid any possible insult to any type of human being with any type of behavior and/or belief that might not represent majority or minority thinking, the Middies never keep score so as to not hurt anyone's feelings.

Mascot: Ronnie Rainbow changes his/her head every inning.

Mascot Antics: Handing out "Have a Nice Day" smiley faces and taunting umps when they yell "Yer Out" and "Strike," or "Yer Safe" and "Ball." Spends a lot of time on the cell phone. When wearing the disabled head, Ronnie has fun spelling out Massachusetts in American Sign Language.

Famous Alumni: Frank Off-White, Bill Navajo-White and Roy Oatmeal-White.

Even FOX Sports Hates Obama

Six hundred cameras and FOX misses President Obama's first pitch. We get to see his windup and then, nothing. Not even a replay. What the eff?

I found the video on MLB.com. It's not enough pressure throwing a baseball in front of millions of viewers, they have to line up the surviving members of the Gashouse Gang behind home plate. Imagine if President Obama had accidently nailed Red Schoen­dienst in the head. Think FOX would have been able to show that 1200 times from 600 different angles. Bill O'Reilly would have done a week on it.

My Review

Obama may have short armed the ball (New York fans get to see Jeter and Wright short arm throws several times a week), but I liked the jeans, the jacket and the jogging -- and the arm pump after. Maybe in seven years, President Obama will become a lefthanded reliever instead of building houses for the less fortunate, or making boatloads of money working for the Bin Ladens.

Chief Justice Roseanne Barr!!! I mean Sonia Sotomayor!!!

Is it just me or does Sonia Sotomayor look just like Roseanne Barr?

I keep expected Tom Arnold to lean in and whisper something in her ear.

David Wright, a Joke

Mr. Met: Did you hear that All Star David Wright is going to participate in the 2009 Home Run Derby?

Lady Met: Really?

Mr. Met: Yeah, they needed another guy to run around in the outfield and catch flyballs!


I never claimed it was a good joke.



Isn't it about time that someone told David the old Ralph Kiner quote?



Home run hitters date Molly Beers, singles hitters date hometown steers.






I know you jokers, it looks like David Wright in a wig but it isn't. I asked her if she was a woman and she said yes. I asked if she would be willing to date David Wright this year and she said yes. She's Janice from Astoria. She's nice and plain.

Jesus Christ, Jeter Christ, Derek Jeter Messes Up!

Derek Jeter messes up. His bone head move probably cost the Yankees a game and a sweep of Toronto and all anybody wants to talk about is the ump.

Because Jesus Jeter is infallible

Of course, unlike the real Jesus, Jeter did not turn the other cheek. Embarassed by his Little League mistake, he threw the umpire under the bus. That's a bad "Pinstriped Prince of Peace."

The ump blew the call. It happens. Then, finding himself in an unwanted audience with a vengeful "Fisherman of Wins," he stumbled on his words and now may be excommunicated.

I got to listen to this play described on the radio by the Yankee announcers. So, I had no clue what was happening. John Sterling thought Jeter was out by a mile (for you out of towners, the poor, old man has very bad eyesight). He couldn't be bothered to look at the monitor for the replay but assigned the task to his color commentator, Suzyn Waldman. She got distracted by Jeter arguing.

This manly display by the Yankee Son of God shortstop caused her to audibly moan as another cunt bunny was ejected onto the floor of the Lowe's broadcasting booth. BTW, you can buy an authentic game used Waldman cunt bunny here.

For anybody that knows anything about the game of baseball let me remind you that Jeter got thrown out trying to steal third with no outs. I waited for the mandatory lecture about not making the first or third out at third base. That's what announcers do. They have to. It's in their contracts. It's mandated by Major League Baseball, Inc.

Nope. It was Jeter. Not a single mention about the bad baseball play. Bad fundamental baseball. Even after the next batter singled -- which would have driven Jeter home from second easily.

Hey Yankee fans, how do you listen to this crap, game after game?

Obligatory Michael Jackson Post

From the PtB Archives

Okay, an inevitable post about the recent trainwreck -- not the Mets, the Man in the Mirror.

"You should do a bit about Michael Jackson. Now, that would be funny."

You don't know how many times I've heard that lately. God forbid they should leave a comment so it looks like someone visits. No, its always face to face.

Problem is, I don't find Michael Jackson's death that funny. All that talent, all that money, wasted.

But I am here to please the three readers I have, so I'm going to repost an old Michael Jackson bit from back when he was alive and an old movie that you probably don't remember was in the theaters, Bad Santa.

To be honest I don't find the bit that funny. It was from a time when we were posting a bit a week for some reason I can't remember. I think casting lil' Michael as the dwarf was clever. Oh, and I do not include these photoshops in my portfolio. So now, for the guys at work, I give you Really Bad Santa starring Michael Jackson...

Really Bad Santa

Starring Michael Jackson

Before Bad Santa there was Really Bad Santa, a movie even the Farelly brothers wouldn't touch. The Melonosky brothers tried to cast Bill Murray, but he was too busy playing golf in France, they tried Billy Bob, but he was too busy beating an ex-wife, and then they found Michael. The role appealed both to Michael's inner child and the child he was in. Although never released due to legal wranglings with the distributor and Mr. Jackson's fifth amendment rights regarding self incrimination, I kept some stills from the set of some critical scenes. As you can tell, Bad Santa (playing at a theatre near you) is a blatant rip-off of our earlier work. An incredibly subtle, comic performance by lil' Michael Jackson, as Santa's little helper, who helps Santa find little helpers, almost saves the film.

Fade out.
Roll credits.

$70,000,000 of Boo-Boos

There are nine teams with smaller payrolls than the Mets DL including my third favorite team, the classy Minnesota Twins.

Our Lovable Ragtag Bunch of Scrappy Blue Collar Guys

In my last post, I affectionately called the latest version of the Mets a "motley bunch of scrappy bush leaguers." Baseball salaries are effing unfathomable so I attempted to put a price tag on the players the Mets fielded last night. Data are from Cots' Baseball Contracts, basically it's salary plus prorated bonus. I assigned Santos, Switzer and F. Martinez the league minimum (I know Martinez got a big bonus when he was 16 but I don't know the length of his contract.).

Starting Lineup
$2,000,000 Cora
$401,000 Murphy
$7,750,000 Wright

$1,700,000 Tatis
$2,800,000 Church

$400,000 Santos

$925,000 Reed
$6,250,000 Castillo

$2,250,000 Redding

Subs:
$409,500 Stokes
$400,000 Switzer

$400,000 F. Martinez

$9,166,667 F. Rodriguez

The Mets starting nine have a combined salary of $24,476,000. Add the subs (including don't call me K-Rod) and the total is $34,852,167.

So they can't compare to the Yankees 80 million dollar infield, but that ain't chicken scratch. Those 13 guys make about what the Florida Marlins entire roster will make in 2009.

Luis Castillo Giveth and He Taketh Away

Luis Castillo made a play last night that was as good as his drop last week was bad. Ranging way to the right, Castillo dove for the ball, got to his knees, and threw the strongest four hop throw to first that you will ever see.

No hype. Great play.

Castillo also went 3 for 3 with an rbi and two runs scored.

Wow, a positive post. I have discovered that positive posts are rare in sports blogs. This is especially true if a.) you are attempting to be funny and b.) your team is under performing. From now to the allstar break, with the Mets playing a slew of tough teams while sending out a motley bunch of scrappy bush leaguers, I will try my best to avoid typos.

Shameless Plug: The Vermont BJ Company

From the PtB Archives:I reposted a Father's Day Classic, The Vermont BJ Company.

This bit has a special place in comedy history. It was the first time National Lampoon ever rejected one of my submissions. It was called The Vermont BJ Company or How to Write a Funny Article for National Lampoon. Why did they reject it? I'll give you three guesses.

Was it not dirty enough for the frat boys? It's called Vermont BJ Company! Next.

Was it not funny enough? I wrote it! Next.

They were afraid of being sued? This is the U.S. of effing A. Satire and parody are protected under the first amendment, and by satire and parody, they mean any lame attempt at humor even if its not satire or parody, e.g., The Onion.

They rejected it because it made fun of National Lampoon.

That's when I realized that this was not my daddy's National Lampoon.

Is Luis Castillo Smarter than a Little Leaguer?

What's that, Luis? You want catching pop ups for $1,000?

Okay, when catching a pop up should you use one hand or two hands?

You look hesitant. Would you like to use you life line? Sure. Who is it? Gary Sheffield? Uh oh. Why not ask Lakeisha up there. She seemed very confident when she wrote down her answer. No? Okay. What is you answer?

Is Luis Castillo smarter than a Little Leaguer? No.

Look, he's going to catch that pop up 99,998 times out of 100,000. If he uses two hands, he's going to catch that pop up 99,999 times. Maybe that one time is going to be in the ninth inning, with two outs, and two on, up by one, against the hated Yankees, with the despicable Alex Rodriguez at the plate.

Luis, if you use two hands, maybe you catch it. If you use two hands, you definitely won't have to hear about it on sports talk radio from every dick with a phone.

Biden Bid to Bury Boner Beneath Begonias

There's no journalism like Rupert Murdoch journalism -- I'll let you fill in the punchline.

Biden Bid to Bury Boner. Now that's what I call an alliteration!

How about, Illustrative Illiteration Inuendo? I can do it, too.

Except that nobody under 35 knows the dictionary definition of boner. When normal people hear the word boner they think, penis, erection, dick, cock (please note that I put in the extra effort and arranged those words in decending order based on the likelihood of one of them being said by Laura Bush when she's sober. That's the kind of craftsmanship you've come to expect at PtB).

bon·er (bō'ner) n. [Slang] a stupid or silly blunder

When I first read this headline my brain, along with every other brain reading the New York Post, finished it with "in Michelle Obama!" My unique combination of OCD and Tourettes even compelled me to write it in pencil on the page although I managed to stop myself before I included the exclamation point.

You might ask, "What's the point?" I would reply, "Of the article? I have no idea, I never got past the headline. Of this post? Good point, no point. Except, maybe, the obvious, the headlines are the only reason to read the New York Post."

Morning Camel Toe (or is it cameltoe) and the Struggles of Local Newspapers

This morning I was sitting in my cubicle for only a few minutes, perusing the New York Times website hoping for some early morning stimulation from the wit and wisdom of Frank Rich or one of his esteemed colleagues, when Steve in the next cubicle yelled out.

"Hey, you wanna see some cameltoe?"

Is 6:50 AM a little early for porn? lol Ouch, I just hurt myself.

As I bounded out of my chair, my mind raced. Porn at work? It's not only a no-no, it's an impossibility. Our internet access is so restricted that we can't visit yahoo because it's a "web community" site.

When I finally got to Steve's cubicle, out of breath, face flushed, I mean come on it's almost 5 feet away, I saw this:



Sweet!

It's LoHud.com, the internet home of the Journal News, a Gannett Co. Inc. newspaper serving Westchester, Rockland and Putnam counties in New York. The Pulitizer prize winning Journal staff did a hard hitting investigation into the hot babes lounging on the beach over the weekend. Why am I reading the Times?

Oh yeah, here's the close up of the camel toe because I care about my reader (you know who you are).


There is nothing like the newspaper and the morning's first cup of coffee.