It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Will you people give it a rest? Stop accosting Red Sox players and coaches in elevators, at hotels and, worst of all, in restaurants and asking them for autographs. You’re better than that. Well, many of you are anyway. The Globe today put a spotlight on this irritating practice, and made it as plain as a Cleveland Browns helmet that prefacing one’s intrusion by saying “I don’t want to bug you but…” does not make it okay.
First, of all, you do want to bug them. You do. If you didn’t want to bug them, you would leave them alone.
Second, if “I don’t want to bug you but…” offered one absolution from the sin about to be committed, it would be most easily attained indulgence since the wrong side of the reformation. Think about the words that could follow that qualifier; it works for everybody.
Robbers: I don’t want to bug you but… I’m going to have to ask you to give me your wallet.
Vice Presidents: I don’t want to bug you but… I’m going to be keeping you in a secret prison for a while and hooking electrodes up to your private parts.
Atlanta Falcons Quarterbacks: I don’t want to bug you but… but I’m going to have to electrocute that dog.
Telemarketers: I don’t want to bug you but… I thought you should know about this amazing offer.
Pro Wrestlers: I don’t want to bug you but… would you mind if I hit you in the head with a chair?
Spammers: I don’t want to bug you but… have you ever wanted longer more powerful sexual experiences?
Supervillains: I don’t want to bug you but… I kind of need the Earth’s molten core for a personal project. You’re cool right?
Chinese manufacturers: I don’t want to bug you but… we’ve been inadvertently poisoning your children.
Negligent surgeons: I don’t want to bug you but… I should probably let you know that we amputated the wrong leg.
See anyone could use it for any nefarious reason, so let’s just agree that “I don’t want to bug you but…” should not be used ever.
So if you see a Red Sox star at a restaurant, don’t go up to him and say “I don’t want to bug you but… could I get your autograph?” If you really don’t want to bug him, either don’t go up at all, or just go up and as for a bite of his food.
According to National Public Radio, a San Diego couple has been doing a social experiment just going up to people in restaurants and asking for a bite of their food. The overwhelming majority of the time, not only do the diners consent, they offer up a bite with their own fork.
Why be a nuisance and ask for Doug Mirabelli’s autograph when you could get a bite of his chicken parm? And who needs David Ortiz’s signature when you could have some of his beans and rice off his very own fork, tainted with his very own saliva?
Asking for a taste is no big deal, and you should do it whenever you see a pro athlete or other celebrity out eating.
2. Remember those “Where’ Waldo?” books. Jose could usually find Waldo in the books even though he is pretty sure he has never found anyone named Waldo in real life. (Note: Waldo is in Kansas. It is a city with 48 residents.) Still, they were kind of fun. And it is in this spirit that Jose presents an actual KEYS TO THE GAME contest.
Jose will be hidden somewhere in Fenway Park tonight. If you are the first person to find him, Jose will send you an authentic, American-made, wash-and-wear, lead paint-free, low-carb KEYS TO THE GAME thong.
But how will you find Jose? It will be easy. He will be the guy in the Red Sox shirt. (Note: But seriously, you’ll know Jose when you see him.)
All you have to do is be the first person to come up to Jose and say “Jose give me a thong.”
At which point, whoever it is that you’ve talked to will give you a quizzical look and punch you in the face.
Happy hunting!
(Note: Members of the Melendez family and “real life friends of Jose are ineligible for this contest. If you guys want a KEYS thong that bad, just ask.)
3. There is no KEY 3 today.
Jose isn’t writing one. It’s not that he couldn’t write one if he needed to, but he just doesn’t see a need. The Red Sox have clinched a playoff spot, there are six games remaining in the regular season, and Jose just thinks it makes more sense to pace himself. Sure, Dan Shaughnessy is going to quote Warren Zevon and bring up Earl Weaver’s 1969 Orioles to make the case for why Jose should be closing out this KEYS with his best stuff, but Jose doesn’t buy it.
All of this “you can rest in November stuff,” is nonsense. Who rests in November? Pulling together Thanksgiving is a ton of work, and then it’s a madhouse straight on to Christmas, then forward to Greek Christmas. Maybe, you can rest in February, if it’s not so miserable out weather-wise that you have to shovel every day.
So why wouldn’t Jose rest the last week of the season with a playoff spot clinched? Really, complain all you want about Jose’s competitive fires, but he’s not writing a third KEY today.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Showing posts with label Shaughnessy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shaughnessy. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 25
Monday, July 23
Whistle When You’re Low
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1.Crap.
Bleeping Dan Shaughnessy took the bleeping high road on Jon Lester.
If Manny had just returned after a bout with the big C, Shaughnessy would be questioning if he’d ever had cancer and making quips like “Did Manny have melanoma, or just melodrama? History would suggest the latter.” But since it was loveable Jon Lester, hard working white kid, Shaughnessy gives him the Le Monde on 9/12 treatment “Tonight all of us are Red Sox fans.”
So if Shaughnessy is going to play good guy in this storyline, what does the leave for Jose? Does he get stuck doing the cancer jokes, yet again?
Yes, apparently he does. Do five jokes about Mike Lowell losing a testicle to cancer, and suddenly you’re the cancer joke guy. G-reat.
Well, fine then. Here goes. Mike Lowell told Shaughnessy “Trust me, anyone going through this doesn’t want to talk about it. He wants to be a baseball player rather than a cancer survivor.”
Where does Lowell get off speaking for everyone with cancer? Shonda Schilling can’t stop talking about the evils of the sun. The nerve! Didn’t she see what melanoma did for Derek Lowe? Did he ever have a World Series ring before he lost part of his nose to cancer? Nope. And while he was probably banging reporters, he certainly didn’t get to brag about it in the newspaper. Cancer was great for DLowe. (Note: In German, the call cancer Krebs, which is the name of the constellation Cancer, but literally translates as “crabs.” This begs the question of whether Germans treat cancer with special shampoo rather than deadly intravenous chemicals. While this name may not make cancer any less deadly in German speaking countries, it definitely makes it funnier. Also, angina, means strep throat in German, which is confusing as hell.)
And what about Cancer Boy, the heroic tyke from Brain Candy, the Kids in the Hall movie, who battled through cancer to be nominated at the World Video Awards for the best rap, hip hop or folk video. He courageously talked about his cancer all the time, and whistled about it too.
In fact, when Lester first starts at Fenway, the Sox should play Cancer Boy’s “Whistle When You’re Low” as his intro music.
Alternatively, Jose vaguely recalls his friend Dan writing a song called “Metastasis, We’ve Got to Stop It” during ninth grade biology. That could work too.
Okay. Deep breath. Is that enough? Is Jose enough of a heel for you now? Has he scored enough points off of a freaking cancer survivor to entertain you heartless people? JOSE IS NOT YOUR JOKE MONKEY!!!!!!
Well, he is kind of, so let him settle with this side note. Welcome back to the bigs Jon, and have a great game. Don’t get too used to Shaughnessy writing nice things about you, and remember, keep whistling.
When Jose goes to hell for KEY 1,
he needs to keep whistling.
2. The promotion of Jon Lester, also means the end of the line for Joel Piñero in the grey and red, and despite his ineffectiveness, Jose can’t help but feel like the end came too soon. When J.C. Romero was designated for assignment Jose felt at peace. He’d written about Christian rappers calling their Lord JC, and he’d suggested the lefty was an amalgam of Jesus Christ and Ed Romero—he’d covered all the bases. But not so with Piñero, with so Piñero much remains undone. Yes, Jose got to call him Jor-El and do some father of Superman jokes, but so much never happened. Jose never got to write about how he loves those piñero nuts they sometimes use in Chinese food. Then he would have spent the next day writing how it turns out they’re actually called piñola nuts, and we would have laughed and laughed.
Jose never even wrote about loving Piñero Coladas, and getting lost in the rain. And now it’s too late.
The sadness flows through Jose’s veins like ethanol after SoSH bash weekend. He’ll never see Joel walk another batter, never see him give up a two strike hit, never see him make that frustrated little look he makes, when he realizes he can’t get anyone out.
Well, life, as they say, is loss, and for Joel Piñero life is loss after loss after loss.
So long, Joel, and may we meet again with you pitching for the other team.
3. Mike Lowell is a huge believer in the Tampa Bay Buccaneers defense when they have their opponents backed up against the goal line. How else could one explain Lowell’s comment that when he saw the 21-4 score in yesterday’s Yankees-DRays game he said “I though it was Jets-Buccaneers.”
The only way you can get four points in football is on two safeties, so he must love the Tampa D. Of course, it could also be that he thinks poorly of the Jets special teams. As someone who lived much of his life in Florida, he no doubt remembers the 1987 Sugar Bowl when Miami beat Florida 31-4, scoring only due to two botched snaps.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1.Crap.
Bleeping Dan Shaughnessy took the bleeping high road on Jon Lester.
If Manny had just returned after a bout with the big C, Shaughnessy would be questioning if he’d ever had cancer and making quips like “Did Manny have melanoma, or just melodrama? History would suggest the latter.” But since it was loveable Jon Lester, hard working white kid, Shaughnessy gives him the Le Monde on 9/12 treatment “Tonight all of us are Red Sox fans.”
So if Shaughnessy is going to play good guy in this storyline, what does the leave for Jose? Does he get stuck doing the cancer jokes, yet again?
Yes, apparently he does. Do five jokes about Mike Lowell losing a testicle to cancer, and suddenly you’re the cancer joke guy. G-reat.
Well, fine then. Here goes. Mike Lowell told Shaughnessy “Trust me, anyone going through this doesn’t want to talk about it. He wants to be a baseball player rather than a cancer survivor.”
Where does Lowell get off speaking for everyone with cancer? Shonda Schilling can’t stop talking about the evils of the sun. The nerve! Didn’t she see what melanoma did for Derek Lowe? Did he ever have a World Series ring before he lost part of his nose to cancer? Nope. And while he was probably banging reporters, he certainly didn’t get to brag about it in the newspaper. Cancer was great for DLowe. (Note: In German, the call cancer Krebs, which is the name of the constellation Cancer, but literally translates as “crabs.” This begs the question of whether Germans treat cancer with special shampoo rather than deadly intravenous chemicals. While this name may not make cancer any less deadly in German speaking countries, it definitely makes it funnier. Also, angina, means strep throat in German, which is confusing as hell.)
And what about Cancer Boy, the heroic tyke from Brain Candy, the Kids in the Hall movie, who battled through cancer to be nominated at the World Video Awards for the best rap, hip hop or folk video. He courageously talked about his cancer all the time, and whistled about it too.
In fact, when Lester first starts at Fenway, the Sox should play Cancer Boy’s “Whistle When You’re Low” as his intro music.
Alternatively, Jose vaguely recalls his friend Dan writing a song called “Metastasis, We’ve Got to Stop It” during ninth grade biology. That could work too.
Okay. Deep breath. Is that enough? Is Jose enough of a heel for you now? Has he scored enough points off of a freaking cancer survivor to entertain you heartless people? JOSE IS NOT YOUR JOKE MONKEY!!!!!!
Well, he is kind of, so let him settle with this side note. Welcome back to the bigs Jon, and have a great game. Don’t get too used to Shaughnessy writing nice things about you, and remember, keep whistling.
When Jose goes to hell for KEY 1,
he needs to keep whistling.
2. The promotion of Jon Lester, also means the end of the line for Joel Piñero in the grey and red, and despite his ineffectiveness, Jose can’t help but feel like the end came too soon. When J.C. Romero was designated for assignment Jose felt at peace. He’d written about Christian rappers calling their Lord JC, and he’d suggested the lefty was an amalgam of Jesus Christ and Ed Romero—he’d covered all the bases. But not so with Piñero, with so Piñero much remains undone. Yes, Jose got to call him Jor-El and do some father of Superman jokes, but so much never happened. Jose never got to write about how he loves those piñero nuts they sometimes use in Chinese food. Then he would have spent the next day writing how it turns out they’re actually called piñola nuts, and we would have laughed and laughed.
Jose never even wrote about loving Piñero Coladas, and getting lost in the rain. And now it’s too late.
The sadness flows through Jose’s veins like ethanol after SoSH bash weekend. He’ll never see Joel walk another batter, never see him give up a two strike hit, never see him make that frustrated little look he makes, when he realizes he can’t get anyone out.
Well, life, as they say, is loss, and for Joel Piñero life is loss after loss after loss.
So long, Joel, and may we meet again with you pitching for the other team.
3. Mike Lowell is a huge believer in the Tampa Bay Buccaneers defense when they have their opponents backed up against the goal line. How else could one explain Lowell’s comment that when he saw the 21-4 score in yesterday’s Yankees-DRays game he said “I though it was Jets-Buccaneers.”
The only way you can get four points in football is on two safeties, so he must love the Tampa D. Of course, it could also be that he thinks poorly of the Jets special teams. As someone who lived much of his life in Florida, he no doubt remembers the 1987 Sugar Bowl when Miami beat Florida 31-4, scoring only due to two botched snaps.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Wednesday, June 27
Who is Daisuke Matsuzaka?
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. KEYS TO THE GAME PRESENTS
Ages of Empire
Today’s volume: Daisuke Matsuzaka
After Jose joined Manny yesterday in taking a well-deserved day off, the series ends today with Jose’s imperial analysis of the Japanese phenom Daisuke Matsuzaka. Now at first, Jose was tempted to equate Mr. Matsu to the French Empire, because France is where the gyroscope was invented in 1817. But of course, Jose then remembered that the French Empire was gone by 1817 and it was just the kingdom of France, which doesn’t fit the bill. Maybe when Jose compares each member of the starting rotation to a kingdom, he will come back to this.
But what are we to do then with Mr. Matsu? The best Jose can come up with is to compare him to the Skrull Empire. The Skrulls, of course are a race of short, shape shifting aliens that possess a vast empire in the Andromeda galaxy and have been known to tangle with the Fantastic Four. Maybe some were hypnotized into thinking they were cows. Jose figures they are the best analogy for Matsuzaka because like him, they are green, and their shapeshifting abilities are evocative of Matsuzaka’s curious transformations from pitcher who only seldom walks anyone to pitcher who walks everyone and back.
The best Jose could come up with?
On the other hand, this is a total cop out. Jose has promised you imperial analogies for the Sox rotation and he has to resort to fictional empires for two of the five? Lame.
Okay, so Jose will start thinking through the various empires listed in Civilization, the best video game ever that hasn’t injured Joel Zumaya, and come up with something real.
Any ideas? Anyone?
All right, Jose’s got it. Mr. Matsu is like the Incas because he loves the mountains and can’t comprehend the wheel. No, wait. He’s more like the Aztecs because he enjoys ripping out the hearts of his enemies and is vulnerable to European disease. Or is he more like the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth because when people look back at him, they’ll be surprised to find out that he was once a really big deal?
Damn it.
That’s the problem with Mr. Matsu isn’t it? He’s still an enigma. Even almost half way through the season, Jose is not totally sure what we have in him. Will he be a Mongol horde dominating with sheer power? The Greeks dominating for long past their military prime through the subtlety of their thought and artistry? Or perhaps the British Empire combining a variety of tools, the ruthlessness of arms with the soft power of culture and intellect. Or perhaps he will not dominate at all. Perhaps rather than being an empire, he will be one of those many nations that does not dominate but simply persists, like the Kurds, the Jews or the Armenians, that battle adversity for generations to often thrive, sometimes struggle, but never dominate.
That, or maybe he’s the Vikings because they both enjoy eating fish.
2. For those of you who haven’t seen it, Elizabeth Edwards, wife of presidential candidate John Edwards delivered an absolutely cutting rebuke to professional b*tch Anne Coulter the other day. Edwards asked Coulter to end personal attacks, such as suggesting that it would be good if John Edwards were killed by terrorists and joking that he had a bumper sticker reading “ask me about by dead son” on his car.
The normally nimble, if evil, Coulter seemed uncharacteristically flustered, and while incapable of shame, at least appeared chastened at being called to task by the mother of the child whose death she had mocked.
This got Jose thinking. Who’s going to do this to Dan Shaughnessy? Shaughnessy is the Coulter, of the Boston sports scene. Thin and lanky? Check. Hate-filled and borderline racist? Check. Adopts a vicious persona in order to sell books? You betcha. Prominent Adam’s apple? Indeed.
So who is going to call out old Dan? Who will be the Elizabeth Edwards to his Coulter Bean… err… Anne Coulter?
Just attacking these sorts of folks has no affect. They love to be attacked, to be called names and to have their competence questioned. It raises their profile, it gets ink and it moves merch. No, the only way to deal with them is to go face to face with them, and rather than yelling and screaming, rather than fighting them in their medium, simply ask them to stop their disgraceful behavior. They won’t, of course, but when, on television, they are forced to look into their adversary’s eyes and defend the awful things they said, they are exposed for who they are, cruel, opportunistic bullies.
When Edwards confronted Coulter, she was left with nothing to say but ask if Edwards wanted her to just stop talking and writing. Implicit, is that if she could not be mean, if she could not be vile, she would have nothing to say, not word one. If she could not call 9-11 widows harpies and rejoice in mocking parents for their dead children, she would have nothing, she would be nothing.
If Manny Ramirez were to go up to Shaughnessy on camera and ask him to stop the stereotyping, if Pedro were to ask why Shaughnessy has nothing to say about Roger’s special treatment in New York, but was so quick to brand Pedro a diva, what would he say? “Do you just want me to stop writing?”
Dan, Anne, if that’s what it takes, you bet. One can criticize without being cruel, attack without seeking to destroy. Can you? Maybe not, but then leave the discourse to someone who can.
3. Seeing that his baseball career might be nearing an end, embattled Red Sox pitcher Mike Timlin (note: who else wants to contribute to the gold watch?) gave the Boston Globe some thoughts on his plans for future employment.
To the surprise of many, the statuesque Timlin suggested that he may take up exotic dancing, claiming that he planned to “Strip everything off.”
But, Timlin added, being a quality adult entertainer is not easy. From dealing with wardrobe to working on dance moves, Timlin expects the new career to be challenge.
"Obviously, completely redoing your whole get-up is not easy, because you have routines and you have things you do,” explained the righty. “But that's what we're trying to get done."
Timlin also expressed concerns about having his anatomy compared to other dancers saying “As time goes, if you look over anybody's ‘stats,’… they're swinging the ‘bat’ really well. So their confidence is really high.”
Sox skipper Tito Eurona thought Timlin’s girth would not be an issue, telling the Globe “Here's a guy that's handled a real heavy ‘role’”
(Note: All quotes are real and taken from an Amalie Benjamin piece in today’s Globe. Jose can not help it if she put them in the wrong context in the paper.)
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. KEYS TO THE GAME PRESENTS
Ages of Empire
Today’s volume: Daisuke Matsuzaka
After Jose joined Manny yesterday in taking a well-deserved day off, the series ends today with Jose’s imperial analysis of the Japanese phenom Daisuke Matsuzaka. Now at first, Jose was tempted to equate Mr. Matsu to the French Empire, because France is where the gyroscope was invented in 1817. But of course, Jose then remembered that the French Empire was gone by 1817 and it was just the kingdom of France, which doesn’t fit the bill. Maybe when Jose compares each member of the starting rotation to a kingdom, he will come back to this.
But what are we to do then with Mr. Matsu? The best Jose can come up with is to compare him to the Skrull Empire. The Skrulls, of course are a race of short, shape shifting aliens that possess a vast empire in the Andromeda galaxy and have been known to tangle with the Fantastic Four. Maybe some were hypnotized into thinking they were cows. Jose figures they are the best analogy for Matsuzaka because like him, they are green, and their shapeshifting abilities are evocative of Matsuzaka’s curious transformations from pitcher who only seldom walks anyone to pitcher who walks everyone and back.
The best Jose could come up with?
On the other hand, this is a total cop out. Jose has promised you imperial analogies for the Sox rotation and he has to resort to fictional empires for two of the five? Lame.
Okay, so Jose will start thinking through the various empires listed in Civilization, the best video game ever that hasn’t injured Joel Zumaya, and come up with something real.
Any ideas? Anyone?
All right, Jose’s got it. Mr. Matsu is like the Incas because he loves the mountains and can’t comprehend the wheel. No, wait. He’s more like the Aztecs because he enjoys ripping out the hearts of his enemies and is vulnerable to European disease. Or is he more like the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth because when people look back at him, they’ll be surprised to find out that he was once a really big deal?
Damn it.
That’s the problem with Mr. Matsu isn’t it? He’s still an enigma. Even almost half way through the season, Jose is not totally sure what we have in him. Will he be a Mongol horde dominating with sheer power? The Greeks dominating for long past their military prime through the subtlety of their thought and artistry? Or perhaps the British Empire combining a variety of tools, the ruthlessness of arms with the soft power of culture and intellect. Or perhaps he will not dominate at all. Perhaps rather than being an empire, he will be one of those many nations that does not dominate but simply persists, like the Kurds, the Jews or the Armenians, that battle adversity for generations to often thrive, sometimes struggle, but never dominate.
That, or maybe he’s the Vikings because they both enjoy eating fish.
2. For those of you who haven’t seen it, Elizabeth Edwards, wife of presidential candidate John Edwards delivered an absolutely cutting rebuke to professional b*tch Anne Coulter the other day. Edwards asked Coulter to end personal attacks, such as suggesting that it would be good if John Edwards were killed by terrorists and joking that he had a bumper sticker reading “ask me about by dead son” on his car.
The normally nimble, if evil, Coulter seemed uncharacteristically flustered, and while incapable of shame, at least appeared chastened at being called to task by the mother of the child whose death she had mocked.
This got Jose thinking. Who’s going to do this to Dan Shaughnessy? Shaughnessy is the Coulter, of the Boston sports scene. Thin and lanky? Check. Hate-filled and borderline racist? Check. Adopts a vicious persona in order to sell books? You betcha. Prominent Adam’s apple? Indeed.
So who is going to call out old Dan? Who will be the Elizabeth Edwards to his Coulter Bean… err… Anne Coulter?
Just attacking these sorts of folks has no affect. They love to be attacked, to be called names and to have their competence questioned. It raises their profile, it gets ink and it moves merch. No, the only way to deal with them is to go face to face with them, and rather than yelling and screaming, rather than fighting them in their medium, simply ask them to stop their disgraceful behavior. They won’t, of course, but when, on television, they are forced to look into their adversary’s eyes and defend the awful things they said, they are exposed for who they are, cruel, opportunistic bullies.
When Edwards confronted Coulter, she was left with nothing to say but ask if Edwards wanted her to just stop talking and writing. Implicit, is that if she could not be mean, if she could not be vile, she would have nothing to say, not word one. If she could not call 9-11 widows harpies and rejoice in mocking parents for their dead children, she would have nothing, she would be nothing.
If Manny Ramirez were to go up to Shaughnessy on camera and ask him to stop the stereotyping, if Pedro were to ask why Shaughnessy has nothing to say about Roger’s special treatment in New York, but was so quick to brand Pedro a diva, what would he say? “Do you just want me to stop writing?”
Dan, Anne, if that’s what it takes, you bet. One can criticize without being cruel, attack without seeking to destroy. Can you? Maybe not, but then leave the discourse to someone who can.
3. Seeing that his baseball career might be nearing an end, embattled Red Sox pitcher Mike Timlin (note: who else wants to contribute to the gold watch?) gave the Boston Globe some thoughts on his plans for future employment.
To the surprise of many, the statuesque Timlin suggested that he may take up exotic dancing, claiming that he planned to “Strip everything off.”
But, Timlin added, being a quality adult entertainer is not easy. From dealing with wardrobe to working on dance moves, Timlin expects the new career to be challenge.
"Obviously, completely redoing your whole get-up is not easy, because you have routines and you have things you do,” explained the righty. “But that's what we're trying to get done."
Timlin also expressed concerns about having his anatomy compared to other dancers saying “As time goes, if you look over anybody's ‘stats,’… they're swinging the ‘bat’ really well. So their confidence is really high.”
Sox skipper Tito Eurona thought Timlin’s girth would not be an issue, telling the Globe “Here's a guy that's handled a real heavy ‘role’”
(Note: All quotes are real and taken from an Amalie Benjamin piece in today’s Globe. Jose can not help it if she put them in the wrong context in the paper.)
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Friday, April 27
Blood and Lies
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1.In the finest tradition of the late great “Big” John Studd, who offered $15,000 cash to anyone who could body slam him (note: and Andre the Giant could), Curt Euro has offered $1,000,000 to anyone who can prove that that his legendary sock is not dripping in the savory blood of victory.
Of course, Euro has a hedge. Rather than simply offering the money to anyone who can prove him wrong, he has demanded that anyone who dares to test the sock put up $1 million of his own money. As exceedingly few people have $1 million to spare, it neutralizes all but the richest among us from taking the challenge.
But someone should take it. Some brave soul should toss his chips on the felt, because we know the reason that Curt made his hedge, is that he doesn’t want anyone to call his bluff. He knows, Jose knows, you know, that it isn’t blood on that sock, that it can’t be blood on that sock. We know, because it has proven time and again. In the World Series with the Phillies, with the Diamondbacks, with the Red Sox, we have seen, we have acquired empirical evidence, that Curt Euro does not have so much as a drop of blood in his veins—all he’s got is ice water. So if fluids were seeping from his foot onto that sock, they would be clear, not that ghastly shade of red. Unless, maybe the ice water in Curt’s veins is mixed with red crystal light. That would explain everything.
2. The evidence was right there. As Jose perused Dan Shaughnessy’s column this morning, it jumped out of him, springing out of the written page like Doc Gooden out of rehab. And sure enough, there it was. Fabrication. Like Mike Barnacle before him, like Patricia Smith, and Jason Blair, he was writing fiction and calling it fact. Like so many Seth Mnookin article subjects, there was old Danny Shaughnessy making things up in the name of a better story.
That’s Dan Shaughnessy for you. This is the man who loves to lie.
Got one of those kids in your neighborhood who likes to tell stories about wolves coming over the hill when there are no wolves in site? That’s Shaughnessy when it comes to lying. Rick Pitino called it being disingenuous and advocated doing it all the time.
“I am a man of my word,” said Pitino, clearly lying. (Note: He did not say that.)
Pitino would love Shaughnessy. The old man from Groton is lying in the morning, he’s lying at night. He’s lying, lying, lying.
If the Globe would allow him to do what he wants to do Shaughnessy would make James Frey look like Abe Lincoln.
Remember a few weeks ago when Shaughnessy printed emails to Curt Euro’s Web site from shut in sycophants? At the end of the piece, long after you’d probably stopped reading, he admitted it was all made up.
Remember the “Curse of the Bambino?” Fiction.
The Globe wouldn’t let him lie earlier this week, so he went into a lesbian chat room and pretended to be a Wellesley co-ed exploring her sexuality.
Then that evening he wrote someone else’s name and social security number down and ordered a few credit cards.
The Globe finally let him lie again this morning, but what they didn’t know was that he’d spent last night lying to his wife about what had happened to the $20 in her wallet.
Full disclosure here: Everything above was made up. None of it happened. But it is perhaps only a slight exaggeration.
These are absolute facts: Dan Shaughnessy told no fewer than eight lies in his column this morning. He has gotten into the habit of writing long fictional columns that start with vaguely plausible claims and then get progressively more absurd, before ending with a disclaimer that it the story is wholly or partly fictional.
So if he can do it why can’t Jose? Why can’t Jose publish out and out lies and then have a cute little disclaimer like this at the end that confesses, and thereby absolves, his sins? Why can’t Jose imitate the form, and it some cases the exact words of a Dan Shaughnessy column and use the words against him? Not sure if something in this piece is original? It’s probably not. Heck, you can assume it’s almost entirely Shaughnessy’s words… except for the parts talking about how much of a liar he is. Just check out the piece in the Globe. You’ll see what’s the same and what’s different.
He is Dan Shaughnessy. He is the man who loves to lie.
3. Remember the last Friday night the Red Sox played the Yankees? Sure you do. The Yankees were all excited having completed a shocking two out comeback to upend the Cleveland Indians and came surging into Fenway ready to bust some heads and break some hearts.
Do you know what has happened since then? The Yankees have lost. They have lost, and lost and lost some more, dropping six straight games to fall to 8-12, last in the American League East, behind the Red Sox, behind Toronto, behind Baltimore, behind Tampa Bay, and probably even behind the Washington Senators who do not, technically speaking, exist.
“There’s going to be panic soon if the winning doesn’t start,” traitor Johnny Damon told the Associated Press.
Thankfully, Jose has some advice on what to do in the event of panic. Jose saw a documentary on it. Should the Yankees lose three more this weekend, or even two, they should, as a team, retreat into a giant sealed “panic room.” Inside the panic room, they will be safe from all of the dangers that have troubled them. There is no mound, which prevents bad pitching, no need to whiz perilous throws across the diamond and even the pernicious George Steinbrenner cannot get in.
Of course, the documentary revealed other, new dangers that lurk in the panic room, such as gas being pumped in the room in order to force evacuation. Given Jason Giambi’s legendary “HGH farts” this seems like a distinct risk. (Note: Also, they don’t call them the “Bronx Bombers” for nothing.) And other dangers persist. Can anyone stand being locked in a room with A-Rod? Stuck in a room, will Derek Jeter insist on playing seven minutes of heaven? How will Roger Clemens ever come back to save them if they are locked in what is, for all intents and purposes, a vault?
No, New York Yankees, you can panic all you want, but you cannot run from your fate. Try all you want, but like Oedipus before you, you cannot escape your destiny, though hard as it may be to believe, after this weekend, you will feel like old Oedipus caught off easy. All he had to deal with was patricide and mother f*cking and a bunch of furies hounding him. You, on the other hand, will have to deal with an 8.5 game deficit and an angry, demented George Steinbrenner.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1.In the finest tradition of the late great “Big” John Studd, who offered $15,000 cash to anyone who could body slam him (note: and Andre the Giant could), Curt Euro has offered $1,000,000 to anyone who can prove that that his legendary sock is not dripping in the savory blood of victory.
Of course, Euro has a hedge. Rather than simply offering the money to anyone who can prove him wrong, he has demanded that anyone who dares to test the sock put up $1 million of his own money. As exceedingly few people have $1 million to spare, it neutralizes all but the richest among us from taking the challenge.
But someone should take it. Some brave soul should toss his chips on the felt, because we know the reason that Curt made his hedge, is that he doesn’t want anyone to call his bluff. He knows, Jose knows, you know, that it isn’t blood on that sock, that it can’t be blood on that sock. We know, because it has proven time and again. In the World Series with the Phillies, with the Diamondbacks, with the Red Sox, we have seen, we have acquired empirical evidence, that Curt Euro does not have so much as a drop of blood in his veins—all he’s got is ice water. So if fluids were seeping from his foot onto that sock, they would be clear, not that ghastly shade of red. Unless, maybe the ice water in Curt’s veins is mixed with red crystal light. That would explain everything.
2. The evidence was right there. As Jose perused Dan Shaughnessy’s column this morning, it jumped out of him, springing out of the written page like Doc Gooden out of rehab. And sure enough, there it was. Fabrication. Like Mike Barnacle before him, like Patricia Smith, and Jason Blair, he was writing fiction and calling it fact. Like so many Seth Mnookin article subjects, there was old Danny Shaughnessy making things up in the name of a better story.
That’s Dan Shaughnessy for you. This is the man who loves to lie.
Got one of those kids in your neighborhood who likes to tell stories about wolves coming over the hill when there are no wolves in site? That’s Shaughnessy when it comes to lying. Rick Pitino called it being disingenuous and advocated doing it all the time.
“I am a man of my word,” said Pitino, clearly lying. (Note: He did not say that.)
Pitino would love Shaughnessy. The old man from Groton is lying in the morning, he’s lying at night. He’s lying, lying, lying.
If the Globe would allow him to do what he wants to do Shaughnessy would make James Frey look like Abe Lincoln.
Remember a few weeks ago when Shaughnessy printed emails to Curt Euro’s Web site from shut in sycophants? At the end of the piece, long after you’d probably stopped reading, he admitted it was all made up.
Remember the “Curse of the Bambino?” Fiction.
The Globe wouldn’t let him lie earlier this week, so he went into a lesbian chat room and pretended to be a Wellesley co-ed exploring her sexuality.
Then that evening he wrote someone else’s name and social security number down and ordered a few credit cards.
The Globe finally let him lie again this morning, but what they didn’t know was that he’d spent last night lying to his wife about what had happened to the $20 in her wallet.
Full disclosure here: Everything above was made up. None of it happened. But it is perhaps only a slight exaggeration.
These are absolute facts: Dan Shaughnessy told no fewer than eight lies in his column this morning. He has gotten into the habit of writing long fictional columns that start with vaguely plausible claims and then get progressively more absurd, before ending with a disclaimer that it the story is wholly or partly fictional.
So if he can do it why can’t Jose? Why can’t Jose publish out and out lies and then have a cute little disclaimer like this at the end that confesses, and thereby absolves, his sins? Why can’t Jose imitate the form, and it some cases the exact words of a Dan Shaughnessy column and use the words against him? Not sure if something in this piece is original? It’s probably not. Heck, you can assume it’s almost entirely Shaughnessy’s words… except for the parts talking about how much of a liar he is. Just check out the piece in the Globe. You’ll see what’s the same and what’s different.
He is Dan Shaughnessy. He is the man who loves to lie.
3. Remember the last Friday night the Red Sox played the Yankees? Sure you do. The Yankees were all excited having completed a shocking two out comeback to upend the Cleveland Indians and came surging into Fenway ready to bust some heads and break some hearts.
Do you know what has happened since then? The Yankees have lost. They have lost, and lost and lost some more, dropping six straight games to fall to 8-12, last in the American League East, behind the Red Sox, behind Toronto, behind Baltimore, behind Tampa Bay, and probably even behind the Washington Senators who do not, technically speaking, exist.
“There’s going to be panic soon if the winning doesn’t start,” traitor Johnny Damon told the Associated Press.
Thankfully, Jose has some advice on what to do in the event of panic. Jose saw a documentary on it. Should the Yankees lose three more this weekend, or even two, they should, as a team, retreat into a giant sealed “panic room.” Inside the panic room, they will be safe from all of the dangers that have troubled them. There is no mound, which prevents bad pitching, no need to whiz perilous throws across the diamond and even the pernicious George Steinbrenner cannot get in.
Of course, the documentary revealed other, new dangers that lurk in the panic room, such as gas being pumped in the room in order to force evacuation. Given Jason Giambi’s legendary “HGH farts” this seems like a distinct risk. (Note: Also, they don’t call them the “Bronx Bombers” for nothing.) And other dangers persist. Can anyone stand being locked in a room with A-Rod? Stuck in a room, will Derek Jeter insist on playing seven minutes of heaven? How will Roger Clemens ever come back to save them if they are locked in what is, for all intents and purposes, a vault?
No, New York Yankees, you can panic all you want, but you cannot run from your fate. Try all you want, but like Oedipus before you, you cannot escape your destiny, though hard as it may be to believe, after this weekend, you will feel like old Oedipus caught off easy. All he had to deal with was patricide and mother f*cking and a bunch of furies hounding him. You, on the other hand, will have to deal with an 8.5 game deficit and an angry, demented George Steinbrenner.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
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