(Sorry about the jumping around here, but this is going to be a more train of thought post than a minute by minute recounting of events).

Let me start by saying that I used to be quite the curmudgeon when it came to Christmas. Some folks would say that I still am. But I am much better than I used to be, and I continue to get better about the holiday every year, thanks in large part to my wife and daughter.

But one thing I always do enjoy about Christmas is the evening at my wife's sister's house with our extended family and friends. There is nothing like it. We all eat and drink too much and then have some good quality fun while doing a while elephant gift exchange.

The day started with me cooking a 16 pound turkey on the egg and my brother-in-law doing a 9+ pound leg of lamb on his. Although his leg took a little longer than he thought it should to cook, it was still the best leg 'o bambi I've ever had.

Here's the turkey:

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v445/markbacker/640x480turkey.jpg

And here's the lamb:

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v445/markbacker/640x480leg.jpg

My turkey was amazing as well, and I spent two hours hearing how great it was. I love the feeling I get knowing that people are eating and enjoying the food I've prepared.

The evening came to a head when I got the humping dog for a white elephant gift and someone got a can of that GLH / Ron Popeil spray on hair.

My brother in law, while a tad follically challenged, has never been vain about his hair. He started cutting a head-shaped template out of a gift box, apparently to try out the hair in a can for fun.

I don't think I've laughed so hard in a long time. Just look at these photos:

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v445/markbacker/640x480sprayhair.jpg

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v445/markbacker/640x480sombrero.jpg

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v445/markbacker/640x480egad.jpg

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v445/markbacker/640x480yikes.jpg


After that, my jackass nephew beat me one out of two in NCAA football 2005. I beat him as Princeton over Harvard, but he beat me (again) as UGA over Auburn. It kills me that I can't beat him despite my thousands of hours of training. I will continue to try and eventually will be consistently good enough to beat him without uttering the phrase "DAMMIT!! I can't remember what L2 does!!"

There'll be more to come, but I just couldn't go another minute without posting the above pictures.

God bless you, Ron Popeil...

While it was entertaining, that's not why I'm posting about it. I don't normally post about pro football, but what I saw deserved a ranting or two, and I suspect it's going to get many more in the days and weeks to come.

With 4:41 left in the fourth quarter and the Packers down by 11, Favre hit Robert Ferguson with a 31 yard strike near the left hash marks. Coming from the other direction, Jacksonville DB Donovin Darius unloaded chin high on Ferguson with a vicious clothesline. Remarkably, Ferguson held on to the ball, despite being disjoined from his helmet on the hit. After many minutes lying motionless on the field, Ferguson was finally removed via stretcher, giving a thumbs up to the crowd on the way out.

The Packers went on to lose the game, but that's not the story here.

This was not one of the staged stiff-armed clotheslines you see in professional wrestling broadcasts. This was a vicious, arm cocked and swinging clothesline that literally could have torn Ferguson's head off of his body.

The play was immediately flagged, and moments later it was announced that Darius had been ejected, much to the crowd's delight.

One sidenote here is that, despite their rabid fandom and the situation, not one thing was thrown at the offending player as he left the field. It would have been easy to bathe him in beer or snowballs or batteries as he left, but the Packer fans are classier than that. To a person, they acted with class, using their voices and not projectiles to express their displeasure.

This was the most vicious and blatantly dirty play I have seen in the NFL since Jim McMahon was body slammed to the ground in the mid 80's about five seconds after he had released a pass. And Jaguars coach Jack Del Rio and Darius had the nerve to vociferously argue with officials about Darius' ejection from the game.

I don't care what anyone says about "you can't judge intent." Darius' intent was to dismember, injure or even kill Ferguson. The more I saw the replay, the sicker it made me feel.

The league must take action, and it must be swift and sure. I'm talking about a four game suspension that included the playoffs if necessary.

In this day and age of bigger, stronger and faster players, injuries are going to happen accidentally all of the time. There is simply no room for the kind of play that resulted in Ferguson's injury. Paul Tagliabue must give word to all of his employees that actions like this will not be tolerated.

Maybe that will tell the Jaguars, Darius and players like him that this kind of head-hunting will not be tolerated in the NFL.

If not, I fully expect the Packers and many other teams to handle this matter "on the field" with Darius being the target of similar attacks by tight ends and offensive lineman.

Over the last several weeks, it seems that the women I know have been gone every other night to some sort of ornament exchange or cookie exchange or something like that. Really. I have never been able to figure out why they have so many. I mean, when it comes right down to it, they never end up wanting to go, they usually bitch about having either nothing to wear or not liking what they have to wear, and then they complain about being tired from being so so busy.

(This is not an attack on women in general or my woman in particular. Bear with me. The story is coming).

Anyway, after hearing about these events for a while, a decision was made. A local pizza delivery store proprietor decided to host a "beer exchange" party at his house Saturday night, and the idea was simple. Invite a dozen guys, everybody brings beer, charge everyone 15 bucks a head for a steak, then watch the Falcons game, shoot pool, play poker and generally have a good time.

(Before I go on, I want it stated for the record that this is not meant as attack on anyone, but just a re-telling of events that transpired).

Our host decided that we should do some big manly steaks, so I suggested going to Wilkes Meat Market to get some steaks. Ribeyes are 15 bucks a pound out of the case, so I suggested that we should buy a whole ribeye for 9 bucks a pound and have it hand cut. Our host being the deal seeker he is thought this sounded like a good idea.

We bought a 16 pound Ribeye and had it cut into ten beautiful steaks about 1.5 inches thick and wonderfully marbled.

A side note here. I am amazed that you can tell a butcher "I want ten 1.5 inch steaks" and get just that. No tape measure. No nothing. Just eyeballed cuts. I randomly measured three of the ten and they were 1.5 inches. EXACTLY. Not 1/32 of an inch off. How is that even possible?

Anyway, we began discussing the cooking of said meat. It had been suggested (in jest and in honesty) that my brother in law and I cook the steaks on our Big Green Eggs. There are several folks in the neighborhood that own them (four of the twelve guys at the party had them) and many others have sampled from the ceramic cooker's bounty.

Our host said "no, that's okay. I'll cook them on the gas grill." A few snide remarks were offered, followed by apologies, then I offered to do the sear at my house, pack the meat up and take it to our host's house for finishing.

This was accepted and I did just that. Here are a couple of pictures of the meat and the sear and the final result before they hit the gas grill.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v445/markbacker/smallDsc06397.jpg

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v445/markbacker/smallDsc06404.jpg

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v445/markbacker/smallDsc06403.jpg

Anyway, we bought our beer and headed over to the house.

I offered to cook the steaks on the gasser and they turned out about as well as they could have...from a gas grill. But they were missing the flavor they get from my egg, and it made me sad.

So I said out loud to a fellow egger at the table, "these things are about a four out of ten," to which I receieved a "hey Berger, why don't you just fuck off" from our host. While it was my right to bitch, it was also his right to call me on it. No harm and a couple of laughs were had by all.

Anyway, while eating my steak I opened my third beer, which was a 24 ounce Schlitz Malt Liquor. That alone should tell you where this evening ended up.

The game started and I shot a couple of games of pool and, for a brief spell, I was awesome. It was like drunk bowling. There's a window where you can do no wrong. My window closed after I got cheated by an un-named Texas Longhorn. When shooting pool, is it okay to move in the way balls anywhere you want so that you can get a clear shot? No. I didn't think so.

I lost, sat down at the bar and started talking football and other guy crap.

This went on for a while, then it got to be time to sit down for some poker. My first (or second) hand resulted in three of the seven guys at the table having two pairs. The guy to my right had something small, the Longhorn to my left had fours and sixes, and I had fours and sevens. Longhorn said "I win," and took the money. I sat there for about 20 seconds then said "I had fours and sevens...I won." He said I shoulda said something sooner. Laughs aplenty and no pot for me.

35 bucks later, the game ended with a fellow Auburn guy winning a nice 40 dollar pot. That led my brother in law to slide his money into the Tigers' pile and say "you took everything else tonight, here's a tip for your efforts."

This is where things get fuzzy. I had brought a 12 year old bottle of Couvossier (I don't feel like looking up the correct spelling) as a joke, and it got opened. Next thing I know, it's being passed up and down the bar and we're hitting it like Carl Spackler cannonballing with Ty Webb over some new sod. Actually, I could have been the only one drinking it. I have no idea.

This went on for a while, and then we left. I remember the ride but not the time. I left my cooler and the lid to my potato casserole dish, so I was obviously a little distracted.

We got home, my step-dad and I walked inside (apparently) and we went to bed in our respective bedrooms. Now, I don't even remember him being in the car on the way home, so this is all conjecture.

And, before you ask, no, I didn't drive. My brother in law was driving and is apparently WAY more responsible than I am.

Anyway, I (apparently) went to bed about 1:30am, and awoke to the wife setting a glass of water, three tylenol and an alka seltzer on the table next to me. Then came the question.

"What were you doing downstairs at 4 in the morning?"

Ummm....what?

"In the dining room. The lamp was knocked off the table and walls all dinged up. What were you doing?"

Ummm...I was downstairs?

I also noticed about that time that I was wearing the tshirt and sweater I had worn to the party...and nothing else. If you don't sleep al fresco, it's always a bit disconcerting to wake up that way.

It became clear that I might have been looking for the restroom, but confused due to the umm...state that I was in. I have never been a wandering pee-er in the past, but you can never be sure...can you?

I spent the rest of the day in that state of confusion and anxiety that follows a night like that. I feel oceans better today. Of course, it would be nearly impossible to feel worse than I did yesterday.

We never did find any "evidence" of the purpose of my wandering, so that's good I suppose.

I told the wife that I can't wait until the holidays were over so this sort of stuff doesn't happen anymore. That's got to be it...right? The fact that it's the holiday season?

Anyway, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all of you. I hope you haven't lost too much respect for me.

Sorry I haven't been posting much lately. We have been so damned busy with the holidays (that's what we call December at our house) that I just haven't had time.

I read a funny joke today and I thought I'd share it with you. One of my fellow eggers posted it, so Chet, here's your credit:

A traveler was driving through Arkansas when he lost his way and got off the main highway. As he drove by, he saw rows and rows of pigsties and pigpens and pigs running in fields and pigs wallowing in mud. Suddenly, his eye caught something really strange. He did a double take, muttered to himself and then looked a third time. He wondered if he had seen correctly - it looked like a pig with a wooden leg!

He found the lane to the farm and drove up into the farmyard, where he was met by the farmer. "Excuse me," the traveler said. "I was just driving by and looking at all your pigs, and I noticed something that I just had to stop and ask about. Tell me, did I see right? Is there really a pig out there with a wooden leg?" The farmer smiled. "Oh, that would be old Caesar you saw. He's the finest pig a man could ever hope to have - and smart! Well, let me tell you a little about that pig. You see that barge down there on the river? That's a mining dredge, taking out platinum ore. Old Caesar sniffed out the vein and showed us how to set it up. Now that dredge brings me in about $120,000 every year.

"There's another thing, too, a little more personal. One night a couple of years ago I got to drinking and I guess I had more than I should have. I passed out drunk, fell down and knocked over a lamp. That started a fire in the house and old Caesar smelled the smoke. He came in the back door, got the wife and kid out, roused me up and got me out. "There is no question about it - that night old Caesar saved all our lives and you know that is not the sort of thing a man is going to forget too easily."

"Why," the traveler said, "this is all amazing! I have never heard of a pig like this before! This is fantastic! But tell me, how did he get that wooden leg? Was he in a wreck or something?"

The farmer laughed and said, "Well, naturally, when you have a pig that smart, you don't want to eat him all at one time!"

I'm reading ESPN this morning when I stumbled across the story where Kobe Bryant said he'd like to sit down with Shaq and apologize to him for "involving him in my troubles." Bryant also says that he thinks December 25th "sounds like a good day to me to kind of talk to him and tell him I never meant in any kind of way to bring any of his personal business out."

You see, after Kobe's world fell apart because he couldn't resist banging the crazy white towel clerk at his hotel, he needed an out. He bought his wife a four million dollar ring and got some tattoos that said how much he loved her, but he needed to do more to attract attention away from himself.

So he told the media that he should have done what Shaq always did, just pay the women to shut up. Kobe also alleged that O'neal had paid upwards of one million dollars in this way as hush money over the years.

Shaq has denied it from the beginning, but that's not really the point.

It's no secret that a large number of the NBA's "stars" are not exactly star-worthy. Good players or not, guys like Kemp and Bryant and Iverson and the entire Blazers team are just not very nice or good people. If the league will tolerate it, what do I care?

But the real issue is this. Kobe's Lakers will play Shaq's Miami Heat on...that's right...December 25th.

So the real motivation for Kobe here is not to mend fences or admit he was wrong to involve any other person in his own little pit of woe. It is to find some sort of way to keep the 340-pound Shaquille and his teammates from beating the ever-loving shit out of Kobe for 48 pain-filled minutes on Christmas Day.

I can't tell you the number of ways that Kobe Bryant makes me sick. Despite his slick talk and his nice diction, he's nothing but a cheater and a liar and a punk. I hardly watch any NBA games because the league and most of it's players sicken me, but I've had December 25th circled on my calendar since the day after Shaq signed with the Heat.

That's the day that Shaq will take a million dollars or more out of Kobe's punk-ass.

Saturday night, the across-the-street in-laws and I decided on a nice quiet dinner of Egged shrimp, scallops, baked potatoes, Bud Lights and a viewing of the ESPN's "biopic" movie about the life of Dale Earnhardt titled "3".

The scallops and shrimp were wonderful, by the way. Just the right doneness and amazingly prepped by my wife and her sister. As soon as I get the recipe, I'll let you know.

Now, before we get started here I want to say a couple of things about books turned into movies, biographical movies (authorized AND unauthorized), and biographical cinema in general.

More often than not, if you were or are a big fan of the subject of the movie, then the movie really isn't for you. You see, anything made with the level of detail that would satisfy a fan is too deep for a 90 to 120 minute snapshot on that subject.

Another problem is just that: the movie is a 90 to 120 minute snapshot. There's no way to make every detail perfect and not leave anything out. Like in the movie "Blackhawk Down." The script writer and director made a character out of six or seven participants in the book because there was no way to have them all in there 100% accurate. It's impossible.

ESPN wasn't trying to make "Roots" or "The Blue and The Gray" here. They were making a made for cable TV movie about a man who was bigger than life to casual race fans, but almost too big to his fans. They were in a lose-lose situation.

As for authorized vs. unauthorized biographies, that's more often way more about money than content. Barry Pepper talks of sitting down for hours with Dale Jr. to talk about his dad and their life and racing and lots of other stuff. Authorized or not, that's where that stuff should come from.

The fact that the movie wasn't "authorized" by Theresa or Richard Childress simply means that they didn't get the money they wanted to be involved in the project. I posted at a messageboard this morning that whether it was "authorized" by RC is irrelevant. There isn't a story out there that hasn't been told by RC about Dale that was gonna get told for this movie. If it hasn't been told by now, it's not going to get told ever...authorization payment received or not. So that's all of no concern to me and, quite frankly, sounds a bit sour grapes-ish. ESPN broadcast NASCAR for years, brought them to the forefront in televised sports, and many people there already knew many of the stories.

Now, let's move along to the review.

I think it was a lot to ask for one guy to play senior from ages 16-49, but Pepper did as good a job as one could expect. I was impressed with his study of carriage and mannerisms much like his work in *61 (the movie about Roger Maris' chase of the Babe).

I heard that the guy originally cast to play Junior was replaced by a guy who was an instructor at a driving school Pepper was attending, and that guy hit Junior's speech and cadence when talking about dead-on. Everyone in the room agreed that these two did a good job, as did the actress that played Theresa. Obviously, Vern Schillinger from Oz was a good choice to play Ralph. That guy has a presence that was perfect for at least what I considered to be the "idea" of Ralph.

Maybe Childress decided not to authorize the movie when he found out that they had cast a very short fatass to play him, and he didn't like that.

I also thought they did a good job picking things that were relevant to the story and those that were not. Obviously, when the character dropped the "rattle his cage" remark while driving a wrangler chevy in the early 80's, that wasn't historically accurate. I attribute this to the script people and the producers wanting things to get in but not having time, so they combine a couple of factual events into one event. While it wasn't 1999 at Bristol, it was used to make a point about the man and the driver while not wasting 15 minutes telling the story.

The same goes for the deal with Ralph dying in the garage. He didn't. He died in the kitchen of that house, but it's not really relevant to the story. Hell, many people (drivers and announcers) STILL perpetuate this myth, but it doesn't really matter. Ralph died early in Dale's life and left him with plenty of questions.

Here are a couple things I liked about the movie in particular:

The scene where Junior, T. Wayne Robertson, RC and Dale sat in a cheap hotel room working out what would be the greatest patnership in NASCAR's history over cheap bourbon and a handshake. That's good stuff.

I liked how they took the time to handle the Kerry situation so people'd know what the deal was if they didn't already. I think that probably really ate at Senior over the years, but there's just wasn't much he could do other than try to put Kerry in cars whenver he could later in his life. To me, that seemed real.

I liked the guy that played Neil Bonnett and the way the character of Bonnett was written and portrayed. If you've read about these two at all, you know that there was a lot of middle-school type goofing between them, so I figure even if it's not spot on accurate, it was a good effort to capture them. Especially the part where, after winning a title in his second year, Dale shows neil a new rifle he's gotten. Neil says "Man, I gotta get me one of them." Dale pulls a second identical rifle out of the case and Neil says "now I gotta get me TWO of them things." That's funny stuff.

(I'd like to find out if it is true or not), but I like the moment where Junior had to tell Senior about Neil's death. That's the kind of stuff that is tough to get right on screen and they did a good job with it.

Overall I enjoyed the tough love relationship shared between all three generations and how it was adapted.

I enjoyed that they sort of brought the screwdriver story to light. If you weren't a big Earnhardt fan or someone who's read about this, then it may have gone over your head. I think this was a little "Easter Egg" for folks that were bigtime fans.

See, Ralph found that there was a particular screwdriver at Sears that, when it was cut down to the right length, made the perfect unbreakable axle key. When he did, he went to Sears and bought every one of those screwdrivers so no one else could buy them and do the same thing. That's a good Ralph Earnhardt story.

Now for some stuff I didn't like. The "Ralph's dead in the garage deal" was uneccessary. His father being dead was enough, and changing that wouldn't have added to the time needed like the "rattle his cage" stuff would have.

While it didn't matter, the radio chatter and stuff (especially during the 1998 Daytona 500) was just plain silly. There was no reason for it, and I'm sure that RC and Dale weren't re-living 1990 under green with 10 to go in 1998.

As for stuff that didn't matter, we all knew that they couldn't and wouldn't pay to use daytona or the actual tracks for the racing footage. They used Rockingham. They needed an available cheap track that was close because this wasn't a 60 million dollar epic. They couldn't afford to worry about that stuff.

Overall, I thought the movie was quite good. Could they have used a better script? Sure. Were some of the actors bad or at least poorly cast? Maybe. But since they didn't have 20 hours to tell the story, I think it was as good as any biography I've seen adapted to television. I mean, you can bet there were some inaccuracies in the movies "The Miracle" or "Rudy," but that didn't stop them from being good movies that made you feel many of your emotions while you watched.

I give it a four out of five stars. Hell, I watched the last half hour again last night (since the wife fell asleep during that part Saturday). We both agreed (and me still) that it was a good movie. I think I'm going to order the DVD.

As some or all of you may know by now, the wife and I are avid Big Green Egg enthusiasts. Not only do we enjoy cooking on our Big Green Egg, we try to find reasons to cook things on it. For example, a year ago I would never have considered making smoked almonds, but I can do them on the Egg and they are kick ass. I would consider us hobby cooks. Some folks play golf or take pictures or mountain bike. We cook on our Egg.

We also are very active on the Big Green Egg messageboard. If you participate in one or more messageboards, you'll understand (maybe). If you don't, then you probably already think I'm a freak, so you can either stop reading or continue to re-enforce your opinion of my sickness.

Anyway, Molly and I found a source for great deals on Big Green Egg stuff, so we had decided to add to our Large and chiminea by getting a small Big Green Egg. I won't do all of the math for you, but it has about half the cooking area of the Large, but is even better for steaks and other meats, and also will allow us the flexibility of doing some side dishes and second items while we're using the Large.

Anyway, fast forward to yesterday on the Egg site when a fellow Egger WessB posted that he'd found a deal on mini Big Green Eggs on E-Bay. At the BGE headquarters, the mini runs about 199. On ebay, with shipping, the guy was asking $145.

Without my knowing, Molly decided to order one last night as a surprise. Right before we went to bed, she asked if I was done checking my email, and I decided to check it one more time.

There, in my inbox, was a paypal reciept for something I didn't recognize. I opened it and it was a reciept for a mini BGE. I knew there was no way to keep this from her, because the PayPal account was set to my email, and trying to forward or anything else would be detected, but I also didn't want to hurt her feelings. I decided to tell her, and she was crushed. We had decided to not get each other anything of note, so this really would have been a great surprise.

I feel terrible that I found out, but I am ecstatic that in just a few weeks, our collection of green ceramic will grown from just the Large BGE and the chiminea to a total of four. Are we cultists? Maybe. But we eat better than any of you non-believers. If you don't believe, come on over and I'll make you a steak that will change your mind about ordering it in a restaurant forever.

Plus now, we can take the mini to games or to the races for pure tailgating perfection, or even to someone else's house just to show off a little. The funny thing is, our numbers are growing. You may only know one or two people with Eggs, but that will change in the near future. More and more folks are discovering the magic of the Big Green Egg.

Thanks baby, and I love you more than you'll ever know.

(Now I have to go, because I have to go find something special that's a surprise for the wife).

I am having a difficult time putting my feelings into words right now, so bear with me.

First of all, I want to congratulate the Auburn Football team for doing what no other Auburn football team has done; going 12-0. They also won their first outright SEC title since 1987 and won their first SEC title since the conference implimented the Championship game format.

A year ago, the program was in disarray and the coach was one poorly executed plane trip away from being fired by an over-zealous and too empowered booster with a fat checkbook. Since that day, the team is undefeated and has won 14 games in a row. They have now beated four teams that were in the top 15 at the time the games were played, and two of those games were won away from Jordan-Hare Stadium.

On championship weekend, the big three all played. USC won by five over a shitty UCLA team with a 6-5 record, and that was thanks in part to an official who blew dead a clear and obvious fumble that would have been returned for a UCLA touchdown.

Oklahoma played in it's conference title game against a four-loss Colorado team that can't throw the ball. The result was a 40 plus point beatdown, but what did anyone expect?

Auburn played 15th ranked Tennessee and was attempting to do one of the toughest things to do in college football: beating a team twice in the same year.

With the exception of a 15 yard shanked punt and a punt snap that Kody Bliss missed while having an apparent thrombosis, Auburn led 21-7 at the half and had held UT to 46 yards of offense. While the Auburn running game was held up, Jason Campbell threw it all over the ball field and, when his receivers were covered, he ran for yardage on his own. This despite several late hits to the head, low hits at his knees and ankles, and various other assaults outside the realm of good sportsmanship.

Tennessee scored on a pass play that was incorrectly ruled a touchdown, since the ball clearly touched the turf, and that's where the momentum of the game changed. I think it was also at that point that the scoreboard began to reflect Auburn's last title hopes dying as the Oklahoma-Colorado score would have begun showing the beat-down that was occuring.

Auburn was tied 21-21 and in jeapordy of losing it most important game ever, but senior QB Jason Campbell would have none of it.

Auburn won going away 38-28, and the only place the game looked close was on the scoreboard.
I can't believe that an undefeated SEC team is not playing for a title, but I guess we can thank Jeff Sagarin and the other dicks that keep voting USC number one to make up for what happened to them last year. All I know is that they better think that way next year, because it's Auburn that got screwed this year.

And what's better is that Auburn gets to play one of the three hottest teams in the country in my opinion. Virginia Tech is talented, very athletic and one of the most well coached teams in the country and they WILL come to play on January 3rd.

I hope our kids can shake off this travesty and focus on making the pollsters look like idiots. Maybe an Oklahoma win in a butt-ugly game and a great Auburn performance could help.

What's the definition of pragmatic? Going undefeated and chanting "We're number TWO!!"

War Eagle

Now, the Niagra Falls-like leak in the San Francisco Grand Jury system has leaked Barry Bonds' testimony where he admitted to using "the Clear" and "the Cream" from BALCO, but insists he didn't know it was a steroid, and that he quit taking it because "it didn't work anyway."

Right Barry. You doubled in size from age 35-38 and doubled your average season's homerun total, but you didn't know it was juice and that it was working. Maybe you could help OJ find the real killers too.

I am sick and fucking tired of what pro sports have become. With the exception of the NFL, all the other leagues have substance abuse rules that are a joke. I mean, you can get busted SEVEN TIMES in major league baseball and not lose your job, you can beat your wife or girlfriend in both baseball and the NBA with no trouble coming your way, and now you can apparently admit to using steroids, a substance that is illegal to possess or use in the US, and there's STILL no ramifications.

I hope like hell the Yankees find a way to void Giambi's contract over this. While I would like to see the Yankees stuck with a non-playing 120 million dollar first baseman, the bigger part of me wants these guys to understand that there are ramifications from their dangerous activities.

By the way, I am still waiting for ESPN to actually break a real news story, like the fact that the sky is blue...

Next up is the apparent word that Urban Meyer of Utah will NOT be taking the Notre Dame job. What? How DARE he not accept our offer of employment. We're Notre Dame, after all.

Umm...no you're not. You're not UGA. You're not Auburn. You're not even Tennessee. You know what you are, Golden Domers?

You're Arkansas.

That's right. Arkansas. You aren't as good as you think you are and you're certainly not as good as your fans think you should be. For that matter, who you actually are is Mississippi.

And now, your next first choice has turned down the job to go to Florida. Whoops. Know what that means? It means that you damned well better make sure the NEXT guy you offer the job says yes, or you're gonna be vaunted Notre Dame, begging your third choice of a head coach to take the job.

Welcome to the new NCAA football, ND. 85 scholarships + no conference affiliation + NBC holding that TV contract to your head expecting every week to be Notre Dame vs. USC = you guys being 6-5 or worse for a long time to come.

You should have joined the Big Ten when you had the chance. I don't think they'll take you anymore. Maybe the Big East will...

One more thing. It seems that in preparation for the SEC Title game, several of the UT Vols were out drinking until 2am and enjoying watching their 235 pound bretheren punch 155 pound frat guys in the nose.

Coach Fulmer's response: "If they were out that late, then I'm disappointed."

Nice. Way to have the guys focused before the game that could and WOULD get UT into a BCS game and into a huge payday.

War Eagle, everybody.

Apparently Jason Giambi, recently the non-playing and "sick" first baseman of the New York Yankees, admitted to a Grand Jury that he "injected anabolic steroids and human growth hormone (HGH) as recently as 2003. And he apparently got them thru BALCO and (surprise) the same guy that is Barry Bonds' trainer, once Greg Anderson.

Since that Grand Jury testimony was given, Giambi repeatedly denied using any steroids, HGH, or anything else to anyone and everyone that would listen.

Jason's brother Jeremy also admitted to the grand jury that he used steroids.

Now, Barry is denying he's done any steroids and Gary Sheffield's denying he's done any steroids, but one by one, the lesser (and bigger) players in this deal are seeing their testimony coming into the the public eye where they admitted that they DID do steroids. It seems that anyone associated with this special "trainer" Greg Anderson is coming up dirty.

It's a good thing that Major League Baseball has such a tough steroid policy, or this story may not have been brought to our attention. (cough...cough...sarcasm...cough).

Never mind if the steroids and human growth hormones were illegal in baseball or not. They are illegal to use in the United States. I want to know where the Federal criminal charges against all parties involved are. Anyone?

The fact that these guys (Sheff, the Giambis, Marion Jones, Bonds and many others) are running around denying this shit and acting like Pete Rose did any time someone asked him about gambling (getting uber defensive, denying it implicitly and acting like the person asking had personally assaulted him) is appalling. These clowns are messing with people's careers by insisting they're being lied about, yet when it turns out the reporters weren't lying and the athletes were, nothing is done.

I have never denied that Barry Bonds was a special and gifted athlete. Whether it's steroids, HGH, crank, lighter fluid or antifreeze he's using, being able to perform at this level for this length of time defies logic or reason. That's why it's a shame that, in the final analysis, all of Bonds' numbers and accomplishments are going to be ignored and lumped into the statement "yeah, but he was on steroids." It's a pity he and the others are too dumb to see that.


And now, just so you don't think that every entry in this blog will be like the one above, here's a great joke I read today:

A man takes his Rottweiler to the vet and says, "My dog's cross-eyed, is there anything you can do for him? "

"Well," says the vet, "let's have a look at him."

So he picks the dog up and examines his eyes, then checks his teeth.

Finally, the vet says "I'm going to have to put him down."

"What? Because he's cross-eyed?"

"No, because he's really heavy."


I will be breaking down the SEC championship game either later today or tomorrow, so I expect you all to be planted firmly on the edge of your seats waiting for that one.

War Eagle everybody!

She apparently was named hottest Housewife of the Year by FHM magazine. Yeah, if her husband makes 8 plus million a year, I'm sure she's scrubbing toilets and getting the tuna helper ready before Daddy gets home after the game.

Seriously, I wanted to post this little interview so that ten or so years from now, when you see someone with the last name Benson on the Maury Povich show, you'll know why...

Here is part of the FHM interview with Mother Benson (or should we call her Tiffani and dot the i's with hearts)? Anywhoo...

Is Shea Stadium the worst place to have sex?
We haven’t had sex at Shea yet. We’ve done Three Rivers, PNC Park and the Pirates’ spring-training camp. We really like the highway. Kris’s two-seat Ferrari is small quarters for sex, but there’s other stuff to do. I think all couples do things like that; they just don’t talk about it.

Has he ever gone Bull Durham and worn your underwear?
No, but for Christmas, I gave him pictures of me naked in his jersey. He was thrilled. Any guy who gets naked pictures from his girl will lose it. Baseball has the hottest uniforms. I love their tight pants.

How exciting is the actual game?
Three and a half hours a day, for 162 days, of fucking baseball is a lot of boredom. There’s nothing to do, so I come up with fantasies. Owning a team would be fun. I’d have rules about cheating on your wife because that’s out of control. One, they wouldn’t be going out and getting hammered every night. Two, I’d allow wives on road trips so players aren’t chasing ass all night. And I’d always be in the locker room. If I’m paying them millions to play for me, I should be able to watch them walk around naked. I don’t think they’d object. Men will show that thing to anybody.

Who would be the first players you traded for?
Mark Mulder, Rickie Sexton, Barry Zito, Jeff Weaver—he’s a cutie pie.

How close are you to the other wives?
We don’t have slumber parties. I don’t even know any of the Mets wives yet. Wives never get the credit we deserve. Baseball should worship us for what we do for their talent. When Kris had Tommy John surgery, he couldn’t move his arms for a week. Every time he went to the bathroom, I had to help him. Plus, he couldn’t hold down his pain medication. We were flying home from the hospital and we had to squeeze into the plane’s bathroom together so I could stick suppositories up his ass to keep him from throwing up.

How did you celebrate his return?
I probably got hammered. I’m usually hammered anyway. If he’s doing well after two innings, I just party. Kris gets so pissed after every game because he’ll come get me and I’m wasted. I won’t even know who won.

For the record, my wife and I almost never have sex in our Ferarri. But that's because I'm such a stickler about the upholstery.

And I can't really pass judgement on her about being hammered after games, because that's what football season's like at my house. But I'm not out AT THE STADIUM with the kids doing it. I am already at home, and my kid is at home either napping, in bed for the night, or imitatting me by tottering around the house saying "budweiser please" or "daddy's cold beer."

I'm not making light of this, I'm just saying that it's odd to feel compelled to tell a glorified titty magazine interviewer so much.

Since Kris played at Clemson, anyone wanna bet he met his now wife while doing a two for one table dance at the Pink Pony after a tough six innings against Georgia Tech?

Check out the well-rounded Mrs. Benson at anna benson dot net and look at her favorite links. Hell, check out the entire site. It won't take long. I just like how she blathers on about charity, but her favorite sites are makeup and vodka.

Housewife of the year indeed...

I had a friend and roomate years ago who was cousins with then Pirate shortstop Jay Bell. Jay was a good ball player who did the little things well. He led the league in sacrifice bunts for several years, played steady defense and always used his head.

Jay credited much of his success to his wife, who got him to do some funny things on the field. One of the funniest was when she saw him strike out and read his lips while he was in the middle of a tirade on camera. She told him that kids were watching, and that if he wanted to swear like that, he should do it into his hat or glove.

Later, there was not much funnier than tuning into a Pirates game and seeing Jay strike out, just so he would yank his helmet off, cover his face, and you could see his head bob up and down as he was screaming into it.

Move forward to 2004, and Jay (in the twilight or more of his career), signs a minor league deal with the Mets, the same team that signed former Pirate pitching star Kris Benson to a big contract just a couple of weeks ago. The fact that these two are both ex-pirates is where the similarities end.

It seems that Mrs. Benson is a former model and stripper and has three kids with Mr. Benson. She is taking credit for negotiating much of the deal he got with the Mets. She also issued this amusing statement / challenge in the New York Post just this week. Here is an exerpt:

ANNA Benson, the former model and stripper who is married to Mets pitcher Kris Benson, vowed yesterday that if she ever catches her husband cheating, she'll have sex with all his teammates.

The buxom brunette, proclaimed "Baseball's Hottest Wife" by FHM magazine, said on Howard Stern's nationally syndicated radio show:

"I told him [Kris] — because that's the biggest thing in athletics, they cheat all the time — I told him, cheat on me all you want. If you get caught, I'm going to s- - -w everybody on your entire team — coaches, trainers, players. I would do everybody on his whole team."

"Mike Piazza just did a back flip," Stern said, egging her on. "Even the coaches? What about, like, the bat boys?"

"Everybody would get a turn," Anna pledged. "If my husband cheated on me and embarrassed me like that, I will embarrass him more than he could ever imagine."

Even Robin Quivers got in on it: "What about groundskeepers?"

"If I'm lining them up," Anna said, "I'll [also] circle into other teams. Whatever team he's playing, I will s- - -w all them too."

Stern asked: "What if your husband, the great pitcher, comes to you and says, 'Honey, I need two women at the same time. I need you to do that for me?' "

Anna replied, "You know, if that's what he came to me and said that he needed, then that's what he would get, because he is my entire universe. I adore my husband. He's a saint . . . he took me out of hell" — a reference to her years on her own.

She added that she and Benson are so into each other, they've had sex in many of the stadiums where he's pitched, including PNC Park and Three Rivers Stadium in Pittsburgh.

"We're very busy because we have three children," she said. "You know what, whenever we get the time to do it, we do it. If it happens to be there, that's where we do it.

"I take total care of him," Anna continued, taking credit for the negotiations for Benson's most recent contract that guarantees him $22.5 million over three years, with an option for 2008 that would push the total package to $29.5 million.

"I helped with negotiations . . . I went back and forth a lot with that. He didn't even have anything to do with that. I did that deal . . . I laid out a lot of the terms."

Umm...what? You are threatening your husband by saying if he cheats on you, you'll gang bang the National League? Wow. Where's Doug Christie's wife when we need her?