Archive for July, 2006

Two years ago, the guy was an All-Star. Now, he’s being traded for a package of Steve Blake, Brian Skinner, and a tall Asian who is not named Yao Ming. That’s like going from prom queen to giving $4 blowjobs to truckers at highway rest stops in the span of two years.

So Magloire is headed for Portland, where he’ll be backing up Joel Przybilla. Raise your hand if, back in 2004, you predicted that Jamal Magloire would be backing up Joel Przybilla. If I was the Blazers, I’d trade Zach Randolph to the Knicks for their next 17 first round picks, and run with Przybilla and Magliore until LaMarcus Aldridge was ready.

In exchange, the Bucks get the afore-mentioned Blake, Skinner, and Ha Seung-Jin, none of whom are going to start, one of whom, Ha, who probably won’t be in the leage. Steve Blake’s a decent player, a good back-up point guard, and useful to have around, but… it still feels like a little bit of a giveaway on the Milwaukee side.

Well, the trade deadline has sorta passed, with not a lot of big things happening. The biggest move was actually yesterday, with Abreu heading to the Yankees, which you can discuss in the comments, if you’d like. As for today, though, the biggest move is the one being reported by CBS Sportsline, Greg Maddux heading to the Dodgers.

So the day’s big trade involves a sub-.500 pitcher with a 4.69 ERA. It just pisses me off, because the Dodgers got both of the guys I was hoping the Padres would go after… Greg Maddux and Wilson Betemit. All the Padres did was pick up Todd Walker, a .277 hitter with 6 HRs who hasn’t played 3rd base regularly in 10 years. I dunno if they plan on using him there (though I’d think that was the plan, as Josh Barfield is entrenched at 2nd base), but 3rd base was the big hole they wanted to fill. And the Dodgers also picked up Julio Lugo, because, I dunno, they’re the Dodgers, and they can.

Elsewhere, the Mets moved to pick up a couple of pitchers, acquiring Pirates Oliver Perez (who used to be good) and Roberto Hernandez in exchange for Xavier Nady. The Reds picked up Rheal Cormier from the Phillies, and Kyle Lohse of the Reds. The Rangers acquired Matt Stairs. And the Tigers traded for Sean Casey. Discuss.

Justin Gatlin, as I mentioned on Deadspin yesterday, has failed a drug test. Testosterone was the culprit, as it seems so popular among the kids today. The world’s fastest man had failed a test once before, and could be facing a lifetime ban for this one.

From now on, anytime anyone in the world accomplishes something noteworthy, I’m just going to assume they did it with the help of some kind of banned substance. Guy wins the Tour de France? He’s probably injecting horse testosterone. Guy breaks the world 100m sprint record? He’s got the needle in his ass right now. Condoleeza Rice negotiates peace in the middle east? Probably coked out of her skull. J.E. Skeets writes a funny blog post? Without question, in the midst of a heroin binge.

Gatlin and his coach have chosen to go with the Marion Berry defense, something along the lines of, “Bitch set me up.” They’re claiming that some dirty massage therapist rubbed testosterone cream into him without his knowledge. You know, that’s odd, when I visit massage parlors, I’m looking to produce a little bit of testosterone cream myself.

I’m not saying I’m skeptical, but… hey, I’m skeptical. I’m not saying I don’t believe him, I’m not saying I do. But the “I got set up” bit is a little bit dramatic, isn’t it? Was this massage therapist hired by rival sprinter Asafa Powell? Was it one of Dr. Evil’s henchmen? Was it Frau Farbissina? Random Task, perhaps?

Some of you, when you were a kid, and you got caught smoking, or drinking, as a punishment, would then have to smoke a whole pack (or bag), or drink the whole bottle. I think the punishment for unnaturally high testosterone levels should be the the same. It’ll work the same way. At first, they’ll think it’s cool. But as soon as they have a testosterone level higher than any human or animal ever in recorded history, and they’re running around fucking any object in front of them, without or without a hole in it, it won’t be so cool anymore.

Seriously. Pump a gallon of synthetic testosterone into a guy, and he’ll fuck anything. About halfway through the second hour of making violent love to a concrete garden gnome, he’ll never touch the stuff again.

Reggie Bush finally has his ass in camp (though Matt Leinart doesn’t), and Joe Horn has wasted no time in giving him a nickname. I love Joe Horn, but… well, this is a dumb nickname.

“I’m kind of shocked he’s (coming) here this early, but I’m glad, and I’m sure the rest of the team is glad Baby Matrix is here,” said wide receiver Joe Horn, who came up with the “Baby Matrix” nickname for Bush. “You ever seen “The Matrix” … when he’s dodging those bullets? That’s Reggie Bush. I thought of that because it was real. That’s what I was seeing out there. I mean, the guy’s phenomenal with his moves and the way he runs with the football. It’s fact.”

Be that as it may, Joe Joe, when I hear the words “Baby Matrix,” I think first of Shawn Marion’s little brother. And after that, I think it might be some controversial new birth control product.

Also Joe, I hate to quibble with you, but it isn’t real. I’m not sure if you’re talking about the movie, or the actual practice. But if you’re talking about the movie, that wasn’t real, those were special effects. And if you’re talking about Reggie Bush actually dodging bullets in practice… well, I guess Sean Payton runs a hell of a tight training camp. That’s got to violate some kind of an NFL labor law.

I don’t think there will ever come a time when I hear the term “Baby Matrix” and think of Reggie Bush. I’m hoping this doesn’t catch on. And if it does, I’m hoping Shawn Marion beats his ass, unlikely as that may be.

We not only accuse Floyd Landis of doping, but also of being in a cult. We talk some baseball, cover the trade deadline, Jesper Parnevik doing his nanny, flashing, Charles Barkley running for governor, Charles Oakley running for president, and the top fantasy football wide receivers. I’ve also decided to surprise my co-hosts by leaving some things in the podcast that I think they were expecting me to cut… Sorry, boys.

themightymjd.com podcast – 003 (44.0 MB mp3)

I’d like to call your attention not only to Jerry Porter’s obscene new physique, but the fact that he’s wearing what appears to be a replica of Ted DiBiase’s million dollar belt. I’m not sure if DiBiase fell on hard times and sold it on EBay, or Jerry Porter pinned him and took it in a legally sanctioned WWF match, but no matter where it came from, it makes me look at Jerry Porter in a whole new light. The million dollar belt is a symbol of status and prestige that known all throughout the world.

Of course, you know by now that JP wants to be traded. He’s got some sort of beef with new Raiders head coach Art Shell, and I just wonder if it all stems from the million dollar belt. Maybe Art Shell was a huge Ted DiBiase fan. Maybe he threatened to put Porter in the Million Dollar Dream. Maybe the Raiders signed Virgil to a contract for training camp, and he’s deeply offended by it all.

My hope is that the Raiders can’t find anyone to take Porter in a trade, and they release him, and he then signs with San Diego. AFC West teams, more than maybe any other division, just seem to swap players a lot. I have my doubts that Marty Schottenheimer and AJ Smith would take a chance on a guy who’s a perceived character risk, but disagreeing with Raiders management, in my mind, anyway, is more likely to be an indication of strong character.

Much like every other cyclist who anyone’s ever heard of, Floyd Landis is in a little bit of pee-pee trouble. He tested positive for an unusual amount of testosterone, and… you know what, I just don’t care.

And it’s not because I don’t care about cycling, or that I hate the Tour de France, in fact, I actively followed Floyd’s pursuit of the yellow jersey, and I found his story to be pretty damn inspirational. And I mean inspirational in the sense that it really might have inspired someone other than me who cared more about cycling or had any kind of ambition.

Rather, here’s the reason I can’t make myself care about this: cycling is so tainted, so drug-infested, that I think you’ve just got to accept it as part of the deal. How many of the top riders were banned from this race right before it began? It just the way things are. And I’m not pointing a finger at cycling, I know other sports have their problems, with in recent cycling history, hey, the needle is there. Doping is to cycling, as ground balls are to baseball, the nickel defense is to football, or super-absorbent maxi-pads are to the WNBA. For better or for worse, it’s a part of it.

My opinion of Floyd Landis hasn’t lowered a bit. I mean, I hope he didn’t do it, but even if he did, he certainly wasn’t the only one in the field, he still beat everyone else, and he still did it with a hip that’s mangled worse than the Knicks salary cap. I’m not saying that I assumed he was dirty beforehand, but I didn’t assume he was clean, either. All I assumed was that he was a cyclist, and thus, under the cloud of “maybe/maybe not, but let’s just see who’s the fastest anyway.” It was Floyd, his comeback was still manly as hell, no matter what turns up in his urine, he’s still a bad-ass.

Maybe that’s a bit too skeptical of me, and maybe it’s not fair to put all cyclists in that same category. And hey, I’d like to believe that purity is possible in cycling, and maybe someday, that’ll be the case. But for right now, to me, believing with 100% certainty that any pro cyclist is clean is about the same as believe that Mark McGwire was clean, too.

Hi everyone! My name is Snugglicious J. Snuggleton! But YOU can call me SNUGGLES! I LOVE it when people call me Snuggles. It means we’re friends! And you can never have too many friends!

Let me tell you about another friend of mine. His name is Alonzo Mourning, but he lets ME call him ‘ZO! Do you know why he lets me call him that? Well, I’ll tell you why. Because we’re FRIENDS! And I know it might seem strange to some people that a big strong basketball player like ‘Zo and a cute cuddly little guy like myself could be friends, but I don’t think it’s weird at all!

Would it be OK if I told you a story? GOOD! I love stories! I used to be friends with a little girl in Toronto named Emily! She was SOOOOO nice! She would hug me every night when she got home from school, and we’d hang out all evening until it was bedtime. But one day Emily saw on the news that a big strong basketball player was really sick. And even though she didn’t know who he was, she felt bad for him, and she thought it would make him feel better if she sent him a cute teddy bear to cheer him up. So she did! And that teddy bear was ME!

It was a little bit strange at first. Zo was really sick, and lots of people were sending him things, but he took one look at me and noticed that the package came from Toronto, and he threw me on the ground and said, “Toronto? Screw Toronto.” And that made me said. But then ‘Zo got better and we became really close friends!

And I got to be friends with some of ‘Zo’s friends, too! One time, ‘Zo had a party, and Antoine Walker drank a whole bunch of Smirnoff Ice and he fell asleep in Alonzo’s bedroom! And he woke up in the middle of the night, and he was crying because he said that “no one understands the mindset of a volume shooter,” and then he picked up ‘Zo’s razor and pretended like he was going to kill himself, but then he hugged me and cried for a little while longer, and everything was OK! He does this twice a week!

But sometimes, I’m not sure if ‘Zo needs me to love him, because he loves himself SOOOOOOOO much! He doesn’t let me sleep in his bed the way Emily used to. Most of the time, I’m just stuffed in box in the bottom of his closet. And there’s a note attached to me that reads, “From a little girl who worships me. Emily. Toronto. Call her in 12 years.”

I do see some crazy things sometimes! In ‘Zo’s bedroom, there are eight different framed MOURNING jerseys all over the wells, and a recording of the Miami Heat announcer saying Zo’s name on a continuous loop. It’s weird!

And sometimes when Alonzo leaves the closet door open, and I can see all the way down into his private gym where he works out! His muscles sure are big! I think it’s strange that all the walls in that room are mirrors, and he always works out naked! And when he goes in there, the first thing he does is grab a bottle of oil and start rubbing it on himself until he’s all shiny. Then sometimes he stands in front of the mirror and he does curls without any clothes on, and he says, “Oh, that’s it, ‘Zo. Look at you. God DAMN you look good, bicep. Mmmm.” And then his thingie gets hard! That’s REALLY weird! I miss Emily when he does that.

But he does LOTS of weird stuff like that! He’s an unusual guy, but we all are, in our own ways! When People Magazine named him one of their 50 Most Beautiful People, he bought 4,000 copies! He wanted to wallpaper the entire house with them, but his wife wouldn’t let him. But once or twice a week, he gets out one of those magazines and then he takes his clothes off and gets like he does when he’s doing nude curls, and, well, let’s just say there’s a reason I have this raincoat on! I REALLY miss Emily when he does that!

I should go now. Have a great day everyone! TTYL! CYA!

Remember on the 72nd hole of the U.S. British Open, there were some bizarre purple splotches on the green? The vandals responsible for them were apprehended and yesterday, sentenced. One of the guys will be spending eight weeks in jail, and the other earned five weeks of unpaid community service.

They represented a group called “Real Fathers 4 Justice,” an organization that advocates for better treatment of Shawn Kemp. Okay, no they don’t. They advocate for father’s rights in child custody cases. And what better way to prove that you’re mature enough to be a good father than throwing paint bombs on the green at the British Open.

I’m sure that the British legal system was very impressed by your efforts, and they’re ready to consider letting you see your kids now, because you set such a great example. Way to think it through, dickheads. Earl Woods would’ve been proud of your paternal instincts.


So, after a little bit of deliberation on the subject of my favorite Premiership team, I’ve ended up right back where I started… with Manchester City. I sorta rooted for them last season, but didn’t make the firm commitment. And I’m still not sure I’m giving them the firm commitment, but I’m at least going with them on a trial basis.

And for those of you who could care less about soccer and/or my rooting interests for any sport, you can skip this post. I certainly wouldn’t blame you.

In addition to Man City, I briefly flirted with Tottenham and West Ham. I liked West Ham for a few reasons… the movie Green Street Hooligans not insignificant among them. If you haven’t seen it, rent it sometime. And then just stop the movie as soon as Elijah Wood gets back to America and pretend that’s the end. It’s better that way, trust me.

I also liked the “Forever Blowing Bubbles” song, but it occurred to me that I’d never ever have anyone to sing it with. If West Ham wins a big game, and I take to the streets singing “Forever Blowing Bubbles” at the top of my lungs, all it’s going to do is confuse people and excite men named “Bubbles.” So that was a bit of a downer.

The other thing that attracted me to West Ham was the fact that Clint Dempsey could soon be a transfer target of theirs, and I think Clint Dempsey is the man. But you can’t choose a favorite team based on a favorite player. It doesn’t last.

Once upon a time, I like the New York Rangers because Wayne Gretzky played there… and when Gretzky retired, I found that I hadn’t really grown fond of any of the other Rangers, mainly because, at the time, they were an extremely poorly run organization who employed players who had many vaginalistic qualities. Mistake on my part. And rather than “pick another favorite team,” which you just can’t do, I had to give up the sport all together.

I was really intrigued with Spurs, too, but to be perfectly honest, Bill Simmons selecting them kinda turned me in the other direction. Not that I don’t like Simmons, I do, but I just didn’t want to go the same route. It’s a shame, too, because having a logo comprised of a “cock and ball” would’ve made me positively giddy. But it felt like that badwagon was getting a little crowded.

Which brings us back to Man City. The two biggest factors: the uniforms, and the fact that they’re called “Man City,” which lends itself to a nearly endless stream of jokes about my own sexuality, and I didn’t want to pass that up. I’ve already got nearly a year of experience with them, too, so… it’s probably a bad idea to just throw that away.

But again, this isn’t yet set in stone. I’m certainly leaning that way, and I can’t really predict when it will cement itself. Sometimes, you just have to let a favorite team choose you. So I’m adopting Manchester City right now on a trial basis. We’re dating right now. Manchester City and I are seeing each other exclusively, but we’ve decided to hold off on the physical part of our relationship for the time being. But I hope to be putting the wood to Man City a few weeks into the season. We’ll see how it goes.

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