I don’t imagine that being speared in the chest by one of those things pictured to your right is a lot of fun, but it happened to a guy this weekend. A couple of experienced marlin fisherman were doing their thing off the coast of Bermuda when they had a big marlin hooked. They were about to reel him in, when the fish decided he wasn’t goin’ out like that.

The big fella changed directions, lunged at the guy, speared him in the chest, and knocked him into the ocean. According to the doctor, he was damn lucky that he didn’t get killed. He’s currently recovering from surgery, and is listed in “stable” condition.

I sorta feel bad for the guy, and I’m sorry that it happened. But, you know… he’s on the fish’s territory, and he is attempting to kill. When you fuck with mother nature, sometimes, mother nature fucks back. I’m surprised this doesn’t happen more often. I’m glad that a marlin finally had the balls to step up and use that giant poker on his snout. I think he’s entitled.

So, best wishes to the guy who was injured. And to the fish… hell yeah, my man. Score one for all the marlins out there who are currently stuffed and mounted in some guy’s den.

There’s a noble new blog out there entitled “Kill Barbaro,” that a commentor told us about yesterday. There’s not a ton of content there right now, but it’s a worthwhile subject, and I’m sure there’s plenty of room to grow. I don’t want Barbaro to die nearly as bad as that guy. In fact, I felt a slight twinge of compassion when I wrote that I wanted the horse dead… I sense no such thing here. Anyway, I’d also like to point you in the direction of two opposing viewpoints.

Phil Taylor at SI.com and Bernie Lincicome at the Rocky Mountain News both love Barbaro because he represents all that is good about athletes. He doesn’t have any of the shortcomings that so many other human athletes have. That’s why people gravitate towards Barbaro, they argue. “No spite, no malice, no sass, no head butts, no misquotes in Barbaro’s autobiography,” says Lincicome. Says Taylor, “Barbaro isn’t human, so he exhibits none of the human failings that disappoint us in our athletes and coaches. He never put his hoof in his mouth like Ozzie Guillen, or fell in love with himself like Terrell Owens. He never held out for more money, stiffed us for an autograph, tangled with the authorities or coasted when he should have been playing hard.”

Hoo boy. I just don’t know how you get there. “Yeah, humans aren’t doing it for me anymore, so let’s start rooting for animals.” That’s solid. That’s lucid. In fact, I think I’m going to apply that to all areas of my life. I haven’t talked to a friend of mine on the phone for a while, and I don’t like that, so my new best friend is a goddamn Irish Setter. And you know what, I don’t have a ton of success with the ladies, so yeah, I’m going to start fucking Sea Turtles. It’s a better option for me.

I’m sorry, and I really hate to take shots at columnists like this, but come on, fellas, you’re better than that. You know why Barbaro didn’t complain about anything? Well, to start with, HE’S A GODDAMN HORSE. They can’t talk, alright? Man, Phil Taylor and Bernie Lincicome must have really loved “Mr. Ed.” And you know why Barbaro ran so hard? Because someone was beating him with a whip. It’s not that remarkable. And you know why Barbaro doesn’t have an ego like that of Terrell Owens? Because his brain is the size of one of Tom Brady’s balls. He couldn’t have an ego if he wanted to. His brain of capable of about three different thoughts, “I’m hungry,” “I wish the little guy in silk would stop whipping me,” and “my fucking leg hurts.” That’s about it.

And you know what, I’m not even sure that I’m buying that Barbaro is so noble and courageous. We all just assume he is, because he doesn’t say anything. He’s completely incapable of verbally expressing any sort of thought or emotion, so we don’t know what’s going on in his horse brain. He might be a colossal prick. He’s probably a complete homophobe, and he hates all the gay horses. This whole injury thing may be an elaborate ruse that he’s staging because he’s unhappy with the amount of apples that he’s provided every day. In fact, he might be faking the whole goddamn thing. I don’t trust Barbaro. Not even for a second. He’s suspect.

Recent news reports have Barbaro “responding well in his sixth cast.” His sixth cast? That seems a little excessive. I mean, I’d have my only child put to sleep if he or she required six casts for the same injury. This is getting absurd. I wish they’d just put a bullet in him and be done with it.

I’m not sure if I can take it if the thing lives for five more years, and we’re still getting constant updates on his health. It’s just that time… there’s talk of “potentially serious” complications, the vet says it’s in for some rough times ahead, it’s had surgery after surgery, it’s got an abscess on his left hind hoof, and… well, I think it’s annoying as fuck.

I realize that that’s not a very good reason to kill a horse, but hey, it’s horse racing. They’ve killed for less. I wish Jayson Williams would hire Barbaro to give him a ride home, or that Barbaro had an affair with OJ Simpson’s current love interest, or someone hired Isiah Thomas to oversee Barbaro’s recovery.

…I think you’ll enjoy this. It’s three YouTube clips, totalling about 25-minutes in length. It’s from some kind of Japanese television show, and the premise seems to be that there’s one guy who has instructions to go about his day, like any other day. In the meantime, five or six other guys in black robes follow him around and pelt him with cream pies.

I realize that that doesn’t sound all that funny, and hey, you might not find it to be that amusing. Cream pie humor does have its limitations, but… the Japanese have taken it to a whole new level. The Japanese are so far ahead of us.

On a related note, if you’re going to make a similar post on your blog, and you’re looking for a picture to put with the post, and you do an image search for “cream pie”… the results might not be what you expected. I didn’t even know that “cream pie” had an alternate meaning. Good Lord… live and learn, and I suppose.

Barbaro’s got some “potentially serious” complications in his leg, including an infection, which I’m told can drastically alter the taste of the Moo Goo Gai Pan he will someday become. Barbaro is recovering in an intensive care unit.

And, to celebrate the spirit of Barbaro, I present to you this YouTube clip as a pure celebration of animals in sporting events. This bear and Barbaro… they have so much in common, and there’s much we can learn from them.

I know what’s on your mind. You’re concerned about whether or not Barbaro was able to watch and enjoy the Belmont Stakes this past weekend, and justifiably so. Well, thanks to a tipster named Elysse, we have the answer. Let’s consult the Baltimore Sun…

One hundred and fifty miles to the south, Barbaro will receive his weekly bath and then he’ll return to his 11-by-13-foot pen, the small space where he spends 99 percent of his time. Later today, hospital staff will set up a television just outside his stall and they’ll turn the channel to the big race.

“It’s possible he won’t even turn around to watch it,” says Corrine Sweeney, hospital director at New Bolton Center. “Maybe he’d rather just eat hay.”

Ya don’t fucking say. You mean Barbaro wouldn’t just grab the remote, turn the volume up, and settle in for the big race? Weird. I expected him to not only watch the race, but then to access the program guide, and set the DVR to record Desperate Housewives a little later. I just can’t believe he didn’t do that.

I can’t say it’s a total surprise, though. Sometimes I go to the zoo and visit the horses, and set a copy of Macbeth in front of them, but they never read it. Once, I bought them a swingset and put it next to them with a screwdriver, and they didn’t even bother to put it together. So yes, it seems that they would indeed rather just eat hay and look like Shannon Sharpe. Horses are funny like that.

ABC will be broadcasting the the Scripps National Spelling Bee finals live this evening at 8 eastern, as you may be aware. The Wade Blogs has a nice post to get you ready… including video of the kid fainting, and my personal favorite, another kid nailing an impromptu Napoleon Dynamite impression that just confused the hell out of everyone.

I’d love to watch, and in fact, I would, if there wasn’t basketball on tonight. I certainly wouldn’t go so far as to call spelling a sport, but… for an evening, it will do. And compared to whatever douchebag-filled “reality” show featuring marginally-talented people who seek only to be on television that would normally be airing in this timeslot, the National Spelling Bee qualifies as high-brow entertainment.

And hey, it’s nice to see the smart kids get some airtime… they’re dedicated to this, they work hard at it, and every now and then, it’s probably a good idea to take a break from constantly praising the athletic kids. And, you know, I don’t like to brag, but in 3rd-grade, I won a class spelling bee. If I remember correctly, my winning word was “vulva.” But I may be confused about that.

The winning horse that everyone ignored because another horse broke his ankle is sitting out the Preakness, the third leg of the triple crown. All three triple crown events will have different winners, and none of them will be able to read.

Dubai’s Sheik Mohammed, who operates Darley Stud, made the decision to rest Bernardini.

“We feel that he climbed the ladder of competition quite quickly,” said James G. Bell of Darley Stable. “We believe he deserves a break.”

A break? From what, running a lap around a track on three consecutive Saturdays? Yeah, don’t push it. Don’t be a hero. Obviously, horses are athletes, but even the world’s greatest athletes don’t push their bodies that far. For me, the list of the greatest endurance athletes of all time goes something like 1) Lance Armstrong, 2) Bernardini, and 3) Screw everyone else.

I think what we have here is a case of “Hey, we have a winner here, and we saw what happened to Barbaro, and we’re not going to risk an injury, having the horse put to sleep, and not being able to cash in on any of his million-dollar semen.” They can just take the horse right now, put him out to stud, sell his future horse children for hundreds of thousands of dollars, and cash in with each of his gigantic horse semen blasts. Ah, the purity of horse racing.

And while we’re on the subject, I’m just wondering… you know, a fast horse gets put out to stud, he reproduces, and they sell the horse kids for a lot of money, but… what if the horse is gay? What if he doesn’t want to have sex with girl horses? What then? Sorry, sparky, but it’s off to the Elmer’s factory. It seems to me that the world of horse racing is very exclusionary of gay horses. I will stand for it no longer.

I think you should go here, by the way.

• This is kind of odd… Cuttino Mobley kinda/sorta accuses certain Clipper players of not giving their all in Game 7 against the Suns. The word “sacrifice” is used, as in, some players refused to do any of it. Sadly, I didn’t get to see the game, so I don’t have a clue who he’s talking about. Chris Kaman only played 20 minutes in the game… anyone else have any ideas?

• So, I guess we can expect very little turnover of the Spurs roster (gracias, Yay! Sports). The only guy who’s contract is up is Nazr Mohammad, whose value has to be at an all-time low point right now. He wasn’t able to play in the series against the Mavs, because he was a defensive liability against the Mavs athleticism. But it’s still hard to see the Spurs letting him go… if they do, their back-up bigs are Robert Horry, Rasho Nesterovic, and Fabricio Oberto. Not pretty. The Spurs are going to have to be really creative in finding a way to make their roster younger and more athletic.

• Not at all sports-related, but… I may have a new hero. A crazy Lithuanian bastard was pulled over for some erratic driving the other day. He took a breathalyzer test, and he blew a number more than twice the amount of alcohol that’s supposed to kill someone. The legal limit in Lithuania is 0.4 grams per liter. 3.5 grams per liter, and you’re likely to be dead. This fuck blew a 7.27. And he was smiling the entire time police questioned him. I know he committed a crime, but… this is an accomplishment. I hope he gets the really nice jail cell.

After five hours of surgery, Barbaro is walking again. But he’s still not out of the woods, they still might have to send him away to horsey heaven. And it’s really touching to me how much people care about Barbaro the horse. All of these horse lovers, who are so devoted to an activity that sees about 800 horses die a year after injuries suffered on the track, pulling together to save one special horse, because he’s so very fast. It’s beautiful. It’s what being an animal lover is all about.

And I’d just like to give a personal thank you to the people who showed up at the frontgate of the animal hospital with signs that said, “Thank you, Barbaro,” and “We Love You, Barbaro.” That is exactly what I would have done if I was there, and if horses could fucking read.

I may sound callous with this, but I just don’t know who makes a sign that says, “Thank you, Barbaro.” On so many levels, I am confused. As already noted… the horse can’t read. Did the lady think this horse was Mr. Ed, and that he would see the sign, stomp his foot twice and say, “Hey, thanks, lady. I like your hat, too.” And then, forgive me, but why are we thanking Barbaro? Did he help you hit your exacta at the Kentucky Derby? And if so, I don’t think he did it to help you out, I think he did it because the little guy in silk was beating the fuck out of him with a whip.

I feel genuinely bad that the horse is in trouble. Truly, I do. I like animals. But the affection for this one particular animal doesn’t make sense to me. A lot of horses get killed that aren’t as fast, and that probably have personalities just as sparkling as that of Barbaro. People who say that they love horse racing because they really love the animals is kinda like saying, “Yeah, I really love kids. That’s why I kidnap so many of them and stuff them in my closet.” It makes sense to me that if people really loved horses, they’d hate an activity that was so cruel to them.

It was getting to be about time for my annual “horse racing is dumb” post… and just in time, a football player at Ohio University has jumped in and joined my side of the argument.

There was a brawl outside of an Athens bar, and police were ushering people away from the scene. Corey Logan, 233-pound tight end, according to police offers “struck the horse between the eyes with the heel of his hand.”

Of course you know what happens next… he gets sent to prison, where Nasty Nate wants to violate him, but the Squirrel Master steps in to protect him, until his stoner friends can raise his bond money by selling weed.

Actually, what could happen is Logan doing up to 90 days in jail and paying a $750 fine, if he’s convicted. He says the horse bumped him, and he instinctively flinched and hit the horse with his elbow. The officer begs to differ.

Anyway, I might as well do it now, while we’re on the subject of horse hating… I just want to go on record for the 72nd time and say that the Kentucky Derby is not a sporting event. I know it’s a lot of fun… I know it’s a great big party. And that’s fine. But it is not the most exciting two minutes in sports, mainly because it is neither exciting, nor a sport.

It’s tiny, underpaid, men in silk whipping horses to make them run faster. It’s a reason for gambling. It’s no different than the race at your local track, where the 70-year-old guys who have bourbon for breakfast spend all day picking winners and reeking of urine. This particular race just happens to have mint juleps to overpower the stench.

Fuck your horse, Bob Baffert.

Coming soon to a television near you: Major League Gaming. That’s “gaming” as in, video games. There’s a professional league for video game players, and they’ve got a deal with the USA Network… which already kinda puts them ahead of the NHL. But something still feels dirty about this… it just feels like we’ve gone too far. I love video games as much as anyone, but… watching someone else play them? I would feel bad for wasting that portion of my life.

That said, however… if there’s a Madden championship on at some point… I’m probably watching. I watched Madden Nation on ESPN, a series that followed the best Madden players in a bus, going from city to city and playing each other until a champion was crowned. I watched it. I enjoyed it. I developed rooting interests. I can deny none of this. It happened.

“We believe that pro-gaming-wise, this will be the next World Poker Tour, the next NASCAR and the next action-sports movements,” said Matthew Bromberg, president and COO of Major League Gaming. “For us, these deals really signify that pro gaming is emerging into the mass market.”

Calm yourself, pal. I mean, I hope you succeed, and congatulations on the TV deal, but at the end of the day, you’re still talking about trying to get people to watch dorks sit and play videogames. The odds are stacked against you. To most people, that’s just one step up from the National Playing With Yourself While Browsing Internet Porn League.

The only games mentioned in this article are “Halo 2″ and “Super Smash Bros. Melee World,” and I’m not familiar with either game.

Well, maybe it’s not so much of a beef, as they’re just on opposite sides of a political race. But if things got violent, and they recorded battle rap songs slamming one another, and there eventually were some gunshots involved, I don’t think there’s any downside there.

Swann and Harris were, of course, teammates on the Steelers Super Bowl teams of the 70s. Swann is running for governor of Pennsylvania as a republican, and Franco Harris happens to not share his political beliefs.

“We’ve always been very close,'’ Harris said of Swann, a fellow member of the Pro Football Hall of Fame. “But right now I feel there needs to be a change in the direction from where our national administration has taken us and where the Republicans in state government want to take us.'’

I don’t intend to get into any kind of a political discussion here, but I do want to point out that the Immaculate Reception was awesome, and that Lynn Swann took ballet, so he’s a great big pussy.

The people at the Kentucky Derby are going to be selling $1,000 mint juleps this year. It will consist of bourbon from Kentucky, mine from Morocco, ice from the Arctice, and sugar from the South Pacific. I think it also contains some of Secretariat’s snot.

I dunno about you, but… if I’m going to be spending $1,000 on a beverage, I believe I should be able to drink it out of an orifice on Jessica Alba’s body of my own choosing.

And here’s my favorite part… proceeds from sales of the drink (and I think the profit margin is pretty solid on these) will go to a charity for retired horses. A charity for horses. I guess we need to build more soup kitchens for horses, and help them get jobs and get off the booze so they can get off the street and raise their little horsies in an acceptable manner.

When every human charity out there is rolling in money, then I’m going to start giving to charities for horses. Actually, that’s not true. Dogs will be first. Then, kittens. Maybe iguanas, pigs, duck-billed platypuses… then Raider fans. Then zebras with gonorrhea. After that… cartoon bunnies, fur coats, and genetically-created sheep. Then, maybe I’ll get to horses. Maybe. I mean, there are horses in porn, what more do they want?

It’s not that I don’t have sympathy for the plight of horses who are sent to slaughter. I hate that that happens. But horse racing in general has historically been very cruel to the horses they employ, so I’m just not buying that there are any altruistic motives here… otherwise, they wouldn’t spend their Sundays beating horses with a leather whip so that they’ll run faster so rich people can gamble on them. That seems cruel to me.